AN:This fic was not my planned take on addressing New Caprica but that project was put on hold when this one was requested/suggested and it took off a lot more fluidly than my other NC WIP. It contains similar elements to some of my other BSG fics which may or may not be noticeable if you've read those works. I chose to experiment with how they might work in a more canon based environment. Please take care in reading. All triggers for the BSG :2003 series apply to this fic.

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Rock A Bye Scion

New Caprica Cylon Detention Center:

Laura shivered in the damp darkness, the stone cold floor digging into her aching hip as she pulled her knees up to her chest. She could find no relief in any position. The gnawing ache in her middle had started hours before and it dully spread from her belly to her lower back. Even if she could find a way to sit or lay that availed the pain coming from inside of her the stark hard cell would just punishingly press into her body causing additional discomfort. That was the point of the cell, she supposed; to punish and opress in every way possible. It was working.

She was beginning to worry about more than the chilled cement that dug into her body. She didn't feel well. The uncertainty of how long they would keep her this time was increasingly adding to her anxiety. She wondered how long until she could get out and go see Cottle. At first she'd figured it was just the natural occasional annoyance she dealt with. Erratic and unpredictable as it was at this phase of her life, she still experienced the particular burden of womanhood and the ache was all too familiar. And yet this time, somehow something seemed a bit off. She felt drained by the pain. She cursed the gods for inflicting it on her while she was locked up within the cylon prison. What the hell was she supposed to do? If it was even truly what the pain was. Somehow it felt different, strange. She wondered if perhaps her cancer had returned to affect a different organ. It happened to one of her aunts. After a battle with breast cancer the poor woman had been in remission for a decade before it returned, taking root in her womb and killing her in under a year.

Laura always looked to the women in her family when considering her own demise. Her aunts, her mother, her grandmother. All dead from the same disease. That frakking gene they carried. Had her sisters lived just a few more years she wondered if they too would have eventually fought the same battle. If she was sick again Cottle wouldn't be able to save her this time. She'd never allow him to use Hera again and they didn't have the means to provide doloxin treatments on New Caprica.

Laura sighed and curled up tighter against a deep twinge. She missed Hera, little Isis. She wondered how she and Maya were faring. They'd seen her taken away this time and she knew how much the sweet young woman worried for her. She even felt a little guilty, irrational as it was, for not being there. Maya so often sought out her help with Isis and she was always so appreciative of it, even the short breaks that gave her time to shop the marker or catch up on sleep. Laura was always there to lend a hand with the little girl. She said another prayer that she'd be back to see them soon, but her thoughts had become disjointed and it seemed that she could no longer fight the exhaustion that was overtaking her. She began to wonder just how she would possibly be able to sleep with the nagging ache in her center and the unforgiving concrete digging into her flesh, but before she could finish the thought the fatigue overtook her and everything went black as Hades.

Hours later Boomer walked down the corridor of the detention center with Cavil at her back.

"Can we speed up the pace, Eight?" he complained behind her.

She huffed and rolled her eyes without looking back at him and they walked on no faster than before his request.

"It's that one on your left," he told her as they rounded a corner.

Boomer came upon the door and slid the keycard in the slot.

"Remember, Eight, keep your feelings in check. Be a good little Machine," Cavil coached. "Remember what you are."

Boomer shot him a snide look as the cell door clicked and she pushed it open.

She saw Laura Roslin asleep on the floor. The early morning cloud muted New Caprican sun shone through the tiny cell window illuminating the woman's russet hair in a sliver of warm light against the cool grey floor.

"Ms. Roslin? Ma'am?" Boomer called.

"What is this? A hotel wake up call?" Cavil muttered from the hall. "A little more force, will ya?"

"Ma'am?" Boomer called out again, squinting in the still mostly dim room.

"Just go in," the One griped but Boomer stayed put waiting for her eyes to adjust.

As the site before her became clear her eyes suddenly widened in alarm.

Laura Roslin was deathly pale, still as stone, and her prison issued jumpsuit bore a large dark wet stain.

"Frak, she's bleeding!" Boomer shouted as she rushed into the cell.

"What?!" Cavil shouted. "No one touched her yesterday!"

"Yeah right," Boomer dismissed as she knelt down by the former president. "Ma'am!?" she called shaking the woman at the shoulder.

"Believe what you want , Eight," Cavil blustered, frowning as he took in the display.

"Gods, she's not conscious. We need to get her to the clinic now!" Boomer demanded as she checked for the woman's pulse.

Cavil sighed and rolled his eyes as he apathetically turned and made his way to call for assistance.

"Of course," he muttered. "After all, what good is she to us dead?"