Roslin Residence, Unit 6, Mauvaise Chance Apartments, After Classes
"You're sure you want to do this?"
Laura tossed one last pair of socks and her hairbrush into her bag, then looked back up at her visitor. She furrowed her brow at him. "Of course I want to do this. I told you I wanted to; we've been planning it for weeks. Tory and Sam and the rest will be expecting me, planetside, to help with the efforts there. It would be a little late to change my mind."
"A little late, but not too late." Adama glanced down at the hands interlaced in his lap.
"Don't you dare," Roslin shot back. She stood in the small room with her hands on her hips, eyes burrowing into the top of his head, practically willing him to look up at her. After a long moment, he did. His expression was bland, eyes blazing. It just pissed her off more. "I'm not turning my back on them now."
His lips twitched slightly. "Even if the electorate got exactly what they deserved?"
She glared. She hated his damned memory, and hated it worse when he threw her own words back at her. "Damn it, no one deserves this, Bill. President Baltar or not, these are still our people -- the only ones left. I made a promise. I intend to keep it."
As she stood watching, he rose slowly from the chair, crossing to her. "And I made a promise to you. Not as a commander to his president; I made this one to. you. -- from Bill to Laura." He swallowed. "We don't know how this is going to turn out," he continued, shaking his head. "I can't keep that promise if you're down there, and I'm aboard Galactica. I..." He stopped short, unable to say the words.
Laura sighed. She reached up, massaging her temple. She knew far too well what he wanted to say; the words echoed in his eyes. She was fairly certain he could see them in hers. Her hand dropped to her side. "I know you promised, Bill," she said. "I know. But we promised them -- as their military leader and their political leader, we promised them Earth. They can't get there if they're stranded on New Caprica, under Cylon occupation. In this case, the promises we made as admiral and as president have to take precedent." She offered him a sad smile. "This was why we didn't do this earlier."
"And why we shouldn't have done it now." His expression echoing hers, he dropped his gaze as he took her hand before looking back up at her. "They're going to need a new president."
"They elected a president. And, after he's impeached and tried for treason, his vice president will take office." Laura shook her head. "It's not a complicated system. I know you learned it in grade school."
"President Zarek." Adama snorted. "Perfect. I go from working with a schoolteacher to working with a terrorist." He paused. "I think I can guarantee that won't last."
Roslin glanced down and considered their hands, fingers intertwined. "I know it won't." She thought briefly of Adar, of their affair, carried on even as he served as her president and her boss. No, she hadn't been above sneaking around -- not then. Would now be different? It was a question she wasn't yet prepared to answer. "Let's just...cross that bridge when -- if we come to it."
The admiral nodded. He wouldn't push, not right now. "Right. Getting out alive should be our first concern."
"And everything else will fall into place." Laura smiled.
Adama grinned at her. The tension seemed to be broken for now. "Let the pieces fall where they may?"
"Yes," she replied with a giggle. "But I think I'm out of pencils."
"I've got a few left on Galactica."
A long moment of silence fell between them. Laura, still grasping his hand, glanced around her apartment once more. She hoped it wasn't for the last time; she really had become rather fond of the place, freakish events and all. And there was still so much more to learn about Earth and its history. No, she would be back. In a week. That was a promise to herself.
For his part, Adama watched her as she visually cataloged the small apartment. He reached for her bag and squeezed her hand. Quietly, he said, "Your shuttle's ready, Madam President."
The former president gave something that was a cross between a sarcastic snort and a laugh. "Right. Then by all means, Admiral; they're waiting for us."
[Laura will be back for class next week. Should be an interesting long weekend, eh? Thread's open if there's someone who wants to stop by as they leave.]