Undiscovered Country, by rose_griffes
title: Undiscovered Country
remix author: rose_griffes
summary: Machinery is easy. Knowing what course to take isn't.
characters: Laura Roslin, Two
pairings: none
rating: G
warnings: none
beta-reader: many thanks to daybreak777!
Title, Author and URL of original story: Be All My Sins Remember'd, by grav_ity
note: takes place during 4.14 'Blood on the Scales'
You always believed in miracles, you and your brothers. That slipped away from you, though you're reminded of it now. She's standing inside the baseship, this woman you once lied to, who then watched you get pulled into the emptiness of space.
You're glad she's here. That's a miracle. Laura Roslin is standing here inside the baseship, alive and arguing for you and your fellow Cylon not to abandon them. That's another miracle.
She believes that Admiral Adama will retake command and that the fleet of humans will still support this tentative alliance. Her voice is shaking as she talks, and you can see that the disease has taken her energy and vitality and what's left is simply her.
You know that strength of belief. You held onto it tightly and fought to impose that will on humans, individually and collectively, until something beyond what you could see turned your path. You've stumbled in the darkness since then, and you think it's a lesson harder than any other you've had to learn. Not knowing the beginning from the end. Not directing the destinies of others.
They're shifting like sand under the tide's edge, your sisters. Help and an ally weighed against mortality and a thousand other things that once didn't matter. You don't speak; you watch as they argue. Tory has strength but she lacks vision. She can't see that even when death is possible, probable, some things are worth the risk. Weighing the outcomes, you choose to put your trust--no, your hope, as fragile as it is--in Laura Roslin's certainty. In humanity's ability to persevere.
Laura is back inside the raptor that conveyed them here safely, fiddling with the communication equipment, trying to project her voice back to the fleet she was forced to abandon.
Machinery is easy. Knowing what course to take isn't.
"I wonder, sometimes, how much space there is between an idea of a thing and the acceptance of a thing," you tell her, standing just outside the raptor doorway.
"Space is big, but we found Earth."
You laugh because it's an answer that you might have given. "You trust Sharon," you say next. It's a puzzle that you've never been able to piece together, this trust in just the one copy.
"I trust Athena," she tells you. "I didn’t understand at first, but the more of you I see, the more I see that she is different."
Different. You've never sought it. Even though you were always at ease alone, more so than the other models, you took comfort in your solidarity, your shared memories and beliefs. Choosing to end resurrection changed all of that, but before...
"I'm the same one," you tell her. Laura looks at you with a stare that you recognize. "I fought Adama right after the worlds ended, and you threw me out an airlock. The things I did to Kara..." It's true enough. You remember the moments as if they were your own. Laura Roslin needs to know what you're capable of, any of you. (Humans are so blind to what they could be, their own best and worst. It's one of their greatest weaknesses.)
"I wondered." She watches you with a calmness that hides her thoughts. Always thinking, plotting and planning--Laura Roslin is one of the reasons why humanity still lives.
You say, "Things have changed. We’ve all changed, and we weren’t supposed to. We had a plan, a mission from God, but the Hybrid was different and when I listened to her, things made more sense for a while." Then they'd found Earth, and the evidence that all of this had truly happened before. You don't want to imitate a pattern that spirals into oblivion.
She waits for you to finish. "I wanted you to die," you confess. "And now I want us to live."
"That, Leoben, is something we have in common." Then she smiles and says, "Please, come in."
You walk into the Raptor and show her the comm. equipment you've brought. It's a moment of perfect incongruity: the president of the human fleet and you, the first cylon model she airlocked, working together to send a message. You watch her as she finally speaks through the microphone to the fleet, cajoling; then later to the mutineers, threatening to use a force that she doesn't have the authority to command on this ship. As you watch her, you believe she could do it--pull agreement from your wavering sisters to use the weaponry by the strength of her will.
It isn't needed, though. The news finally comes through that the Admiral has retaken command of his ship. The others of the Final Four are safe. Your sisters talk of comfort and relief and what next while you still watch Laura. She's trembling, but still standing, gripping the console.
You think it's the sign you've been waiting for without knowing it. You don't know how to recreate the faith you had before, but Laura Roslin shows you belief again.
remix author: rose_griffes
summary: Machinery is easy. Knowing what course to take isn't.
characters: Laura Roslin, Two
pairings: none
rating: G
warnings: none
beta-reader: many thanks to daybreak777!
Title, Author and URL of original story: Be All My Sins Remember'd, by grav_ity
note: takes place during 4.14 'Blood on the Scales'
You always believed in miracles, you and your brothers. That slipped away from you, though you're reminded of it now. She's standing inside the baseship, this woman you once lied to, who then watched you get pulled into the emptiness of space.
You're glad she's here. That's a miracle. Laura Roslin is standing here inside the baseship, alive and arguing for you and your fellow Cylon not to abandon them. That's another miracle.
She believes that Admiral Adama will retake command and that the fleet of humans will still support this tentative alliance. Her voice is shaking as she talks, and you can see that the disease has taken her energy and vitality and what's left is simply her.
You know that strength of belief. You held onto it tightly and fought to impose that will on humans, individually and collectively, until something beyond what you could see turned your path. You've stumbled in the darkness since then, and you think it's a lesson harder than any other you've had to learn. Not knowing the beginning from the end. Not directing the destinies of others.
They're shifting like sand under the tide's edge, your sisters. Help and an ally weighed against mortality and a thousand other things that once didn't matter. You don't speak; you watch as they argue. Tory has strength but she lacks vision. She can't see that even when death is possible, probable, some things are worth the risk. Weighing the outcomes, you choose to put your trust--no, your hope, as fragile as it is--in Laura Roslin's certainty. In humanity's ability to persevere.
Laura is back inside the raptor that conveyed them here safely, fiddling with the communication equipment, trying to project her voice back to the fleet she was forced to abandon.
Machinery is easy. Knowing what course to take isn't.
"I wonder, sometimes, how much space there is between an idea of a thing and the acceptance of a thing," you tell her, standing just outside the raptor doorway.
"Space is big, but we found Earth."
You laugh because it's an answer that you might have given. "You trust Sharon," you say next. It's a puzzle that you've never been able to piece together, this trust in just the one copy.
"I trust Athena," she tells you. "I didn’t understand at first, but the more of you I see, the more I see that she is different."
Different. You've never sought it. Even though you were always at ease alone, more so than the other models, you took comfort in your solidarity, your shared memories and beliefs. Choosing to end resurrection changed all of that, but before...
"I'm the same one," you tell her. Laura looks at you with a stare that you recognize. "I fought Adama right after the worlds ended, and you threw me out an airlock. The things I did to Kara..." It's true enough. You remember the moments as if they were your own. Laura Roslin needs to know what you're capable of, any of you. (Humans are so blind to what they could be, their own best and worst. It's one of their greatest weaknesses.)
"I wondered." She watches you with a calmness that hides her thoughts. Always thinking, plotting and planning--Laura Roslin is one of the reasons why humanity still lives.
You say, "Things have changed. We’ve all changed, and we weren’t supposed to. We had a plan, a mission from God, but the Hybrid was different and when I listened to her, things made more sense for a while." Then they'd found Earth, and the evidence that all of this had truly happened before. You don't want to imitate a pattern that spirals into oblivion.
She waits for you to finish. "I wanted you to die," you confess. "And now I want us to live."
"That, Leoben, is something we have in common." Then she smiles and says, "Please, come in."
You walk into the Raptor and show her the comm. equipment you've brought. It's a moment of perfect incongruity: the president of the human fleet and you, the first cylon model she airlocked, working together to send a message. You watch her as she finally speaks through the microphone to the fleet, cajoling; then later to the mutineers, threatening to use a force that she doesn't have the authority to command on this ship. As you watch her, you believe she could do it--pull agreement from your wavering sisters to use the weaponry by the strength of her will.
It isn't needed, though. The news finally comes through that the Admiral has retaken command of his ship. The others of the Final Four are safe. Your sisters talk of comfort and relief and what next while you still watch Laura. She's trembling, but still standing, gripping the console.
You think it's the sign you've been waiting for without knowing it. You don't know how to recreate the faith you had before, but Laura Roslin shows you belief again.