Red's Place

Fuuuu-huuuuuuck

2008-07-04T04:16:48Z

Yep, this is Kris:

Kris finally shook her migraine (down to a piercing headache).

This made Kris happy. Kris was writing stories again.

Kris LIKEY writing stories.

Then Kris, who is a clutz - can you say that, I know you can, CLUTZ - took a header off a four foot porch in the dark.

And because Kris is stupid, instead of climbing out of the bushes, she crawled back up on to the porch, which sent a blinding pain up and down her spine and gave her a nasty case of vertigo.

Kris has been in the centrifuge chair at space camp. This was worse.

So then Kris fell, face first, down the entire flight of cement steps.

This is Kris's left ankle:

Or perhaps we should say that's Kris's cankle.

This is the spot where Kris's right wrist is supposed to be:

We don't really call it a wrist, because wrists indent and this looks like a leg of ham.

This is Kris's left palm and wrist:

Kris did not know that the heel of a palm could turn so many colors. See Kris learn?

Now Kris can't type without screaming. Your promised update will not be posted until next week.

Kris feels very bad about this. See?

Her black eye feels badly too.

Update - Interview with the President, Chapter 4

2008-06-30T03:18:50Z

Finally!!! You can find it here: http://www.mujaji.net/adamaroslin/viewstory.php?sid=1205&chapter=4

Whooooooo Hooooooooo Tim McGraw

2008-06-26T15:03:51Z

Oh yeah! That's my Timmy!!! See why I've been in love with him for nearly 20 years? The man stopped right in the middle of his freaking song to take care of some asswipe who hit a woman. Good man, and HOT HOT HOT! (Stupid Faith Hill, the lucky beyotch. LOL I'd hate her but she's a sweetheart.)

http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20208796,00.html?xid=rss-topheadlines

He pulled that SOB right out of the audience and onto the stage until security could get there. And the dumb fuck actually went for Tim ... unitl my Timmy raised a fist like, "Go for it, you dickhead. I'd love a reason to mangle your face."

*sigh*

He's just such a good man, defending a lady he doesn't even know. I've had the pleasure of seeing him several times in concert and he's AWESOME. He's here today, but I can't go. The man is sex on a stick, ladies. Really makes ya wanna save a horse, if ya know what I mean. ;)

Ever known a man who could make you jealous of a bag of carmel corn?

Nope, I don't find this man sexy at all. Not one bit.

Voyager Fic - My One True Friend, Part Two

2008-06-24T02:13:24Z

Part 2 - Rated T

I hadn’t seen you since the celebration after the debriefings. You remember, don’t you, Chakotay? You were with her. You were with Seven. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I felt betrayed even though I knew I had no right to feel that way. Part of me hated you for moving on with your life. But mostly, I hated myself for making you. I knew I’d pushed you to do it, to find someone else. But Seven? She was my protégé, my charge. I loved her like the daughter I will never have. The image of you standing at her side, her arm locked through yours where mine used to be, was like a physical blow. I staggered at the impact of it and recoiled. Then I retreated to Indiana to lick my wounds in private. I didn’t return any of your messages and I hadn’t spoken to you since. Not once.

I stared at the screen on the computer while my mind waged a war inside my head. Should I call him? Or should I keep hiding, wallowing in the Hell of my own making? At that moment I closed my eyes and saw you. I saw your soulful eyes, the dark brown in them so bright when you were amused with me, or burning with a carefully contained fire when I made you angry. I saw the beguiling smile you used to get on your face when I dared drop ranks and flirt with you. And I heard your deep voice. The quiet, almost worshipful way you spoke my name. Before I could stop myself, I’d hit the button, and your handsome face filled my screen.

Your surprise registered plainly on your face. “Captain?”

I smiled involuntarily at the sight of you. “Hello, Chakotay.”

A gentle smile tugged at your lips. You followed my lead and dropped rank. “It’s good to hear from you, Kathryn. I see you’re at your mother’s house in Indiana. What happened to your new apartment near headquarters?”

Yes, small talk would be a good thing. I found myself feeling very grateful to you for starting it. “It’s … uh.” I chuckled softly. “It’s too damned quiet. No Borg attacks, no battle drills.”

You nodded knowingly. “Yes, I’ve had that same feeling here. For seven years I longed for peace and quiet. Now I find it’s driving me mad. But I don’t imagine it’s much more hectic at your mother’s house, is it?”

“We’re not at Red Alert, if that’s what you mean. Although, Phoebe brings her toddler over and it seems like we’ve been boarded and are under attack. Looks like a battle has taken place when she leaves, too.”

You laughed at that. Did I ever tell you how much I love your laugh, Chakotay? Then a moment of awkward silence followed, and I knew you were wondering why I’d called. I couldn’t tell you the answer because I wasn’t sure myself. You narrowed your eyes and looked at me carefully. You always were astute, especially when it came to your captain. “Is everything okay, Kathryn?”

“Of course,” I lied. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has.” You smiled, but your eyes continued to study me as if you thought you could read my thoughts if you tried hard enough.

“Do I need a reason to call an old friend?”

“No,” you answered instantly. “You never need a reason for contacting me. You know that. But I’m not stupid either. I know you, Kathryn. Something’s bothering you.” You leaned closer to the screen, studying my image intently. “You’ve been crying, haven’t you? What is it? What’s wrong?”

I felt the tears well up again, and silently cursed myself for letting you see it. “Nothing’s wrong, Chakotay. I just – “. I forced myself to look at you. I’m a lot of things, but I’m no coward. I met your gaze. “I needed to see your face and hear your voice. I’ve missed you, that’s all.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Kathryn.”

I thought I saw affection, maybe even longing in your eyes. But I was sure I was imagining it. I wanted to ask about Seven but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I just smiled sadly at your image and reached my hand out, gently touching the screen. If the gesture surprised you, you didn’t show it. You simply touched your own screen in response and said, “Maybe we could meet for lunch? I have some time off this week.”

“Sounds wonderful.” I put on my best professional smile.

“Great. I’ll call you Monday, and we’ll plan it.”

I nodded. “Monday,” I repeated. “I’ll talk to you again then.”

You hesitated, looking suspiciously at me. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

I wanted to tell you how sorry I was for all the pain I caused you. But I wanted to get off the line and hide under the blanket. I wanted to tell you how much you meant to me, to thank you for all you brought to my life. But I wanted to go outside and run through the cornfields until I was too exhausted to think.
Mostly, I wanted to tell you how sorry I was that I pushed you away and missed our chance. I did what I had to do, I knew that even then. But that didn’t mean I liked it. And I wanted to tell you about the holoimages, about how happy we looked together. I wanted to forgive you for being with Seven and not telling me about it. And I wanted to tell you I always knew that it was you. You were my one true friend.

Instead, I did what I always do. I put on my captain’s mask and shoved my emotions to the back of the line. I smiled bravely at you. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise. I think you just love to worry; it’s your nature.” I watched as you smiled back at me, and I hoped you believed me. “I’ll see you Monday, my friend.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“As am I,” I smiled. Then I hit the button and ended the transmission.

Didn’t I just say I’m not a coward? There I go lying to myself again. I was certainly a coward that night, wasn’t I? All those things I wanted to tell you, so much I wanted to say. And when I saw your face, all I could manage was, “I miss you.” Well, so much for bravado, hmm?

I continued to berate myself as I returned to my spot on the sofa and pulled the quilt tightly around me. I stared at the holoimage of us, the brilliant hues of the sunset behind us making it look like an image from a romance novel. We were in a way, you know? A love story of epic proportions by any standards. The polished Starfleet captain, and the seductively dangerous Maquis rebel, thrust together by fate – it’s very clichéd isn’t it? Star-crossed lovers, she bound by duty and unable to pursue her deepest desires. And he bound by loyalty to stay always at her side and take whatever she could give.
Silly as it sounds, the idea brought me comfort. It descended around me like a warm blanket reminding me that you did love me once. No matter what became of it - I had been loved by you, and that made life a little sweeter somehow. That must be when I finally dozed off.

It was a fitful sleep filled with changing images. I wouldn’t call them memories exactly. They were moments from my past, but they were distorted and nonsensical, as dreams tend to be. They swept me up and surrounded me like water at the bottom of a deep pond and I was drowning in them. For what must’ve been hours, I watched the movies my mind created behind my closed eyelids and was completely absorbed in them. That’s why it took several rings before I heard the door chime.

I slogged to the door, running a hand through my unruly hair and tripping over my mother’s thick throw rugs. I muttered a few colorful expletives, all the while wondering who would be ringing my mother’s doorbell in the middle of the night. I fumbled with the old-fashioned doorknob, still not fully awake, and then yanked the door open rather ungracefully. That’s when I heard you chuckle, and I wondered briefly if I was still dreaming.

I rubbed my eyes and then looked up at you, confused. “Chakotay?”

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” you grinned as a gust of cold air rushed in around you. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

I covered my mouth in an attempt to stifle a yawn and tried to shake the stupor of sleep out of my head. “What makes you think you woke me?”

That prompted a hearty laugh from you. “Do I really need to explain it to you?” you said, gesturing to my apparel.

That’s when I remembered I was in my nightgown … and cold. Blushing, I folded my arms across my chest and grinned. I must’ve been quite a sight. “What are you doing here?”

“You seemed upset earlier. I know you said it was nothing, but I was concerned. When you didn’t answer my calls, I went to the nearest transport site and came over.”

That’s so like you, Chakotay. Being there for me even before I realize how much I need you to be. “That’s very kind of you but I’m fine.”

We stood there for a minute staring stupidly at each other. Then you flashed me that smile, the one with the dimples that I believe you save only for me – and if you don’t, never tell me, agreed? It would set my entire universe askew.

“It’s a little cold out here, Kathryn. Can I come in?”

Oh, my mother would be so ashamed of me if she knew! I still can’t believe I left you standing out there in the autumn wind. “Of course! Please, come inside.”

I saw your eyes darting about the room, taking in the sights. I could tell by your soft smile that my mother’s house was much as you’d pictured it. As I saw you survey the scene; my empty wine glass, Neelix’s photo album lying open on the coffee table, my slippers on the floor - I knew you had a pretty good idea how I’d spent the evening. Wallowing in memories of the good old days and sipping liquor to numb the ache. I suddenly felt nude standing there in my bedclothes, my activities and my shoulders exposed for you to see. So I pulled the quilt off the sofa and wrapped it snugly around myself. And then I remembered the image of us I was holding as I drifted off to sleep. My first thought was to conceal it before you saw it, but I was too late. It slipped from the sofa when I tugged the blanket off and fell to the floor by your feet. You were already bending to pick it up.

I watched you carefully as you examined it. Emotions played across your face like an old silent movie. I saw something darken your eyes. Was it sadness? Did you miss the way we used to be as much as I did? “You, uh … you dropped this,” you said. Your hand trembled slightly as you held the holoimage out to me.

“Thank you.”

I babbled nervously about how the book belonged to Neelix, and I’d found it left behind in his quarters as I tried to settle the image back into its spot on the collage. I was wasting time, stalling – which is unlike me. I got us coffee, and you patiently listened and responded to my small talk. Finally, I ran out of trivial things to say, and we sat on the sofa staring at each other. Me, still wrapped tightly in my security blanket, and you clad in a thick burgundy sweater that made you look Earthy and rugged.

“So,” you said, resting a hand on your knee. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or do you want me to guess?”

I shrugged, feigning indifference. “I already told you. I just missed you.” You stared at me as if you were waiting for me to go on, so I did. “I saw you everyday for seven years, Chakotay. Then suddenly we’re home, everything is different, and I don’t see you in the seat next to me. I looked through the photo album, all the pictures of our crew, our family. It made me a bit emotional, that’s all.”

“I miss them, too. It’s been weeks since I saw most of them. I wonder how they’re doing.”

I couldn’t help myself. “And Seven? How is she?”

Now you were the one feigning nonchalance. “She’s fine.”

And why shouldn’t she be? She wasn’t alone with nothing but a damned book of holoimages. The anger flared suddenly, and I tried like hell to suppress it. I knew it wasn’t your fault, not entirely anyway. But it took all my years of practiced self-discipline not to take it out on you. I guess, even at my age, some immaturity still remains. “Well,” I said, rising to my feet. “I appreciate you running to my rescue, Commander. But as you can see, I’m perfectly fine. It’s very late, and I don’t want to keep you from … your other obligations.”

Your brow wrinkled and I knew you were wondering where in the hell that came from. No doubt you sensed my turbulent emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. You always have been able to read me like a book. “My other obligations?”

I ignored the question, walking toward the door. “It was good to see you. I’ll contact you sometime next week and we can have that lunch.”

You stood still as an oak, looking at me. “I’m not ready to leave yet. I don’t think we’ve finished talking. In fact, I don’t think we’ve really started.” You looked at me pointedly. “Have we?”

I puffed out an exaggerated sigh and rolled my eyes. I did it because I was frustrated and realized that I still wasn’t ready to discuss Seven of Nine with you with anything resembling maturity. But mostly I did it because I know you hate it. I rubbed my forehead. “I’m tired, Chakotay.”

“Me too, but I’m not leaving. If you want me to go you’ll have to throw me out.”

I stared at you, amazed at your audacity. You can be as obstinate as me sometimes. I could tell by the firm set of your jaw that you meant it. I sighed again, resigned to the inevitable, and slumped down in my mother’s chair. “Very well. What would you like to talk about?”

You didn’t sit down. You stood in the same spot, your eyes daring me not to look away. “I think it’s time we discuss Seven.”

I felt my anger rising again. “Oh, really?” My voice was dangerously quiet, but I couldn’t help it. “Why now?” I didn’t even give you a chance to answer as I glared at you. “You’ve been seeing her for months. You were seeing her when we were on Voyager, and you didn’t bother to tell me then. So why now, tonight? What’s changed that makes you suddenly want to discuss it now?”

Unruffled, you gazed evenly at me. I hate it when my anger doesn’t affect you, by the way, it’s infuriating. “I wanted to discuss it then, when we were on Voyager, but you brushed me off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I came to your quarters. It was about a week before Admiral Janeway came aboard, remember? We had dinner. I made TerraNut soufflé.” You were still facing me, but your gaze turned inward as you recalled the memory. “I tried to tell you that I was seeing someone but you cut me off. You said that the first officer’s private life was none of the captain’s business.”

Yes, I remembered that night. You seemed so ill at ease. Now I know why. “I remember. I made some lame joke about not debriefing you on your social life and changed the subject.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were about to tell me about some crewman from the lower decks that you were having dinner with or something. One of your casual dates to keep up the pretense of a social life,” I said. “I had no idea you were going to tell me you were seeing a member of my senior staff!”

“You never gave me a chance.”

Oh no, I wasn’t about to take all the blame for this one. “Well, you gave up rather easily, as I recall. And that was months ago! You haven’t even attempted to try again since then, have you?”

You ran your hand through your dark hair in frustration and sat down on the sofa. Your eyes were agonizing as you looked at me. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Kathryn. I just didn’t know how.”

“I can imagine. It’s not really something you casually blurt out over coffee and scrambled eggs.” I met your gaze and tucked a disobedient lock of hair behind my ear. “You and I weren’t exactly having heart to hearts then, were we? It’s been a long time since we’ve talked like old friends.”

You smiled sadly. “Too long.”

“I know I’ve pushed you away, Chakotay. But when the admiral told me about you and Seven I didn’t know how to take it. I guess I felt betrayed – by both of you.”

“I can understand that.”

I stood and walked over to the window. Not for the first time, I missed my viewport. The stars look different from space, more tranquil somehow, and they always brought me comfort during our difficult conversations. I longed to be among them again, back in the days when you and I were enough for each other and I saw your handsome face every morning. The words were out of my mouth before I even realized it. “Do you love her?”

“Kathryn – “

I turned to face you, trying to blink back the tears that flooded my eyes. They clouded my vision, giving the whole moment a surreal feeling. Or maybe that was my mind trying to emotionally detach from the situation. “Do you love her, Chakotay?”

Silence.

“Answer me.”

You shook your head slightly. “No, I don’t think so.”

I felt my eyebrow climb up my forehead. “What the hell does that mean? You don’t think so? Either you do, or you don’t. Which is it?”

“It’s not easy to explain.”

I glared at you. “Try.”

“Look, you know that I was never interested in Seven. I’m the one that didn’t even want to keep her aboard, remember? I didn’t plan any of this. Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted to do, you know that.” You came and stood in front of me. Your voice wavered slightly as you spoke. “You do know that, don’t you, Kathryn?”

You looked at me, your eyes searching mine, silently pleading for understanding. Until that night I had no idea that you were hurting, too. I should’ve known but I was too caught up in my own swirling emotions. Suddenly, I felt incredibly selfish and narrow-sighted. My anger immediately began to dissipate and I found that all I wanted was to comfort you. I wanted that more than anything in the universe.
I put my hand on your shoulder and stepped closer to you. “Yes, I know you would never intentionally hurt me. I shut you out, Chakotay. I pushed you away. Hell, I practically crammed Seven down your throat. I wanted you to like her and see in her all the potential, all the raw humanity that I saw. And when you came to me for affection and emotional intimacy, I turned you away. It’s my own fault.” I reached up and tenderly stroked your cheek, my heart beating faster at the feel of your skin beneath my palm. “I can’t blame her for wanting you. You’re a remarkable man. If I’ve lost you to her, I have only myself to blame.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into my hand, slowly rubbing your cheek against my palm. Then you took my hand in yours and held it against your heart. “You haven’t lost me, Kathryn. I only tried to go on with my life because I thought you’d given up on us. I thought there was no chance.”

“But Seven – “

“Was a diversion,” you cut in. “She asked me on a date. I was flattered. She’s half my age, for crying out loud. Nearly every man on the ship wanted her attention, and she pursued me. It was new and exciting and the attention was intoxicating. We never took it beyond a few dates, and I know she isn’t in love with me. I think we were mutually infatuated, that’s all. She lavished attention on me in her own way. I admit, it went to my head. I’m a middle-aged man, Kathryn. I came home with far more wrinkles than I had when I left.”

I smiled wryly at that comment. I had acquired a few lines and creases myself. “Are you saying you were having a mid-life crisis, so you decided to get yourself a young, perky blonde?”

You chuckled. “I would hardly call Seven’s stoic personality ‘perky’”.

I arched an eyebrow playfully. “What makes you think I was talking about her personality?”

That inspired you to laugh outright, and I couldn’t help but join in. You pointed a finger at me. “You’re naughty.”

“No, not naughty. But I’m not blind either.” Now your eyebrows rose. “Oh, come on. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I didn’t notice. My chest was never that perky, even before gravity had its way with me. But then my body was never surgically enhanced either. The doctor practically sculpted her to his own design.”

Your face grew serious as your eyes traveled slowly over my form, still clad only in my nightgown. “You don’t need surgery to be beautiful, Kathryn. You’re beauty goes much deeper than that. Seven’s only pretty. You’re beautiful. And there’s a world of difference between the two.”

Wow! I felt as if my breath had been ripped from my throat. For a moment I couldn’t speak, which – as you well know – is a rarity for me. I always have something to say. I decided that words didn’t matter. I didn’t have the ability to articulate how your words made me feel. Instead, I wrapped my arms around your neck and pressed my head to your chest. I just wanted to hold you, to hear your heart beating beneath your breastbone.

You moaned softly at the contact, and folded me into your arms. You hugged me tightly to you, dropping your lips into my hair. I don’t know how long we stood there holding on to one another like our lives depended on it. All I know is that I would’ve been perfectly contented to stay in that very spot for the rest of my life.

Finally, you dropped a chaste kiss on the top of my head and then pulled back slightly to look at me. “Tell me about the holoimage, Kathryn. The one I found on the floor. Is that what made you cry?”

I was glad you brought it up. There was so much I wanted to say to you. No matter how that night ended, you had to know how much you added to my life. I took your hand and led you to the sofa. Once we were settled by the fire, I plucked Neelix’s photo album off the coffee table and sat in on our laps. I watched your face carefully as your eyes traveled over the collage of images, and I knew you were reliving each of those moments just as I had when I saw them.

“I found this in Neelix’s quarters and brought it here with me. Before tonight I’d never taken the time to look at it.”

You caressed the pages gently with your hand. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” I said. “I don’t know what possessed him to make a collage of us.”

You smiled softly. “They all knew how I felt about their captain. Especially Neelix. He had a way of sensing things like that.”

“Well, whatever his reasons, he did me a tremendous favor.”

“Oh? How so?”

I nodded toward the images. “Sitting here all alone tonight looking at those pictures was a bit of a catharsis for me. I learned a great deal about myself and about what you’ve meant to my life. I owe a lot to you, Chakotay.”

You touched my hand, covering it with your own. “You owe me nothing. Anything I may have done for you was given freely. I’ve never expected anything in return.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I pointed to the image of us on the alien planet. “I mean I owe a lot of my perceptions to you. Look at us in this picture. You’re showing me the sunset.”

“I doubt it was the first time you’d stopped to watch the sun go down, Kathryn.”

“Of course not. But it was the first time I really saw it, the enormous beauty of it. It’s not just a G-2 type star dropping below the line of sight as the planet rotates in orbit. It’s more than science. It’s a cacophony of colors and shapes, hues of varying intensity and shades I’d never seen before. And the smells, I remember the scent of the alien flora in the air, exotic and a little spicy. It tickled my nose as the breeze carried it along. And the grass – it was the most wonderful shade of blue-green, and it was soft beneath my feet like thick, plush carpet.”

I knew I was as animated as a child on Christmas Eve but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to tell you. “You taught me to see the wonder and beauty in the world. You made me take time to find the joy and experience the journey.”

“You may not know it, Kathryn, but you did the same for me. You enriched my life, too. In more ways than I know how to describe.”

I took your face in my hands and noticed that your eyes were shiny with unshed tears, just like mine. “I want to thank you for always being there for me, for being my friend. No matter what was happening you were always there by my side, even when I told you not to be. No matter how big of a mess I got us into, when the dust settled – you were always there with your quiet strength to lift me up and brush me off. I needed it. I survived on it, even if I didn’t know it at the time. It was always you. You were the light inside of me.

“I never told you, never even thanked you for the incredible gift you gave me. I never told you how I felt even though I knew how badly you needed to hear it sometimes. And for the rest of my life, I’ll regret that.”

You shook your head softly and wrapped your arms around me. “Kathryn – “

I gently pressed a finger over your lips. “Shhh. Let me finish. I have to say it. Thank you for all you gave me. For the years of support and friendship, and for the love you gave me – even when I wasn’t able to accept it. I love you, Chakotay. No matter what happens between us from here on out, you have to know that I love you and I always have. I’m only sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

I guess you were pretty stunned because you struggled to gain control of your breathing and just stared at me. I was beginning to wonder if I’d made a huge mistake, and then you cupped my face with your hands and rested your forehead against mine. Your voice crackled, racked with emotion, when you finally spoke. “I have waited so long to hear you say those words. I’d given up hope. Spirits, Kathryn, you are the other part of my soul. Everything that is wondrous and beautiful in me comes from you. I was head over heels in love with you the day we watched that alien sunset. And I’m even more in love with you now.”

I don’t remember exactly what happened next, who moved first or who kissed whom. All I know is that when I felt your lips moving against mine, the rest of the universe stopped – and all was still. Not a molecule or a single atom moved. There were no other worlds, no other beings. There was no Seven of Nine, no Voyager. There was only you and me. No games, no denial. Just us.

And I will never be the same again.

Everything weighing on my mind disappeared as you pulled me onto your lap and held me against your chest. I’d been in your arms before but never like this. You encompassed me and I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into you with each moment. We sat that way for a long time, just holding each other and being together. We didn’t rush into the physical side of our new found relationship. That part would come; there would be time. For the moment, we just wanted to be close to each other and let the reality of it all sink it.

We went outside a short time later to watch the sunrise. “Come on, Kathryn,” you said. “Let’s go see all those colors and shapes we’ve never seen before. This time, you can tell me what you see.” You took my hand and led me into my mother’s cornfield, and we watched Sol rise in the morning sky. It was like seeing it for the first time.

Life is funny, isn’t it, Chakotay? We spent seven years dancing around each other. And then in one night, in one conversation, we came together. Somehow we found a way to tear down the barriers and cross the great chasm that used to separate us. We have always done things our own way, hmm?

That was two weeks ago, and we’ve hardly spent a night apart since. It hasn’t been without struggle, each of us learning to overcome our behaviors of nearly a decade. But it’s been more wonderful than I ever imagined. I’ll still stumble, probably even fall, but that’s okay. And even if the ghosts lurk and the demons still howl, I know that you’ll be right there beside me. And the world is suddenly larger and the galaxy more wondrous because I have you to explore it with.

Yesterday, deep in one of your retrospective moods, you asked me to put pen to paper and tell you of our journey, how we got here. You said that it began with me, and my night of solitude and holoimages, and you wanted to know every detail. I hope this letter is what you were hoping for. Though it was such an incredible night of intense ups and downs, I can scarcely do it justice with mere words.

I look at you now, your arm draped over your forehead in your sleep. You’re exquisite in your repose and I know that I could deny you nothing. Here we are, Chakotay. Sharing a bed, sharing our lives. I don’t know what the future has in store for us. But I know one thing; it’ll never be dull. We have a whole new relationship to explore, and all because you were my one true friend.

I love you,

Kathryn

Voyager - My One True Friend, Part 1 Rated T

2008-06-24T02:10:32Z

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them, which puts them in the same category as abused children, but what can ya do? I’m just borrowing them. I promise to put them back when I’m finished. No infringement intended. You can’t sue me anyway, I don’t have anything.

Star Trek: Voyager and all thing contained therein are the property of Paramount Pictures. No infringement intended.

WARNING: MAJOR SAP ALERT!! I mean it, I warned you. This story is sappy enough to make syrup! Read on at your own risk, your glucose level is your own business.

My One True Friend - Rated T

My Dearest Chakotay,

You wanted me to tell you how I got to this point. How I brought us to where we are. Where to start? I don’t know what prompted me to do it.

No … wait. That’s a lie.

I’m an expert at lying to myself, did you know that? Yes, I suppose you did. And I do know what prompted me. It was a combination of things, I think. The book of holoimages I found left behind in Neelix’s quarters, the glow of the candlelight in the room, and the soft music I was listening to competing with the crackling sounds of the fire. Those things all conspired against me and I found myself suddenly awash with emotion. Before I knew it, I was clutching a faded holoimage to my chest and sobbing. Crying with an intensity I hadn’t known since the day I lost my father and fiancé beneath the alien ice caps on Tau Ceti Prime. I hadn’t cried like that since then.

I’d tucked Neelix’s book of holoimages in with my private effects when I disembarked. Leaving Voyager was hard for me, and I remember thinking that the book full of memories would bring me comfort in the quiet hours when ghosts tend to lurk and the demons howl. I have many of both - ghosts and demons. And so do you. But until that night, I hadn’t actually found the courage to open the book and look inside. I knew from glancing at the first page what it contained. Images and memories of them – our Voyager family. Holiday celebrations in the mess hall, activities and games on the holodeck, shore leave snap shots, and so on. Our lives for the past decade rolled up and neatly preserved within those pages. I hadn’t looked at it because I knew that if I did, I’d have to face the fact … the fact that I missed them all terribly. Some more so than others. And you – I missed you more than I’d ever imagined possible, Chakotay.

On that particular night, I found myself alone in my childhood home. My mother had gone to tend to Phoebe, who’d just given birth to her second child. Another girl with my mother’s eyes, so I was told. Unable to chase away my melancholia, I did what I always do when I feel downtrodden: I soaked in a hot bubble bath and sipped on a rather tasty coffee liqueur. But it didn’t provide its usual succor, much to my dismay. Perhaps it was because you didn’t build it for me. No tub has ever compared to that one.

Determined to ignore whatever was pulling my heart down through my feet, I dressed in my favorite nightgown and perched myself in the living room with a thick quilt and a good book. People often think I adore reading so much because I’m intelligent and academic minded. You think that, too, don’t you? That’s not it at all, far from it in fact. I read for release from my heavy life – it’s my favorite form of escapism. With the simple turning of a page, I can forget all about the burdens of command, or the throbbing ache of loneliness that was my life. Lost in the words of the author, I can be anyone but Kathryn Janeway, and for a short time, I can forget my woes. Such was my intention that night, but it was not to be.

After I read the same paragraph about six times with no comprehension, I sighed in frustration and closed the old-fashioned paper bound book. I sat it on the coffee table, stroking the faded leather cover reverently as I released it. I would try it again later. That’s the beautiful thing about books, they wait for you like an old friend. Patient and undemanding, like you.

I leaned my head back on the fluffy sofa pillow and tried to fall asleep, another form of escapism I’d become fond of. But the silence was deafening, and sleep eluded me. My eyes drifted to the closed door of my father’s study. I rose with insentience and opened the door, stepping tentatively into the room. The scent of cedar assaulted my nose, and I suddenly felt like the little girl I once was. Four years old and creeping into Daddy’s study to wait for him to come home and quiz me on multiplication. I knew my mother had kept it well preserved. Even after all these years, it looked like it did when he was alive, a place for everything and everything in its place.
His reading glasses still sat on the corner of the desk as though he would walk in any moment, ruffle my hair, and slip the glasses on until they came to rest on the edge of his nose. Tears already forming in my eyes, I walked around the desk and stood behind it, looking wistfully at the small space where I used to hide at his feet and listen to him tapping at his console. I closed my eyes for a moment and allowed the memories to wash over me. I still swear I could hear his voice. “Is that a little bird under my desk?” I could see his strong arms open to invite me in. “Come to Daddy, Goldenbird. Have you been a good girl today?”

I remember fighting the tears that threatened to fall. Even in my solitude, I wouldn’t allow myself to be human long enough to cry. Rather self-defeating behavior, wouldn’t you agree? Yes, of course you would. You were always the one telling me to stop running from my emotions. I should’ve listened to you, Chakotay. Maybe I could’ve spared us both a lot of unnecessary pain.

When I found myself longing to crawl into my old hiding spot under Daddy’s desk, I decided it was probably time to leave that room. I took one more look around. “I miss you, Daddy,” I heard myself say. Then I closed the door behind me, silencing the ghost of my father that lingered within those four walls. I knew even then that I would return another time. The demons in that room call to me often. They speak of survivor guilt and hands that couldn’t work the transporter controls fast enough to save them. I’ve yet to find a way to silence them. Perhaps I never will.

I flopped down in the oversized lounge chair my mother is so fond of sitting in and stared at the crackling fire. On Voyager, I’d have given just about anything for a quiet night like this one. But here away from my ship and crew, in the company of my own thoughts, I would’ve welcomed a Hirogen hunting party. In the quiet of the room, I could hear the ghosts whispering to me, taunting me. They wanted me to think about you, to think about all I’d lost. You’d waited for me for so long, and I pushed you away every chance I got. I had to get my crew home. I stranded them there, and I didn’t deserve the luxury of indulging myself – no matter how badly I wanted to. And then when we finally made it home, it was too late. You were with her, and I was certain I had lost you. The horrible irony of it was that I only had myself to blame.

I couldn’t stand the quiet anymore, so I decided to listen to some music. Soft, tranquil music. The gentle sounds wafting through the room helped to relax me a little, and I closed my eyes for a few moments to let it wash over me. I reached over to refill my drink, and that’s when I noticed Neelix’s book. It sat there on the bottom shelf of the bookcase beckoning me to pick it up. I snatched it in my hands and then slumped back in the chair, resting the large book on my lap. I was swallowed up as I began turning the carefully constructed pages.
My body may have been sitting in my mom’s house in Indiana, but my mind and spirit were instantly back on that ship. The images took me back to the time when all we had was each other, and every day was an adventure. There, smiling back at me, were the faces of the people I never expected to love so completely. Our journey was over and our mission complete. And with each page, I grieved anew.

On the first page were Tom and B'Elanna, dressed in Hawaiian motif and sipping frosty beverages in Neelix’s Polynesian resort program. Tom’s arm rested on B'Elanna’s bare shoulders casually, but with a hint of possessiveness. They were laughing at something, and I remembered instantly how my heart used to soar when I saw the mirth and joy in their eyes. Those two found much more than just each other on that journey. They found themselves. They’re living proof that some good came of our sojourn through the Delta Quadrant.

Next I came upon a charming picture of Neelix, a very young Naomi Wildman curled up on his lap as her read to her from The Adventures of Trevis and Flotter. Just behind his left shoulder, trying to observe without intruding on the moment, was Samantha. She had that look in her eyes. You remember it, that luminescence that appeared every time she looked at her little girl. I felt a gentle tug at my heartstrings. Little Naomi – how we all adored her. In a way, she belonged to all of us. I knew even then that I would probably never cuddle my own infant against my chest. How very lucky we were to share in Naomi’s first years, hmm?

I turned the page and laughed aloud at the image of myself dressed as Arachnia, Queen of the Spider People. I had no idea how Neelix managed to get his hands on a holoimage of me in that ridiculous costume, but I was willing to bet he paid a hefty price for it. I distinctly remember how angry you were that you didn’t get to participate, Chakotay. But I was determined not to let you see me in that get up. As I looked at the image of myself in it, I remembered exactly why. I looked hilarious! Just behind my right shoulder I could see my cohorts posturing exaggeratedly. Captain Proton and Buster Kincaid, they’d saved my life more times that I could count. All of you have.

I continued my stroll down memory lane, each image evoking a different emotion. The sweet, elfin face of Kes brought me to tears only moments before the image of Tuvok clad only in a toga had me laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Remember the merciless string of pranks Tom played on the poor Vulcan, Chakotay? You tried to reprimand Paris, but your amusement showed in your eyes.

I was lost in my private reverie, and was unprepared for the images I saw on the next page. They were pictures of you and me. Several small images arranged together in a collage of sorts. There we were, sitting together at the Doctor’s operetta, both looking like we’d prefer to undergo a lobotomy than listen any longer. I didn’t realize at the time just how lucky I was to be sitting there surrounded by all of them - with you at my side.

Then we were on the holodeck. Talent night if I remember correctly. Two crewmen from Stellar Cartography did that impression of us, remember? One of them put on high-heeled boots and, hands on hips, said, “Do it,” every time the other spoke. It was mostly at my expense, but it was funny. In the picture, my hand was on your chest and I was bent over at the waist laughing. You were holding on to my arm, probably keeping me from falling over, and you were looking down at me with that devilish grin of yours, obviously enjoying the show. I was momentarily stricken with how natural we looked together. Our touches were so genuine, and they occurred without forethought most of the time. It was like I’d been touching you all my life.

And then another image, it was from Neelix’s party after the incident with the Equinox. We were standing together greeting members of the crew as they came in. I could see the tension in our eyes, despite the smiles we wore on our faces. I hurt you badly then, Chakotay. I know I did. I could even see it in your stance in the picture. But you stood beside me anyway. You allowed me to stumble and make my own mistakes, the whole time having faith in me to learn from them and move on. You were my friend, even when I didn’t deserve it. I never thanked you for that. Can you ever forgive me?

Then I came across the image that affected me most. It was you and I on shore leave apparently. We were standing on a ridge covered in tall blue-green grass. A moment frozen out of time. We were looking at the alien sunset, in all its hues of orange and fuchsia. We were in civilian clothing, and my long ponytail hung down my back. At first, I couldn’t recall that day or that planet. But as I studied the image carefully, and took note of exactly what you and I were doing, it came back to me. The photographer, whomever it was, caught our profiles as we stood facing each other. Your right arm was on the small of my back, and in my joined hands I held a paintbrush. Your left arm was extended toward the horizon, as if you were pointing to something. Our eyes were locked together as if we were deep in conversation. That’s when I remembered. It was the first shore leave we had after my brush with death and the alien that appeared to me in the form of my father.

Do you remember it, Chakotay?

We took a picnic to that hill, just the two of us. I was trying to paint the sunset but I couldn’t get it right. You took me to the ridge and you pointed out the subtle variations in the colors, where they faded from light to dark and convoluted around each other. And you told me the story your father used to tell you about the sun always being followed by the moon because they were separated lovers, always trying to reach each other again. You said that they would never stop, never give up. That no matter what, they would always be watching over each other. You always have a legend or parable for everything.
You were trying to tell me something then, weren’t you? Oh, how I took you for granted. I am so sorry for that, Chakotay.

That’s when I began to sob. Not just at the memory of that day, but at what I didn’t realize until that moment as I looked at the image. It’s always been you, Chakotay. You’ve always been there for me, making me stop in my whirlwind life and see the beauty around me. You made me find the wonder in a sunset, or the artistry in a flower. You added so much to my life, in your tender, gentle way. And you taught me to see beyond my rank and duties. You decorated my world, Chakotay, and you made my life beautiful. How can I ever thank you for that?

And now is it too late to say,

How you made my life so different,

In your quiet way?

I can see the joy,

In simple things.

A sunlit sky,

And all the songs we used to sing.

I have wanted,

And I have prayed,

I could forgive.

And we could start again.

In the end -

You are my one true friend.

I smiled through my tears as I carefully pulled the image from the paper. I clutched it against my heart and cried for all I’d lost. I knew that someday, somehow, I had to tell you. I had to thank you for all you brought to my life, even if I’d thrown it away and you were no longer by my side. You were my friend, Chakotay, and that kept me alive. Because no matter how much I may have needed or wanted a lover, I needed a friend a hundred times worse. God, how I missed you!

I sulked my way back to the sofa and sat down, feeling morose and terribly lonely. I pulled the quilt up to my chin, the picture still clutched in my hand. And then the though flitted unbidden through my mind. I wonder where Chakotay is tonight? Is he lonely, too? I found myself sitting before the communication terminal, punching away at the controls and preparing to send you a message.
My hands were shaking so badly, I could barely control them. Stupid, isn’t it? Ridiculous really. We’d known each other for so long, and you’d been my best friend for years. We shared our fears and our hopes. Hell, we shared our lives on that little starship. And here I was nervous to call you! The absurdity of it suddenly struck me, and I paused before hitting the activation sequence. What was I going to say to you? Tell you I missed you? Ask you why you did it?

Voyager Fic

2008-06-24T02:05:13Z

A few folks have asked if I have any other stories besides my currently unfinished BSG ditties. The answer is yes and no. LOL Yes, I have mucho fanfic that I've written, but no, it's not BSG. I wrote Star Trek: Voyager fanfic a few years ago when the show was still on. It was pretty well received and lots of fun. But I swore I would never write fanfic again ... and then I met Bill Adama and Laura Roslin.

I know people are waiting on updates for my BSG stories, and I promise they're in the works. But for those who've asked for something of mine to chew on until then - and to get all my stuff in one place - I'm putting up my Voyager stuff.

If it's not your cup of Ambrosia, I get that. For those who like Janeway/Chakotay - here beginnith the journey.

Frakking headaches...

2008-06-20T22:36:26Z

Hey friends.

Quick drive by to say that I'm sorry I haven't been around much or updated my stories. (I know some of you are going to hunt me down and kill me for that one. LOL) I've been sick, which is common for me. But long story short - I have a crumbling spine and get THE MOST EVIL migraines. They can last an hour or a week. And they totally wipe my ass out. Right now I'm in severe pain in my back even when the headache lets up, so writing is on the back burner until I can focus my brain again.

Just wanted y'all to know the deal.

Also - not sure how many of you pray but my sister, Laurel, is about to welcome her first grandchild - a little girl they've already named Cheyenne. Unfortunately we recently learned that little Cheyenne has a cyst in her brain, and the amnio tested positive for Dandy-Walker Syndrome. The child faces hydrocephalus, cardiac abnormalities, mental retardation ... just to name a few of the highlights. Children born with this syndrome can be nearly normally functioning or severly vegatative, and all the stages inbetween. There's just no way to know yet what fate holds for Cheyenne.

If you pray, or send out healing thoughts, please keep my sister, Laurel, and my niece, Christine, in your minds. They can use all the prayers and good thoughts they can get. Thanks.

Also, I've missed some birthdays. Happy Belated to everyone who's had a birthday this month. I hope you had a great one!!!

Much Love -
Red

Jungle Love - Chapter 2, Pt. 2

2008-06-08T18:13:34Z

Sex, War Games & That Damned Pig

Sorry - LJ made me break it in half...

Not my fault!

Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Blah, freakin' blah blah blah.

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Jungle Planet...

Roslin grunted aloud as she drove her piton into the rock face and hoisted her tired body another few inches up the cliff side. Despite modern technology it still took considerable effort to force the metal piton into solid stone. Self-driving pitons, my ass, she thought silently as the sweat soaked her brow. Out loud, she said, “I’m getting too old for this.”

“I’m older than you so you’re not allowed to say that,” Adama grunted in return. “Besides, you’re only about 2/3 my size, which means you only have 2/3 the weight to pull up this rock. So stop complaining.”

She flashed him a scolding glance. “I’ll complain if I want to. President’s privilege. And that’s the last time you will ever mention my weight, Admiral, in any context. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” he answered crisply.

“Very funny,” she returned dryly between her heavy breathing. “I’d yell at you if I wasn’t too busy panting. Like a dog. In heat.”

“You said it, not me.”

She stopped long enough to shoot him a glare. “Remind me to slap you when I have the use of both hands.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

She kicked at him with a boot covered foot. “It was just an expression. I am not a dog.”

“Not by a long shot,” he said lecherously.

She giggled despite herself. “Ya know, if we weren’t up so high I would knock you off this mountain.”

“You’d miss me if you did that,” he grunted, shoving his piton into the rock beside her.

“Maybe,” she grinned. She paused to look at the progress they’d made. The jungle was about five different shades of green, all spread out beneath them. It was a sailor’s sky – almost impossibly blue – and she couldn’t help but smile. “View’s lovely, though.”

Bill couldn’t help but chuckle because at that particular moment he happened to have a spectacular view, too, but it had nothing to do with the alien vista. “Agree with you on that one,” he said.

Catching the naughty tone in his voice, Laura’s gaze darted toward him. She smiled – just the slightest bit of satisfied arrogance in her face. “Are you checking out my ass, Admiral?”

“You gonna throw me in the brig if I say yes?”

She pretended to consider it for a moment. “Depends.”

He stopped what he was doing to look up at her. “Yeah? On what?”

Her voice was low, almost husky. “Do you like what you see?”

“Laura, any man with a pulse would enjoy the view I’ve been getting.”

“Is that a yes?”

He nodded. “Big yes.”

“Good,” she smiled brightly. “Then I’ll let it slide. For now.”

He reached up as she began to climb again and slapped her spectacular ass.

She glared down at him but her eyes danced with amusement. “Now you’re pushing your luck.”

“You started it.”

Surprised, she glanced down at him again. “I did? How?”

“You’re the one who brought up being horny.”

Men! “I don’t think that’s exactly what I said.”

“Words were a little different. Meaning was the same.”

“Now you’re being a dog.”

“Not my fault. You made me think about sex. In retrospect I think you did it intentionally. You’re a tease, Madame President.”

She shook her head, her ponytail of curls sliding across her back – much to Bill’s distraction. “I’m a tease? You’re the one who’s always blathering on about our damned responsibilities.”

He smiled. “Is that frustration I hear in your voice?”

“I believe we already covered that yesterday in my office…”

“Right. When you said you were horny.”

Exasperated, she sighed and stopped climbing to look at him. “That’s not what I said.”

“So … you’re not horny?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

He pulled himself up beside her. “Well what are you saying?”

“Are we really having this conversation?”

“Well, my body hurts like a motherfrakker so I’m pretty sure this isn’t a dream.”

She laughed a little. “I guess I’m saying that when I unintentionally got drunk and molested you the other day – it was the most action I’ve had in a long time. Too long, and I don’t even remember it.”

“I do,” Adama grinned at her hungrily. “Vividly. You were soaking wet and so was your shirt. And it was cold…”

She’d have crossed her arms over her chest if she could have. “Oh Gods…”

“Trust me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Absolutely nothing.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Can we discuss this when we’re not climbing the side of a cliff, Bill?”

“Whatever you say…”

“Good. Now shut up and climb.”

Roslin’s attention returned to the situation at hand when she moved to drive her piton again into the rock above …

Only to have it snap in two.

The action left her hanging by one arm from her only functional piton, which was, thankfully, still embedded firmly in the rock. She felt her body sway slightly. She was suddenly very grateful that Adama had insisted on tethering her to him by tying a rope around her waist, the other end tied securely around his own.

He felt her slip as she struggled to find footholds to brace herself on. He knew if she panicked now she would fall and she’d take him with her.

“Easy, Laura,” he said softly. “If you thrash around you’ll just be using gravity and your own weight against you.”

Letting his calm tone soothe her, she slowed her movements and almost immediately her feet found purchase against the rock. As her balance began to stabilize she glanced at her partner. “I thought I just told you never to mention my weight,” she grunted breathlessly.

He shook his head, amused. “Leave it to you to be sarcastic while you’re hanging precariously from a cliff. Hold still.” He drove his pitons into the stone and maneuvered himself until he was outstretched over her, his hands and feet on either side of her body.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily.

“I’m moving into a better position,” he answered, his body pressing against her back.

Laura arched an eyebrow. “I see that. A better position for what exactly?”

Adama chuckled aloud. “I’m not going to take advantage of you, if that’s what you’re thinking. At least … not here on the cliff anyway.” He winked at her. “I’m trying to get the spare piton out of your pack. You can’t climb the rest of the way with only one. Unless you think you can pull yourself up by sheer stubbornness alone. If anyone could do that, it would be you.”

“You’re quite the comedian today,” she said dryly. “It’s not my fault the equipment was faulty.”

“Of course not,” he patronized.

Admiral Adama took his time, enjoying the feeling of her body against his. Slowly, he unzipped her backpack and began feeling around for the extra piton. Roslin squirmed beneath him as he shifted his weight for better balance, unintentionally pressing his pelvis into her backside.

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly. He tried to ignore the jolt of arousal that swept through his body and attempted to focus on the task at hand. This was not the time for pubescent behavior. His body had other ideas, however, and he felt his maleness responding despite himself.

Laura glanced at him over her shoulder. “Take your time, Admiral. No rush. I can hang here by one arm forever.”

More sarcasm. Bill’s blue eyes burned into her. “I’m trying. If I move too fast I’ll pull us both off this mountain. Besides, I’m not enjoying this anymore than you are.”

A wry smile tugged at her lips. Two can play at this game. She glanced down at his erection pressing firmly against her ass. “All evidence to the contrary.”

An embarrassed flush washed across his cheeks and he suddenly thought that maybe plunging to his death wouldn’t be so bad after all. Since when did Bill Adama blush, anyway? “Knock it off,” he scolded. “I’m doing this for you.”

She giggled wickedly at him and moved her hips, lightly brushing her bottom against him. “You certainly are.”

She was biting off more than she could chew, taking him on after she’d been teasing him this way. That was the last straw. The gloves were coming off. She’d get no mercy from him. He pressed himself harder against her. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His voice was deep and husky as he growled into her ear. “I can’t help it. You do this to me, Laura.”

She swallowed nervously. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Uh huh.” He retrieved the spare piton from the pack and drove it into the rock within her reach. “As it was intended.”

They made their way up the mountain quickly, an awkward silence permeating the air between them. Finally Laura could stand the quiet no longer. She pulled herself over the ridge and rested on the soft grass, panting – and not just from exertion. Her eyes locked on Bill. “Tell me again why we decided to scale that mountain.”

He slumped to the ground beside her. “I already told you. We planted the bait to lead Lee and Kara to the river. We can see them approach from up here.”

“Do you think they took the bait?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “Kara will see the piece of fabric and she’ll know it was put there intentionally. So they’ll take another route to catch us by surprise. What she doesn’t know is that’s exactly what we want her to do.” He pointed to an area on the opposite side of the river from which they’d come. “They’ll come from that side. I know it.”

“That’s twice the distance.”

He nodded. “Right. So either they’ll take a while to get here, or Starbuck will insist they run most of the way.”

Roslin began to understand. “In which case they’ll be all tired out when they get here. Their guard will be down.”

“Exactly.”

She smiled in appreciation of his brilliant plan. “Nicely done, Bill. I hope you never stalk me.”

“I’ve been stalking you for years, woman.”

Suddenly at a loss for what to do with herself, Laura fished two bottles of water from her pack and tossed one to him.

“Thanks.”

“Mmm Hmm.”

He drank half of it and then poured the other half over his head.

Laura, who hadn’t seen that one coming and therefore had a mouthful of water, found the action decidedly sexy. Unfortunately, for some reason, that reaction caused her to inhale rather than swallow the water. She began to cough and choke.

Dripping wet with fat drops running down his face, Bill rushed to her side. He patted her gently on the back. “You gotta breathe.”

She glared at him. “Ya think?” she wheezed.

Her eyes were watering. Her hair was all over the place. And her cheeks were pink from the sun. She was a mess. And she was beautiful. Bill couldn’t stop himself. He laughed – laughed in a way he hadn’t in years.

She continued to cough and glare at him. “I’m so happy my suffocating is amusing you.”

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed between laughs. “It’s just so damn funny.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she said, slapping him on the arm. “And frak off, by the way.”

“Uh oh,” he teased. “What are you gonna do? Shoot me out an airlock?”

She eyed him with a smug grin. “I might.”

“If Cottle were here he’d tell you – you got two pipes going down your throat, Roslin. One for swallowing and one for breathing. And they’re not interchangeable.”

“Oh, thank you for that gem of wisdom, Admiral,” she said, rolling her large eyes dramatically. “Is this heat frying your brain?”

He stopped laughing but his smile lit up his eyes. “It’s not the heat.”

“Is that so?”

“I think it’s the same thing that made you almost choke to death on your bottle of water.”

“Really,” she drawled provocatively, “you were distracted by the sight of the Admiral pouring water over his head, too?”

“So you admit it,” he grinned.

“I admit nothing,” she retorted immediately. “I’m a politician. We never admit anything. Ever.”

“But you think I look sexy when I’m all wet.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say it, either,” he pushed.

She laughed. “Now who sounds like a politician? Is that even a sentence?”

“You wanna quibble about semantics? Or you wanna talk about this, Laura?”

She sighed, frustrated. “As a matter of fact, I-“

Her reply was cut off by a loud squeal and a rumbling in the bushes behind them. They were both immediately on their feet.

Laura spotted it first as it barreled out of the bushes. “Oh my Gods! It’s That Damned Pig!”

Bill looked completely shocked. “The same one? Are you sure?”

She stopped digging in her pack long enough to glare at him. “It hit me in the ass and knocked me off a cliff. I think I know it when I see it.” It let out a nasty snort as it hurled past her. She pulled out her dart gun and started after it. “Frakking pig is going to die.”

“Laura, you can’t-“

“I can and I will,” she snapped. “So either keep up or shut up.”

“Frakking woman,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he took off after said frakking woman. “Madame President, wait.”

Laura chased the pig for more than half an hour. Bill chased Laura for more than half an hour. Out of breath and out of patience, he poured on the speed and caught up with her. “Laura, stop.”

She ignored him. Really, she left him no choice.

“Damn it,” he huffed, snagging her around the waist with one arm and under the knees with the other. He scooped her slight frame off the ground with little effort. Their forward momentum had other ideas, however, and before Bill could do anything to stop it they were tumbling to the ground in a big tangle of arms and legs.

Laura screamed. Bill groaned. That Damned Pig snorted.

Adama felt his President wriggling beneath him. And while he’d be a frakking liar if he said he didn’t enjoy it – he didn’t leave her pinned there on purpose. Mostly because he was pretty sure at that point that she was going to kill him. Slowly.

It was just that right at that moment his only priority was to desperately suck air back into his flattened lungs. Breathing had become an issue when the air had been knocked out of him as they’d hit the ground and rolled, apparently, down a very steep incline.

Unaware of his struggle for oxygen, Roslin kicked and shoved at him. “Get. Off Me. Now.”

“Can’t … breathe…”

“Good,” she crowed, “serves you right for tackling me. What’s your frakking problem, anyway?”

He stared down at her and couldn’t help but smile at the image, despite his breathing issues. Laura Roslin was sprawled on the ground like a squished bug … beneath him, their bodies pressed together. He’d had worse days in his life.

“I told you to stop,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know why I have to keep telling you this, but I do not take orders from you.”

“Obviously,” he grinned.

“What are you smiling about?” She rolled her eyes and shoved at him again. “Knock it off and let me up.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” he said.

“That’s very romantic, Admiral, but there’s a huge rock digging into my already bruised ass and That Damned Pig looks like he’s about to take a big bite out of yours. So get off me and let me shoot him already.”

Adama was on his feet and drawing his weapon in one swift movement. The movement of a much younger man, Laura noted. “Where is it?”

“Over there,” she ticked her gaze to the huge flower bush to her left. “Hiding in the bush like a coward. Maybe I’ll name him Gaius.” She slowly and carefully took aim with her tranq gun.

“You’re really going to shoot a defenseless animal?”

“You would prefer I walked over to it and politely asked it to drop dead?” He seemed to consider it and she rolled her eyes. “It’s a PIG, Bill!”

As if on cue, the pig leapt from the bush with a mighty oink and pounced on Madame President, knocking her into Admiral Adama’s protective arms and very effectively knocking them both back to the ground.

Roslin fired but her aim sucked and she hit a nearby tree. That Damned Pig escaped unharmed.

The Admiral and the President weren’t so lucky, however. They hit the ground hard with a bone-jarring thud. Bill felt his teeth slam together so hard that it reverberated through his skull. He heard Laura scream and felt the warm gush of blood, though his or hers he wasn’t sure.

Laura knew exactly whose blood it was because it was gushing from her nose and running down her face. Her head was spinning and she thought for a moment that she might lose consciousness. Or throw up. Or both.

Bill pulled himself together the moment he realized that Laura was the one who was bleeding. He moved off of her and reached for his pack. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder as she tried to sit up. “Take it easy, Laura,” he said, leaning over her. “You took a pretty hard hit to your head.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she replied, wiping the blood off her face with the back of her hand. “I was there when it happened.”

He studied her for a second. “Are you being sarcastic? Or do you have a concussion?”

“Neither. Or … possibly both. One question at a time.”

He pressed a clean cloth into her hand. “Hold this to your nose. It doesn’t look broken, so that’s good.”

“Yes, that’s wonderful,” she retorted. “Frankly, I’m impressed it’s still on my face.”

He smiled at that. “Let’s see, what would Cottle ask you to check for a concussion? Do you know where you are?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And what day it is?”

“Bill…”

“And who’s the President?”

“Very funny.”

“Just checking,” he grinned. “And can you tell me what happened?”

“Hmmff,” she laughed, “yes, I can. You tried to kill me. And then That Damned Pig tried to kill me. That about sums it up.”

“I would never hurt you on purpose. You know that.”

“My nose disagrees.”

“I didn’t do that to your nose,” he smiled warmly at her, “and there’s a hoof print on your face that’ll back me up on that one.”

She rolled her eyes. “Delightful.”

He poured some water on the other piece of cloth and began to dab gently at her face. She hissed when he uncovered a deep scratch on her cheek. “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss next to the scratch. “Better?”

Laura was deeply touched by the gesture. Her hand moved up to cover the place his lips had been. “Yes,” she could only whisper, “thank you.”

He covered her other hand with his own and tenderly pulled the cloth away from her nose. “Looks like the bleeding has stopped. How’s the pain?”

Laura blinked. Pain? Had there been pain? “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Can you stand?”

“Normally I'm quite good at it…”

He offered his hand and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. A wave of vertigo hit her almost instantly and she closed her eyes against the rush. Her body went limp and she just kind of sagged into his arms.

“It’s okay. I’ve got ya.”

“I’m just a little dizzy,” she said, resting her head against his chest.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, rubbing her back softly. “Take your time. Get your feet firmly underneath you.”

“As opposed to tumbling over top of me?”

He laughed into her hair. “Something like that.”

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but none of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t tackled me to the ground.”

“Or,” he replied reasonably, “if you hadn’t ran off after a wild pig like some kind of crazy person.”

She lifted her head up to give him a dirty look. “You’ve been rather heroic so I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me a crazy person to my face.”

“I’d never call you a crazy person behind your back.”

“Ha!” she snorted, “couldn’t have that. The universe might collapse if I don’t know that you think I’m nuts. I kissed my blissful ignorance goodbye - along with my sex life - a long time ago.”

“Laura-“

“It’s all right, Bill,” she said, pulling away from his touch and straightening her clothes in a way that was maddeningly presidential, despite the dirt and bloodstains. “I can live with it. But I really wanted to kill that frakking pig, and now it’s gone. Not sure I can live with that one.”

“Laura-“

“There must be some way to track it, right? I mean, it left a hoof print on my face so it leaves prints, right?”

“LAURA!”

She turned to glare at him. “There’s no need to shout. I’m right here.”

“You didn’t seem to hear me, so-“

“No, I was ignoring you,” she corrected.

“We don’t have time to chase after the pig.”

She folded her arms across her chest and he winced inwardly as he noticed all the bruises that were forming. “Why not?”

“Because we’re lost?”

“What?”

“I said we’re lost.”

“I heard you the first time,” she snapped.

He shrugged. “Well you said what…”

“It was a rhetorical what.”

“If you say so.”

Gods, he could go from charming to infuriating in no time flat. She rolled her eyes. “How lost?”

“Are there really degrees of lost? Either you know the way back or you don’t…”

“BILL!”

“We’re totally lost, Laura. As in I have no idea where we are. As in WAY THE FRAK lost.”

She held up a hand. “Okay, I get the picture.” She sat down on a huge rock and rested her head on her lap for a few moments before she looked back up at him. “So, let me see if I’ve got this…”

He waited patiently.

“It’s going to be dark before too long…”

“Right.”

“And we’re - how did you put it? – way the frak lost…”

“Right.”

“That Damned Pig, who could’ve been dinner, got away - again.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“And … it’s all my fault.”

“I wasn’t gonna point fingers, but since you brought it up…”

“Uh huh,” she replied sweetly, which terrified Bill way more than being lost. “So to sum up – I can either put up with this superior attitude from you all night, or wander off alone in an alien jungle looking for an evil pig who wants to kill me?”

He grinned. She did have a flair for the dramatic. “I’d say that sums it up pretty well, yes.”

She nodded, her bottom lip protruding slightly as she bit down on it in thought. Then she turned smartly on her boot heel and headed off into the trees.

“Laura, what the frak are you doing?”

“I’m going to take my chances with the pig.”

“Get back here,” he shouted, following her into the trees. “Come on, I don’t have the energy to chase you. We need to find shelter…”

She rounded on him and he almost slammed into her. “On one condition.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Name it.”

“Before we leave this planet … we kill that frakking pig.”

“You have my word, Madame President.”

“And no more tackling…”

“You said one condition.”

She shot him the evil eye as she brushed past him.

“This is gonna sound cliché, but you’re really cute when you’re pissed, you know that?”

She glared at him, hands on her hips. “Did you just call me cute?” she asked indignantly.

Admiral Adama is a brave, brave man. He actually chuckled at the image. “Yes, I did. You have a problem with that?”

“I’m the President of the Twelve Colonies, Bill. I’m many things … strong, stubborn, determined … a little short sighted occasionally perhaps … but I most certainly am not cute.”

A slow, sexy smile spread across his face as his eyes roamed over her. Her light green khaki pants hung low on her hips providing him just a hint of skin peeking out beneath her regulation tanks – which clung to her curves in just the right places. Her long hair seemed to struggle against the band that held it back in a ponytail and a few wisps had gotten loose to hang in just the right spots around her pretty face.

It gleamed, the alien sun picking up the red in her hair and bringing it to life like fire. And the dirt on her face only served to make her green eyes, which sparkled with righteous indignation at the moment, stand out more. She was right, he realized. Cute was the wrong word. Laura was beautiful.

“What?” she snapped. “Why the hell are you grinning like that? Is That Damned Pig coming up behind me again?”

This actually made him laugh, a sound Laura found very sexy and one she heard none too often. Their lives didn’t exactly call for a lot of laughter considering that the world had ended and all.

“No,” he said, “no pig. But you’re right, Madame President. My apologies – I was wrong. You’re not cute.”

The surprise on her face told him she hadn’t seen that one coming. “I’m not?”

“Nope. Seems I underestimated you.”

She smiled a little at that idea. “Oh?”

“You’re not cute. You’re beautiful, Laura.” He laughed softly at her stunned silence. “Well, that shut you up…”

She shook her head at him.

“What?”

She brushed past him. “For a moment there you were almost charming.” She shot him a glance over her shoulder. “Almost.”

“Gods forbid…” he muttered.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “Let’s just find shelter while we still have daylight.” Then he smiled at the view of her backside as she stomped away in a huff. “What am I gonna do with that woman?” he repeated to himself.

~*~*~*~

A/N: More coming soon. Somebody gets bitten by a wicked bug and goes on an acid trip. A couple people get stuck in a cave for the night. *grin* And someone gets shot in the ass! And there may possibly be nookie...

Maybe.

Thanks to all who review at SI or comment here! I truly appreciate it!

Jungle Love - Chapter 2, Pt 1

2008-06-08T18:08:17Z

Sex, War Games & That Damned Pig - Rated M

More war games, more jungle planet, more pig...

Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Blah, freakin' blah blah blah.

Also, this story is meant as comic relief and contains no literary value whatsoever. It's just supposed to be fun - so if you're looking for something profound or life changing ... you may want to skip this one, mmkay? ;)

Don't say I didn't warn ya!

~*~*~*~

The next morning on Colonial One…

The three men stood with their hands clasped behind their backs at what Apollo would later laughingly refer to as at ease. The tone in President Laura Roslin’s voice saw to it that no one in the office on Colonial One was the slightest bit at ease.

“What were you thinking, Colonel Tigh?” she said, glaring at him angrily.

“I was thinking the Old Man would kick my ass up one end of Galactica and back if I let you freeze to death on that beach,” Tigh grumbled.

“So by that reasoning I guess you expect me to thank you,” Roslin said icily.

“I never said that,” the Colonel replied.

“Madame President, he did save your life,” Apollo said, always the peacemaker.

“Well forgive me if I don’t swoon, Major,” she snapped. “He also very nearly gave me alcohol poisoning. And in front of half your crew, and just for kicks, a couple very talkative members of the press as well. Members of the press who saw me being carried off a Raptor by Admiral Adama, giggling like some drunken frat girl and,” she paused, clearly trying to remember something, “What did they call it in this morning’s broadcast?”

“I believe the words they used were, ‘Two handfuls of the Admiral’s backside’ Madame President,” Tory supplied.

Laura rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Tory.” She turned her glare back to Tigh. “Do I need to go on?”

“No, Sir,” Tigh answered immediately. “I was there. Saw it myself.”

“We were all there, Saul,” Adama said with a sigh. This was not going well.

“I wasn’t,” Tory added. “Just to clarify.”

“Yes,” Roslin said, “thank you so much, Tory. Can we keep our eye on the ball here, people?”

“Lotta balls in the air right now, Laura,” Adama said before he could think the statement through. “You’ll need to pick one.”

She continued to glare at him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“Let’s,” he agreed.

“What I’d like to know, Colonel, is why you happened to have such a handy stash of liquor on your person during survival training.” She folded her arms across her chest, leaning on her desk as she waited for his answer.

Lee scratched his head, obviously uncomfortable, and looked like he was about to say something. One glare from Roslin shut him up.

The senior Adama, however, was a seasoned veteran of the president’s glare and would not be stopped so easily. He stepped forward slightly. “The matter is being handled, Madame President. I’m dealing with it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you?”

“Yes. It’s a military issue.”

“I see,” said Laura, who didn’t. “Tell that to the press.”

“The press,” Tigh grunted in disgust, “if they don’t have dirt on people they just make shit up anyhow.”

“Well, then, by all means,” Roslin mocked sarcastically, her eyes wide, “let’s just tell them everything, shall we?” She turned to her aide. “Tory, call a press conference immediately.”

“Madame President?” Tory’s dark eyes widened in surprise.

“You heard me. What are you waiting for? Hand me a bottle of Ambrosia so I can get sauced and then get the press over here. We’ll have a frakking free for all.” She slapped her desk with the palm of her hand as if she’d just had the best idea in the universe. “In fact, I’ll go you one better. Admiral, I’m sure someone in the Fleet managed to smuggle some of that wonderful weed off of New Caprica. Remember that? Let’s get some. Let’s get stoned and mess with the reporters’ heads because, as Tigh so eloquently put it – they’ll just make shit up anyway.”

She lifted herself onto her desk and sat, crossing her stocking-clad legs demurely at the knees. “And just for to make sure we make the evening wireless, maybe this time I’ll grab more than your backside. What are we waiting for, gentlemen?”

She’d managed to render everyone in the room speechless. Everyone, that is, except for the Admiral. He, she noted with more than a little annoyance, was fighting to smother a smile.

“Give us the room,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes, Sir,” both his son and XO replied immediately. Tory waited for President Roslin to nod her approval before she rose and all but scampered from the room.

“I think I gave the Gods damned President brain damage,” Saul muttered as they passed through the curtains of her office.

“I heard that Colonel Tigh,” Roslin shouted to him. Her gaze never left Bill’s, though. He simply wouldn’t allow it.

Adama waited patiently for them to leave. He was comfortable with silence. Years of military training had seen to that. When he was sure they were alone he said, “What’s wrong, Laura?”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You have to ask?”

“I’m not buying it,” he said, shaking his head and taking a step closer to her. He tried very hard not to let his gaze drop down to her legs, not an easy task given the view. “You’ve been dealing with the press for years. They’ve said worse things about both of us. It’s never gotten under your skin like this before.”

She shrugged. “First time for everything and all that.”

“Come on, Laura … there’s more to this than a little embarrassment in the media.”

“A little embarrassment?” she gaped at him indignantly. “Is that what you call this? A little embarrassment? I guess you can do that. You weren’t the one the press caught drunk and … with wandering hands.”

He offered her a charming smile. “No, I was definitely the gropee. I can even the score, though.”

“What?”

“You know - restore the balance. If it’ll make you feel better I’d be willing to down a bottle of Tyrol’s rot gut and feel you up in the corridors. You can invite whoever you want.”

She tried to fight the approaching smile and lost. It curled the edges of her mouth becomingly. “That’s very selfless of you, Admiral.”

“I do what I can.”

“Mmm Hmm,” she grinned. “I’ll remember that. In case I ever need a drunken grope in the future.”

“Good,” he said, sitting next to her on the desk. “You wanna tell me what’s really bothering you?”

She grimaced. “It’s really very stupid.”

He rolled his eyes toward her. “Laura…”

“I’m just … I’m tired.” She paused and he waited patiently, knowing she’d have the urge to fill the quiet before he did. She sighed heavily. “What’d you call it once? OBE? Overcome by Events, I believe it was. I’m sick of this ship. I’m sick of the Cylons, sick of feeling deck plating beneath my feet instead of earth, sick of seeing the blackness of space outside my window instead of sunlight, I mean … it’s not even a window anymore, is it? It’s a viewport or some other frakking nautical term, right?”

She blew a frustrated breath through her lips, blowing a strand of hair away from her forehead. “I’m tired of that, too. I want to walk through a door, not a hatch. I want to open a window and feel a breeze on my face. And Lords of Kobol help me, I know how self-indulgent and absolutely ridiculous it sounds, especially given all we’ve lost and how absurd it is that we’re even still alive, but Gods, Bill, I miss sex. I really, really, really miss sex.”

Her green eyes grew wide and her hand flew immediately to her mouth. Obviously she hadn’t meant to share that last bit. At least, not so enthusiastically.

Adama chuckled softly, charmed more than he cared to admit by the flush in her cheeks. He pulled her hand away from her face and cupped it gently between his own. He’d always loved her hands and he touched them every chance he could reasonably get away with it.

“I miss it, too,” he said, folding her fingers between his own.

Chuckling, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Well aren’t we a pair? What would the Fleet think if they knew that the two leaders of humanity were sitting on Colonial One talking about how much they miss getting laid?”

Now he chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. “That we’re as horny as everybody else.”

She rewarded him with an unrestrained laugh.

“It’s not selfish, Laura. It’s human. Nothing wrong with being human.”

She snorted, a sound he found adorable for some reason. “Tell that to the Cylons.”

“From sex to Cylons in one sentence. Anybody ever tell you you’re a real wet blanket, Roslin?” he chided with a grin.

She looked up at him and he resisted the urge to frown at the loss of her hair against his cheek.

“More times than I can remember.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “I guess I’m just trying to keep my tirade from taking this conversation to a place that … perhaps … we’re not quite ready to go just yet.”

Though if she were to be totally honest - she wasn’t sure which one of them wasn’t ready because she knew exactly what she wanted. It was Bill who usually established the parameters of their relationship with the responsibilities speech.

“Okay,” he said agreeably. He patted her affectionately on the knee as he rose to his feet. “But if you want me to stop thinking about sex – you’re gonna have to stop wearing that perfume.”

Roslin regarded him with raised eyebrows and a delighted twinkle in her eyes. “I’m not wearing perfume, Bill.”

“You mean that’s just how you smell?”

She gave him that slow, sexy smile. The one that made his knees dizzy. “I guess so.”

“Well,” he grinned. “Ain’t that a son of a bitch.”

Later that afternoon on Galactica…

You’re always welcome in one of my beds…

Laura tried very hard not to think about that comment, or the man who’d said it for that matter, as she shifted again in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Her aching butt would’ve preferred she stayed in her cushy chair on Colonial One. Her mind was restless, however, and her office smelled like Bill.

A scent that was most definitely not conducive to concentrating.

Not that she was getting much done in this small ready room on Galactica, either…

She wondered briefly who she wanted to kick more, Lee or the creature she’d taken to calling That Damned Pig, as she downed the pain meds Cottle had given her and chased them with a sip of ice water.

Another thing to add to her list of things that she was sick and tired of, she thought. Recycled water … it just didn’t taste right no matter what they did to it. She had to admit being planetside had been nice – even if it hadn’t been Caprica. At least it hadn’t been the blackness and constant chill of deep space.

A quick rap on the hatch interrupted her internal lament.

“Come in.”

Adama was still trying to control his grin when he entered the ready room. But the memory of Laura Roslin giggling and drunk out of her mind from the day before made it pretty tough not to smile. His only regret was that he wasn’t there to see her face when the wild boar slammed into her rather shapely ass. He doubted his son would ever live it down.

Hoped he wouldn’t, actually.

Roslin sat at the desk behind a daunting tower of files. Her dark blue suit was immaculate as always. She eyed him over the rim of her glass as she swallowed a mouthful of water. “Mmm … Admiral, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“Actually, I came to see if there’s anything I can do for you.” He smiled warmly at her
”We only have one night before we head down for the final phase of the war games and I thought maybe you could use a little help getting caught up.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I wouldn’t have offered to help if I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, rising to her feet. “I was referring to the war games. You don’t really believe that I have any intention of going back to that ridiculous planet, do you?”

True, she’d just been thinking how nice it had been to be on a planet instead of a spaceship, but he had no way of knowing that.

He removed his glasses and stared at her. “Well, actually, yes … I do. It’s not like you to quit, Laura. Besides, you’re my partner for the next activity. So you can rest assured that you won’t be chasing any wild animals for a meal.”

She walked around her desk and perched herself on the corner in front of him. “Just because I won’t be chasing any animals doesn’t mean they won’t be chasing me.”

He tried not to notice as she crossed her long legs almost right in his face. He would swear on his life that she did that on purpose. Resigned to his fate, he let his eyes take the long way back up to her eyes. “It’ll be fine. I’ll watch your back … so to speak.”

A satisfied grin tugged at her lips. She loved their casual flirting. And their flirting that was not so casual, too. “Yes, I’m sure you will.”

Flash of a grin again. “Does that mean I can count you in?”

She stared at him through narrowed eyes. She wanted to say no, but the twinkle in his blue eyes was damn hard to resist. “It depends. Just what does this next event entail?”

He hesitated momentarily. “It’s the final annihilation round.”

Her eyes widened. Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good. “The annihilation round?”

“Yes. In this event the participants are paired up in teams of two and dropped at a specified area of the planet. Somewhere else in that specified area, another team is also put down. It’s a guerilla mission, search and destroy.”

“You mean we hunt each other?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, that’s one way to put it, I guess. Except instead of side arms we use paint guns. They shoot paintballs that mark your target with red paint instead of-“

“I … know what a paint gun is, Bill.” She glared half-heartedly at him. “I may be a civil servant but I’m not stupid.”

“Of course you’re not, Madame President,” he said in a way that suggested she most certainly was. “The first team to mark their opponents wins.”

Roslin secretly wondered if the entire Fleet had gone insane. “I see,” she said. “And … this sounds fun to you?”

“Actually, yes. You up to it?”

She shook her head emphatically. “Tempting, really. But no, I don’t think so.”

He shrugged indifferently. “Fine. I’ll just tell the others you’re quitting.”

She stood, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Now wait just a minute…”

He ignored her and continued. “After that incident with the pig I’m sure they’ll understand. It was enough to scare anyone.” He walked slowly toward the door. “It’s a shame though. As luck would have it - we were against Apollo and Starbuck. Hunting those two down might’ve been fun.”

Hunting Lee? It does have a certain appeal. It certainly wasn’t beneath Bill to tempt her with revenge, and in this case – she’d be damned if it wasn’t working.

“Wait a minute,” she called to the back of his head. “Do you have a plan for this … annihilation?”

When he turned to face her his eyes held a wicked gleam. “As a matter of fact…”

Galactica, 0600 the next morning…

Roslin was panting as she lurched into Galactica’s flight deck, already tired. She felt more than a little ridiculous in the tanks and khaki pants she had borrow from a military storage room, but Bill had insisted she wear the same stuff as the rest of them. She was willing to bet that the backpack and endless equipment he’d strapped to her body weighed more than she did. She sat the pack on the deck and absently pulled her long hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck.

She pretended not to notice the Admiral watching her. It felt good to be watched, after all.

“Are you sure we really need all of this?”

“We’ve been through this, Laura,” he said patiently. “We’re going to be in the wilds of the jungle. You’ll be glad of that equipment once we’re down there.”

“It just seems a little … excessive.”

“Says the woman who packed three bags for an overnight trip to a political function.”

“Considering it ended up being an apocalypse, I think I was conservative.”

He patted her shoulder gently and led them toward the waiting Raptor. “So was I on the supplies considering who my partner is. If you decide to play in the mud with the pigs again, at least we’ll have something to defend ourselves with.”

A wry grin tugged at her lips. “Keep it up, Admiral – and I’ll hunt you when I’m finished with your son and That Damned Pig.”

“Promises, promises…” he muttered quietly under his breath as he stepped into the Raptor.

Laura stepped in after him. She took the seat next to his. As the deck crew closed the hatch she shot him a quick grin. “I heard that.”

Wild Jungle … Pig … Planet (What? I made it up. I can call it that if I want to!) One hour later …

“You’re out of your frakking mind!”

“Come on, Kara,.” Lee pleaded. “Just wear it. You’ll blend in and they’ll have a hard time spotting you.”

Starbuck rolled her. “Look, I only agreed to do this to get my sorry ass off Galactica for a while. It’s not my fault that the President is out to get you. I’m not wearing that fugly hat, I don’t care how much you beg.”

“Starbuck…”

“Never. Gonna. Happen.” She walked away.

Lee shrugged and followed behind her. “Fine, but don’t blame me when my father takes you out with the first shot.”

She shot him a glare over her shoulder. “I can handle myself. You just try not to fall into any mud pits or plunge off any steep cliffs and we’ll be fine.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. Clearly he would never live that down. “A guy makes one little mistake…”

“Shhh!” She raised a hand to silence him. She gripped his arm and pulled him to a crouch beside her. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area.

“What is it?” he whispered. He could see nothing.

“I heard something.” She nodded to a dense thicket of trees to her right. “Over there.”

Lee fingered the paint gun holstered to his waist. “Well, let’s go.”

They crawled slowly, painstakingly through the tall grass. They inched forward into the trees trying not to make a sound. She guided led Lee into the bushes. They crouched between the leaves, hidden from view. He looked around the area carefully. He heard nothing, saw nothing.

“Maybe it was an animal,” he whispered.

She shook her head, her blond hair falling into her eyes. “No, it was them.”

Lee eyed her skeptically. “How do you know that?”

Starbuck eyed him with barely contained annoyance. “It’s simple. Look.” She pointed to a tiny scrap of fabric that clung to the branch of a nearby flower bush.

“What is it?”

She rolled her eyes again. “It’s a piece of cloth, genius. Probably ripped from someone’s pants as they ran through here.” She grinned mischievously at him. “I hope you’re a little more observant in your bird, Major. If not I’m amazed the Toasters haven’t smoked your ass by now.”

He shot her an indignant look. “That’s why I hang out with you, Starbuck. Your ever-present charm.”

She ignored him. If she looked closely enough she could almost extrapolate their path through the jungle brush. They were headed southeast. She consulted her map of the area. “They’re heading to the water source. There’s a river about 5 kilometers away, about two or three hours on foot if they stop occasionally to rest. Which they will, cuz they’re old.”

He rose to his feet. “Well let’s go! They’ve got a lead on us. We’ll have to move fast to make up for lost time.”

She grabbed his arm. “No. We aren’t going to follow them.”

His dark eyebrows shot up. “We’re not?”

She plucked the remnant of torn fabric from the branch and examined it carefully. The edges were smooth. It had been cut, not torn. It wasn’t there by accident. “That’s exactly what they want us to do. They want us to follow them.”

He regarded her skeptically. “And … you’re getting all of this from a little piece of fabric?”

“It was put here deliberately. It’s a set up.” She brushed a disobedient lock of hair off her forehead. “The Old Man didn’t survive the first Cylon War by being careless. He knows all about stealth and being stalked by the enemy. It only takes one run in with a pissed off Toaster to make you extinct. Think about it, Lee. He knows better.”

Lee nodded. “True. Roslin’s no slouch either,” he grinned. “I’ve spent enough time with her to know for a fact that she can be downright cunning when she puts her mind to it.”

“Yeah,” Kara chuckled, “And this time, she’s out to get a certain CAG who humiliated her. The President’s been known to hold a grudge. This is personal.”

The CAG in question sighed in resignation. “I’m a dead man.”

Starbuck patted him on the back. “That might be true - if you weren’t fortunate enough to be have the smartest frakker in the whole Colonial military for a partner. So as long as you don’t get a sudden craving for pork chops and run off after some wild pig, you just may survive this little war game of yours.”

“You know, I fell off that frakking cliff right along with her. I mean, the pig chased me too. I hit that water so hard I’m singing high soprano. I’m still waiting for my balls to drop back down out of my stomach.”

Kara folded her arms and flashed him a twisted smile. “That’s a sad story, Lee. Now do you wanna hear the plan? Or do you wanna stand here all day and talk about your balls?”

He groaned inwardly. This humiliation would stay with him forever. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

She glanced at the map one more time and then fixed her gaze on her partner. “We’re going to the water source, too. Only we’re going to come around from the other side.”

“Kara, are you crazy? That’s almost twice the distance. We’ll never beat them there.”

She shrugged. “That’s why we have to run.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “Run? All that way?”

“What’s the matter, Daddy’s Boy? Don’t think you can make it? Maybe you’re spending too much time sitting on your ass in your rack. Or maybe you’re just getting old.”

Apollo knew she was egging him on, and he knew he shouldn’t rise to the bait. But his pride was at stake. As he regarded her smug expression, the silent challenge being issued in her eyes, common sense packed its bags and left the premises. Only testosterone and male ego remained. “I’m not worried about me, Thrace. I was just looking out for you. It’s not like there’s a bottle or a naked man waiting for you on the other side so I have to question your motivation.”

She cinched the strap on her pack, making sure it fit snugly against her back. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one who buried the President of the Twelve Colonies in a mud puddle. You just try and keep up.”

Before he could retort, Starbuck took off in a flash through the jungle fronds. With a shrug and a deep sigh he followed at her heels. But as he ran he wondered if death by paintballs wouldn’t actually be a nice alternative to a 12 kilometer run in an alien jungle with Kara Thrace.

*~*~*~*~*

IwtP - Comfort Part 2

2008-06-03T02:17:32Z

Comfort Part Two -

It's also at Survival Instinct for those who prefer that format.

Roslin resumed her seat at the table when I finally stopped gasping for air, apparently assured that she wouldn’t have to perform CPR. “You gonna live?” she grinned.

Gonna live. Such a simple statement, isn’t it?

And yet as I looked at the dying woman in front of me it spoke volumes and my heart constricted painfully in my chest. I’d already grown to love her in the short time I’d spent with her, extraordinary person that she clearly was, and it struck me for the first time that I’d be getting closer and closer to her as the interviews went on, only to lose her. To watch her slowly die much as I had watched my own sister slowly die when I was sixteen. Not of cancer, but the distinction seemed irrelevant at this point.

Loss is loss and you can’t quantify pain. When it hurts it hurts.

But she didn’t need that from me, I was sure. I’d been in a cheaper version of her shoes and knew how it felt to see your illness reflected in the faces of the people around you. I also knew the quiet joy of anonymity – the gaze of someone who didn’t see your illness at all when they looked at you, but just saw the person. And I wanted so badly to give her that.

My expression and the sudden heavy silence in the room betrayed me, however.

“Relax, Kris,” she said kindly as she patted my hand. “I’m not dying today.”

I found it hard to speak around the lump that had grown in my throat. “I know. I’m sorry, Madame President. The last thing you need is another concerned face staring at you. I know that.”

She stopped patting my hand and clasped it in her own. Her small hands were cold. “Yes, you seem to care about me. How very selfish of you to feel compassion for another human being.”

I smiled at her through my unshed tears. “I know how it is, how it feels. The worried looks, the well-meaning stares … I know how it is to long for the people in your life to just see YOU when they look at you.”

As if reading my mind she said, “You’re afraid I’ll see sympathy in your eyes.”

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and held her gaze. “Is that really what you see in my eyes?”

“No,” she whispered immediately, “It’s not. I see something very different. I see empathy. I see a deep and profound understanding that comes from suffering. I see knowledge, intimate knowledge, of that suffering and the pain it causes you to see someone else going through it. And while I appreciate your desire to provide me with an unaffected face in my day to day life, I think it’s important for you to know that there are many kinds of comfort.”

She gazed intently at me and I couldn’t have looked away had my life depended on it. “You said yourself how fleeting comfort can be. Did you ever consider that perhaps I find your empathy, your understanding, comforting?”

Not for a second, but it made sense. “No. I’m far too masochistic to have looked at it that way,” I said, offering her a wry and self-depreciating smile. “But if it comforts you, even a little, then I guess I’ll stop trying to hide it.” It clearly wasn’t working anyway.

“That’s all I’m asking,” she said reasonably, patting my hand once more before she released it to finally take a sip of her water. “I mean, let’s face the facts here. I’m about to spill my guts to you, tell you things that until now I haven’t told anyone. Things that died on Caprica, things that are extremely un-presidential. You’re going to know things about me that no one else knows, Kris, so I think a little emotion isn’t entirely out of line.”

Woah. Seriously? Suddenly blinking and breathing required extreme effort on my part.

“You look too stunned to speak.” I managed to nod and she smiled triumphantly before she continued. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but I’m betting that’s a first. Now, since you’re already speechless I’ll just get it all out of the way. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, you and I, and you’re going to see a side of your President that most civilians would never be allowed to see. I plan to have you accompany me to some of my less classified meetings, observe some of my daily routine, even accompany me to some of those torture sessions Cottle calls cancer treatment.”

She pulled some papers from a folder on the table. “Tory drew up a contract. I thought it was a bit much at first but she knows how to make an argument. If she’d had her way you’d have been required to sign something before even being allowed to speak to me so I consider it a compromise. It’s basically a confidentiality contract. You can read it before signing, of course, but to sum up it says that you agree not to discuss what I share with you or what you observe when you’re with me with anyone. It also says that I, or in my absence, Tory, reserve the right to approve the final manuscript once you complete it. This is an authorized biography, after all, and I want to know what it says before anyone else sees it.”

She glanced up at me when I only continued to stare at her in shock. “Nod and let me know you’re still with me.”

I did, though it was really more of a wobble than a nod. My brain was still floating somewhere in the region of You’re going to know things about me that no one else knows … and even my blurts had abandoned me in my utter surprise. What the frak?

“And here’s where it gets a little … interesting,” she said.

“Because up until now it’s been so very ordinary?” Ah, hello blurts.

She laughed. “You’ve regained the ability to speak. That’s good; you had me worried there for a moment. And we both know that nothing about our current situation is ordinary.”

“Touché,” I managed.

“The things we’re going to be discussing are highly personal,” she paused until I met her eyes. “There are more records on my presidency that I know what to do with. I don’t really need someone to write about President Roslin. It’s the person I am beneath, the person I’ve nearly had to sacrifice for this Fleet, that I’m hoping to share with you. That’s who I’m hoping you’ll capture with your writing.”

Understanding quickly set in. “That’s why you want me to call you Laura…”

“Yes.” She smiled wistfully. “Because I need you to see beyond President Roslin. I need you to see Laura.”

“Oh, I see her,” I said, laying an affectionate but respectful hand on her arm. “I see you, Laura. And I’m honored you’ve chosen me to do this.” My voice cracked under the weight of her gaze and my own emotion. “Honored.”

Her voice cracked too, but to her credit her grin was completely wicked. “Even if I won’t let you bunk with Colonel Tigh?”

I laughed despite my tears. “Because you won’t let me bunk with Colonel Tigh.”

“You know what else I see in your eyes?”

“What’s that?” I asked as she passed me the contract.

“A strong need for a good drink,” she said, rising from the table. She patted me lightly on the shoulder before moving to a tray in the corner of the room. “Ambrosia?”

“Gods, yes! I mean … please.”

“No you don’t,” she chuckled. “You meant the first one. Can’t say I blame you. If I were in your position I think I’d want a drink, too.”

“If you were in my position,” the blurts said, “you’d want a big fat joint from New Caprica – possibly that planet’s only redeeming feature.” My head snapped up and a hand flew too late to cover my big mouth as I realized I’d just told the President of the Twelve Colonies that she made me want to get stoned.

To my absolute shock, she merely quirked an eyebrow and said, “Play your cards right…”

Completely floored, I actually dropped my pen. “Okay, now you’re just frakking with me.”

She handed me a glass of Ambrosia and I noted with mild amusement that she must be feeling better as she had poured one for herself as well. “And why would I do that?”

I shrugged. “Entertainment value?”

Her wicked grin returned and mischief flashed in her eyes. “I’m bunking in Admiral Adama’s personal cabin. Do you honestly think I can’t come up with more imaginative ways to amuse myself when boredom sets in?”

I dropped my head back, laughing, and nearly fell out of my chair. “Oh, tell me you’ve found his skibbies drawer!”

She raised an eyebrow at me and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not telling you anything until you sign that contract. That way if you rat me out I can execute you.”

I tried to shove my eyeballs back into my face. “Well you’re just wicked scary, Laura. I like that.” I skimmed the rather lengthy contract. “If I sign this … we get to talk about New Caprican pot and the Admiral’s boxers?”

She held her position, arms still neatly folded. “I guess you’ll have to sign to find out, won’t you?”

“Tease,” I drawled. “It’s, uh, detailed. Tory’s very…”

“Thorough?” she supplied.

“I was going to say anal retentive, but you’re the President.” She snorted, an undignified sound that she somehow managed to make adorable. I signed with a flourish then pushed the paper back to her and drained my glass of Ambrosia. “Will that do, or will Tory demand I sign it in blood?”

“We’ll see,” she said casually as she slipped it back into the folder. “If she’s not happy with you I’m sure you’ll be the first to know.”

Now I snorted. “Lucky me.” I flashed her a conspiratorial grin, feeling the Ambrosia reddening my cheeks. “You gonna elaborate about the weed?” When she hesitated I added. “I just signed away part of my soul. My turn to be direct.”

“I didn’t know we were keeping score.”

“We’re not,” I replied. “I’m just trying to guilt you into spilling something juicy.”

She rested her chin in her hand and smiled. “You want to know if we’re growing Grade A grass on Galactica.”

I didn’t bother denying it. I simply widened my eyes in anticipation of her response.

“It has certain … medicinal purposes,” she drawled.

“Uh huh. And do you … self medicate?”

That actually drew a laugh. “Do you?” she volleyed.

I raised a brow at her. “I’ve indulged occasionally.”

“Me too.”

She giggled, and a memory fluttered unbidden to the surface of my mind. I remembered the first time I’d heard that giggle, though I didn’t know at the time that it belonged to President Roslin. A ground breaking ceremony on New Caprica, the alien sun setting in the sky, and the shadows of two people sprawled out on sandbags a short distance away from the crowd.

I had wandered away from the group and the lights with my … comfort … firmly in tow, yearning for privacy and a good view of stars that twinkled again. I had missed that, I remembered vividly, the twinkling caused by the atmosphere. We’d seen them curled up together on the sandbags, though we didn’t realize at the time who it was, and we’d heard her giggling. “Someone’s having fun,” he’d said as he’d nuzzled my ear.

“Let’s go make our own fun,” I’d replied, taking his hand and pulling him into the trees.

I looked up at Laura and couldn’t stop the knowing smile that spread across my face. “You and the Admiral … I remember now.”

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly but other than that she appeared completely unfazed. “You remember what?”

“We saw you.”

Now she raised an eyebrow. “We?”

I almost blurted a name, but caught myself. “No one you know. A friend. We saw you and Admiral Adama. You were flopped out on the sandbag pile like a couple of teenagers.”

Her grin was positively playful and I knew I was right, and that it was a cherished memory.

“And you were giggling like one.”

“Yes,” she grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as the realization fully hit me. “You were stoned. Both of you!”

“Out of our minds,” she giggled. “Gods, I couldn’t even move, my arms and legs were so heavy. It was delicious. And you?”

“Oh, completely,” I laughed. “Well, at least until some asshole ruined my romantic night in the woods. Frakker kept screaming, ‘I love Kara Thrace!’” I shook my head at the memory, tucking a stray lock of unruly hair behind my ear. “We kept yelling back, ‘Tell someone who gives a shit,’ but he just kept screaming so we left.” I gave her a pointed look. “But not before I got my comfort…”

I let that last part hang there on purpose. And she knew it, of course.

Her face became unreadable. “Is this part of the interview?”

“You tell me.”

She considered it for a moment, brushing her hair behind her shoulder as she thought about it. “I suppose I can hardly expect you to write about me personally if I can’t tell you about who I am as a person, and I’ve come to accept the fact that Bill Adama is very much a part of who I am. So I guess the best thing to do is just be as honest with you as I can and then I’ll have to trust you, won’t I? You’re the author, after all.”

I swallowed loudly. “But no pressure.”

That earned me a soft laugh. “Somehow, I have a feeling you can handle it.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, Laura,” I said honestly. Then I scooted slightly closer to her as I slid my chair up to the table and double checked my voice recorder. “Now dish.”

“Well, judging by the gleam in your eyes I’m guessing you’re in for a letdown, but here goes.” She took a deep breath and I held mine. She focused her eyes on something on the table but her gaze turned inward as she spoke and her voice took on a tone that told me Laura was somewhere else entirely.

“I got comfort but not the kind you mean. I’d be willing to bet it was just as good though. As much as I came to despise New Caprica, I look back fondly and often on that particular day. Bill was there for the ceremony. I was no longer President and while he was still the Admiral it seemed the burdens of war had been lifted off his shoulders. At least temporarily, I mean I think we both knew deep down that the Cylons would find us eventually. But not that day.

“That day we felt a giddy kind of freedom we had never known together and it made us high long before we smoked anything. I actually found him sitting in the dirt with his boots off. He was barefoot, savoring the feeling of the ground between his toes. And the expression on his face when he first saw me … “

Her cheeks flushed pink at the memory and I realized I was breathing fast. Not wanting to break whatever spell she was under, I stayed quiet.

“He didn’t even try to hide the desire, he was that unencumbered. He just let his eyes slowly roam across my body.”

I smiled a little because I had seen him do that personally.

“Gods, I felt sixteen again!” she said, smiling wistfully, her gaze still focused on that far away place in her memory. “He was so charming. He said all the right things, did all the right things. I honestly couldn’t remember a time before that day when I’d felt more desirable or beautiful. Or when I’d enjoyed just being with someone more.”

She turned to look at me, her green eyes bright with the images in her mind. “We fell asleep there, you know? On the sandbags under the stars. He was a complete gentleman. He held me all night long; we were too stoned to do anything else. I mean, Gods, we’re not 25 anymore. But it was still so sexy, so romantic. In fact it’s one of the most romantic memories of my entire life. The feel of his arms around me, the smell of soap on his neck and the way his deep voice rumbled and tickled my ear when I rested my head on his chest. Or the way his fingers felt in my hair.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and I wondered if she was still with me at all. “When I told him the cancer was back,” she paused briefly as her voice hitched in her throat, “he held me then, too. He talked to me all night. Just let me lay there with my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his voice, holding my hair out of my face and soothing me while I cried. He listened without judgment while I talked about my fears, because I can do that with Bill. And he just … he just held on to me as if it would keep me here.”

She looked at me then. “So how’s that for comfort?”

For the second time that day, she had rendered me speechless.

“Kris … are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered, “I … I just lost all blood flow to my head for a few minutes.” She waited for me to compose myself and I finally said, “That’s probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Isn’t it?”

I took another sip of my alcohol and really wished for a joint. And a man as romantic as Bill Adama apparently was. “So forgive me for being blunt here but I think we both know delicate is not really my thing. Are you two…”

“Are we what? Are we sleeping together?”

“Well, I was going to wait until we were sharing some of the Grade A weed you were talking about to ask that one. I was gonna ask if you’re a couple, actually. But since you opened that door-“

“I didn’t. I’m not ready to step through that door just yet. But I know half the Fleet is saying it since I’m staying here so I’ve been expecting you to ask me. As for whether or not we’re a couple … I’m not sure how to answer that.”

I shrugged casually. “Is there anyone else in your life?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation.

“In his?”

“No,” she said again.

“Seems pretty cut and dry to me.”

She bit off a rueful laugh. “I wish it were that simple. But it’s not like that day on New Caprica. I’m the President again, and he’s the Admiral of a Fleet at war. We have responsibilities to the people.”

I must have been staring at her pretty hard because she actually squirmed a little before saying, “What?”

“Frak the people,” I finally said.

The look on her face was absolutely priceless. It was her turn to search for words.

“They have no idea how much you sacrifice for them every day. I’m sitting here with you right now and I’m realizing that I’m only beginning to see how much. And I’m not sure it’s an amount I can live with. You don’t owe us your personal happiness. And you definitely don’t owe it to us to die alone, Madame President.”

I heard her gasp softly at the directness of my words but she allowed me to continue.

“Take your comfort, whatever form it comes in. The people will be fine if they know their leaders are fine. You told me you don’t have a lot of time left. Please don’t spend it alone out of some misplaced sense of obligation to the people. You can have both, Laura. I really believe you can.”

She blinked hard, pushing back tears, and I knew that was as far as she could go. So I did what any decent writer does. I gave her a creative way out.

“There will be some serious disappointment among the pilots, however. Are you aware that one of them has a blow up doll with a long brown wig and he calls it Laura?”

Her eyes bugged out of her head and her jaw fell open so hard I’m surprised her face didn’t cave in.

I laughed so hard I was frakkin’ crying, but she just continued to stare at me with wide eyes. Uh oh. “Are you pissed?” I finally managed.

“Depends,” she said evenly.

“On what?”

The edges of her mouth curled slightly as she tried to hide her smile. “Which pilot?”

About 30 minutes and another glass of Ambrosia later…

“So, now that I’ve signed a vow of secrecy upon threat of death, let’s talk about Adama’s underwear.”

“What do you want to know?” The rumbling voice came from behind me. It was only then that I noticed Roslin’s gaze was not on me, but on some point over my shoulder.

Once again, I felt the blood rush to my face as I blushed in embarrassment. I knocked my glass off the table as I scrambled to stand up. “Admiral! Where’d you come from? I mean…” I bent down to retrieve the glass and, because I’m me, managed to slam the back of my already sore head on the table on my way back up. “Frak me!” I cursed as the cartoon birdies circled my head.

To her credit Roslin had managed to snatch her glass from the table before my head collided with it and she now stood watching me with a look of concern and amusement on her face. But her silence told me she had no intention of bailing me out on the underwear thing. I was on my own on that one.

Adama, on the other hand, looked concerned for the well being of his furniture. As well he should.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Apart from a case of terminal Dipshit-itis and possible brain damage, I think I’m fine.” He and Roslin shared an amused grin at my expense, but I figured I had it coming so I tried to pretend I didn’t notice. “Sorry about the cussing.”

He shook his head slightly. “I’m a military man. They haven’t invented a word yet that can offend my ears. No worries.” He glanced at President Roslin and I noticed his eyes twinkling with humor. “Now about the other thing …”

“Gods,” I groaned quietly, suddenly wishing I’d hit my head hard enough to knock myself out because it would’ve been less painful than this conversation.

“If all you two have to write about is my choice of underwear this is going to be a very short, very boring book.”

Roslin laughed, bless her heart, and finally bailed me out. “Well that comment was a little out of context. You didn’t hear the whole conversation.”

“Not sure I want to,” he replied as he poured himself a glass of ice water.

“You really, really don’t,” I said, reaching for Roslin’s glass of Ambrosia when she replaced it on the table. I ignored her look of entertained surprise as I drained the glass in one gulp. I figured she owed me one for leaving me hanging on the underwear comment for what felt like eternity.

“How’d you sneak in here so quietly, anyway?” she asked, returning her attention to Adama.

I noticed he smiled almost sweetly at her as he walked over to the table. “I’ve gotten pretty good at coming and going without making a lot of racket now that I have a roommate.”

She graced him with a beautiful smile that I could only describe as affectionate. Oh yeah, there was definitely some serious sparks going off between them. And I no longer needed her to answer the sleeping together question. There was an excitement and sense of anticipation between them that made me think it hadn’t turned completely physical yet. He clearly loved having her in his cabin, and she visibly glowed under his gaze. It still had that shiny and new polish to it despite the fact that they were obviously completely comfortable with each other. Total quagmire.

As they shared a glance my definition of romance was completely redefined. She was in her fifties and he had rounded sixty, technically speaking they could easily be my parents. But at that moment the heat in the room was palpable and they both simply oozed with sexy. He wasn’t the war-hardened soldier and she most definitely wasn’t a dying woman, ill from a treatment that’s as harsh as the disease itself. He was handsome and bright-eyed as any young Viper jock in the Fleet. She was radiant and as beautiful as the women on the ship who were half her age. More so, actually, because she wore her life experience like a medal pinned to her chest, with dignity and elegance that eludes the arrogance of youth.

I realized then that I hadn’t yet really even begun to live, and I had a lot to aspire to before I grew up.

“So how’s the writing coming along?” Admiral Adama asked, snapping my attention back to the moment at hand.

“We’re really just getting started,” Laura said. “Getting through the formalities.”

“Tory really loves the formalities,” I grumbled, rubbing the back of my aching head absently.

“You look a little pale, Kris. Why don’t you have a seat?” She said it in that tone that sounds like a question but is clearly more of a polite order from the President, so my body responded reflexively and I plopped my butt back on the chair.

“You hit your head pretty hard,” Adama said.

“Yeah,” I blurted aloud, “And not for the first time today either.” When they both gave me questioning looks I just waved them off. “Never mind.”

The Admiral stepped closer to me and looked carefully into my eyes. “Maybe we should take you to see Doc Cottle.”

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. “And harsh my Ambrosia buzz? Hell no.”

“You could have a concussion,” Adama said, apparently trying to reason with me. Clearly he had never actually MET me … you know what I mean.

I giggled at my own thoughts, something I did often. President Roslin cast a worried glance in my general direction, which for some reason only made me giggle more.

“She’s laughing , Bill.”

“I can hear that, Laura.”

She shot him an annoyed glare. “I mean it could be a sign of a concussion.”

“It could also be a sign of intoxication. How much Ambrosia did you give her?”

“What am I? Unconscious?” I said, more than a little amused at their husband/wife style bickering but less than amused at being referred to in the third person when I was sitting right there.

I ticked my gaze to Roslin. “I’m not concussed.” And to Adama. “Or intoxicated. Not completely anyway.” Then I rubbed my aching head with the palm of my hand again. “I’m just … well, if you knew how often I hit my head you’d be laughing, too. If I went to see Cottle every time I get a lump on my very thick skull I would never leave Life Station. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll skip the poke and prod, thank you both very much.”

They just stared at me, so I filled the silence the way I usually do. I blurted things.

“Has anyone ever told you two that you sound like a married couple? You bicker like my parents.”

Now they stared at each other which gave me a bizarre sense of satisfaction.

There was a pounding on the hatch, some muffled words exchanged, and then Tory appeared. “Time to go,” she said to me disdainfully, like I was too stupid to walk back to my quarters by myself.

I stopped rubbing my head to point a finger at her. “Now see?” I … say it with me … blurted. “That’s how you enter a room, Admiral. Loudly and in a way that disrupts everything so everyone knows you’re there.” Hmm … maybe I am drunk.

Without taking her eyes off Adama, Roslin handed Tory the folder with the contract in it. "It's signed," she said.

"In pen?" Tory asked somewhat impatiently.

"No, in crayon," I snapped as I pushed past her. "Frakking vampire."

And I heard Laura giggling, comfortable in the Admiral's cabin and his company, as I stumbled my way out of the hatch to find my own comfort.

Jungle Love - Rated M

2008-06-02T00:25:57Z

The Colonial Fleet comes across an uninhabited tropical planet and hilarity and romance ensue. Wargames anyone?

Chapter 1 - Mud In Your Eye

Lee and Roslin get lost on a tropical planet during survival training. Guess who rescues them...

Author Notes:
Starts with Lee and Roslin, but becomes A/R, I promise. Set somewhere in Season 3, when Lee was still Apollo, Laura was still in remission, before Baltar was Jesus and Starbuck was reincarnated as the girl who screams, "We're going the wrong waaaaaaaaaaaaayyy!!!" And before almost every episode made me cry. This was a Star Trek: Voyager story once, but it's been wanting me to revamp it, BSG style. I had no choice. The voices in my head told me to...

“Run, Madame President!” Lee shouted with all his might. “It’s gaining on us.”

Roslin’s pulse pounded in her ears as she ran in the direction Lee Adama indicated. She was sweaty and panting from the heat. “Where are you leading me, Major?”

“To safety, Ma’am,” he replied. His fatigues were torn and dirty. His arms and face looked like he’d been tied up in a bag with ten angry cats because the tropical thorn bushes ripped the flesh from his bones. He was tired and aching and the sweat running down the President’s neck was surprisingly distracting, but he had to keep running.

He was wishing like hell that he could travel back in time. He’d clap a firm hand over Starbuck’s mouth, or maybe even cut her tongue out. She never should’ve suggested stopping on this planet to search for supplies. And he never should’ve agreed with her.

But agree he had. So, like it or not, Lee Adama now found himself separated from the group and stranded alone with President Roslin. And she was pissed.

And now they were running for their miserable lives, not from the Cylons but from some beast they never should’ve encountered in the first place.

Why the frak had he suggested that the President join them for war games and survival training anyway? Because he knew she was going stir crazy on Colonial One and thought she’d welcome the challenge and the exercise. Because he knew his dad would secretly enjoy the sight of her in a set of regulation tanks and form fitting stretchy black pants. Good intentions, sure. But everybody knows what they say the road to Hell is paved with. Lee began to wonder if Laura Roslin would be paving the way back with the stretched out skin from his severed balls when it happened.

In her desperate rush to escape President Roslin didn’t see the tree root sticking up from the jungle floor. It caught the toe of her shoe and she went down hard. She landed in an undignified heap, the force of her forward momentum smashing her pretty face into the dirt.

“Gods!” she groaned as her stomach slammed into the ground and the air was forced from her lungs. Upon impact her tranq dart gun flew forward like it was shot from a cannon. To Lee’s horror it was now careening over a jagged cliff and plunging to the depths below. Now she was without a weapon, not that it was much of a weapon but she refused to carry a sidearm, and he could hear the snorting of the beast as it grew closer.

President Roslin might be in her fifties, but she was an agile woman. She was back on her feet, dirt in her thick dark hair, and pulling him along by the hand. “Remind me to throw both you and Captain Thrace in the brig when we return to the ship, Major.”

“If we make it back to Galactica, I’ll gladly let you, Madame President. I could use the rest.”

There was a loud roar and suddenly the beast was at Apollo’s back so he shoved Roslin on ahead of him.

“We should’ve shot the damn thing when we had the chance,” she griped as she ran.

Lee shot a glare in her direction before he could stop himself. “Now there’s an idea.”

He’d wanted to kill the animal right from the get go, but she’d felt badly for the critter and had ordered Apollo to spare its life. And now it was going to kill them for their trouble.

He tried not to think about the new and no doubt creative ways his father would think of to punish him if he returned to the ship with an injured or maimed President. But as he stared at the back of her as she ran, Lee couldn’t help but appreciate his father’s taste in women. Laura Roslin was certainly easy on the eyes and it only took being in the same room with the Admiral and the President once to pick up on the chemistry between them.

They’d stumbled across this lush, uninhabited tropical planet a few days back. Missing the feel of natural light on his face, Lee had backed Kara up when she told the Old Man that they should forage for food and take advantage of the terrain to get in some exercise and training. It would be fun, he’d told him.

Except it wasn’t.

Since they’d been roughing it in deep space for so long Lee especially liked the sound of fresh meat. (Who doesn’t?) He thought it sounded like a good idea to catch one of the boar-looking creatures for supper. Somehow in the mess of it all, he and Roslin had been separated from the crew and were being chased by a pack of wild … pig … things.

Madame President had followed him to argue against eating the creature. It now seemed the creature would be eating her instead.

Just then the beast burst from the thicket of trees and hurled its snorting body toward them.

“S-H-I-I-I-I-T-T-T!!!!” Apollo shouted as he pulled Roslin away from the animal.

Not eloquent, she thought, but appropriate. “Shit, indeed,” she said. She tugged on Lee’s arm. “This way.”

They were so busy running from their ‘supper’ that they didn’t even see the oozing mud pool until it was too late. President Roslin, being the leader that she is, fell victim to the sticky mess first. She fell face down into the gooey mud.

She was followed immediately by Apollo, who, unfortunately, landed hard right on top of her – driving her down until she was completely submerged in the nasty dark goo. Only a tuft of matted reddish hair could be seen above the surface.

“Oh, frak me!” he cursed as he realized what he’d done. “She’s really gonna have my balls now.” He dove in with both hands and pulled her, coughing and kicking, to the surface.

“Madame President, I’m so sorry!” he warbled, wiping the mud off her face with what was left of his sleeve. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t have to answer. Her expression said it all. Lee realized as he uncovered two glaring green eyes that the President was fine. It was he who would suffer.

They slogged forward, slowly making their way out of the mud bath. “Remind me never to listen to you again, Major,” she snapped. “What was I thinking when I let you talk me into this?”

“Well…” He gave her his best innocent face. “You were probably thinking…”

She stopped walking and turned to glare at him. “It was a rhetorical question,” she said irritably. “I don’t want you to answer me. In fact, I don’t want you to talk at all.”

“Madame President, I-”

She waved a muddy finger in his face in reproach. “Uh uh,” she corrected, “It’s, ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ and those are the only words I want to hear from you for the remainder of this little fiasco, understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am, but…”

“No, no, no…Shhh.” She jabbed the muddy finger into his chest. “If I have to remind you to keep your mouth shut, you’re gonna find yourself scooping feces on the waste processing ship. I don’t care who your father is.”

“Yes, Madame President. But I really think you should know…”

“What part of only ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ confuses you? I told you not to speak.”

As she chastised him she noticed that his eyes were not focused on her but rather on something just over her left shoulder.

“Look at me, Major.” He glanced briefly at her before returning his gaze to something more pressing behind her. “Just because I’m dressed like one of your enlisted men and covered in mud and filth doesn’t mean…”

Lee’s eyes grew wide with alarm as he stared behind her and she suddenly understood what he’d been trying to tell her.

“That pig is coming up behind me, isn’t it?”

He answered with a hearty, “Yes, Ma’am!”

President Roslin rolled her eyes at the irony. “Now he gets it right.”

Those were the only words she managed to get out before the huge swine plowed into her backside, slamming her squarely in her ass and sending her flying into Apollo’s arms.

The scene may have been funny had her backside not ached like hell. Well … that and the fact that the animal’s blast had sent them flying straight off the rocky cliff.

They had time to wrap their arms around each other and then they were free falling above a turbulent, angry alien sea. It was a long drop and it gave Lee just enough time to wrap his body around hers protectively and mutter, “My father’s gonna frakking kill me.”

And then with a splash they hit the water.

Lee couldn’t speak for the President, but hitting the water at that speed hurt him so bad in such personal places that he was pretty sure he’d never father children. He felt something cold and hard beneath him as his body settled on the sea floor. He managed to snag it with his hand just before he wrapped a strong arm around Roslin’s middle and pulled her toward the surface.

The light from the sun grew brighter as they ascended from the deep but Laura was dazed from the impact. Confused. Her lungs were on fire and before she could stop herself she sucked in a huge breath …

Of water.

Then her head began to spin and everything went black.

Slowly, as if in a dream, Laura Roslin became aware of her body.

There was a burning that started in the pit of her belly and slowly radiated out and through her body, along her arms and legs. Her head was heavy, so heavy, like it was too big for her neck. There was pressure on her chest – the weight of another person leaning over her she realized. And lips … someone’s lips were moving over hers.

Hmm. Not the first time she’d had a dream like this. She felt drunk. “Bill,” she slurred, smiling under the lips pressing against her own.

“She’s waking up,” she heard Major Adama say.

What? Her eyes snapped open instantly. To her horror she found not Bill’s intense blue eyes, but one haggard looking eye and one eye patch, and an alien sun glinting off a bald head. And she could actually taste alcohol.

Understanding came instantly. It was Tigh - giving her mouth to mouth. Shocked and mortified, she shoved him away. “Get off me, Colonel Tigh.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grunted and she noted that he actually sounded amused. “She’s gonna be fine, all right.”

She tried to sit up but found the action too complicated and she was surprised to realized she was lying there giggling instead. “What the frak is going on?”

“We fell off a cliff, Madame President,” Lee supplied helpfully.

“Yes, I remember that part,” she giggled. “Why do I feel drunk?”

“Because you’re wasted,” said Tigh. “The water’s freezing. You were going into shock. There’s a SAR Raptor en route but we didn’t have time to wait.”

“So you took me to a bar and got me drunk?” More giggles.

“Wow,” Lee grinned. “She really is wasted.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she scolded, her eyes refusing to focus on Lee’s face.

“There are no bars here, Madame President. You’re on the surface of the tropical planet, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “I think I’m going to issue an Executive Order. I want you to kill that pig, even if Galactica has to nuke this whole planet. I really hate this frakking planet.”

Lee smiled like the kids who used to bring her apples in the classroom. “I found your dart gun. In the water.” He held the stupid thing up for her to see as if she actually cared and she wondered if maybe he was drunk too.

She blinked at him for a moment. “If you give it back to me … I’m going to shoot you in the ass with it.”

Tigh and Apollo exchanged looks and Apollo was suddenly very grateful to Tigh for keeping the other members of the search party back far enough that they couldn’t hear their President cussing like a sailor.

She was so sloshed that she didn’t even notice the very noisy Raptor as it landed just down the beach. Nor did she notice who stepped off of it.

“So which one of you got me drunk?” She finally managed to sit. Mostly. And she managed to still look presidential as she stared at them. “Or do I owe you both an apology?”

“No,” Tigh said, his chest puffed out slightly. “It was me. I did it to warm you up, you were freezing. Poured it right down your throat so if you’re gonna be pissed off at somebody it should be me.”

“How dare you poor booze down my throat!” she said in what they were sure she thought was her very stern, very serious voice. Her hair blew belligerently around her face and she made a valiant attempt to stand. “Now … give me some more,” she giggled as she began to teeter over.

And felt herself land squarely in the strong, steady arms of Admiral William Adama. “Oh, I think you’ve had enough for now, Laura.”

Her eyes lit up immediately and a bright smile spread across her face. “Bill! It’s about time you got here. Your son has been a very bad boy, you know. First he got me lost. Then I was chased by a very large pig and Lee body slammed me into the mud. And after that, we fell off a huge cliff, splash, straight into the water! You should’ve seen it!”

“Oh, I’d give every single cubit I have,” Tigh said.

“That's enough out of you, Colonel Tigh.” Her tone was sharp but there was humor in her expression. “Bill, did Tigh tell you that he got me drunk and then kissed me?” More laughter bubbled from her lips.

She’s gonna court-martial us all when she sobers up, Adama thought. “I’ll see he get’s what’s coming to him. Now how about we get you back to Galactica, Madame President?”

“You’re the boss,” she grinned, then paused. “Well, technically speaking, I’m the boss. But I seem to be a little drunk so for now you get to be the boss. How does that sound?”

She tried to take a step forward and her legs went out from under her. Bill deftly swept her up into his arms. “Sounds like a world gone mad,” he answered, but she was giggling too loud to hear him.

He carried her toward the Raptor, her head dropped back and her long hair hanging down in wild curls that were still damp with sea water. Her body was warm, her cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol, and he tried not to roam her body with his eyes but he failed.

Her long, elegant neck was exposed as she continued to giggle adorably and her right arm had found its way to the back of his neck. Her fingers were now dancing across his hairline. The regulation tanks were hugging her body and they were wet. He was only a man, for frak’s sake. He had needs like anyone else.

“Bill?” she drawled.

He nearly groaned aloud as she curled her head under his chin. “Yeah?”

“You’re carrying me.”

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m aware of that.” So completely aware.

“It’s kind of romantic. You know, you’re very charming.” And she giggled some more as she played with the buttons on his uniform.

“You’re making it very hard for me to be a gentleman, Laura,” he confessed quietly. When she went quiet he thought perhaps he’d managed to piss her off but when he looked down into her face he saw that she’d simply fallen asleep, content to be curled against his chest.

If she remembered any of this when she woke up she was going to be mortified and she’d probably push him away. He knew he had to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

So he held her a little closer to him. Because he could. And he sighed to himself. “What am I going to do with this woman?”

End Note:

More to come! Laura hasn't seen the last of that planet. Or that pig...

Interview #2, Part One - Comfort

2008-06-01T16:53:20Z

Part One of the next installment of Interview with the President. Part Two will be up later today or tomorrow.

Author’s Note: First of all, I want to thank everyone for the huge amount of support I’ve received for this story. My cup runneth over… seriously. I’ll try to make the rest of it equally as enjoyable.

Just wanted to explain a couple things though. As the storyline on BSG gets darker and darker (and it’s being done brilliantly, I’m not complaining) I find myself returning to earlier episodes and fanfic as I long for slightly better times. I say slightly because this show, by its nature, has always been dark.

While Mary McDonnell’s performance has been nothing short of incredible in this season’s episodes, I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that Laura’s bald – OMGS, that hair is so beautiful! – and that we’re truly watching her slowly die a little more with each episode. So, for those who’ve wondered why I put these meetings with myself and President Roslin beginning just after the conclusion of Baltar’s trail – that’s why. I need a little of the lighter, happier, trade mark long haired Laura Roslin. And if you’re enjoying these stories, maybe you do too.

I know it’ll eventually lead to me writing scenes with bald, very sick Laura – who is equally as beautiful. And that’s okay, I can do that. I’m just not ready yet. Cuz then it’s real (even though it’s only a TV show).

Meeting Timeline: Crossroads Part 2-ish, beginning of season 4, sort of.

Comfort

After the glimpse of the President’s delightful sense of humor I’d seen the day before, I really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Colonel Tigh waiting to greet me when I arrived on Galactica. Could’ve been worse, I suppose. He could’ve had a parrot on his shoulder.

“If she’s really got me bunking with you, one of us is SO riding the sofa,” I mumbled.

“What?” Tigh groused, his mouth stuck in that perpetual frown he always seemed to be wearing. Clearly he wasn’t in on the joke, thank the Gods.

“I’ll need some help.” I changed the subject, glancing at the tattered bags that served as my luggage. Life on the run is a real bitch on your travel wear. “You know, with my crap…”

Tigh eyed it distastefully. “Has it been searched?” he asked the soldier to my right.

“Yes, Colonel. Before it was loaded on the Raptor, sir.”

“I was searched before I was loaded onto the Raptor, too,” I volunteered cheerfully. “It was more intimate than my last date, so that was nice.”

Perhaps Tigh had been forewarned of my blurt-o-rhea, because he just continued to stare at me with that frown. Which, unfortunately for everyone involved, only made me more nervous.

Hence, more babbling.

“Apparently, to your officers, I look like the kind of person who would stash some kind of weapon of mass destruction in her bra.”

Colonel Tigh actually looked at my cleavage for a moment, seeming to consider the possibility, and then he simply turned to the snickering Marines behind me and said, “Grab her ‘crap’ and let’s show her to her new luxury suite.”

I followed into step behind him. “Hey, as long as it’s not a cot in the latrine, I’m happy.”

Tigh turned to look at me, the brow above his eye patch rising slightly. “I never said there was a cot.”

And I swear, I SWEAR, for just a second before he turned away I saw those lips curve in a smile. The bastard could be cheeky. Who knew?

My temporary new home wasn’t in the latrine but it smelled like one. It was small but not cramped, and since it was just off the Officer’s Quarters, close enough that I could hear their boots thump on the deck plates if the hatch was slightly ajar, I decided I could live with it.

And that I’d probably be leaving my hatch ajar a lot.

I had started unpacking and was still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that Tigh actually had a personality, so when the black phone on my wall rang it startled me. Scared the shit out of me, to be more accurate, and I actually yelped and made a small, colorful satin explosion with all the undergarments I’d been about to stuff into a drawer. Bras and panties rained down from all over the place.

I stubbed my toe tripping over my own shoes in some weird spazoid ballet. So as I lifted the receiver I more fell and slammed the side of my face onto the phone rather than answered it. “Frak!”

There was a brief pause on the other end. And absolute horrification on mine as I realized I’d cursed aloud into the phone.

“The standard greeting on Galactica is usually ‘Hello’, but I realize you’re new around here so I’ll cut you some slack.”

Oh my Gods, no way! “Admiral Adama?” This could not be happening. Except it totally was.

“Just wanted to see how you were settling in.”

“Oh, fine,” I lied. Head slamming, fat lip quickly forming, and feet hopelessly tangled in my own bra straps, I tried desperately to drag myself to my feet. I scurried as though afraid the Admiral could see my disrespectful sprawl through the phone and finally managed to right myself.

And slammed the back of my head into the open cabinet door on my way up. It made a loud thwacking sound, like someone thumping a huge hollow melon. I saw stars and fireworks and little cartoon birdies…

“What’s all that slamming around? Sounds like you’re fighting a battle in there.”

“Yeah,” I snorted. “Attack of the killer undies.”

“What?”

Lords of Kobol, shut me up. “Uhm … the blurting thing again. I’m sorry, sir. I’m a little …” I glanced at my room, which looked like a tornado had blown through it, “… out of sorts at the moment.”

“I understand. Unpacking can be brutal.”

I laughed out loud, rubbing the back of my head. “So I’ve heard.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

I thanked him and then hung up, feeling slightly buzzed, though whether it was from the knock on the noggin or the personal phone call from the Admiral, I couldn’t say. I was on my hands and knees scooping up underwear when someone knocked on the hatch.

“Come in.”

I looked up to see Tory Foster stepping inside and looking as bedraggled as I felt. She looked like an unmade bed, and not in a sexy way.

“Your quarters kick the crap outta you too?” I blurted, arms filled with skibbies.

She wrinkled her nose at me like I was nuts, which I probably was. “What?”

“Nothing. Rough morning.” I shoved the clothing into the drawer and slammed it shut before they could leap out and, I dunno, wrap themselves around my face and strangle me to death or something.

She waited patiently until I turned my full attention to her and then extended her hand. “I’m Tory Foster, I’m Presi-“

“I know who you are,” I said, shaking her hand very briefly. And she knew me too if she just thought about it for a moment. Let’s just say that I knew her when she was just Tory, before she was Aide to the President of the Twelve Colonies, and that we tended to … hunt … for lack of a better word for similar type of prey. And every unattached woman knows that there’s only room for one hunter when the prey is scarce. I waited for recognition to hit her, and when it did her eyes took on a hard glint.

“I thought the name sounded familiar.” She smirked at me in that bitchy way women do when they’re trying to be smug and superior. “So I’m here to fetch you for your meeting with President Roslin.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Fetch me?” Like a DOG?

“The President’s waiting…”

“Okay, just give me one second.” I tried to ignore her eyes wandering over every inch of my new home as I attempted to tame my wild red hair and make myself presentable.

“There’s a pair of panties on the floor,” Tory said snidely, as though it would embarrass me.

“I know,” I replied with a smile. “I make it a habit to always know where I leave my panties.”

I followed a step behind Whory … er, Tory. Yeah, I’m catty like that. Meow. And while I was silently congratulating myself on not giving in to the very childish temptation to step on the back of her shiny black pump and give her a flat tire I lost track of where we were headed. So when we stopped outside Admiral Adama’s quarters I was caught completely off guard.

“I’m meeting with the President here? In the Admiral’s cabin?”

Tory turned to look at me. “Is there a problem?”

I felt a wicked grin crawl across my face before I could stop myself. “Hell no. It’s just … when she said she was staying on Galactica, I didn’t know she meant she was staying here.” I couldn’t help but chuckle appreciatively. “You go, Madame President!”

Tory rolled her huge eyes. “It isn’t like that. Not that I’m surprised you’d immediately jump to that conclusion.” Her tone was scathing. “Typical…”

“Oh, you wound me,” I mocked.

She ignored the comment. “She’s staying on Galactica while she undergoes treatment. For cancer. She’s bunking here until safe and suitable guest quarters can be set up.”

Well now don’t I feel like a frakking asshole? “Oh,” I said stupidly. “Well, that makes sense.”

“Uh huh,” she sneered, nodding at the armed guard to open the hatch.

We stepped inside and I couldn’t help but inhale deeply and fill my lungs with the scent. The smell was so different than the rest of the ship. A mixture of soap, aftershave, alcohol and something distinctly … male. Like the man himself, it did not disappoint.

President Roslin was seated at the table, her glasses perched on her nose as she shuffled through papers in a folder and tapped a pen distractedly against her cheek. I don’t think she even heard us enter the room.

She wore a burgundy silk shirt that buttoned delicately down the front and dark gray dress pants. A pair of black high heeled shoes sat neatly on the floor, her legs crossed elegantly, and one bare foot bounced as if tapping to music only she could hear. Her long hair tumbled down her back and around her shoulders and while she looked as lovely as before, I noticed she also looked pale and tired. Wiped out, I corrected when I looked at her eyes.

I recognized that look. A glass of water sat in front of her. Judging from the condensation dripping down the sides it looked untouched. She must be nauseated, I surmised. A piece of bandage tape held a small square of gauze in place just above her right wrist where I knew an IV must have recently been. I repressed a shudder at my own memories of poison pumping through my own veins and my body turning on me like a traitor. The doctors trying to find just the right balance – enough poison to kill the cancer without killing the patient, too.

I suddenly felt the weight of what I had been asked to do.

To tell the story of this extraordinary woman … it was both an honor and a rather onus challenge. One I hoped I was up to. I hoped I could find the words to do her justice.

“Madame President,” I said in greeting, hoping my voice didn’t show my rapidly shifting emotions.

She looked up from her paperwork and smiled at me as she removed her glasses. “Kris, good to see you. I thought we agreed you were going to call me Laura.”

Somehow it didn’t seem appropriate just then. I returned the smile. “I’m working on that one.”

“Fair enough I suppose.”

Tory apparently noticed the untouched water, too. “Can I get you some tea?” She didn’t say it, but I heard the implied with chamalla.

“Not just yet,” Roslin said. “I think anything that went down at this point would only make a reappearance.”

Been there. “Sucking,” I … ya know … blurted.

“What?” both Tory and Roslin chorused.

If I had a few cubits for every time I made a person exclaim WHAT? – Well, I’d have a lot of frakking cubits!

“A sucking candy, like maybe a mint, very helpful for the nausea,” I explained.

“Hangovers tend to make people nauseated,” Tory said snidely.

I shrugged. “If you say so.” Bitch. “But I was referring to chemical nausea. For some reason sucking on a piece of hard candy helps.”

President Roslin’s eyes searched mine for a very intense moment. “You know, don’t you? I mean personally.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re a survivor.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

And she gave me that look again. The one that’s as warm as a hug.

Apparently it bothered Tory, who cleared her throat somewhat obnoxiously. “You have just over an hour before your meeting with the Admiral, Madame President.”

Roslin nodded and gestured for me to join her at the table, which I did. “I assume your accommodations are comfortable.”

“Yes, thanks.”

“And they’re close enough that it will be easy for us to meet when I can fit it in?”

Tory answered for me before I could open my mouth. “They were arranged with exactly that in mind. Ms. Hill should be at your beckon call.”

I raised a snotty eyebrow at Tory. “Delighted as I am to be the President’s beck-n-call girl,” and I noticed that Roslin grinned briefly, but Tory did not, “I was under the impression these meetings were going to be informal.” I stabbed at Tory with a glare. “Will your aide be joining us now?”

“No, she has plenty of other work to do” Roslin said, her gaze shifting to Tory. “So I’ll let you get to it. Thank you, Tory. You can go.”

Tory looked a little huffy, like I’d just stolen her pinky-swear partner or something. But to her credit she excused herself in a dignified manner.

Roslin waited until the hatch closed behind her and then looked at me expectantly. “Something I should know?”

I shrugged. “Let’s just say she’s not a fan. She just came to my new quarters and fetched me. Like a dog.” And of course, I blurt things. “Also, she pretty much thinks I’m a big ho bag.”

She snorted. “I see.” She eyed me carefully but there was humor in her expression. “Are you?”

I considered it. “No more than she is.” Hardly a distinction, and I think Laura Roslin knew it.

She nodded. “Mmm.”

“I hope that doesn’t lessen your opinion of me, Madame President, because while I usually don’t give a damn what people think about me I find I do care how you see me. But the truth is if I’ve learned anything since the day I watched Caprica be nuked from the viewport of a spaceship it’s that life is fleeting, and human beings are here one moment and often gone the next. So if I need to take comfort in the arms of a man, find something beautiful and human in sharing a moment of intimacy with him, then I take it. If that makes me a slut, well then I guess I’m a slut. At least I’m honest.”

She was quiet for a minute, obviously pondering my words. Finally she said, “Can I ask you something? Something very personal?”

I’d just told the woman I was a big sleeze bag. How much more personal could it possibly get? “Of course.”

“Do you find it? The comfort, I mean. When you’re in the arms of a man and you let yourself go, just let go and be together with another human being, do you truly find comfort? Even if it’s only temporary?”

I had to have been reading the signs wrong because I was barely getting to know Laura Roslin, and I was sure there was no way she was letting me even peek into something so personal this early in our relationship. But I could’ve sworn she was looking for someone to tell her it was okay for her to take that comfort in Adama.

Or it was just me being a hopeless romantic. But I didn’t think so.

“Sometimes,” I answered honestly.

“And what makes the difference?” she pressed on. “Is it the man or the sex?”

I raised my eyebrows, wondering if she’d already been into the chamalla and if we were really having this conversation. “You are direct, aren’t you?”

“I’m dying,” she said wryly, “I don’t have time to be polite.”

Wow. Definitely direct. “Maybe. But I’m supposed to be interviewing you, not the other way around, remember?”

She smiled again, a smile that made me a little nervous. “Humor me. I just want to hear your take on love and comfort.” Then she played the You’re a Redhead card, which is so unfair, by the way. “Why? Are you afraid to tell me?”

“No,” I said too quickly because I can’t resist a challenge or a dare. And I think she knew it. “First of all, comfort is a state of mind like anything else. It doesn’t matter how handsome the man is, or how good the sex is. If you can’t get yourself in the right frame of mind then none of it matters. But if you can and it helps, and you’re not hurting anybody, then what’s the harm in taking it? It’s fleeting at best so I take it where, when, and in whom I can.”

“And that’s why Tory dislikes you?”

I laughed. “Yes. It’s slim pickings and I’m competition.”

She folded her arms and studied me. “Of that I have no doubt. Well you know what they say. Love is war and all that.”

I met her eyes carefully. “I’m sure you already know this one, but love and sex are two very different things. You don’t necessarily have to have one to have the other. I don’t know if you asked about this for personal reasons or if the freak show that is my life just amuses you. You certainly wouldn’t be the first. But I will tell you this, Laura,” I said, using her given name on purpose even though it still felt unnatural on my tongue, “if you’ve managed to find someone who can give you both – the love and the sex – and you believe there’s even a chance you’ll find some comfort in this person, you should take it. That’s a precious and all too rare combination under the best of circumstances and as you pointed out, you don’t have time to be polite.”

The expression on her face grew so serious that I actually thought I could hear the hiss of an airlock in my near future and I wondered where in this huge cabin Adama stashed his alcohol. But when she finally spoke her voice was light and charming. “That was pretty smooth, Kris. You ever consider a career in politics?”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “No offense, Madame President, but never even for a second. I prefer to know who’s screwing me.”

And I was rewarded with the beautiful sound of her unrestrained laughter, which was infectious. “You’re pretty direct yourself,” she finally said.

“You asked,” I said between giggles.

“True enough.”

“As for Tory,” I offered when we calmed down, “I promise you that I’ll try my hardest not to scratch her eyeballs out. She looks like she’s been ridden hard and put up wet as it is anyway.” Blurt.

“I have to admit,” she nodded thoughtfully, “Tory does seem distracted lately.”

“Yeah, and she keeps humming some weird tune that’s almost a song, but not quite. It’s creepy.”

“Maybe it gives her … comfort,” Roslin said, humor lighting her eyes.

“Good,” I returned, giggling. “More pilots for me then!”

“Don’t be so certain,” she volleyed. “Maybe I’ll have you bring me one. A strapping, handsome young thing…”

And I swear to the Gods this time she waited for me to drink deep of my water.

“With rippling muscles and a big, bulging Viper of his own.”

And there it went. Pffffftttt! I shot ice cold water out my nose and mouth with enough force to make my eyes run with tears and my lungs protest violently. My body jerked, an encore performance of my earlier spazoid ballet, as I fought between fits of giggles and coughs.

The hatch spun open and a wary Marine stepped in, gun at the ready, to find the President of the Twelve Colonies patting me gently but firmly on the back as I turned an interesting shade of purple. “Everything okay in here, Madame President?”

“Yes,” she said calmly. “She’s okay, she’s just choking.”

Apparently assured that President Roslin was safe, and completely unconcerned if I died right there at the table, the young soldier turned and closed the hatch behind him.

“Well,” said Roslin coyly, “I guess he won’t be invited to comfort you any time soon.”

“Not helping,” I gasped between giggles.

*~*~*~*

Mary Poster

2008-05-29T21:18:02Z

For those A/R frakkers who want to be part of this gift for Mary...

Please leave your name - first and last or last initial - screen name or handle in () and location. Example:

Kris Hill (RedFire), Utah, USA

The names & locations will be placed around the photo as a border.

You may also leave a message for Mary. Messages will be attached seperately. Now, when I say message I mean message, not letter. LOL I know there is so much we all want to say to her. Hell, the things I'd like to tell her could fill a book! But she's a busy woman, and she's far more likely to actually read them if they're brief but from the heart. A paragraph or two, not a page or two, okay?

We want to let her know that we are greatly moved and touched by her extraordinary performance this season, and what it's cost her personally. Not give her a back injury from hauling 5,000 pages of fan messages. ;)

Besides, I have to print all of it (have mercy on me), and mail it to someone. And then that person has to haul it to the con and give it to Mary (have mercy on them as well). So get your Mary love in, by all means, but do it with an economy to your words, mmkay? 'ppreciate it!

This is the poster, for those who haven't seen it...

Graduation Day

2008-05-29T20:01:27Z

Hi All...

Red here, doing a drive by to let y'all know that I haven't forgotten about my next interview with Madame President. Laura & I have been chatting, and it'll be up soon.

In the mean time, I have a very wonderful reason for being slow. My daughter, Kandise, graduated from high school last night. The same high school that I graduated from 20 years ago! (My father and baby sister graduated from the same school as well, lots of tradition.) Bragging photo below.

Kandise is my only daughter, and my first child. She has been a constant joy in my life, and I am so proud of her and all she has accomplished. And no doubt will continue to accomplish.

Kandise & Me

My son, Chayse, had his last day of 5th grade today and he won several awards. So it's been a very busy, very emotional week!

I just didn't want everyone thinking I bailed on the story - because I'm totally committed. I'm a committee!

So A/R love to all of ya! You'll be seeing Laura and Kris again very soon! MWAH!

Interview with the President

2008-05-22T21:45:48Z

My first BSG fanfic. In the spirit of Interview with the Vampire, I, as a civilian in the fleet, begin a series of interviews with the president.

Rated: M - Just because it's me and will no doubt head in that direction. Though there is nothing terribly naughty in this first part.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, not even the toilet paper. If I did own them, Laura would still have hair, Lee would still be in a Viper where he belongs, Cally would be alive and Tory would've went out the airlock, and Roslin and Adama would be doing it like bunnies. No copyright Gods need be angered. I receive nothing but carpal tunnel.

Interview with the President

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.

And see, this thing happens to me when I’m nervous. Particularly around especially important or attractive people. My brain blurts out thoughts, sort of like a one woman Madame Apropos of Nothing comedy act of naughty one-liners. And a fair share of them make their way from my brain and actually escape via my big mouth.

I have red hair. Naturally red hair and the entire attitude that goes with it. Does that pretty much explain it?

So if I tried to tell you that being summoned to Mt. Olympus by Madame President of the Twelve Colonies, Ms. Laura Roslin Herself didn’t make me nervous and create the opportunity for oh so many shoes to plant themselves firmly in my mouth, then I’d be Queen of Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire Land.

In fact, I was pretty sure that if I didn’t cease my anxious habit of tapping my fingernails on my hardback notebook RIGHT THE FRAK NOW Racetrack was going to leave her Raptor without a pilot long enough to come back and break each one of my fingers. Before strangling me to death.

As if hearing her name in my thoughts, Racetrack shot me an annoyed glance over her shoulder. “I’ll have you standing on Galactica’s hangar deck in a few minutes, Ms. Hill.”

Ms. Hill. What am I, her granny’s old tea buddy or something? “It’s Kris,” I repeated. “Please call me Kris.”

Her raised eyebrows clearly said whatever, lady. “Yeah, okay. Well sit tight, Kris. We’re cleared to land.”

Happy to get out of Racetrack’s way before she could kill me, I took the outstretched hand that was offered without even looking and stepped down from the Raptor. It wasn’t until I heard the rumbling voice say, “Welcome to Galactica, Ms. Hill,” that I realized said hand belonged to The Man Himself.

“Aa … Admiral Adama?”

I only hoped I didn’t look as brainless and stunned as I sounded. Of course, that was stupid of me.

He smiled as he politely extricated his rather large hand from my grip. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding onto him, let alone with both hands. So much for not looking like a moron.

“Wow! Admiral! It’s … your hands are …” Gods, somebody SLAP me! “Uh … hello.”

“You look a little overwhelmed,” he said kindly to the poor retarded girl he’d just helped off the Raptor. “Never been on Galactica before?”

Never been on an Admiral before, I said, on the inside.

Of course I’d been on Galactica. Hadn’t everyone in this ragtag fleet been here for one reason or another? Little prod from Doc Cottle here. Little poke from a handsome Viper pilot there… A girl’s gotta live a little during an apocalypse, right?

I’d just never met the Admiral face to unbelievably handsome face before. My Gods, the man was hot! “Yes, sir. During the exodus from New Caprica and other times for, you know, medical treatment and such. I just never expected … “ To want to rip your clothes off right here on the hangar bay and spank you till you call me Mama. “… a personal welcome from Admiral Adama himself.”

Now that I thought about it, why was he greeting me personally? I glanced around at the armed Marines. A nervous little knot grew in my tummy. I dunno, something about this whole war and all the bloody death had made me paranoid. I started counting guns and stopped laughing.

Then I did that thing I do. You know, where I say things. Out loud. “First a summons to Galactica from President Roslin, and now an escort from the Admiral of the Fleet. It’s almost like you think I’m a …”

I stopped myself before blurting out the word clyon, but it hung there nonetheless. Suddenly I really wanted to be anywhere else, and sorta wondered if I had one red strobing eye popping out of my forehead. A nervous laugh escaped my lips as I searched the Admiral’s eyes almost desperately. “Madame President’s not waiting for me in an airlock, is she?” I said, sort of joking. Mostly not.

Racetrack smiled wickedly.

“Okay, that started out as a joke,” I said, laughing because Racetrack made me want to cry. “But now I really wanna know. She’s not, is she?”

To his credit, the Admiral’s sense of humor was apparently as well developed as his biceps. (Yowza!) He chuckled deep in his throat. “No, she’s in one of the ready rooms, but I guess that’ll seem anticlimactic now.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said, falling into step behind him and trying desperately to ignore the big men with big guns following behind us. I’d never met the President face to face either, but knew she was a force to be reckoned with. If she were half as impressive in person as Adama was then I knew I was in for one hell of a meeting.

“Do you have any idea why you’re here, Ms. Hill?” Adama asked, snapping my attention back to the moment. And drawing my eyes, which had been firmly fixed on his ass, back to his face.

Gods, how I hated being called Ms. Hill, it has such a spinster ring to it. “It’s Kris, sir.”

“Pardon?”

“My name,” I said. “Please call me Kris.” When he looked slightly confused I shrugged, “It’s a thing…”

He nodded. “A thing. Is that like an issue?”

“Exactly. And honestly? No, I have no idea why I’m here. The earlier airlock joke notwithstanding.”

He chuckled again, a low and sexy sound like rocks rumbling. “Kris, huh? I take it you’re not much for formalities or titles, yet you keep calling me ‘sir’.”

“I’m all about respect where it’s due and titles are fine. But Ms. Hill is not my title, nor does it make me feel particularly respected. It simply makes me feel old.”

He stopped walking long enough to smile down at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. Amazed yet again at how powerfully handsome he is. “You should try being the one everyone refers to as The Old Man,” he grinned.

I laughed. “It’s a term of endearment, sir. Your people … they don’t serve you because they have to. They serve you because they respect and genuinely feel for you. They love you.”

Adama stopped walking so abruptly that I nearly slammed right into him, which – under other circumstances – would’ve been fine by me. But the expression on his face, so serious as his eyes bore into mine, made me almost shiver with certainty that my big mouth had once again gotten me into trouble and that I had spoken way out of turn.

“You’re a civilian,” he said, barely above a whisper. “How could you possibly know something like that?”

Wondering secretly if a person can get airlocked for simply pissing the admiral off, I decided to just be honest with the man. “I watch people.” When he only continued to stare at me I elaborated.

“Everyone’s so busy trying to stay alive, to fight another day. Me? I’m along for the ride. I’m a writer, sir. I’m not a Viper pilot, not a soldier. I’m not a politician. I can’t pick up a weapon and fight in this war. I’m a civilian. So I watch people. I see people, the beauty that gets lost in the struggle to stay alive, the tender moments, the acts of random kindness or incredible bravery that we just don’t have time to stop and stand in awe of because if we do, if we stop long enough to blink, the Cylons will catch up to us and it will all be gone.

“So I figure THAT’S my war, Admiral. To see the beauty, the bravery, the kindness … the very things that make us a race worth saving in the first place, and to write down and record as many of them as I possibly can. So that history remembers.

“And so that WE remember what it is we’re fighting for. That’s how I fight in this war!” And after realizing that somewhere along the way I had raised my voice a little, I added a belated, “Sir.”

A slow, stunning smile crept across his face and his voice, gruff and husky as old leather, seemed to be teeming with approval when he said, “That’s exactly why you’re here, Kris. Remember those ideals when you’re in the company of Laura Roslin.” He gestured to the hatch ahead. “Are you ready to meet the President?”

“As long as she’s not standing at the controls of an airlock…” Gods, blurt, blurt blurt.

I’d seen Laura Roslin in pictures and on television and I knew she was pretty, so I expected that. What I didn’t expect was for her to be take-your-breath-away beautiful. I also didn’t expect to find her seated not at the desk in the room, but instead perched rather becomingly on the corner of it, her long legs crossed and draped over the front.

I watched the Admiral’s eyes take the scenic route, starting at her high heeled shoes and dragging themselves up over her shapely legs and across her very girlish figure before finally landing on her face and meeting her eyes.

She shot him a beaming smile in return.

Hmm … interesting. I’d heard the rumors, of course. Who hadn’t? Everyone gossiped about Adama and Roslin being hot for each other. In the great high school that was the Colonial Fleet, they were the Prom King and Queen – everybody was speculating about their private business. Personally, I’d always thought it was no one’s business, but if they were going at it like cats in heat, good for them! The frakking world ended. Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em, and all that. But standing here in a room with the two of them, the sexual tension was palpable.

I was half waiting for little balls of fire to erupt. Or for Adama to pounce on her right there on the desk. And to my own surprise, all I could think was DAYUM! Just let me watch! Which was weird, even for me.

But I was pretty sure that wasn’t why I was there.

Adama took my elbow and pulled me forward slightly as Roslin rose gracefully to her feet.

“Madame President, this is Kris Hill, formerly of Caprica. Kris Hill, President Laura Roslin.”

She extended her hand and I was grateful when my own didn’t tremble as I shook hers in greeting. “It’s an honor, Madame President.”

She smiled, professional but warm, at me as she made eye contact. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Hi-“

“Kris,” Admiral Adama cut in. “Just call her Kris.”

She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“It’s a thing,” we both said and the Admiral shot me a wink.

Roslin gave us a look that clearly said Are you both having a meltdown? But she simply smiled and said, “Well then thank you for coming, Kris. Can I offer you something to drink?” She gestured to a chair for me as she took the one behind her desk and began to pour glasses of ice water from a glass pitcher on a tray.

I supposed my immediate response of You got anything from Captain Thrace’s stash? was probably a bad idea so I simply accepted the water and said, “Thank you.”

She glanced up at Adama. “Will you be joining us, Bill?”

I smiled before I could stop myself. It wasn’t just that she’d called him Bill. It was the way it rolled off her tongue and slid off her lips like some intimate caress that made the moment so sexy I almost felt like a voyeur.

I say almost because voyeur implies an unwanted witness, and I was invited to this peep show. I found myself wondering if their feelings for each other were this obvious to everyone, because they had done nothing whatsoever unprofessional, they hadn’t so much as come within touching distance of each other, or if it was just in plain sight for me because watching people is what I do.

“I have a couple things to check on,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He smiled kindly at me. “Pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure has been mine, Admiral.” And I meant that. Few men lived up to the legends that preceded them. Admiral William Adama was a beautifully rare exception to that rule and in the few moments I’d spent in his company I realized that I’d already come to believe that if anyone could save us, it was this man. I glanced at the President and adjusted that thought – it was this man and this woman, this team, because it only required a small minute in their presence to see that they were indeed a team.

Adama nodded briefly toward Roslin as he turned and left. “Madame President.”

She nodded in reply and then turned her considerable gaze in my direction.

Suddenly there was no buffer, no distractions. It was just the President of the Twelve Colonies and ME. It was like all sound everywhere ceased and it was silent in the room. The President’s big green eyes were staring -

RIGHT.

AT.

ME.

“Nope … that’s not intimidating,” I blurted. Because, as I said, I do that.

She laughed, and I fell instantly in love with the sound. She can be one scary bitch when she has to be, but never let it be said that Laura Roslin doesn’t know how to laugh.

“Sorry,” I said with a giggle of my own. “I tend to blurt when I’m nervous.”

She smiled warmly. “Ah, blurting and I are old friends. But there’s no need to be nervous. I have no intention of trying to intimidate you.”

“You’re under the impression that you have to try?” I blurted again and glanced pointedly at the armed Marine posted at the door.

She chuckled. “He’s here for me, not for you.”

“You mean, like, in case I try to stab you to death with my pen?”

The Marine stepped forward and Roslin held him off with a raised hand. “You really weren’t joking about the blurting thing, were you?” she said with a wry smile.

For the love of the Gods, someone shut me up! “No, Madame President, I wasn’t. But for what it’s worth, it only happens with people I either find very attractive, or have a great amount of respect for.”

Her brow rose as she seemed to ponder my statement for a moment and then the second I saw the wicked grin play across her face I was already wishing I could suck the words back in.

Too late.

“And which am I?”

Both, actually, which is hitting a big fat ten on my WTF-O-METER! But when I looked into her face, a face that had brought comfort and hope to so many of us during the darkest of times, I managed a much better, more heartfelt answer.

“The latter, of course. I respect you, not just for your office but as a woman and a human being as well. I voted for you because you’re a strong and devoted leader. But I respect you because at the end of the day, even when we’ve all been forced into doing horrifying and ugly things in this terrible war, you’re still able to look at your people and see what they need, even if it’s as simple as a laugh from their President. And I think that’s beautiful. I think you’re beautiful, Madame President.”

To my surprise there was a flood of shiny tears in Roslin’s pretty eyes and she took a moment to remove her glasses and swallow them back before she spoke. I felt tears fill my own eyes at the slight quiver in her normally strong and resolute voice.

“I’m not sure how to properly thank you for that,” she whispered, smiling warmly at me. And if it’s possible to hug someone with your eyes, that’s what happened next. Laura Roslin’s expression was as warm and encompassing as any hug I’ve ever experienced.

“You just did,” I whispered back.

“Well,” she said, her voice clear and strong after taking a sip of her water and replacing her glasses, “I can see I made the right choice in asking you to come here.”

“I’m sure there’s some protocol for the way this meeting is supposed to go, but I guess my blurting has made me appear as if I don’t have a professional bone in my entire body.”

“On the contrary,” she said, twirling a pencil between her fingers, “I find the lack of pomp and pageantry refreshing. And I did say this wasn’t an official summons from the President, which is why we’re not on Colonial One and you don’t see my aide seated off to the side taking notes or handing me files. My request to meet with you was entirely a personal one. I realize you don’t know me and therefore can’t separate Laura Roslin from President Roslin, but I still hope you didn’t come here today out of a sense of obligation.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Did this woman own a mirror? She had an unmistakable air of authority about her that simply could not be denied. Not feel obligated? Hell, if she’d asked me to airlock my own mother I’d probably have done it and then saluted her! But I could see in her eyes that she was sincere. She really didn’t want me to feel like my presence at this meeting was the result of an executive order.

“Let’s just say you’re not an easy person to say no to,” I finally said.

Judging from the look on her face, this was not the answer she wanted. She removed her glasses, folded the frames in and tucked them rather attractively in the vee of her blouse, never breaking eye contact with me. “Tell that to the Quorum,” she said with a sardonic smile, “I’m beginning to think that’s their favorite word where I’m concerned.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of those windbags. “Blowholes! They just like to pontificate. It gives them the illusion that they matter.” My eyes widened as I realized I’d just said that aloud. “There I go with the blurting again.”

President Roslin laughed, a laugh that made her eyes sparkle. “Your blurting is not entirely without merit.” She studied me for what felt like forever and I forced myself not to squirm. “Most people censor their thoughts around me. Measure and weigh their words carefully before they speak. Do you have any idea how tiresome that can be?”

I spent way too much time … entertaining pilots who pretty much say whatever the frak they think to have any idea what that was like, but somehow I didn’t think President Roslin needed to know that. “I can’t imagine,” I finally said.

“That’s why this little get together is informal. No protocol, no official procedures…”

“You mean other than the search I got from your Marine that was so thorough he really should’ve bought me dinner first?”

She smiled again. “You see? Uncensored. I like that. And yes, I mean other than that.”

“Pleased as I am that my Blurt-A-Thon is amusing you, and as much as I’m enjoying your company, Madame President, my own curiosity is going to eat me alive pretty soon. Of all the people in the fleet, why did you ask to meet with me?”

She looked at the Marine standing watch at the door. “Corporal, please wait outside.”

The young man looked as surprised as I felt and he glanced briefly at the pen I was holding in my hand as if it really were a weapon before saying, “Ma’am?”

Roslin stood and folded her arms across her chest, then regarded my suddenly dangerous writing instrument with mild amusement. “If Kris promises not to stab me through the heart with her pen, would you and your rather large weapon wait outside the door?”

“He’s holding, like, an UZI! And he’s worried about my Bic Clicker?” I spouted.

Roslin’s brows rose as she looked at me, and she said, “Shh!”

So I totally did!

She turned her I’m in no mood for bullshit gaze on the poor Marine. “Corporal?”

“Of course, Madame President.”

They both looked at me expectantly and this time my eyebrows rose. “You’re serious?”

“You’re the one who brought up stabbing me to death with your pen,” she said, seeming to enjoy the whole thing in a way that made me wonder if she was secretly as twisted as me. “What? Don’t you have a promise line in your blurt repertoire?”

“Better than the airlock, I guess,” I muttered under my breath as I got to my feet.

“What?” Roslin asked sharply.

“Nothing!” Gulp. “Okay, I’d say I can’t believe I’m doing this, but really … it’s no more bizarre than the rest of my life so I should’ve expected it.” I put my hand over my heart and cleared my throat. “I, Kris Hill, promise not to stab, slash, puncture, poke, jab, or otherwise assault President Roslin with my pen. I further promise not to write on her person, scribble on her desk, or draw horns on the photo of herself and Admiral Adama sitting on that stand over there.” I glanced at both of them. “Cross my heart.”

The President seemed to be struggling to hold in a giggle, which I found highly amusing. “Good enough for you, Corporal?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, shooting me what was clearly a Don’t MAKE me come back in here look before heading out the door.

President Roslin sat back down and I followed her lead. “Okay … aside from a good dose of terminal embarrassment, I still have no idea what I’m doing here.”

To my utter amazement she turned and picked up a small stack of books and set them on the desk between us. They were MY books. I felt the color drain from my face as the shock washed over me and my voice, when I finally found it, shook. “The President has read my work?”

“Don’t look so stunned. Your stuff is quite popular.”

I knew it was being read, but I had no idea it was THAT popular. “It’s just something I do as an escape, Madame President. A way to step out of reality for a little while. I never imagined you’d be … “

“What?” She smiled warmly at me, her manicured finger lightly skimming the cover of my most recent book. “You don’t think that the President needs to escape now and then just like everyone else?”

I was having trouble remembering to breathe. “It’s not that, Ma’am. It’s just … I never imagined you’d choose to do it with something I wrote. I’m … well, I’m overwhelmed to be honest.”

“You look like you’re going to fall out of your chair. Are you okay?”

I nodded stupidly. “I just can’t believe you’ve read one of my books. Writing is a deeply personal act.”

“I’ve read all of them, actually. Your articles, too.”

I put my head between my knees. “That’s not really helping with the shock, Madame President.”

She chuckled as she rose to her feet and came around the desk to lay a soft hand on my shoulder. “I said this is informal. Why don’t you call me Laura?”

Yeah, that was SO not gonna happen. “You’re gonna need to give me some time on that one, okay?”

She disappeared for a moment and returned with a glass of beautiful green liquid that I hadn’t seen or smelled in a very long time. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

“Ambrosia!” I inhaled deeply, the scent taking me back with great longing to better times. “Gods, I haven’t had Ambrosia for … well, forever.” I took a sip and my head immediately began to spin. “I knew you folks on Galactica were holding out.”

“That’s just one of the perks when you’re on a first name basis with the President,” she practically purred. “You get the good stuff.”

I laughed and looked up at her warm eyes. “A couple more glasses of this stuff and I’ll call you whatever you want!”

“Good, because we have a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time to do it in.”

Her tone had turned serious. Instead of going back behind the desk she sat in the chair right next to me. She pushed her long curls behind her shoulders and focused her gaze on me. I couldn’t have looked away if the ship had been exploding around me, the moment was that intense.

“I’ll just cut right to it. I’m dying,” she said quietly.

I felt tears flood my eyes, but blinked them back out of respect. I wanted to hug her, but only did so with my eyes. “I know,” I whispered, because I didn’t trust my own voice. “I listened to Baltar’s trial. What Apollo did … I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, and her beautiful dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. “No, I didn’t ask you here to talk about that. It’s about your books. Your characters. Not all of the stories are fiction, are they? You based some of the characters and their stories on real people, people you knew that died on Caprica. Am I right?”

Unsure where she was going with this, I gave a tentative, “Some of them, yes.”

“It’s your way of honoring their memories, their lives. Yes?”

I nodded. “But not all of my stuff is based on real people. I’m quite capable of spinning my own fiction.”

“I have no doubt.”

“I just think there are some lives, some people who leave such an extraordinary mark on the world around them that they shouldn’t be forgotten.”

She smiled beautifully, her bright eyes shining with emotion as she gently took my hand. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

Comprehension dawned and I suddenly wished for The Blurts to return because all I could mutter was, “Holy Gods … “

“Will you write my story, Kris?” She smiled, oozing charm that made me wonder how poor Adama ever denied her anything, and made a show of refilling my glass with Ambrosia. “I won’t lie to you. It’ll be quite an undertaking. Of course, you’ll need to stay here on Galactica, find some way to amuse yourself when you’re not with me – do you think you can do that?”

And I SWEAR she quirked a knowing eyebrow. Did she know I’d been to the pilot’s racks a time or two? “I’m sure I’d manage.”

“And I am fond of relaxing with a nice glass of Ambrosia, so there’s that.” She flashed me a wicked smile. “Of course, tensions are always running a little high on Galactica. I can’t promise that you won’t be searched again. In fact, I can almost promise that you will.”

“Sweet talker.”

“So,” she said, removing her glasses and tucking them once again in her cleavage, “what do you say?”

Uhm … FRAK YES? Feeling a sweet Ambrosia buzz, my sass had returned. I waited until Madame President was taking a deep swig of her drink and then said, “Can I bunk with Colonel Tigh? We can play naughty wench and evil pirate.”

Just as I’d hoped, her eyes widened with amused shock and as laughter forced its way up her throat she did a passable impression of a fountain. Ambrosia sprayed from her mouth and nose.

I giggled as I watched her wipe the shiny green drink off her face with far more dignity than should’ve been possible.

“That was payback for the having you searched comment, wasn’t it?”

“Most definitely.”

She nodded. “Noted. Now that you’ve seen me squirt alcohol through my nose, a most unpresidential thing to do, does that mean you’ve agreed to write my story?”

I smiled warmly at her, already very fond of her and we hadn’t even begun. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Laura,” she corrected.

My eyes widened. Not sure I could go that far just yet. “Madame President, I-“

“You what, Ms. Hill? You can’t physically form the word Laura?”

Evil woman. “Call me Kris.”

She folded her arms and smiled. “Call me Laura.”

“I’m going to Hell,” I murmured, then chugged the rest of my Ambrosia. “Okay, okay. I would be honored to write your story.”

She stared at me expectantly.

“Laura,” I finally added.

“Good,” she said brightly, reaching for the phone. “Now we’ll just see about getting you somewhere to stay.” She flashed me a playful smile and said into the handset, “Please get me Colonel Tigh…”

*~*~*~*

BSG - Laura's Hair

2008-05-11T04:05:09Z

After last night's incredibly moving episode of Battlestar Galactica (Is Mary McDonnell extraordinary or what?!) I've just kind of been rocking back and forth in a little ball ... cuz WOW!

Don't worry, not posting any spoilers. If you've watched the show at all this season then you already know about Roslin's storyline with breast cancer and that the treatments have been making her hair fall out.

What you may not know is that Mary lost both her mother and older sister to breast cancer, so the courage and dedication it must take for her to play this character is staggering. I am in awe of her, her strength and her grace. And while Mary is - without a doubt - a gifted actress ... I find myself feeling her pain both emotionally and physically as she pulls us through these agonizing scenes with her and I wonder just how much of her heartbreak, if any, is acting.

So, to Mary, though I know she'll never see this, I say: I hope you know how much your fans love you, and that we see your sacrifice and we hurt along with you.

And as a woman who has undergone cancer treatment and knows how it feels to lose long locks of hair, which is arguably a woman's crowning glory and a statement of her femininity, I feel the need to post a little love for Laura's hair. (Mary has the most beautiful, lush hair!)

Wow - this place rocks!

2008-05-08T03:59:09Z

Must have been living in a cave.

Well, actually been stuck in my basement because my air conditioning isn't on yet, so it's rather LIKE a cave. LOL

Don't know how I missed it, but this place has everything. Including fangirly stuff for pretty much every book, singer, actor, movie or TV show I've ever liked in my whole life!

Sweeeeeett!

I'm 38 (soon enough, anyway), have two kids and a hubby. I'm a writer and was a Respiratory Therapist until I became too ill to work. So now I play on the internet, watch some awesome TV shows, and read books and some kick butt fanfic.

I used to write Star Trek: Voyager fanfic once upon a time. Penname LadyC. Currently I'm not writing any, just reading.

Right now I'm digging the following shows:

Battlestar Galactica (Frakking awesome writing and acting!)
Supernatural (HOT boys!)
Bones (David Boreanaz - reason enough. I'd watch him read the phone book!)
Smallville (More hot boys.)
Grey's Anatomy (Resistance was futile)
The Big Bang Theory (Nerds rock.)
How I Met Your Mother (It's WILLOW, people!)
Desperate Housewives (It's just wicked!)
Rescue Me (It's just so naughty!)

Yeah ... I'm sick. I watch way too much TV. Get over it.

And some oldies that I still love even though they're OVER:

Buffy (Again - David Boreanaz)
Angel (See above)
Star Trek: Voyager (Janeway ROCKS, Space ROCKS, Chakotay's tattoo ROCKS.)
Crossing Jordan (I have no rational excuse for that one...)
Reba (It's FUNNY!!!!)

Oh, and I'm hopelessly in love with Tim McGraw!

Also ... I don't always talk this much. Sort of...