One Wing in the Fire
Title: One Wing in the Fire
Author: fragrantwoods
Word Count: 1120
Rating: T warnings: mentions of suicide, PTSD
Follows the following AU drabbles
The Old Man, the Old Lady , Running Late . If He'd Only Known..., Presidential Abstinence, Driving Lessons, "Let Me Go Crazy", Autumn Leaves, Ivy Covered Hallowed Halls , Separate Lives, Dotted Line, Coming to the Table, Memories of Sweeter Days, Time Machine , "Long and Low and Sleek and Fast" , Anything for Love , Community Roots, Rotten, I'd Lie for You(and That's the Truth), Shame at the Gate
The sullen young teenager sat in front of her desk, eye swelling shut and as stone-faced as his father.
“Is this gonna take long? I gotta get my little brother off the bus.”
Laura straightened her new glasses and practiced her “daggers-over-the-rim” look. “It’ll take as long as it needs to, young man. I’ve heard Kozart’s side, now I want to hear yours.”
“I tripped.”
“Lee, knock it off, please. Two teachers saw you and Kozart talking, then yelling, then they saw you punch him.”
He shrugged. “You know what happened, then.”
She took her glasses off and rested them against the desk plaque that read “Laura Roslin, Principal”. On days like this, she wished it bore another name and she was back in a classroom again.
“Shall I call your mother and ask her to come in to help you explain?”
Please, by the Sacred Scrolls, don’t make me call Carolanne Adama over this, she silently begged. Her head was about to explode as it was. Lee Adama’s look said that he found that idea as unpleasant as she did. His tough guy act dwindled a hair and he started to talk.
“Kozart was ragging me about my old man, Miss Roslin. Saying he was a no-good thug and a jailbird.” For a minute, Lee looked like the six year old Bill had walked into school on his first day seven years ago, shy and wishing he was anywhere but here. He slowly pulled his bluster back around him like a worn coat.
“He doesn’t know anything about my Dad.”
“Is your father in prison again, Lee?”
The teen’s head jerked at that. “What the heck do you mean, “again”?”
“Sorry, Lee…I misspoke. Is your father in prison?”
He looked down at his feet. “Yeah, he’s upstate. Three counts of assault on a government official.”
“Your father? That doesn’t sound like him.”
He tried a smirk that was too big for his face. “Maybe you don’t know my old man as well as you think.” His smirk slipped and he looked at her with ill-disguised curiosity. “My mom says you and him might’ve had a thing, back in the day.”
“That’s enough, Lee. I want you in my office first thing tomorrow. I’ll let you know what your consequences are then.”
He gave her a surprised look. “You’re not going to suspend me?”
He looks so young, she thought. How much of his life is his father going to miss?
“I haven’t decided yet. We’ll talk in the morning.”
The boy got up, his steps unusually slow to her door. She watched his lips tighten as he reached for the doorknob.
“Lee? Is there something else that you needed to talk about?”
“No…no ma’am. Just, if you had a thing for my Dad, now’s your chance. My Mom filed divorce papers on him this week.”
“Oh, Lee…I’m so sorry to hear that.” She got up, wanting to reassure him that everything would be all right, then stopped, uncertain whether she had any right whatsoever to do that. His mother was a nightmare and his father was in prison…who was she to tell him anything would be all right? Godsdamnit, she thought. Why wasn’t Bill here for his kids?
*******************
“Why is he in prison instead of looking after his boys…that’s what I want to know. I never thought he’d be so cavalier.”
Mr. Roslin frowned at his eldest daughter. “Bill had bad luck, but I wouldn’t say he was cavalier.”
“Oh, Dad, you were always such a “Bill Adama” fan. How can you keep that up now? This is the second time he’s been put in prison.”
“Honey, did the boy tell you the details?”
She tapped her fork against her mother’s best china that her father had started using for everyday.
“No, and I wasn’t going to interrogate a thirteen-year old about that.”
Her father crossed his knife and fork over the remains of his steak. “You realize what he got caught up in?”
She sliced off another bite of meat. “No, and I don’t really-“
“It was the VA riots last year,” her father interrupted.
She put her fork back down. “Oh, Gods….”
Hundreds of Cylon War veterans had marched on the Capitol to protest cuts in education and mental health benefits for the men and women who had served in the War. Money needed to go towards upgrading the defense department mainframes, the government said. A young and callous scientist, Dr. Gaius Baltar, offered the opinion that many of the still-suffering veterans had created their own problems by turning to booze and drugs and waved away suggestions that a lack of mental health care was behind the increased suicide rate among vets.
The discourse had been relatively civil until groups of suicide survivors began arriving to the march, escorted by a network of the more prominent motorcycle clubs on Caprica. Three pregnant sisters and daughters of suicided veterans had been making their way to the podium when Dr. Baltar had flippantly remarked that the vets who claimed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder just needed someone to slap them back to reality.
The Colonial Guard had to be called in to restore even a semblance of order after the crowd heard that.
“Bill was in that?”
“Bill was in the group escorting the pregnant family members. One of the Colonial Guard hit one of the women in the face while restraining her.”
“Dad, that’s horrible!”
“Apparently Bill thought so, too. It took three Guardsmen to take him down.”
“So that’s the “three charges of assault on a government official”?” Her eyes shone with outrage. “How could he have…wasn’t there any defense?”
Her father refilled her wine glass with a shaking hand. “Romo Lampkin pulled out as his attorney at the last minute. Said it had become a conflict of interest for him to represent Bill. The Judge wouldn’t wait for Bill to find a new attorney.”
Laura cocked her head at her father, looking past his increased frailty to the spark in his fading green eyes. “Dad, why do you know so much about this?”
“I’ve known the Adama family a long time, honey.”
She started clearing the dishes. This would have been a good evening for her sisters to have stopped by, she thought. She loved it when her father started opening up, sharing things from the past. He didn’t do it anywhere near often enough.
“You never told me, Dad…how did you know the Adama family?”
He looked at his plate a long minute, then up at his daughter.
“The first year I taught school, I skipped around the grades, like you did at first, assisting here, subbing there….” He sighed. “Before the tragedy, I taught the first William Adama.”
Author: fragrantwoods
Word Count: 1120
Rating: T warnings: mentions of suicide, PTSD
Follows the following AU drabbles
The Old Man, the Old Lady , Running Late . If He'd Only Known..., Presidential Abstinence, Driving Lessons, "Let Me Go Crazy", Autumn Leaves, Ivy Covered Hallowed Halls , Separate Lives, Dotted Line, Coming to the Table, Memories of Sweeter Days, Time Machine , "Long and Low and Sleek and Fast" , Anything for Love , Community Roots, Rotten, I'd Lie for You(and That's the Truth), Shame at the Gate
The sullen young teenager sat in front of her desk, eye swelling shut and as stone-faced as his father.
“Is this gonna take long? I gotta get my little brother off the bus.”
Laura straightened her new glasses and practiced her “daggers-over-the-rim” look. “It’ll take as long as it needs to, young man. I’ve heard Kozart’s side, now I want to hear yours.”
“I tripped.”
“Lee, knock it off, please. Two teachers saw you and Kozart talking, then yelling, then they saw you punch him.”
He shrugged. “You know what happened, then.”
She took her glasses off and rested them against the desk plaque that read “Laura Roslin, Principal”. On days like this, she wished it bore another name and she was back in a classroom again.
“Shall I call your mother and ask her to come in to help you explain?”
Please, by the Sacred Scrolls, don’t make me call Carolanne Adama over this, she silently begged. Her head was about to explode as it was. Lee Adama’s look said that he found that idea as unpleasant as she did. His tough guy act dwindled a hair and he started to talk.
“Kozart was ragging me about my old man, Miss Roslin. Saying he was a no-good thug and a jailbird.” For a minute, Lee looked like the six year old Bill had walked into school on his first day seven years ago, shy and wishing he was anywhere but here. He slowly pulled his bluster back around him like a worn coat.
“He doesn’t know anything about my Dad.”
“Is your father in prison again, Lee?”
The teen’s head jerked at that. “What the heck do you mean, “again”?”
“Sorry, Lee…I misspoke. Is your father in prison?”
He looked down at his feet. “Yeah, he’s upstate. Three counts of assault on a government official.”
“Your father? That doesn’t sound like him.”
He tried a smirk that was too big for his face. “Maybe you don’t know my old man as well as you think.” His smirk slipped and he looked at her with ill-disguised curiosity. “My mom says you and him might’ve had a thing, back in the day.”
“That’s enough, Lee. I want you in my office first thing tomorrow. I’ll let you know what your consequences are then.”
He gave her a surprised look. “You’re not going to suspend me?”
He looks so young, she thought. How much of his life is his father going to miss?
“I haven’t decided yet. We’ll talk in the morning.”
The boy got up, his steps unusually slow to her door. She watched his lips tighten as he reached for the doorknob.
“Lee? Is there something else that you needed to talk about?”
“No…no ma’am. Just, if you had a thing for my Dad, now’s your chance. My Mom filed divorce papers on him this week.”
“Oh, Lee…I’m so sorry to hear that.” She got up, wanting to reassure him that everything would be all right, then stopped, uncertain whether she had any right whatsoever to do that. His mother was a nightmare and his father was in prison…who was she to tell him anything would be all right? Godsdamnit, she thought. Why wasn’t Bill here for his kids?
*******************
“Why is he in prison instead of looking after his boys…that’s what I want to know. I never thought he’d be so cavalier.”
Mr. Roslin frowned at his eldest daughter. “Bill had bad luck, but I wouldn’t say he was cavalier.”
“Oh, Dad, you were always such a “Bill Adama” fan. How can you keep that up now? This is the second time he’s been put in prison.”
“Honey, did the boy tell you the details?”
She tapped her fork against her mother’s best china that her father had started using for everyday.
“No, and I wasn’t going to interrogate a thirteen-year old about that.”
Her father crossed his knife and fork over the remains of his steak. “You realize what he got caught up in?”
She sliced off another bite of meat. “No, and I don’t really-“
“It was the VA riots last year,” her father interrupted.
She put her fork back down. “Oh, Gods….”
Hundreds of Cylon War veterans had marched on the Capitol to protest cuts in education and mental health benefits for the men and women who had served in the War. Money needed to go towards upgrading the defense department mainframes, the government said. A young and callous scientist, Dr. Gaius Baltar, offered the opinion that many of the still-suffering veterans had created their own problems by turning to booze and drugs and waved away suggestions that a lack of mental health care was behind the increased suicide rate among vets.
The discourse had been relatively civil until groups of suicide survivors began arriving to the march, escorted by a network of the more prominent motorcycle clubs on Caprica. Three pregnant sisters and daughters of suicided veterans had been making their way to the podium when Dr. Baltar had flippantly remarked that the vets who claimed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder just needed someone to slap them back to reality.
The Colonial Guard had to be called in to restore even a semblance of order after the crowd heard that.
“Bill was in that?”
“Bill was in the group escorting the pregnant family members. One of the Colonial Guard hit one of the women in the face while restraining her.”
“Dad, that’s horrible!”
“Apparently Bill thought so, too. It took three Guardsmen to take him down.”
“So that’s the “three charges of assault on a government official”?” Her eyes shone with outrage. “How could he have…wasn’t there any defense?”
Her father refilled her wine glass with a shaking hand. “Romo Lampkin pulled out as his attorney at the last minute. Said it had become a conflict of interest for him to represent Bill. The Judge wouldn’t wait for Bill to find a new attorney.”
Laura cocked her head at her father, looking past his increased frailty to the spark in his fading green eyes. “Dad, why do you know so much about this?”
“I’ve known the Adama family a long time, honey.”
She started clearing the dishes. This would have been a good evening for her sisters to have stopped by, she thought. She loved it when her father started opening up, sharing things from the past. He didn’t do it anywhere near often enough.
“You never told me, Dad…how did you know the Adama family?”
He looked at his plate a long minute, then up at his daughter.
“The first year I taught school, I skipped around the grades, like you did at first, assisting here, subbing there….” He sighed. “Before the tragedy, I taught the first William Adama.”