resmin
in
femslash07
The Meaning of My Life is... (BSG, Laura/Maya)
Title: The Meaning of My Life is...
Author: resmin
Recipient: jennyo
Fandom: BSG
Pairing: Laura/Maya
Rating: PG
Word count: 1400
Disclaimer: Not my toys, not my sandbox.
Summary: While Presidents and Admirals quarreled, the schoolteacher went about her life.
The Meaning of My Life is...
It starts when she loses the election. It starts when she asks Doctor Cottle if he knows any likely parents. It starts when she convinces a mother that her child is dead. It might even start before then.
Truth is it doesn't matter where it started. It only matters how it ends.
**
According to Captain Thrace, the Cylons believe that everything is a cycle. Things that happen now will happen again. The past continuously repeats itself. Destiny is nothing more than the path already laid out before you. There is no such thing as free choice, only repetition.
Which explains how two months after landing on New Caprica, she finds herself being a teacher once again.
**
Of course the real truth is that she becomes a teacher because she doesn't know what else to do.
It's a task she's suited for far better than she ever was the presidency. Multiplication tables, lesson plans and coloring are very much in her scheme of influence. Dealing with the end of civilization, water shortages and trying to build a new society are not.
She is, has been and will always be a teacher at the very marrow of her soul. Not even an apocalypse can change her true calling. It seems as though the presidency was merely a bump along the path to becoming who she already was.
If life goes in cycles as the Cylon Leoben said, then she intends to enjoy the moment.
**
It takes losing the election to remember how to breathe.
It takes not being President anymore to remember how to sleep late; to stretch out in the bed at night, to sleep naked, feel absolutely comfortable when she closes her eyes. She never feels safe of course, too much has happened to ever feel safe, but she has learned to compromise. She has learned the value of comfort.
She cherishes the ability to focus on trivial worries, like her hair. She has remembered how to plait her hair in the ways her mother taught, to fall asleep at night and finger comb out the curls the next morning.
She has the chance to take her shoes off, to dig her toes in the mud and laugh at the long-forgotten sensation. There is finally time to lose herself in the moment, completely oblivious to the passing of time.
**
The night after losing the election, she sat on the end of the bed, kicked her shoes off and lay back trying to imagine what she would do next. So many things that she had planned were no longer an option. Earth was a destination she would not see. Her life would now be contained to the planet below.
Commander Adama had offered her a place upon Galactica and she knew that Lee would soon do the same for Pegasus. She would decline both offers by making some comment about "living among the people"; all three would see it as a necessary refusal. She could not live aboard the battleships anymore than they would truly want her there. Laura Roslin would be welcome, but Former President Roslin would not. And she was resigned to the fact that one could not be separated from the other in the eyes of the military.
Only to herself will she later admit that one of her reasons for declining is that she missed gravity. It's a very guarded secret that just like everyone else she wanted the sensation of stillness, to live in a home that didn't need refueling.
She looked around the bedroom, at her jacket draped over the chair as always, at the stack of reading material next to her bed, at the picture of a teen-aged Billy that Dee had given her and felt nothing but sadness. This ship had become her home, it had nurtured her and protected her and helped her become who she was. She would have been a different president on a different ship.
But soon she would have to leave. Presidents come and go, but the trappings remain the same. Colonial One belonged to the Presidency after all, not the other way around.
**
Her last memory in Colonial One is one of utter joy, bouncing up and down on her bed and imagining Billy's face if he were to suddenly burst into the room.
**
The first stop for many of the New Capricans (which she still thought was a horrible name, at once both familiar and foreign) was Home Requisitions. Everyone received a pillow, a blanket and directions to a tent.
The directions were: "Pick a tent and then write a letter outside in the mud and it's yours."
She wandered up and down the rows, trying to get a feel for the community. All she could sense was disbelief and confusion. People didn't know what to do next; they picked their tent, made their markings and stood around waiting for instructions.
Eventually she chose a tent, went inside and put down her pillow and blanket and sat down on the cot. It was a strange feeling, that of having nowhere to go and nothing to do. There were more boxes on Colonial One to be delivered, but she would have to wait like everyone else, first for Baltar's New Caprica Welcome address and then for an available presidential staffer. In other words, she would just have to wait until someone got around to her.
It was a novel sensation.
**
As days went by and the influx of New Caprican's increased, her row was dubbed Adama Alley, a bit of alliteration that made her smile. She did sometimes wonder if there was a Roslin Route or a Starbuck Street tucked away in one of the other sections. Once she thought of tracking down Kara and asking if the idea of permanent hero worship seemed similarly distasteful.
Billy was a hero, she's just a teacher.
**
Life settled into a routine, oddly enough. It seemed as though people were starved for a simple existence. The ability to sleep and wake in the same place, to stretch the senses, to have an opportunity to remember what it was like to be human; all intangible things the Cylon attack had stolen.
She opened a small schoolroom in her section and offered to teach a Basics course, knowledge that might have been brushed aside during the journey. Her first class consisted of three children and seventeen adults, including Maya.
It was a shock to her system, coming face to face with Sharon's child again. On some strange level she was relieved that the baby was down on the planet, although she could not imagine any harm that could come from an infant. It seemed ridiculous yet she could not deny that knowing Maya was nearby comforted her.
**
More time passed and the easy routine of life on New Caprica slipped into boredom and then into frustration, tensions rose quickly. It wasn't surprising given the circumstances and expectations. In her opinion, Baltar had promised too much too quickly and couldn't come through on every promise.
While Presidents and Admirals quarreled, the schoolteacher went about her life.
Her schoolroom had expanded once again and four new teachers from the first Basics class were assigned to create schools in other sections. She found herself a superintendent of sorts, trying to organize the children into grades, teachers by abilities and directing help where necessary.
She found herself relying upon Maya's strengths more and more, the ability to multitask while paying equal attention to everything was definitely an enviable trait. As they spent more time together she was forced to admit that her attitude of mistrust towards the Cylon child was beginning to fade. And while she still found herself looking for subtle differences every time she held Isis, she had yet to find one. To all outside eyes Isis was a healthy baby girl, beloved by her mother and cared for just like any other child.
**
The night begins with singing and dancing, a holiday of sorts to celebrate the plantings of the first crops. The entire planet is giddy with overconfidence and she can not help but be caught up in the excitement. There is no epiphany or Oracle's sigil drifting in smoke. Instead there is simply Maya's smile followed by a gentle kiss and a sigh.
She will never forget what brought them here or the sacrifices that were made along the way, but for just one night she wants to revel in the possibility of the future. To look forward with joy not apprehension, to hope for the best and to spend an evening remembering what it was like to gasp in pleasure, not sorrow.
Author: resmin
Recipient: jennyo
Fandom: BSG
Pairing: Laura/Maya
Rating: PG
Word count: 1400
Disclaimer: Not my toys, not my sandbox.
Summary: While Presidents and Admirals quarreled, the schoolteacher went about her life.
The Meaning of My Life is...
It starts when she loses the election. It starts when she asks Doctor Cottle if he knows any likely parents. It starts when she convinces a mother that her child is dead. It might even start before then.
Truth is it doesn't matter where it started. It only matters how it ends.
**
According to Captain Thrace, the Cylons believe that everything is a cycle. Things that happen now will happen again. The past continuously repeats itself. Destiny is nothing more than the path already laid out before you. There is no such thing as free choice, only repetition.
Which explains how two months after landing on New Caprica, she finds herself being a teacher once again.
**
Of course the real truth is that she becomes a teacher because she doesn't know what else to do.
It's a task she's suited for far better than she ever was the presidency. Multiplication tables, lesson plans and coloring are very much in her scheme of influence. Dealing with the end of civilization, water shortages and trying to build a new society are not.
She is, has been and will always be a teacher at the very marrow of her soul. Not even an apocalypse can change her true calling. It seems as though the presidency was merely a bump along the path to becoming who she already was.
If life goes in cycles as the Cylon Leoben said, then she intends to enjoy the moment.
**
It takes losing the election to remember how to breathe.
It takes not being President anymore to remember how to sleep late; to stretch out in the bed at night, to sleep naked, feel absolutely comfortable when she closes her eyes. She never feels safe of course, too much has happened to ever feel safe, but she has learned to compromise. She has learned the value of comfort.
She cherishes the ability to focus on trivial worries, like her hair. She has remembered how to plait her hair in the ways her mother taught, to fall asleep at night and finger comb out the curls the next morning.
She has the chance to take her shoes off, to dig her toes in the mud and laugh at the long-forgotten sensation. There is finally time to lose herself in the moment, completely oblivious to the passing of time.
**
The night after losing the election, she sat on the end of the bed, kicked her shoes off and lay back trying to imagine what she would do next. So many things that she had planned were no longer an option. Earth was a destination she would not see. Her life would now be contained to the planet below.
Commander Adama had offered her a place upon Galactica and she knew that Lee would soon do the same for Pegasus. She would decline both offers by making some comment about "living among the people"; all three would see it as a necessary refusal. She could not live aboard the battleships anymore than they would truly want her there. Laura Roslin would be welcome, but Former President Roslin would not. And she was resigned to the fact that one could not be separated from the other in the eyes of the military.
Only to herself will she later admit that one of her reasons for declining is that she missed gravity. It's a very guarded secret that just like everyone else she wanted the sensation of stillness, to live in a home that didn't need refueling.
She looked around the bedroom, at her jacket draped over the chair as always, at the stack of reading material next to her bed, at the picture of a teen-aged Billy that Dee had given her and felt nothing but sadness. This ship had become her home, it had nurtured her and protected her and helped her become who she was. She would have been a different president on a different ship.
But soon she would have to leave. Presidents come and go, but the trappings remain the same. Colonial One belonged to the Presidency after all, not the other way around.
**
Her last memory in Colonial One is one of utter joy, bouncing up and down on her bed and imagining Billy's face if he were to suddenly burst into the room.
**
The first stop for many of the New Capricans (which she still thought was a horrible name, at once both familiar and foreign) was Home Requisitions. Everyone received a pillow, a blanket and directions to a tent.
The directions were: "Pick a tent and then write a letter outside in the mud and it's yours."
She wandered up and down the rows, trying to get a feel for the community. All she could sense was disbelief and confusion. People didn't know what to do next; they picked their tent, made their markings and stood around waiting for instructions.
Eventually she chose a tent, went inside and put down her pillow and blanket and sat down on the cot. It was a strange feeling, that of having nowhere to go and nothing to do. There were more boxes on Colonial One to be delivered, but she would have to wait like everyone else, first for Baltar's New Caprica Welcome address and then for an available presidential staffer. In other words, she would just have to wait until someone got around to her.
It was a novel sensation.
**
As days went by and the influx of New Caprican's increased, her row was dubbed Adama Alley, a bit of alliteration that made her smile. She did sometimes wonder if there was a Roslin Route or a Starbuck Street tucked away in one of the other sections. Once she thought of tracking down Kara and asking if the idea of permanent hero worship seemed similarly distasteful.
Billy was a hero, she's just a teacher.
**
Life settled into a routine, oddly enough. It seemed as though people were starved for a simple existence. The ability to sleep and wake in the same place, to stretch the senses, to have an opportunity to remember what it was like to be human; all intangible things the Cylon attack had stolen.
She opened a small schoolroom in her section and offered to teach a Basics course, knowledge that might have been brushed aside during the journey. Her first class consisted of three children and seventeen adults, including Maya.
It was a shock to her system, coming face to face with Sharon's child again. On some strange level she was relieved that the baby was down on the planet, although she could not imagine any harm that could come from an infant. It seemed ridiculous yet she could not deny that knowing Maya was nearby comforted her.
**
More time passed and the easy routine of life on New Caprica slipped into boredom and then into frustration, tensions rose quickly. It wasn't surprising given the circumstances and expectations. In her opinion, Baltar had promised too much too quickly and couldn't come through on every promise.
While Presidents and Admirals quarreled, the schoolteacher went about her life.
Her schoolroom had expanded once again and four new teachers from the first Basics class were assigned to create schools in other sections. She found herself a superintendent of sorts, trying to organize the children into grades, teachers by abilities and directing help where necessary.
She found herself relying upon Maya's strengths more and more, the ability to multitask while paying equal attention to everything was definitely an enviable trait. As they spent more time together she was forced to admit that her attitude of mistrust towards the Cylon child was beginning to fade. And while she still found herself looking for subtle differences every time she held Isis, she had yet to find one. To all outside eyes Isis was a healthy baby girl, beloved by her mother and cared for just like any other child.
**
The night begins with singing and dancing, a holiday of sorts to celebrate the plantings of the first crops. The entire planet is giddy with overconfidence and she can not help but be caught up in the excitement. There is no epiphany or Oracle's sigil drifting in smoke. Instead there is simply Maya's smile followed by a gentle kiss and a sigh.
She will never forget what brought them here or the sacrifices that were made along the way, but for just one night she wants to revel in the possibility of the future. To look forward with joy not apprehension, to hope for the best and to spend an evening remembering what it was like to gasp in pleasure, not sorrow.