fic (bsg): innocent faces
Title: Innocent Faces
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through Exodus 2
Summary: 'It’s almost disconcerting, she wrote in one letter to Bill, both the normality and the wrongness of it.'
A/N: Fic for redoren over at adama_roslin's Christmas in July exchange. She requested a Roslin fic set on New Caprica.
Laura missed a lot of things, those long months in space. Little things, mostly, things that added up to form a slow, deep ache, consistent but more easily suppressed than the tides of grief that kept the fleet on its knees.
She missed baths, soapy water that took its time growing cold. She missed foreign foods, spicy and rich, not the bland cafeteria food they were left with. She missed meat after twenty seven years of vegetarianism. She missed the little coffee shop a block from her apartment, the smiling barista with her sweet voice whose name she never could remember.
She missed rain, until she was greeted with a downpour that left her heels an inch in the muddy ground. In that first moment on New Caprica, all she really missed was Galactica.
***
The school tent was larger than most, but didn’t keep the draft out any better than her own shabby “home”. The first week alone registered nine absences, and Laura was regularly interrupted by wet-sounding coughs. Everyone sat close together, some of the older girls snuggling next to boys who looked like they didn’t mind the cold so much after all. After the first few days they didn’t even bother to spring apart when Laura made her way over to them.
It’s almost disconcerting, she wrote in one letter to Bill, both the normality and the wrongness of it. These kids show up and work harder than anyone I’ve ever taught, turn their homework in ahead of time - it’s clear they’re looking for something familiar. The younger ones cling to both me and Maya, my aide, though they still cry when they’re dropped off in the morning. The teenagers are turning to each other and to other, more worrying, vices.
I miss you, she wrote in another, more expressive on paper than she ever could be in person. It’s cold down here, and I’m running out of things to read.
***
Laura spent most of her time with Maya and the baby, a dysfunctional little family that she couldn’t help but find comfort in. It was nice to have a friend again, and she found herself volunteering for baby-sitting duty more often than might have been wise. She introduced Maya to a nice man who had worked on Colonial One with her, and thought she could get used to this.
Every day she saw more familiar faces on the ground. Starbuck arrived much sooner than she would have expected, looking like a different woman with Sam Anders at her side. Seelix and Jammer, two of the deckhands she recognized but didn’t know well, waved and smiled when she passed them in the market. She and Tory went jogging most mornings, though found little to talk about outside Colonial One.
She saw Felix Gaeta once, but couldn’t bring herself to return his friendly greeting.
***
The one time she went up to visit Galactica, she was accompanied by one of Baltar’s guards. She knew him well, and he obeyed her silent requests as easily as he had once obeyed her silent orders.
The Admiral greeted her with a lingering handshake, and stuck by her side throughout the small wedding. Chief Tyrol was almost unrecognizable in a slightly large tux, and Cally was glowing with what Laura was sure was more than just sheer happiness. Afterwards, she and Bill remained just long enough to congratulate the couple, as Laura’s guard discreetly slipped away to mingle with old friends.
“That was lovely,” she said as they entered Bill’s familiar quarters, and swallowed back the lump in her throat. He didn’t reply, just wrapped her into an unexpected hug that left her even closer to tears. They stood that way for a long time, and when he finally let go, she gave him a tremulous smile.
“If you don’t mind, I could use a shower,” was all she said, and when she returned a stack of books was piled next to her bag.
***
The first funeral she attended on New Caprica was for a sixteen year old boy who left class with a cough Friday afternoon and was dead Monday morning.
“Pneumonia,” Cottle told her inside the boy’s tent, pulling a sheet up over his face. Laura wrapped her arm around Emma, who had burst into the classroom in tears twenty minutes earlier, sobbing that she had woken up to find him blue and not breathing. “There wasn’t anything we could have done, not without antibiotics.” Emma was crying quietly now, clutching her swollen stomach with one hand and Laura with the other.
“Thank you,” Laura said, and brought Emma back to her tent to lie down.
The funeral was small, mostly students, with three eulogies. Emma spoke through tears and promised that her son would grow up hearing all about his father; Andrew, Phil’s best friend, told funny stories that the younger ones giggled at and the other teenagers tried to smile at. Laura spoke, but looking back, it was hard to remember what she said. They all blended together.
***
The groundbreaking ceremony was fun, a word she hadn’t associated with this planet before then. She and Bill laughed and laughed, the herb they were smoking making everything that much funnier. The awkward square-dancing had Laura in fits of giggles that she could barely speak through, and when the two of them took their turn on the dance floor, she could barely stay on her feet.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” she protested when he raised an eyebrow at her, “and being drunk and high is hardly helping with that.”
“Maybe not,” Bill conceded. “It’s damned funny though.” She giggled again and twirled around, her skirt fanning out like a sunset.
***
Colonial One looked much bigger on the ground. Laura tried to avoid looking at it as much as she could, not liking the feeling that swelled up in her chest every time she let her gaze linger on it.
She saw Tom Zarek often, talking to people in the market place and visiting with leaders of the newly formed Labor Union. Petty as it was, she turned around and walked in the other direction each time she caught sight of him.
She never saw Gaius Baltar, and was just fine with that.
***
“Ms. Roslin?” one of the older students called out, interrupting her explanation of the Picon-Leonis War.
“Hand,” she said automatically, and Patricia thrust her hand into the air impatiently. “Yes?”
“There’s someone outside,” the girl said. Laura glanced at the door and saw a shadow through the thin canvas. Crossing the tent and opening the flap, her face broke into a wide smile at the sight of Bill in front of her.
“Admiral!” she greeted warmly, taking his hand and kissing his cheek. “Come on in, we were just about to take a break.” That wasn’t true, but she’d make an exception. “Everyone, this is Admiral Adama from Galactica. Can everyone say hello?”
She caught a few greetings in the barrage of questions and exclamations that followed, and she sent a wry grin in Bill’s direction. “You mind fielding a few of these?” she murmured, waving a hand at the class in an unspoken order to sit down. Bill smiled back at her and inclined his head. He spent well over an hour talking with the kids, while Laura sat back and watched, occasionally interjecting with an admonition or warning.
“You’re good with them,” she said, once the last of the kids filed out for a brief recess. “Thanks for putting up with that.”
He shrugged. “You do it every day. But I think I’m going to stick with commanding a Battlestar,” he replied dryly. Laura laughed.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, and Bill rolled his eyes.
“Meeting with Baltar. Thought I’d say hello and get a pep talk before dealing with him.”
“A pep talk, hmm?” Laura grinned, her eyes bright. “I can give you that.” She rummaged through one of the drawers in her desk and pulled out a familiar cigar, relishing in his laughter.
***
Laura was surprised when Kara invited her to dinner, but didn’t hesitate in accepting.
“Company leaves a lot to be desired around here,” Kara explained, sitting down across from her. “Sammy’s out getting food, he’ll be back soon.”
“You two seem happy,” Laura said, smiling as she noticed the new tattoo on Kara’s arm.
Kara smiled. “Yeah, we’re good. Need something to keep you warm at night down here, anyway.” Laura laughed, but couldn’t quite disagree.
***
One of the pilots - Racetrack, Laura remembered - caught up with her in the marketplace one evening. “Madame President, do you have a minute?” she asked politely, face expressionless.
“Of course,” Laura replied demurely, not commenting on the use of her title. She led Racetrack away from the crowded street into the relative seclusion of one of the housing blocks. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a few things the Admiral asked me to give you,” Racetrack said, and handed her the bag that had been slung over her shoulder. “He says he’s not sure when he’ll be back down. He would have sent a letter but communication is being watched.” Laura sighed, not surprised but still disappointed and more than a little angry. “Baltar’s getting paranoid,” Racetrack continued. “He’s going crazy, wants to land the rest of the fleet.”
“Going crazy?” Laura asked sarcastically, and then shook her head. “Excuse me. But the rest of the fleet? He can’t do that, if the Cylons come back we’ll be completely defenseless!”
“The Admiral’s trying to talk some sense into him,” Racetrack shrugged. “I come down on supply runs every two weeks, so I’ll keep you updated.” Laura nodded gratefully.
When Racetrack left, Laura returned to her tent and opened the bag. She wasn’t surprised to see several books, although she smiled at the children’s stories he had included. A bottle of shampoo, a heavy sweater for the upcoming winter, a bag of chips - a half-empty bottle of Ambrosia, she would enjoy that. She opened the letter tucked away at the bottom and read it three times before hiding it in a drawer with the rest of them.
***
She was in equal parts relieved and terrified when Galactica jumped away. Logically, she knew that if they had stayed, not only would the remains of the fleet have been destroyed but everyone on the surface would have been stuck here with no hope of rescue. That didn’t make it hurt any less each time she glanced to the sky, knowing that the ship was no longer watching over them.
Colonel Tigh approached her just days after the Cylons first appeared. “The Old Man will be back,” he told her in no uncertain terms. “He’s not going to leave us here.”
“I know,” Laura said simply, and he blinked. It seemed most people he’d spoken to had less faith. Still, a grim smile crossed his face when she asked, “What can I do?”
***
People began disappearing slowly. Kara was the first, whisked away in the middle of the night with no hint of where she had been taken.
“She’s strong,” Laura told Sam, who looked like he hadn’t slept in the week since she’d been missing. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if she drove the Cylons crazy to the point that they just give her back!” Chief Tyrol snorted from the other end of the table they were sitting at.
“The President’s right,” Tigh said gruffly, and Laura glanced up at him in thanks. “But we won’t do her any good sitting around and moping. The Cylons are having an easy time of it so far. It’s about time we changed that.”
The next morning, the settlement roused to the sound of an explosion, and the beginnings of a building crumbling to the ground.
***
Laura prayed every night, though she didn’t visit the temple. She preferred the solitude of her own tent, preferred clutching her letters rather than rosaries.
She prayed for the growing resistance movement, for the seven who had already died. She prayed for her students, the ones who were still in class and those who had been pulled out after the first Cylon had visited the classroom. She prayed for Nicky Tyrol, who had a cold, and for Isis, who was afraid of Centurions.
She prayed for the remains of the fleet, wherever they might be, and especially for Galactica and Pegasus, offering what strength she could spare.
She prayed for everyone in the settlement, but did so quickly, because her candles were running down and there were Cylons outside her tent.
***
The detention center was the first building the Cylons built in their attempt to bring peace to New Caprica.
Jean Barolay was one of the first to be held. She returned three days later with a few bruises, but no real damage.
“They just asked questions,” she shrugged. “It wasn’t fun or anything, the accommodations were crap and the company even worse, but it wasn’t terrible either.”
A week later, Sam returned with a broken arm and a hard set to his face. He didn’t talk as much after that.
***
Laura was interrupted in the middle of a lesson by a knock on the canvas door. With a quick glance at Maya, she opened the flap and was greeted with a Three.
“May I help you?” Laura asked coldly. The Three smiled blandly.
“No, I’m just here to observe. Please, pretend that I’m not here.”
With gritted teeth, Laura returned to the front of the classroom. “I’m sorry, everyone,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “Let’s get back to work, shall we? We were talking about Caprican poetry. Were there any questions before we continued?” A boy in the back raised his hand. “Yes - Kevin, go ahead.”
“Ms. Roslin, is it true that you used to throw toasters out of airlocks?” Kevin asked innocently. Snickers broke out around him, although a few of the kids looked apprehensive. The Three raised an eyebrow, folding her arms.
Laura closed her eyes. “Kevin, please come sit up here. I’d like you to stay after class today, we need to have a talk about what’s appropriate for school. In the meantime, perhaps you can read this next poem to help you stay on subject.”
The Three, true to her word, merely observed the rest of the class silently, and left with the rest of the students. Kevin approached Laura’s desk with no hint of trepidation, although he looked slightly abashed as she fixed him with a hard stare.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. McIntire, the Cylons don’t discriminate between those they consider a threat. They will have no problem taking you to the detention facility if they perceive you as such.” She lowered her voice. “You need to lay low and keep your head. It won’t do anyone any good if you piss them off. Do you understand me?”
He nodded slowly. “Good,” Laura continued. “Then you’ll understand why you should really ask me such questions in private. I’m in no hurry to get into a discussion about my airlocking days in front of the Cylons.”
***
It had been a long time since she had cried herself to sleep, but when she glanced at the calendar and realized it was Billy’s birthday, she couldn’t help herself. Most days, she was just relieved he didn’t have to live through this. Today she just wanted to see his face, innocent even after all they had been through. There were no innocent faces anymore.
***
Laura didn’t spend very long in detention, but it was long enough. Each time she closed her eyes against the blinding light, she saw Colonel Tigh’s face, the dirty gauze that covered his empty eye socket. The first two days, that was the only face she saw.
On the third, one of the Leoben’s entered with a tray of food that she cursed herself for being too weak to resist. She ate quickly, and nearly gagged when she was done, the food too heavy for her shrunken stomach.
“I’ve missed you, Laura,” Leoben said. The worst part was that he meant it.
It was a Cavil who next visited, and he didn’t bother with mind games. His interrogation had no purpose - there were no questions. This time when she closed her eyes, she saw Bill, and focused on his face rather than her own aching body.
***
Seeing Galactica fall from the sky was the most exhilarating experience of her life. It was all she could do to stay upright against the onslaught of terror, adrenaline, and the overwhelming relief that nearly swept her away - as it was, she clung to Zarek’s arm, dimly registering the unusual expression of shock on his face.
In that moment, she might have cried, but there wasn’t time for that. Galactica had jumped away once more, ships were taking off around them, and she would have time for everything later. Just now, she was ready to go.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Through Exodus 2
Summary: 'It’s almost disconcerting, she wrote in one letter to Bill, both the normality and the wrongness of it.'
A/N: Fic for redoren over at adama_roslin's Christmas in July exchange. She requested a Roslin fic set on New Caprica.
Laura missed a lot of things, those long months in space. Little things, mostly, things that added up to form a slow, deep ache, consistent but more easily suppressed than the tides of grief that kept the fleet on its knees.
She missed baths, soapy water that took its time growing cold. She missed foreign foods, spicy and rich, not the bland cafeteria food they were left with. She missed meat after twenty seven years of vegetarianism. She missed the little coffee shop a block from her apartment, the smiling barista with her sweet voice whose name she never could remember.
She missed rain, until she was greeted with a downpour that left her heels an inch in the muddy ground. In that first moment on New Caprica, all she really missed was Galactica.
***
The school tent was larger than most, but didn’t keep the draft out any better than her own shabby “home”. The first week alone registered nine absences, and Laura was regularly interrupted by wet-sounding coughs. Everyone sat close together, some of the older girls snuggling next to boys who looked like they didn’t mind the cold so much after all. After the first few days they didn’t even bother to spring apart when Laura made her way over to them.
It’s almost disconcerting, she wrote in one letter to Bill, both the normality and the wrongness of it. These kids show up and work harder than anyone I’ve ever taught, turn their homework in ahead of time - it’s clear they’re looking for something familiar. The younger ones cling to both me and Maya, my aide, though they still cry when they’re dropped off in the morning. The teenagers are turning to each other and to other, more worrying, vices.
I miss you, she wrote in another, more expressive on paper than she ever could be in person. It’s cold down here, and I’m running out of things to read.
***
Laura spent most of her time with Maya and the baby, a dysfunctional little family that she couldn’t help but find comfort in. It was nice to have a friend again, and she found herself volunteering for baby-sitting duty more often than might have been wise. She introduced Maya to a nice man who had worked on Colonial One with her, and thought she could get used to this.
Every day she saw more familiar faces on the ground. Starbuck arrived much sooner than she would have expected, looking like a different woman with Sam Anders at her side. Seelix and Jammer, two of the deckhands she recognized but didn’t know well, waved and smiled when she passed them in the market. She and Tory went jogging most mornings, though found little to talk about outside Colonial One.
She saw Felix Gaeta once, but couldn’t bring herself to return his friendly greeting.
***
The one time she went up to visit Galactica, she was accompanied by one of Baltar’s guards. She knew him well, and he obeyed her silent requests as easily as he had once obeyed her silent orders.
The Admiral greeted her with a lingering handshake, and stuck by her side throughout the small wedding. Chief Tyrol was almost unrecognizable in a slightly large tux, and Cally was glowing with what Laura was sure was more than just sheer happiness. Afterwards, she and Bill remained just long enough to congratulate the couple, as Laura’s guard discreetly slipped away to mingle with old friends.
“That was lovely,” she said as they entered Bill’s familiar quarters, and swallowed back the lump in her throat. He didn’t reply, just wrapped her into an unexpected hug that left her even closer to tears. They stood that way for a long time, and when he finally let go, she gave him a tremulous smile.
“If you don’t mind, I could use a shower,” was all she said, and when she returned a stack of books was piled next to her bag.
***
The first funeral she attended on New Caprica was for a sixteen year old boy who left class with a cough Friday afternoon and was dead Monday morning.
“Pneumonia,” Cottle told her inside the boy’s tent, pulling a sheet up over his face. Laura wrapped her arm around Emma, who had burst into the classroom in tears twenty minutes earlier, sobbing that she had woken up to find him blue and not breathing. “There wasn’t anything we could have done, not without antibiotics.” Emma was crying quietly now, clutching her swollen stomach with one hand and Laura with the other.
“Thank you,” Laura said, and brought Emma back to her tent to lie down.
The funeral was small, mostly students, with three eulogies. Emma spoke through tears and promised that her son would grow up hearing all about his father; Andrew, Phil’s best friend, told funny stories that the younger ones giggled at and the other teenagers tried to smile at. Laura spoke, but looking back, it was hard to remember what she said. They all blended together.
***
The groundbreaking ceremony was fun, a word she hadn’t associated with this planet before then. She and Bill laughed and laughed, the herb they were smoking making everything that much funnier. The awkward square-dancing had Laura in fits of giggles that she could barely speak through, and when the two of them took their turn on the dance floor, she could barely stay on her feet.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” she protested when he raised an eyebrow at her, “and being drunk and high is hardly helping with that.”
“Maybe not,” Bill conceded. “It’s damned funny though.” She giggled again and twirled around, her skirt fanning out like a sunset.
***
Colonial One looked much bigger on the ground. Laura tried to avoid looking at it as much as she could, not liking the feeling that swelled up in her chest every time she let her gaze linger on it.
She saw Tom Zarek often, talking to people in the market place and visiting with leaders of the newly formed Labor Union. Petty as it was, she turned around and walked in the other direction each time she caught sight of him.
She never saw Gaius Baltar, and was just fine with that.
***
“Ms. Roslin?” one of the older students called out, interrupting her explanation of the Picon-Leonis War.
“Hand,” she said automatically, and Patricia thrust her hand into the air impatiently. “Yes?”
“There’s someone outside,” the girl said. Laura glanced at the door and saw a shadow through the thin canvas. Crossing the tent and opening the flap, her face broke into a wide smile at the sight of Bill in front of her.
“Admiral!” she greeted warmly, taking his hand and kissing his cheek. “Come on in, we were just about to take a break.” That wasn’t true, but she’d make an exception. “Everyone, this is Admiral Adama from Galactica. Can everyone say hello?”
She caught a few greetings in the barrage of questions and exclamations that followed, and she sent a wry grin in Bill’s direction. “You mind fielding a few of these?” she murmured, waving a hand at the class in an unspoken order to sit down. Bill smiled back at her and inclined his head. He spent well over an hour talking with the kids, while Laura sat back and watched, occasionally interjecting with an admonition or warning.
“You’re good with them,” she said, once the last of the kids filed out for a brief recess. “Thanks for putting up with that.”
He shrugged. “You do it every day. But I think I’m going to stick with commanding a Battlestar,” he replied dryly. Laura laughed.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, and Bill rolled his eyes.
“Meeting with Baltar. Thought I’d say hello and get a pep talk before dealing with him.”
“A pep talk, hmm?” Laura grinned, her eyes bright. “I can give you that.” She rummaged through one of the drawers in her desk and pulled out a familiar cigar, relishing in his laughter.
***
Laura was surprised when Kara invited her to dinner, but didn’t hesitate in accepting.
“Company leaves a lot to be desired around here,” Kara explained, sitting down across from her. “Sammy’s out getting food, he’ll be back soon.”
“You two seem happy,” Laura said, smiling as she noticed the new tattoo on Kara’s arm.
Kara smiled. “Yeah, we’re good. Need something to keep you warm at night down here, anyway.” Laura laughed, but couldn’t quite disagree.
***
One of the pilots - Racetrack, Laura remembered - caught up with her in the marketplace one evening. “Madame President, do you have a minute?” she asked politely, face expressionless.
“Of course,” Laura replied demurely, not commenting on the use of her title. She led Racetrack away from the crowded street into the relative seclusion of one of the housing blocks. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a few things the Admiral asked me to give you,” Racetrack said, and handed her the bag that had been slung over her shoulder. “He says he’s not sure when he’ll be back down. He would have sent a letter but communication is being watched.” Laura sighed, not surprised but still disappointed and more than a little angry. “Baltar’s getting paranoid,” Racetrack continued. “He’s going crazy, wants to land the rest of the fleet.”
“Going crazy?” Laura asked sarcastically, and then shook her head. “Excuse me. But the rest of the fleet? He can’t do that, if the Cylons come back we’ll be completely defenseless!”
“The Admiral’s trying to talk some sense into him,” Racetrack shrugged. “I come down on supply runs every two weeks, so I’ll keep you updated.” Laura nodded gratefully.
When Racetrack left, Laura returned to her tent and opened the bag. She wasn’t surprised to see several books, although she smiled at the children’s stories he had included. A bottle of shampoo, a heavy sweater for the upcoming winter, a bag of chips - a half-empty bottle of Ambrosia, she would enjoy that. She opened the letter tucked away at the bottom and read it three times before hiding it in a drawer with the rest of them.
***
She was in equal parts relieved and terrified when Galactica jumped away. Logically, she knew that if they had stayed, not only would the remains of the fleet have been destroyed but everyone on the surface would have been stuck here with no hope of rescue. That didn’t make it hurt any less each time she glanced to the sky, knowing that the ship was no longer watching over them.
Colonel Tigh approached her just days after the Cylons first appeared. “The Old Man will be back,” he told her in no uncertain terms. “He’s not going to leave us here.”
“I know,” Laura said simply, and he blinked. It seemed most people he’d spoken to had less faith. Still, a grim smile crossed his face when she asked, “What can I do?”
***
People began disappearing slowly. Kara was the first, whisked away in the middle of the night with no hint of where she had been taken.
“She’s strong,” Laura told Sam, who looked like he hadn’t slept in the week since she’d been missing. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if she drove the Cylons crazy to the point that they just give her back!” Chief Tyrol snorted from the other end of the table they were sitting at.
“The President’s right,” Tigh said gruffly, and Laura glanced up at him in thanks. “But we won’t do her any good sitting around and moping. The Cylons are having an easy time of it so far. It’s about time we changed that.”
The next morning, the settlement roused to the sound of an explosion, and the beginnings of a building crumbling to the ground.
***
Laura prayed every night, though she didn’t visit the temple. She preferred the solitude of her own tent, preferred clutching her letters rather than rosaries.
She prayed for the growing resistance movement, for the seven who had already died. She prayed for her students, the ones who were still in class and those who had been pulled out after the first Cylon had visited the classroom. She prayed for Nicky Tyrol, who had a cold, and for Isis, who was afraid of Centurions.
She prayed for the remains of the fleet, wherever they might be, and especially for Galactica and Pegasus, offering what strength she could spare.
She prayed for everyone in the settlement, but did so quickly, because her candles were running down and there were Cylons outside her tent.
***
The detention center was the first building the Cylons built in their attempt to bring peace to New Caprica.
Jean Barolay was one of the first to be held. She returned three days later with a few bruises, but no real damage.
“They just asked questions,” she shrugged. “It wasn’t fun or anything, the accommodations were crap and the company even worse, but it wasn’t terrible either.”
A week later, Sam returned with a broken arm and a hard set to his face. He didn’t talk as much after that.
***
Laura was interrupted in the middle of a lesson by a knock on the canvas door. With a quick glance at Maya, she opened the flap and was greeted with a Three.
“May I help you?” Laura asked coldly. The Three smiled blandly.
“No, I’m just here to observe. Please, pretend that I’m not here.”
With gritted teeth, Laura returned to the front of the classroom. “I’m sorry, everyone,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “Let’s get back to work, shall we? We were talking about Caprican poetry. Were there any questions before we continued?” A boy in the back raised his hand. “Yes - Kevin, go ahead.”
“Ms. Roslin, is it true that you used to throw toasters out of airlocks?” Kevin asked innocently. Snickers broke out around him, although a few of the kids looked apprehensive. The Three raised an eyebrow, folding her arms.
Laura closed her eyes. “Kevin, please come sit up here. I’d like you to stay after class today, we need to have a talk about what’s appropriate for school. In the meantime, perhaps you can read this next poem to help you stay on subject.”
The Three, true to her word, merely observed the rest of the class silently, and left with the rest of the students. Kevin approached Laura’s desk with no hint of trepidation, although he looked slightly abashed as she fixed him with a hard stare.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. McIntire, the Cylons don’t discriminate between those they consider a threat. They will have no problem taking you to the detention facility if they perceive you as such.” She lowered her voice. “You need to lay low and keep your head. It won’t do anyone any good if you piss them off. Do you understand me?”
He nodded slowly. “Good,” Laura continued. “Then you’ll understand why you should really ask me such questions in private. I’m in no hurry to get into a discussion about my airlocking days in front of the Cylons.”
***
It had been a long time since she had cried herself to sleep, but when she glanced at the calendar and realized it was Billy’s birthday, she couldn’t help herself. Most days, she was just relieved he didn’t have to live through this. Today she just wanted to see his face, innocent even after all they had been through. There were no innocent faces anymore.
***
Laura didn’t spend very long in detention, but it was long enough. Each time she closed her eyes against the blinding light, she saw Colonel Tigh’s face, the dirty gauze that covered his empty eye socket. The first two days, that was the only face she saw.
On the third, one of the Leoben’s entered with a tray of food that she cursed herself for being too weak to resist. She ate quickly, and nearly gagged when she was done, the food too heavy for her shrunken stomach.
“I’ve missed you, Laura,” Leoben said. The worst part was that he meant it.
It was a Cavil who next visited, and he didn’t bother with mind games. His interrogation had no purpose - there were no questions. This time when she closed her eyes, she saw Bill, and focused on his face rather than her own aching body.
***
Seeing Galactica fall from the sky was the most exhilarating experience of her life. It was all she could do to stay upright against the onslaught of terror, adrenaline, and the overwhelming relief that nearly swept her away - as it was, she clung to Zarek’s arm, dimly registering the unusual expression of shock on his face.
In that moment, she might have cried, but there wasn’t time for that. Galactica had jumped away once more, ships were taking off around them, and she would have time for everything later. Just now, she was ready to go.