Imagine - Chapter 2 (Whatever Gets You Thru the Night)
Chapter Two - Whatever Gets You Through the Night
A/U. Set approximately two years after the Galactica's decommissioning. No cylon attacks on the colonies.
Rated T
Not my characters and not making any money. Duh.
Chapter Two - Whatever Gets You Through the Night
"Knock, knock, may I come in Commander?"
"Of course, Madam President, if you can fit."
William Adama had not expected a visit from the president on his first day. His office was a mess of half open boxes, and with items he was desperately trying to organise into some sort of order onto his desk, filing cabinet and book case. The first half of the day had been spent sorting out security passes and the like, so now, even though it was after lunch time, he had only just started his unpacking.
"You found your office then?" she asked. "It's a rabbit warren around here but I'm sure you'll soon get your bearings considering Galactica's many twists and turns. My aide, Billy, spent the entire time there lost if I remember correctly." She smiled at the end of the sentence.
He wished she wouldn't smile like that at him, especially if he was to remain impartial to her charms.
"My office," she went on, "is about three down that way. I'm sure you won't miss it though-" she made a cute snorting sound, "-it's the one with about six aides outside and the Twelve Colonies' Insignia on the door."
He tried to stop the twitch of his lips that threatened to make his face break into a beaming smile at her joke. She was definitely going to be harder to resist than he first thought.
She leaned over, flicked one of the cartons open and peeked inside. Her head tilted to one side. "Dark Day, Somewhere in the Shadows, Love and Bullets, Dying Again, Caprican Crime," she read the titles of the various books in the box. "Are you actually going to be working for me, Commander, or just sitting here reading?"
"Sorry, Madam President. This carton was supposed to be delivered to my apartment but there was some sort of mix up and it came here instead," he tried to explain. His damn uniform was feeling tight around his neck again.
"You seem to have a great collection, Commander." She picked up Dying Again. "Do you mind if I borrow this? It's one I've never read. I have a real passion for this genre."
"Of course, Madam President."
"I might take a while to get it back to you though," she added. "For some strange reason I don't always get time to indulge in reading."
"I can't imagine why," he said dryly. "And please, consider it a gift. I make it a rule to never lend books."
She smiled up at him again, absentmindedly pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. "Thank you, Commander," she said with genuine warmth. "I'll leave you to it then. I'll expect we'll have to have weekly meetings at least, so I'll have one of my aides sort out some times with you."
She turned on her heel and he found himself propelled to the doorway to watch her walking down the hall. She clipped along so fast he had the impression she must be late for another appointment. He was surprised she could even walk at all with the tightness of her short skirt and the insane height of her heels.
He slowly turned back to his mess of an office and tried not to think about the mental image of her legs he now had imprinted in his brain. He would definitely have to go back to the gym if he was going to keep up with her.
0.0.0
Laura Roslin hurried back to her office with, for the first time in a long time, a huge grin on her face. Billy was waiting for her when she walked in.
"Madam President," he addressed her politely.
"Billy," she acknowledged, "what goodies have you got lined up for me this afternoon?"
"Well, ma'am, the evening newspapers have just come off the print. It appears Richard Adar has done an interview for the Caprican Moon."
She grunted. She wasn't fazed by Richard Adar. He tried to make it into the papers at least once a month. She could only imagine what sort of scandal he was going to try and sell this time.
When she had nominated to run for the presidency in the last poll, she had proved so popular that he had, in desperation, made their affair public. He had attempted to make her look like some sort of obsessive woman scorned. It hadn't worked. In fact, it had back fired on him big time. She had won the election in a landslide.
"Don't worry, Billy," she said, "no one cares what Richard Adar thinks anymore. Including me."
She realised this was true. She was well and truly over Richard Adar.
"Also," Billy continued, "there's a story about Tom Zarek."
"The terrorist?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am. It appears he is up for parole next month."
"Mmm," she murmured. "Add it to the agenda for when we meet with the Admiralty on Wednesday. Also when you do up a debriefing file with all the details, copy Commander Adama. I'd be interested in his opinion." It would be a good excuse to meet with the Commander again, she thought.
She was somewhat disconcerted that she was looking for excuses to meet with any man, let alone William Adama.
"Anything else?" she asked Billy, shaking her head to try and dispel any lingering thoughts she was having about William Adama and the way he looked in his uniform.
"Nothing exciting. There's a story about the Mr Cable and his Treasury and Finance Cabinet. It's a favourable story though. Good growth in the economy. Interest rates are remaining steady. Financial circles are lauding him and his budgets."
"Good. Send him a quick happy comp-mail from my account for me, will you? I'll give him a call personally tonight when I have more time. I have a meeting with the Gemonese Ambassador in twenty minutes so I might try and squeeze in a sandwich before then, if you can get Tory to order one up from the kitchen? Thanks, Billy."
Once Billy had left her office she glanced over at the paperwork that was requiring her signature on her desk. She should be catching up while she had a free moment but, instead, she found herself picking up Dying Again and running her hand over the cover. She had intended to only read the blurb but somehow she found herself engrossed in the first chapter when Tory came in with her lunch.
0.0.0.
Bill Adama ached all over. Idiot, he thought. After spending the day lumping around boxes and unpacking, he had somehow found himself signing up at the gym located in the basement of the Government building. Two hours of sparring later, he'd returned home to unpack more boxes.
After dinner he had indulged in an extra long hot shower that had succeeded in bringing out aches and pains in his obviously too long neglected muscles. He gingerly semi-collapsed into his couch just as his phone started ringing. He looked up at the time. 2200 hours. He wondered who was calling at this time of night. Also the phone had only been connected that morning and he hadn't given out the number to anyone as yet. Probably a wrong number, he guessed.
"Adama," he grunted into the mouth piece. Stretching out to reach the phone had caused a new painful sensation somewhere in his arm.
"Hi," a now familiar voice said. He was in shock. The president was now ringing him at home? So much for keeping her at arms' length, he thought.
"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked.
"No, Madam President," he murmured, trying to keep his wandering imagination from speculating where she was calling from. Her bed? He gulped trying to moisten his now extremely parched mouth.
"I just wanted to call and tell you how much I'm enjoying Dying Again. I'm really loving the Amanda character."
Laura Roslin was trying to kill him - obviously. The Amanda character was the main character's, Whitfield, love interest. They are both in the police force with Amanda being much higher in rank as well as an extremely attractive and highly sought-after woman. Whitfield, however, is at the end of his career with old fashioned ideals that don't mesh well with the police hierarchy. He has no family and isn't exactly considered a catch in anyone's circle. Amanda finds herself attracted to him regardless, and they pretty much frak their way through the entire second half of the book, before he dies throwing himself in front of a bullet to save her.
He didn't want to think about the parallels between the characters and Roslin and himself, or the similarities in their circumstances. Or the fact that, as president, she was vulnerable to assassination attempts.
He didn't realise he had been immersed in his thoughts for so long until he heard her ask, "Commander? Are you there?"
"Yes, sorry. I was just wondering how you got my number?" he asked. Only half a lie, he thought. He had been wondering earlier.
She chuckled. "I'm afraid I abused my presidential power there, sir," she said.
The way she said 'sir' evoked memories of there first conversation on Galactica when he had given her a dressing down like a schoolgirl and she had sarcastically agreed to his bidding regarding the computer linking with a sharp 'sir' at the end of her sentence. The Secretary of Education had certainly come a long way since then.
"I'm glad you're enjoying the book," he said sincerely.
"Very much so. Thank you again for giving it to me. I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Yes, Madam President. A meeting at 1100 hours I believe."
She chuckled again. "Yes, Commander, I'll see you at eleven o'clock."
She rang off then. He slowly returned the hand piece of the phone to its cradle. He struggled up and out of the couch, poured himself a drink and picked up a book from one of the yet to be unpacked boxes. Sleep was obviously going to be elusive after that phone call, he thought.
Link to chapter 3