Imagine Chapter Three - (Yes I'm Your Angel)
Imagine Story - A/U with familiar characters/scenes.
Rated T
Set approximately two years after the decomissioning of Galactica. No cylon attacks on the colonies.
Chapter Three - Yes I'm Your Angel
Laura Roslin jogged along the Campbell River path. A bodyguard jogged in front of her and one behind her. They matched their pace to suit hers.
A few steps behind again were approximately six journalists. David Nelson, from the Caprican Tribune, was on a bicycle.
"Madam President!" he shouted. "Are you going to respond to Richard Adar's claims that you faked your cancer to win sympathy votes?"
She kept jogging.
"Madam President!" This time she recognised Melissa Brandon's voice. "Are you going to release your medical records to the public?"
She kept jogging.
"Madam President!" She couldn't pick this voice but she certainly wasn't about to turn around and check out who it was. "Did you get the idea from watching your mother die?"
Gods, just keep jogging, Laura. If she stopped now and found out who that reporter was she would not be responsible for her actions.
Laura jogged up to the Government Building. She bounded up the steps and headed for the rear lift, which was for her use only. When she arrived on the 52nd floor, she once again resumed her jogging.
She couldn't help but glance towards Commander Adama's office as she went past. She could see he was there. Maybe a quick good morning with the Commander might make her forget that reporter's tactless accusation.
"Good morning, Commander," she said.
He turned, clearly surprised at being greeted to the President of the Twelve Colonies in a sweatsuit first thing of the morning.
"Madam President. Good morning."
She leaned over and did a couple of warming down stretches, using his doorway as leverage for her weight.
"You're starting early," she said. She checked her watch, it was only half past seven.
"And you," he replied. "I thought I could unpack some more things early, so that I can actually do some work today."
"Someone bucking for a promotion already?" she joked.
He just looked at her, outwardly impassive, but she inexplicably knew he was smiling on the inside. She could almost see the sparkle that was threatening to emit from his blue eyes. She laughed again and jogged off to her office, wriggling her ass in a faint hope that he was watching it.
0.0.0.
Bill arrived at President Roslin's office five minutes prior to their scheduled appointment. He didn't intend to be late for their first meeting. A dark woman with long hair greeted him and introduced herself as Tory Foster, one of the President's aides. She ushered him to a chair in a waiting area and went through a door - one with the Twelve Colonies' insignia on it, he chuckled to himself.
Almost as soon as Ms Foster went into the office, she came back out and told him he could go right in.
The president was on the phone when he entered and she waved distractedly towards a chair.
He took in the room as he sat. Her office was large and rather impersonal. There were no private trimmings of any kind that he could see. His quarters had always been cluttered with photographs, but there were none in this room. No pot plants or paintings or knick knacks neither, of any kind.
If he had been told this a few weeks ago, he would have said Laura Roslin was cold and aloof. However, he now guessed that this was, for her, President Roslin's office and she was carefully separating her from Laura Roslin.
He wondered who had jogged past him this morning? For some strange reason, he hoped it had been Laura Roslin.
Never being one to eavesdrop, he had been taking no notice of her telephone conversation until he heard his name. "Yes, Commander Adama will be joining us," he heard her say. "Yes, yes I realise, Admiral," she continued. "We may have to do something about that soon." She paused every now and then, obviously when the person on the other end spoke. "Yes. Of course. Yes. Good idea. Thank you. Okay. I'll see you then. Goodbye."
She hung up and gave him one of those dazzling smiles he was now finding himself craving. "Sorry, Commander. Would you like a drink? Coffee? Something cold?" she asked. She moved over to an area behind her desk and poured a coffee into a mug and then glanced over at him enquiringly.
"No. I'm okay. Thank you."
She brought her coffee with her and sat near him in one of the visitor's chairs instead of at her desk. They sat in silence for a while, her sipping her coffee, he just watching her, waiting for her to open the conversation.
She surprised him with her first question. "Are you religious, Commander?"
"Sorry, Madam President?"
"Do you believe in the Scriptures? The Gods. You know, the Lords of Kobol and such."
He hesitated, speculating on where this line of questioning could be going. Her demeanour seemed quite sincere though. "I'm sorry, I know some of your campaign had considerable support from the Gemonese and the Sagittarons but, no, I don't. I'm an atheist, actually. Does it matter?"
She looked down at her cup, seemingly considering her next words very carefully. "Have you ever heard of Chamalla, Commander?"
"No, should I have?" he asked.
"Probably not. Chamalla is a herbal extract which is being used experimentally with cancer patients."
"You used it when you had your cancer?" he guessed.
"Yes, I did. Chamalla, unfortunately, has quite a few side effects. One of them being hallucinations."
"I see."
She sipped at her coffee again. He waited for her to go on, patiently waiting for her to reveal whatever she was comfortable with revealing.
"I saw things. Things I didn't understand. These things were very real. They weren't like dreams really. They were much, much more." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand and believe in her.
He reached out and took one of her small pale hands in his. Later he could berate himself about the stupidity of such a move, but at that moment it just seemed like the natural thing to do.
She rewarded him with a small smile and then went on. "When I was not doing so well in hospital, a Priestess came to visit me. I spoke of some of the visions. She realised that some of the visions I was having were very similar to the Scrolls of Pythia. I'm assuming you're not familiar with the Scrolls of Pythia?"
"No." He smiled. "Can't say it's in my book collection."
She snorted. "Basically, to cut a long story short, Pythia guided the Thirteenth Colony to Earth."
"Earth?"
"Yes, Commander. You see, I need you to help me find Earth and our brothers and sisters of the Thirteenth Colony."
"Madam President-" He shook his head. "Earth doesn't exist. It's a fairy tale. A bedtime story."
"No, Commander. I've seen it. I've been on every one of the Twelve Colonies and the planet I saw in my visions was not one of them. I believe the Gods have chosen me to be this generation's Pythia."
He sat for quite a while, just trying to take in her words. "I didn't realise you were so religious Madam President," he finally said.
She chuckled. "Well I didn't either. Is it a problem?" she asked.
"No," he said. "It's just new."
Link to chapter 4
Rated T
Set approximately two years after the decomissioning of Galactica. No cylon attacks on the colonies.
Chapter Three - Yes I'm Your Angel
Laura Roslin jogged along the Campbell River path. A bodyguard jogged in front of her and one behind her. They matched their pace to suit hers.
A few steps behind again were approximately six journalists. David Nelson, from the Caprican Tribune, was on a bicycle.
"Madam President!" he shouted. "Are you going to respond to Richard Adar's claims that you faked your cancer to win sympathy votes?"
She kept jogging.
"Madam President!" This time she recognised Melissa Brandon's voice. "Are you going to release your medical records to the public?"
She kept jogging.
"Madam President!" She couldn't pick this voice but she certainly wasn't about to turn around and check out who it was. "Did you get the idea from watching your mother die?"
Gods, just keep jogging, Laura. If she stopped now and found out who that reporter was she would not be responsible for her actions.
Laura jogged up to the Government Building. She bounded up the steps and headed for the rear lift, which was for her use only. When she arrived on the 52nd floor, she once again resumed her jogging.
She couldn't help but glance towards Commander Adama's office as she went past. She could see he was there. Maybe a quick good morning with the Commander might make her forget that reporter's tactless accusation.
"Good morning, Commander," she said.
He turned, clearly surprised at being greeted to the President of the Twelve Colonies in a sweatsuit first thing of the morning.
"Madam President. Good morning."
She leaned over and did a couple of warming down stretches, using his doorway as leverage for her weight.
"You're starting early," she said. She checked her watch, it was only half past seven.
"And you," he replied. "I thought I could unpack some more things early, so that I can actually do some work today."
"Someone bucking for a promotion already?" she joked.
He just looked at her, outwardly impassive, but she inexplicably knew he was smiling on the inside. She could almost see the sparkle that was threatening to emit from his blue eyes. She laughed again and jogged off to her office, wriggling her ass in a faint hope that he was watching it.
0.0.0.
Bill arrived at President Roslin's office five minutes prior to their scheduled appointment. He didn't intend to be late for their first meeting. A dark woman with long hair greeted him and introduced herself as Tory Foster, one of the President's aides. She ushered him to a chair in a waiting area and went through a door - one with the Twelve Colonies' insignia on it, he chuckled to himself.
Almost as soon as Ms Foster went into the office, she came back out and told him he could go right in.
The president was on the phone when he entered and she waved distractedly towards a chair.
He took in the room as he sat. Her office was large and rather impersonal. There were no private trimmings of any kind that he could see. His quarters had always been cluttered with photographs, but there were none in this room. No pot plants or paintings or knick knacks neither, of any kind.
If he had been told this a few weeks ago, he would have said Laura Roslin was cold and aloof. However, he now guessed that this was, for her, President Roslin's office and she was carefully separating her from Laura Roslin.
He wondered who had jogged past him this morning? For some strange reason, he hoped it had been Laura Roslin.
Never being one to eavesdrop, he had been taking no notice of her telephone conversation until he heard his name. "Yes, Commander Adama will be joining us," he heard her say. "Yes, yes I realise, Admiral," she continued. "We may have to do something about that soon." She paused every now and then, obviously when the person on the other end spoke. "Yes. Of course. Yes. Good idea. Thank you. Okay. I'll see you then. Goodbye."
She hung up and gave him one of those dazzling smiles he was now finding himself craving. "Sorry, Commander. Would you like a drink? Coffee? Something cold?" she asked. She moved over to an area behind her desk and poured a coffee into a mug and then glanced over at him enquiringly.
"No. I'm okay. Thank you."
She brought her coffee with her and sat near him in one of the visitor's chairs instead of at her desk. They sat in silence for a while, her sipping her coffee, he just watching her, waiting for her to open the conversation.
She surprised him with her first question. "Are you religious, Commander?"
"Sorry, Madam President?"
"Do you believe in the Scriptures? The Gods. You know, the Lords of Kobol and such."
He hesitated, speculating on where this line of questioning could be going. Her demeanour seemed quite sincere though. "I'm sorry, I know some of your campaign had considerable support from the Gemonese and the Sagittarons but, no, I don't. I'm an atheist, actually. Does it matter?"
She looked down at her cup, seemingly considering her next words very carefully. "Have you ever heard of Chamalla, Commander?"
"No, should I have?" he asked.
"Probably not. Chamalla is a herbal extract which is being used experimentally with cancer patients."
"You used it when you had your cancer?" he guessed.
"Yes, I did. Chamalla, unfortunately, has quite a few side effects. One of them being hallucinations."
"I see."
She sipped at her coffee again. He waited for her to go on, patiently waiting for her to reveal whatever she was comfortable with revealing.
"I saw things. Things I didn't understand. These things were very real. They weren't like dreams really. They were much, much more." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand and believe in her.
He reached out and took one of her small pale hands in his. Later he could berate himself about the stupidity of such a move, but at that moment it just seemed like the natural thing to do.
She rewarded him with a small smile and then went on. "When I was not doing so well in hospital, a Priestess came to visit me. I spoke of some of the visions. She realised that some of the visions I was having were very similar to the Scrolls of Pythia. I'm assuming you're not familiar with the Scrolls of Pythia?"
"No." He smiled. "Can't say it's in my book collection."
She snorted. "Basically, to cut a long story short, Pythia guided the Thirteenth Colony to Earth."
"Earth?"
"Yes, Commander. You see, I need you to help me find Earth and our brothers and sisters of the Thirteenth Colony."
"Madam President-" He shook his head. "Earth doesn't exist. It's a fairy tale. A bedtime story."
"No, Commander. I've seen it. I've been on every one of the Twelve Colonies and the planet I saw in my visions was not one of them. I believe the Gods have chosen me to be this generation's Pythia."
He sat for quite a while, just trying to take in her words. "I didn't realise you were so religious Madam President," he finally said.
She chuckled. "Well I didn't either. Is it a problem?" she asked.
"No," he said. "It's just new."
Link to chapter 4