Not Real - Chapter 2

"Got your results…" Doc Cottle avoided making any eye contact with his patient; instead he kept his gaze locked on the cornerless report attached to a large clipboard, which he clasped tightly in both hands.

Laura gripped just as tightly to the arms of the chair in which she sat, her knuckles were white and hands clammy, the harsh familiarity of the situation was very apparent to her -she had been here before. Once again she was on the precipice; left hanging whilst a white haired Doctor was readying himself to reveal her fate.

Yet this time the doctors' office wasn't pristinely clean or fashionably attired; it was cluttered with medical knickknacks and piles and piles of patient files –all of which had absorbed the tarry odour that seeped into every facet of the small space and emanated most potently from its owner.

"I assumed that was why you had summoned me here Major." She answered, somewhat tersely.

Cottle simply harrumphed and shifted his feet, keeping his eyes trained on her test results, he flipped to the second page.

At this reaction alone Laura felt her cool exterior crumble, her eyebrows knotted together and her chin trembled. The fact that the crotchety doctor hadn't retorted with a brash comment of his own left her in no doubt – her cancer had returned.

"How long do I have?" She hadn't meant them to, but her words caught in a strangled sob – a sound so uncharacteristic of the formidable President that it caused the doctors' head to snap up in her direction.

As Laura caught his troubled eyes with her own, she stiffened at the concern she saw in his gaze - suddenly feeling very uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Pulling up straight and wiping the solitary tear that had stained her cheek with the back of a hand, Laura cleared her throat. With her professional armour back intact she reiterated "I asked how long?"

Cottle nodded and toughened his expression, instantly recognising Laura's need for professionalism and normality. He dropped the hand that still clutched the clipboard to his side and dug in his lab coat pocket for a cigarette.

In one fluid, well-practised motion, he placed a roll-up between thin lips, lit the end and popped his lighter safely back in its material confines. "Well that depends on you young lady," Cottle spoke through a cloud of smoke. "You gonna let me treat you this time?"

"Hera's blood?" Laura asked hopefully.

"No…sorry." Cottle shook his head glumly. "I tested the foetal sample – looks like it was a one-time deal…"

Laura inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders slump forward as she brought her elbows to rest on her knees, her head bowed. "Doloxan." It wasn't a question.

"The earlier we start treatment, the more chance we have at beating it."

"No," Laura sat back sharply in the chair, pushing her glasses firmly up her nose and crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

"You can use your hippy drugs and prayer rituals alongside if you think it will help your cause…" Cottle placed the clipboard on the desk and leant back against the metal surface, taking another drag from his cigarette. "But you need Doloxan; it's your only option."

"No." Laura got to her feet and began pacing the floor in front of Cottle. "My mother…" She shook her head and waved an arm in his direction, "I can't…"

"There's a good chance you'll live…"

"Being on Doloxan is not living." Laura snapped, cutting Cottle off midsentence as she stood in front of him, starting him down – fresh tears stinging her eyes. "I've witnessed first-hand what it does to a person and I cannot…" She shook her head, "I will not die that way…." She turned away and began pacing once again, stifling the tears that were threatening to fall.

"At the very least Doloxin will give you more time…" Cottle protested, half turning to stub his cigarette out in an ashtray on his desk before returning his attentions back to Laura. "Madame President, don't you want to live a little before you die?"

Laura stopped her pacing and slowly turned to face the Doctor, taken aback at his personal line of questioning.

"Way I see it," Cottle persisted, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "This time you've got something to live for."

Laura frowned, wondering just what the good doctor was insinuating but as she opened her mouth to respond, there was a knock at the door.

"But what do I know, right?" Cottle shrugged as he moved from the desk and headed for the exit "Excuse me for a minute, Madame President." He opened and stepped through the door, "Ishay, I asked not to be disturbed…" He clicked the door closed behind him, "Someone had better be dying out here…"

Laura stood frozen in the centre of the room, stunned into silence as she contemplated the doctors' words. She had barely flinched at Cottle's parting insensitivity, she was already well versed in his bed side manner – it was his unexpected insightfulness that had rendered her mute.

After a few beats, necessity made Laura release a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Her shaking hands moved to rest on her hips and she tilted her face towards the ceiling, closing her eyes tightly.

'I have cancer.'

She was once again the prophesised dying leader.

'Am I to undergo painful treatment in order to fulfil a prophecy? Is that what I have to live for?'

Considering his outwardly atheist views, deep down Laura knew that wasn't the 'something to live for' that Doc Cottle was hinting at.

Cottle's New Caprican abode had been close to Laura's and despite all of her efforts to keep the development of their relationship a secret, she had often suspected that the brusque doctor was well aware that she had been sleeping with the Admiral.

But sadly, that ship sailed the moment Laura had stepped back into Colonial office.

It had been a mutual decision; one made for the good of the fleet. But earlier this week, her conversation with Bill about the times they had spent together on New Caprica had been filled with such promise. Did the return of her cancer denote that they had missed the window to rekindle what they once had?

Despite his insubordinate insinuations, Laura knew that there was a chance that Doc Cottle was right; this time she might have something to live for.

'Is it too late?'

There was only one way to know for sure.

xXx

Five minutes later Doctor Cottle returned to his office, to find it empty.

TBC

End Notes:

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