"Fearful Allies" - Adama/Roslin fic
Title: Fearful Allies
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 865 words.
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Thanks so much to afrakaday for her speedy and insightful beta. This is the final part of redrockcan's birthday present. She loves TMUTMD, so this fic is a "behind the scenes" moment for that episode.
After the chaos had mercifully left his quarters, taking her inebriated husband with her, Commander Adama let out a tired, worn sigh.
“My Gods, how does a woman like that even manage to survive the end of the worlds?” the president mused as she gathered the dishes in neat stacks at the end of his table.
“You heard her,” he said. “Some kind soul took it upon himself to rescue her.”
“That was foolish,” she muttered before catching herself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t speak of your XO’s wife like that.”
“Don’t apologize. She’s certainly a handful,” he assured her. “Took me a few years to adjust to her, and I can’t quite say that we’ve ever gotten along wonderfully.” He chuckled slightly as she continued to busy herself with his dining table.
“Something amusing?” she asked without looking up at him.
“I’m just wondering if you always tidy up the tables of people who invite you over for dinner,” he replied.
“Gods, I didn’t even realize.” She stopped her movements and surveyed her work. The dishes were all neatly piled on top of one another, the top dish holding all of the cutlery and dirty napkins. She shook her head in disbelief and blushed slightly.
“Don’t tell me that you’re one of those people who clean when they get anxious,” he teased her. “My son, Zak, was like that. Whenever he was nervous or upset, he’d start organizing his things. Before exams, he’d arrange the textbooks on his shelf alphabetically,” he recalled fondly.
She smiled sympathetically at him, knowing how terrible it felt to lose someone so suddenly.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss, Commander. I don’t think that I’ve taken the time to express my sympathies before now,” she acknowledged softly. “I can only imagine how terrible it must be to have lost a child.”
He slowly got up from his chair, and walked over to the service cart. Retrieving two glasses and filling them with a few fingers of alcohol, he returned to the table, offering one to President Roslin, who accepted the glass with gratitude. After a few moments of silence, he spoke.
“You never really get over it,” he said honestly. “One day, you just become accustomed to the pain, it turns into a dull ache; so that it becomes possible to function in the world again. But it never goes away, it never leaves you.”
Laura nodded her head wordlessly. She knew all too well the sort of pain that the Commander was describing. She took a healthy sip of the amber liquid, relishing in the burn that scorched her throat.
“Did you ever have children?” he asked quietly.
“No, the ones that I taught were always enough for me,” she answered. “But I’ve known Billy since he was just a child. I used to work with his uncle under Adar’s administration. Billy was always coming into the office when he was in school, helping out with our campaigns. He’s always wanted to get involved with politics,” she said.
“So you were his mentor, huh?”
“In a way, yes.” She smiled proudly. “I took him under my wing as soon as he graduated, I got him the position in the office once his uncle retired. That boy was meant to be in office. He’s one of the most compassionate, dedicated, wise, young men I’ve ever encountered,” she said. “One day, he’ll be the President.”
“You sound very sure of that,” he pointed out.
“Our futures are anything but certain,” she admitted. “But when the timing is right, I think that Billy is exactly what this Fleet is going to need.”
“And what is that?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Someone who can make a hard decision without appearing to be cold or aloof to his people, who doesn’t think twice about putting his personal needs behind the needs of the people. Someone who values loyalty. That is what we need,” she answered.
“He’s a fine young man,” he said. “I think that he will make a fine president someday. And I can assure you that the military will always stand behind someone like him, someone with such integrity.”
“Thank you, Commander,” she said. “That means a great deal to me, and it will mean a great deal to him, when his time comes.” She smiled gratefully at him, unable to truly express the depth of her heartfelt thanks.
The buzzing of the comm unit was loud and intrusive, so much so that Laura jumped in her seat at the first ring. The Commander murmured his apologies before retrieving the receiver.
“Yes, of course. I am on my way,” he said crisply before hanging up. “My apologies, Madam President, but it seems as though Doctor Baltar is requesting our presence in the laboratory. He insists that it is urgent.”
“Of course,” she agreed. He led her toward the hatch of his quarters, stopping only to open the heavy entrance for her and gesture in the direction of the lab.
The pit of her stomach twisted in several dozen knots; the words of the Leoben model rang through her mind over and over again.
She prayed silently that they were wrong.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: T
Word Count: 865 words.
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Thanks so much to afrakaday for her speedy and insightful beta. This is the final part of redrockcan's birthday present. She loves TMUTMD, so this fic is a "behind the scenes" moment for that episode.
After the chaos had mercifully left his quarters, taking her inebriated husband with her, Commander Adama let out a tired, worn sigh.
“My Gods, how does a woman like that even manage to survive the end of the worlds?” the president mused as she gathered the dishes in neat stacks at the end of his table.
“You heard her,” he said. “Some kind soul took it upon himself to rescue her.”
“That was foolish,” she muttered before catching herself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t speak of your XO’s wife like that.”
“Don’t apologize. She’s certainly a handful,” he assured her. “Took me a few years to adjust to her, and I can’t quite say that we’ve ever gotten along wonderfully.” He chuckled slightly as she continued to busy herself with his dining table.
“Something amusing?” she asked without looking up at him.
“I’m just wondering if you always tidy up the tables of people who invite you over for dinner,” he replied.
“Gods, I didn’t even realize.” She stopped her movements and surveyed her work. The dishes were all neatly piled on top of one another, the top dish holding all of the cutlery and dirty napkins. She shook her head in disbelief and blushed slightly.
“Don’t tell me that you’re one of those people who clean when they get anxious,” he teased her. “My son, Zak, was like that. Whenever he was nervous or upset, he’d start organizing his things. Before exams, he’d arrange the textbooks on his shelf alphabetically,” he recalled fondly.
She smiled sympathetically at him, knowing how terrible it felt to lose someone so suddenly.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss, Commander. I don’t think that I’ve taken the time to express my sympathies before now,” she acknowledged softly. “I can only imagine how terrible it must be to have lost a child.”
He slowly got up from his chair, and walked over to the service cart. Retrieving two glasses and filling them with a few fingers of alcohol, he returned to the table, offering one to President Roslin, who accepted the glass with gratitude. After a few moments of silence, he spoke.
“You never really get over it,” he said honestly. “One day, you just become accustomed to the pain, it turns into a dull ache; so that it becomes possible to function in the world again. But it never goes away, it never leaves you.”
Laura nodded her head wordlessly. She knew all too well the sort of pain that the Commander was describing. She took a healthy sip of the amber liquid, relishing in the burn that scorched her throat.
“Did you ever have children?” he asked quietly.
“No, the ones that I taught were always enough for me,” she answered. “But I’ve known Billy since he was just a child. I used to work with his uncle under Adar’s administration. Billy was always coming into the office when he was in school, helping out with our campaigns. He’s always wanted to get involved with politics,” she said.
“So you were his mentor, huh?”
“In a way, yes.” She smiled proudly. “I took him under my wing as soon as he graduated, I got him the position in the office once his uncle retired. That boy was meant to be in office. He’s one of the most compassionate, dedicated, wise, young men I’ve ever encountered,” she said. “One day, he’ll be the President.”
“You sound very sure of that,” he pointed out.
“Our futures are anything but certain,” she admitted. “But when the timing is right, I think that Billy is exactly what this Fleet is going to need.”
“And what is that?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Someone who can make a hard decision without appearing to be cold or aloof to his people, who doesn’t think twice about putting his personal needs behind the needs of the people. Someone who values loyalty. That is what we need,” she answered.
“He’s a fine young man,” he said. “I think that he will make a fine president someday. And I can assure you that the military will always stand behind someone like him, someone with such integrity.”
“Thank you, Commander,” she said. “That means a great deal to me, and it will mean a great deal to him, when his time comes.” She smiled gratefully at him, unable to truly express the depth of her heartfelt thanks.
The buzzing of the comm unit was loud and intrusive, so much so that Laura jumped in her seat at the first ring. The Commander murmured his apologies before retrieving the receiver.
“Yes, of course. I am on my way,” he said crisply before hanging up. “My apologies, Madam President, but it seems as though Doctor Baltar is requesting our presence in the laboratory. He insists that it is urgent.”
“Of course,” she agreed. He led her toward the hatch of his quarters, stopping only to open the heavy entrance for her and gesture in the direction of the lab.
The pit of her stomach twisted in several dozen knots; the words of the Leoben model rang through her mind over and over again.
She prayed silently that they were wrong.