fic (24, bsg, high society): rain, number nine, silver and gold
Very very belated birthday fic for _ila_ (and another one coming for im_a_yogi!). I remembered you liked the bit I used as the second section in this piece so I expanded it and gave it a bit more plot. It became kind of a 'what you didn't see' between s2-s3. I hope you enjoy!
Title: Rain
Rating: PG
Summary: It was during these nights of staring at the blank white wall and counting her breaths that she’d remember.
The rain trailed down the car windows, and she followed one of the drops with her eyes, watching as it slithered sideways and diagonal, eventually meeting another drop and converging.
Her wrists ached. They were still shackled, raw skin rubbing against the metal rings. Scars had formed along these familiar lines long ago, grotesque bracelets that laced along her ankles as well.
She knew that it wasn’t over. It never was. Only hours ago, he had said the same thing, when she had a gun trained on him; and again when his breath touched her neck. It was hot, so solid that she thought she could shape it in her hands.
***
She was restricted to North Africa, and the air was too dry. Sometimes she swore that she could feel the dust scraping the sides of her lungs, leaving them raw and painful. When night fell and she curled in bed, knees tucked together and fingers splayed across the stiff sheets, she’d try and force the particles out by breathing slowly and rhythmically; try to slough them off her skin by scrubbing until she bled.
It was during these nights of staring at the blank white wall and counting her breaths that she’d remember. Amazing how after everything she missed him sometimes. Missed the way he kissed the skin where neck met shoulder, claiming the spot as his own. Missed the way he tangled his fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over her palm. Missed the long nights they spent, slow and desperate and oh god yes there.
This was only sometimes. Other times she fantasized about shooting him, her trigger finger steady and sure, the ground absorbing his blood and mixing it with rainwater. It was always raining when she killed him, so that she wouldn’t know it if tears ran down her face as well.
Her favorite was a mix between the two. During those slow, dry nights she would fantasize about kissing him, urgent and feverish, his hands in her hair and hers running up his back until they reached that spot right at his temple. That was where the gun would linger and she would be kissing him when she pulled the trigger, holding him as he fell, lifeless, against her.
***
Her house was small, made of bricks and tucked away from civilization. The living room was kept neat for company that never came. Solitary confinement, she thought, was the same in jail as in a home - it would drive you crazy either way. The only difference was that she got to shower for as long as she liked.
Every week, American soldiers came by and searched the place. They never found anything but dirty socks on the bathroom floor and a pair of glasses in the oddest places. She would take them with a grateful smile and say “I’ve been looking for these all week.” They never smiled or even spoke much but after a few months they began taking the coffee she offered them.
***
One day a missionary came to her door and asked what she knew of God. He was young, a blond kid with a British accent and green eyes. “I know all I need to know,” she told him, and licked her ashy lips. “I know that if He exists, I’m never gonna see him.”
“You can be saved,” the boy said. “God forgives everyone. Repent, and you will find peace in His love.”
His eyes were glassy, like he truly believed that he was speaking to someone who would spend an eternity in hell, and she found she didn’t have the heart to tell him that this was it. She took his brochures and stuck them in a drawer.
***
A year and a half after arriving in Africa, she spotted a man named Michael Amador while visiting a nearby town. He invited her up to his hotel room.
She asked about the world she had left behind - who was alive, who had been caught, what plans were in motion. When he assumed she wanted back in she just took the phone he gave her and agreed to meet him in a month.
That night, she looked out the window at the purple sky and wondered where Jack Bauer was; was he looking at the same moon? She counted the stars and remembered when she used to think of him and wish he were dead.
***
At some point it became inevitable. The soldiers visited each week, but were lenient; a gun remained safely stashed behind a tile in the shower, and the phone she used nearly every night now taped under a loose floorboard on the porch. When she was offered a job she began to plan her careful exit.
She would go to Germany and meet her employer. She would do the job she was assigned for one and a half million dollars and all of the information available on Jack Bauer and CTU Los Angeles.
She only hoped that the adrenaline that had attracted her to this life in the first place hadn’t dried up in her veins.
***
It rained the week before she left, and as the dust outside her window morphed to slick mud, she went outside and felt the water on her skin; the droplets splashing down her face, hot and salty.
I also have two entries from makelaurahappy! If anyone read the entries, I imagine that one of mine was pretty obvious, hah. Yes, I actually wrote a Laura Roslin/Nina Myers crossover.
This was a fic of many firsts, including my first femslash and my first semi-smut. Probably as far as I'll go for quite awhile, hee.
Title: Number Nine
Rating: Light R
Summary: "Something’s not right about her. She just showed up, out of nowhere, with all of the proper qualifications - why now?”
Nina Myers was not programmed for seduction. She was intelligent, sharp, and above all subtle - a thirtysomething woman who, at the end of the world, might just work as the Civilian Security Advisor of the Fleet. She was attractive in an unconventional way, with short dark hair and pale eyes. This job was far better suited to one of the sixes, but they weren’t an option and Tory Foster had flat out refused.
So she found herself pressed against the President, fingers sliding up under the sturdy blue skirt that, admittedly, showed off a fantastic pair of legs. “Hurry,” Laura growled, fisting her fingers into Nina’s hair. “We only have ten minutes.”
“I doubt we’ll need that long,” she teased back, and bit the older woman’s lower lip. Laura hissed, and arched forward.
Nina was right. It wasn’t five minutes later that the President slumped against the cool plastic of the bulkhead, eyes glassy. “Gods,” she exhaled heavily. However, these frenzied trysts didn’t allow her more than a few moments to recover, and, running a shaking hand through her hair, Laura pulled herself upright and stepped back into her discarded heels.
When this had started, a little over a month ago, they’d had trouble adjusting to the rhythm of it. It never took them long, but for someone as well put together as Laura Roslin, the two minutes they were generally allowed weren’t enough to pull herself back together. As they found themselves in compromising positions more and more often, however, necessity forced an efficient and flawless routine, one that was nearly perfected.
“Lipstick,” Laura reminded, rubbing a thumb along her own lip. Nina did the same before applying another coat of gloss, a sticky red substance that she never would have worn had she had any other option.
A sharp knock echoed on the wall separating Laura’s sleeping area from her office. “Madame President,” Tory called. “You’re on in two minutes.”
“Coming, Tory!” Laura sighed. She glanced at Nina, who was straightening her shirt in the mirror. These encounters never left them with time to talk, something that she was grateful for - while the small woman was a good advisor and an even better frak, Laura had never been good at pillow talk and wasn’t sure that this non-relationship would hold up under the pressure of personal investment.
“Madame President?” Nina’s voice cut through her musings, and Laura nodded distractedly before stepping through the curtain. Tory greeted her with a stack of notecards and a wan smile that melted from her face the moment Nina appeared. She opened her mouth disapprovingly, but Laura stopped her with a hard glare. Tory merely shook her head and gestured towards the conference room, which the president entered with a poise Nina had to admire.
***
“It won’t take that much longer,” one of the nines said. “It’s been three months. Roslin is depending on her more and more, now that Tory’s gone.”
The eleven in question scowled. She had been back on the baseship for only two weeks, a casualty deemed necessary for the success of Nina’s mission. “Yes, well, Adama’s getting suspicious,” she said. “He didn’t let Nina attend a high-priority briefing, and he’s scheduling more and more meetings on Galactica.”
“He might be jealous,” smirked an eight. “He’s always had a thing for her.”
The nine shook her head. “Nina will get it done,” she said confidently, and turned their attention to the newly-discovered source of tyllium ore.
***
“Admiral,” Laura greeted warmly, taking his hand. “Thank you for coming.” She smiled and gestured for him to take a seat.
“Madame President,” he replied amiably. His voice turned colder as he addressed the other woman in the room. “Miss Myers.” Nina inclined her head respectfully. “I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”
Laura frowned. “Is that a problem?” she asked, her tone indicating that it shouldn’t be. “I had hoped we could discuss the issue of the black market once we had finished our reports, and Miss Myers has had some interesting insights on the subject.”
“Indeed?” Adama said, voice carefully blasé. “Well, perhaps we should start with that.” Laura rolled her eyes, but Nina merely glanced at the notes in her lap.
“All right. The Prometheus is once again getting out of control. Recent reports suggest that key medications are being withheld from the general public, and it’s been suggested that children have been dragged into the situation.” She continued, apparently oblivious to the icy look in Adama’s eyes and the glares the president kept shooting him.
As she began talking about the lesser aspects of the market, Laura cleared her throat. “Thank you, Nina, would you mind giving us a moment?” With an arched eyebrow, Nina agreed and cleared the room. As the curtain swished shut once more, Laura straightened and looked straight at Adama. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I don’t trust her,” he replied, not bothering with denials or protestations. “Something about her - I don’t know.” He met her gaze unflinchingly. “You’ve come to rely on her a great deal.”
Laura nodded slowly. “Yes,” she agreed, an edge to her voice. “I suppose I have.” When he didn’t say anything else, she let out a frustrated sigh. “What are you saying, Bill - do you think she’s a cylon? Because she’s been cleared, you can check the results with Cottle.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he bit back. “But something’s not right about her. She just showed up, out of nowhere, with all of the proper qualifications - why now?”
“Because Tory asked her too,” the president said, eyes flashing, and Bill knew that this argument was not worth pursuing, not with Tory’s death so close behind them. He stood.
“Perhaps we should finish this conversation another time,” he muttered. Laura didn’t answer, and he turned to go. “By the way,” he added without looking back, “you have lipstick on your collar.”
***
Bill Adama poured some of Tyrol’s hooch into a cup - the ambrosia had become so limited that he used it for special occasions only. Offering it to Sharon before pouring one for himself, he settled carefully on the sofa.
“Do you know anything about a woman named Nina Myers?” he asked, and Sharon looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Isn’t that the President’s new Security Advisor?”
Bill nodded. “I have…concerns about her,” he said with difficulty. “There’s something about her. Her suggestions about fleet security have been odd, to say the least. I talked to Lieutenant Dualla, who attended Ismene around the same time Ms. Myers should have, and she says she’s never heard of her.”
“Ismene is tiny, though,” Sharon said. “That doesn’t make sense.” Bill pursed his lips and handed her a photo of the small woman.
“The only person who has heard of her seems to be Tory Foster, and she died not long ago.” Sharon studied it, not missing the suspicion in his voice.
“She doesn’t look familiar,” she told him, and hesitated. “But Admiral…Tory Foster probably can’t be trusted.”
Adama gave her a hard look and narrowed his eyes. “I see.” Sharon started to say something else, but he interrupted her with a curt “Dismissed.”
***
“Adama knows about Foster. Nina’s cover is blown,” a nine said urgently, stepping into the control room. “He isn’t going to trust anyone that Foster recommended. We need to get her out of there.”
“How does he know?” one of the sixes asked. The nine rolled her eyes.
“How do you think?”
The only eight in the room groaned. “Great.”
***
Laura bit the inside of her mouth and clutched Nina’s shoulders so that her fingernails dug through the material of the blue jacket she was wearing.
Breathing heavily, she began to unclench, relaxing her jaw and closing her eyes. Nina stepped away and Laura stumbled, slightly, in her heels. She straightened with a hand on the bulkhead but didn’t open her eyes.
“That was good,” she murmured, a hint of a smile on her face. There was no response, and she looked around the dimly lit office.
Nina was gone.
This one might go on a little further, I have a few more scenes written, but I'm not sure. It's pretty plotless, just an excuse to write Nina/Laura!
And finally, High/Society BSG.
Title: Silver and Gold
Rating: PG
Summary: “A raptor is requesting permission to land. They say they have an old friend of yours on board - Elinore Walker?”
Gods, she wanted a break. For the past three and a half hours, Laura had been sitting at her desk, reading report after report, taking notes and signing the countless documents that had piled up over her past two weeks in Galactica’s sickbay. Although she was thinking more clearly than she had for months, letters were beginning to blur together, dancing a delightful waltz across the hard, recycled paper. She blinked.
The phone rang. Billy must have been as distracted as she was, because it took him a few moments to notice. He looked up at her with a sheepish smirk as he answered, one she returned with an amused eyebrow raise. “Yes - who?” he asked whoever was on the line. “One moment, please.” Turning to face Laura more fully, he tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “A raptor is requesting permission to land. They say they have an old friend of yours on board - Elinore Walker?”
Of all the things she had anticipated, that was not one of them. Not even close. Nearly choking on her own tongue, Laura sputtered and tried to speak, an effort that took several attempts. “Ellie Walker? Oh, gods, Billy - no, I’m fine,” she assured her young aide hastily as he stood in concern. “Um, yes, let them land. That’s fine. Send someone to meet her when she gets here.” Billy relayed her instructions dutifully before hanging up and turning back to her, staring.
“Who’s Ellie Walker?” he asked.
Laura put her head in her hands. “She was my roommate in college,” she answered, voice muffled. “Gods, I haven’t seen this woman in - twenty years? I think so.” She looked up. “Listen to me, Billy - I need you to understand - this is a part of my life that I’m not proud of.” Her half sentences and the clear anxiety in her voice seemed to worry him even more, as he walked over to her desk and opened his mouth to speak. She stopped him by standing and disappearing into her curtained-off sleeping area for several seconds before returning with a small cardboard box full of books. “You see this?” she asked.
“Those are the books I found for you while you were in the hospital,” Billy replied, clearly not sure what he was supposed to be seeing.
“That’s right,” Laura agreed. She pulled out a thick paperback book, well-worn and dog-eared, with a picture of an attractive, muscled man surrounded by trees, a blonde woman at his side. Across the top was scrawled a title - Jungle Fever. She turned it over to reveal a summary on the back, along with a small black and white picture of the author, a flamboyantly dressed woman with large breasts and big hair. “This is Ellie Walker.”
“Someone say my name?” a rich, throaty voice called from across the room as Billy’s mouth dropped open. Laura started, and took a deep breath before straightening up to come face to face with her best friend from college.
She gave a tense half-smile. “Hello, Ellie.”
“Dott!” Ellie cried, pulling her into a hug. “So it’s true! They told me you were president but I said I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.” She stepped back and winked. “’Course, I didn’t believe it when I heard you became - what was it, the Secretary of Teaching?”
“Secretary of Education,” Laura corrected her. How was I ever friends with this woman?
Ellie nodded. “Yes, that. But I shouldn’t have been surprised, Richard had been after you since we graduated. You look good!” she barreled on before Laura could respond. “Could probably do with - oh, and who are you?” Billy paled at being addressed directly.
“This is Billy Keikeya, my assistant,” Laura introduced warily. Ellie blatantly eyed the younger man.
“Billy, hellllooo,” she purred, walking over and holding out a manicured hand. “I’m Ellie Walker.”
Billy gulped, but took her hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, voice a touch higher than usual.
Laura came to his rescue, amused despite herself. “Ellie, would you like some tea?” she asked. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger.” The blonde woman laughed.
“You know me too well, Dott,” she replied, pulling out a cigarette. Billy started to say something, but stopped as Laura rolled her eyes and gave him a half-shrug. There was no point in arguing. “Tea sounds fine. Sugar, if you’ve got any. If not,” she winked at Billy, “I’m sure you can just stick your finger in it; sweeten it right up.”
Billy made a beeline for the door, pausing only to mouth over his shoulder “Dott?”, and then moving at double speed upon Laura’s subsequent death glare. She turned her attention back to Ellie.
“So have you been in the fleet all this time?” she asked. Ellie shook her head.
“No, I was on the Pegasus.” At Laura’s incredulous look, she continued, “Oh, don’t look so surprised, I was doing a story for Starling magazine. Got myself a job in the galley after the attacks, it was either that or be left on a planet somewhere.”
Her voice had become a little more strained, and Laura found herself desperate to lighten the mood. During their friendship, all those years ago, it had been easy to lean on each other. She had been a natural nurturer. It struck her, not for the first time, how awkward she now felt one-on-one. “I didn’t realize you could cook,” she finally said.
“It took awhile,” Ellie admitted, taking a drag on her cigarette. She leaned back in her chair. “But I’m on Cloud Nine now, pulled a few strings. I talked to someone in the press about maybe working for the Fleet News Service.” She shrugged. “Every man for himself these days, I guess.”
Laura nodded uncomfortably. “It’ll be nice to have a friendly face at those press conferences,” she replied. “I’m sure you’ll be able to catch people’s attention.” She suddenly smirked. “You certainly caught Billy’s.”
“Oh, Dott, he’s precious,” Ellie laughed. “Hell, I’d become president if I got those kinds of perks.”
“Just wait ‘till you see my military advisor.” The words escaped her before she thought about them, and a startled giggle sprang past her lips. She’d never thought about Lee Adama like that - there was no denying that he was attractive, but he was half her age, and besides, at this stage in her life - and her career - if she were ever to consider a relationship, it would be with someone like his father. Not that she would ever say so to Ellie; guard down or not, she knew she would never hear the end of it. Still, it was a strangely wonderful feeling, discussing men in a purely physical sense with an old friend - hell, it felt good to be discussing men at all.
Ellie’s eyes sparkled in conspiratorial amusement. “Well, then, I can’t wait to meet him.” As she spoke, a degree of tension that Laura hadn’t even noticed smoothed from her face. She realized, like a blow to her head, that Ellie had been nervous - nervous about seeing her. The old Ellie never would have been, and it was suddenly clearer than ever that she wasn’t the only one who had changed.
“It’s good to see you,” she said, a little surprised at how sincere the words were. “I’m glad you came by.”
For a moment Ellie looked like she might say something, but Billy chose that moment to return with their tea. He had taken longer than usual, Laura noted, and tried not to laugh as he silently handed them their cups; Ellie took the opportunity to brush her fingers against his and whisper a throaty “Thank you” in his ear. The poor boy was already beet red again.
“Madame President,” he began, and cleared his throat. “Madame President, you have a meeting with the Enkidu captain in five minutes about overcrowding concerns.” Laura nodded, standing.
Ellie followed suit. “I guess I should be going, then,” she said, and moved to give Laura another hug, one that she found much easier to return. “It’s good to see you too,” she added quietly before heading towards the door.
“Ellie,” Laura stopped her. “I’m going to be on Cloud Nine next week to meet with the Quorum. I’ll get in touch with you - I’d like to have a chance to catch up.” She grabbed a post-it from her desk and scribbled her direct line on it. After a moment’s thought, she glanced at her contacts sheet and added Ellen Tigh’s number.
Ellie smiled widely as she accepted the paper. “And will you bring him along?” she asked, eying Billy. Laura snorted.
“Not a chance in cylon hell.”
Title: Rain
Rating: PG
Summary: It was during these nights of staring at the blank white wall and counting her breaths that she’d remember.
The rain trailed down the car windows, and she followed one of the drops with her eyes, watching as it slithered sideways and diagonal, eventually meeting another drop and converging.
Her wrists ached. They were still shackled, raw skin rubbing against the metal rings. Scars had formed along these familiar lines long ago, grotesque bracelets that laced along her ankles as well.
She knew that it wasn’t over. It never was. Only hours ago, he had said the same thing, when she had a gun trained on him; and again when his breath touched her neck. It was hot, so solid that she thought she could shape it in her hands.
***
She was restricted to North Africa, and the air was too dry. Sometimes she swore that she could feel the dust scraping the sides of her lungs, leaving them raw and painful. When night fell and she curled in bed, knees tucked together and fingers splayed across the stiff sheets, she’d try and force the particles out by breathing slowly and rhythmically; try to slough them off her skin by scrubbing until she bled.
It was during these nights of staring at the blank white wall and counting her breaths that she’d remember. Amazing how after everything she missed him sometimes. Missed the way he kissed the skin where neck met shoulder, claiming the spot as his own. Missed the way he tangled his fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over her palm. Missed the long nights they spent, slow and desperate and oh god yes there.
This was only sometimes. Other times she fantasized about shooting him, her trigger finger steady and sure, the ground absorbing his blood and mixing it with rainwater. It was always raining when she killed him, so that she wouldn’t know it if tears ran down her face as well.
Her favorite was a mix between the two. During those slow, dry nights she would fantasize about kissing him, urgent and feverish, his hands in her hair and hers running up his back until they reached that spot right at his temple. That was where the gun would linger and she would be kissing him when she pulled the trigger, holding him as he fell, lifeless, against her.
***
Her house was small, made of bricks and tucked away from civilization. The living room was kept neat for company that never came. Solitary confinement, she thought, was the same in jail as in a home - it would drive you crazy either way. The only difference was that she got to shower for as long as she liked.
Every week, American soldiers came by and searched the place. They never found anything but dirty socks on the bathroom floor and a pair of glasses in the oddest places. She would take them with a grateful smile and say “I’ve been looking for these all week.” They never smiled or even spoke much but after a few months they began taking the coffee she offered them.
***
One day a missionary came to her door and asked what she knew of God. He was young, a blond kid with a British accent and green eyes. “I know all I need to know,” she told him, and licked her ashy lips. “I know that if He exists, I’m never gonna see him.”
“You can be saved,” the boy said. “God forgives everyone. Repent, and you will find peace in His love.”
His eyes were glassy, like he truly believed that he was speaking to someone who would spend an eternity in hell, and she found she didn’t have the heart to tell him that this was it. She took his brochures and stuck them in a drawer.
***
A year and a half after arriving in Africa, she spotted a man named Michael Amador while visiting a nearby town. He invited her up to his hotel room.
She asked about the world she had left behind - who was alive, who had been caught, what plans were in motion. When he assumed she wanted back in she just took the phone he gave her and agreed to meet him in a month.
That night, she looked out the window at the purple sky and wondered where Jack Bauer was; was he looking at the same moon? She counted the stars and remembered when she used to think of him and wish he were dead.
***
At some point it became inevitable. The soldiers visited each week, but were lenient; a gun remained safely stashed behind a tile in the shower, and the phone she used nearly every night now taped under a loose floorboard on the porch. When she was offered a job she began to plan her careful exit.
She would go to Germany and meet her employer. She would do the job she was assigned for one and a half million dollars and all of the information available on Jack Bauer and CTU Los Angeles.
She only hoped that the adrenaline that had attracted her to this life in the first place hadn’t dried up in her veins.
***
It rained the week before she left, and as the dust outside her window morphed to slick mud, she went outside and felt the water on her skin; the droplets splashing down her face, hot and salty.
I also have two entries from makelaurahappy! If anyone read the entries, I imagine that one of mine was pretty obvious, hah. Yes, I actually wrote a Laura Roslin/Nina Myers crossover.
This was a fic of many firsts, including my first femslash and my first semi-smut. Probably as far as I'll go for quite awhile, hee.
Title: Number Nine
Rating: Light R
Summary: "Something’s not right about her. She just showed up, out of nowhere, with all of the proper qualifications - why now?”
Nina Myers was not programmed for seduction. She was intelligent, sharp, and above all subtle - a thirtysomething woman who, at the end of the world, might just work as the Civilian Security Advisor of the Fleet. She was attractive in an unconventional way, with short dark hair and pale eyes. This job was far better suited to one of the sixes, but they weren’t an option and Tory Foster had flat out refused.
So she found herself pressed against the President, fingers sliding up under the sturdy blue skirt that, admittedly, showed off a fantastic pair of legs. “Hurry,” Laura growled, fisting her fingers into Nina’s hair. “We only have ten minutes.”
“I doubt we’ll need that long,” she teased back, and bit the older woman’s lower lip. Laura hissed, and arched forward.
Nina was right. It wasn’t five minutes later that the President slumped against the cool plastic of the bulkhead, eyes glassy. “Gods,” she exhaled heavily. However, these frenzied trysts didn’t allow her more than a few moments to recover, and, running a shaking hand through her hair, Laura pulled herself upright and stepped back into her discarded heels.
When this had started, a little over a month ago, they’d had trouble adjusting to the rhythm of it. It never took them long, but for someone as well put together as Laura Roslin, the two minutes they were generally allowed weren’t enough to pull herself back together. As they found themselves in compromising positions more and more often, however, necessity forced an efficient and flawless routine, one that was nearly perfected.
“Lipstick,” Laura reminded, rubbing a thumb along her own lip. Nina did the same before applying another coat of gloss, a sticky red substance that she never would have worn had she had any other option.
A sharp knock echoed on the wall separating Laura’s sleeping area from her office. “Madame President,” Tory called. “You’re on in two minutes.”
“Coming, Tory!” Laura sighed. She glanced at Nina, who was straightening her shirt in the mirror. These encounters never left them with time to talk, something that she was grateful for - while the small woman was a good advisor and an even better frak, Laura had never been good at pillow talk and wasn’t sure that this non-relationship would hold up under the pressure of personal investment.
“Madame President?” Nina’s voice cut through her musings, and Laura nodded distractedly before stepping through the curtain. Tory greeted her with a stack of notecards and a wan smile that melted from her face the moment Nina appeared. She opened her mouth disapprovingly, but Laura stopped her with a hard glare. Tory merely shook her head and gestured towards the conference room, which the president entered with a poise Nina had to admire.
***
“It won’t take that much longer,” one of the nines said. “It’s been three months. Roslin is depending on her more and more, now that Tory’s gone.”
The eleven in question scowled. She had been back on the baseship for only two weeks, a casualty deemed necessary for the success of Nina’s mission. “Yes, well, Adama’s getting suspicious,” she said. “He didn’t let Nina attend a high-priority briefing, and he’s scheduling more and more meetings on Galactica.”
“He might be jealous,” smirked an eight. “He’s always had a thing for her.”
The nine shook her head. “Nina will get it done,” she said confidently, and turned their attention to the newly-discovered source of tyllium ore.
***
“Admiral,” Laura greeted warmly, taking his hand. “Thank you for coming.” She smiled and gestured for him to take a seat.
“Madame President,” he replied amiably. His voice turned colder as he addressed the other woman in the room. “Miss Myers.” Nina inclined her head respectfully. “I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”
Laura frowned. “Is that a problem?” she asked, her tone indicating that it shouldn’t be. “I had hoped we could discuss the issue of the black market once we had finished our reports, and Miss Myers has had some interesting insights on the subject.”
“Indeed?” Adama said, voice carefully blasé. “Well, perhaps we should start with that.” Laura rolled her eyes, but Nina merely glanced at the notes in her lap.
“All right. The Prometheus is once again getting out of control. Recent reports suggest that key medications are being withheld from the general public, and it’s been suggested that children have been dragged into the situation.” She continued, apparently oblivious to the icy look in Adama’s eyes and the glares the president kept shooting him.
As she began talking about the lesser aspects of the market, Laura cleared her throat. “Thank you, Nina, would you mind giving us a moment?” With an arched eyebrow, Nina agreed and cleared the room. As the curtain swished shut once more, Laura straightened and looked straight at Adama. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I don’t trust her,” he replied, not bothering with denials or protestations. “Something about her - I don’t know.” He met her gaze unflinchingly. “You’ve come to rely on her a great deal.”
Laura nodded slowly. “Yes,” she agreed, an edge to her voice. “I suppose I have.” When he didn’t say anything else, she let out a frustrated sigh. “What are you saying, Bill - do you think she’s a cylon? Because she’s been cleared, you can check the results with Cottle.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he bit back. “But something’s not right about her. She just showed up, out of nowhere, with all of the proper qualifications - why now?”
“Because Tory asked her too,” the president said, eyes flashing, and Bill knew that this argument was not worth pursuing, not with Tory’s death so close behind them. He stood.
“Perhaps we should finish this conversation another time,” he muttered. Laura didn’t answer, and he turned to go. “By the way,” he added without looking back, “you have lipstick on your collar.”
***
Bill Adama poured some of Tyrol’s hooch into a cup - the ambrosia had become so limited that he used it for special occasions only. Offering it to Sharon before pouring one for himself, he settled carefully on the sofa.
“Do you know anything about a woman named Nina Myers?” he asked, and Sharon looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Isn’t that the President’s new Security Advisor?”
Bill nodded. “I have…concerns about her,” he said with difficulty. “There’s something about her. Her suggestions about fleet security have been odd, to say the least. I talked to Lieutenant Dualla, who attended Ismene around the same time Ms. Myers should have, and she says she’s never heard of her.”
“Ismene is tiny, though,” Sharon said. “That doesn’t make sense.” Bill pursed his lips and handed her a photo of the small woman.
“The only person who has heard of her seems to be Tory Foster, and she died not long ago.” Sharon studied it, not missing the suspicion in his voice.
“She doesn’t look familiar,” she told him, and hesitated. “But Admiral…Tory Foster probably can’t be trusted.”
Adama gave her a hard look and narrowed his eyes. “I see.” Sharon started to say something else, but he interrupted her with a curt “Dismissed.”
***
“Adama knows about Foster. Nina’s cover is blown,” a nine said urgently, stepping into the control room. “He isn’t going to trust anyone that Foster recommended. We need to get her out of there.”
“How does he know?” one of the sixes asked. The nine rolled her eyes.
“How do you think?”
The only eight in the room groaned. “Great.”
***
Laura bit the inside of her mouth and clutched Nina’s shoulders so that her fingernails dug through the material of the blue jacket she was wearing.
Breathing heavily, she began to unclench, relaxing her jaw and closing her eyes. Nina stepped away and Laura stumbled, slightly, in her heels. She straightened with a hand on the bulkhead but didn’t open her eyes.
“That was good,” she murmured, a hint of a smile on her face. There was no response, and she looked around the dimly lit office.
Nina was gone.
This one might go on a little further, I have a few more scenes written, but I'm not sure. It's pretty plotless, just an excuse to write Nina/Laura!
And finally, High/Society BSG.
Title: Silver and Gold
Rating: PG
Summary: “A raptor is requesting permission to land. They say they have an old friend of yours on board - Elinore Walker?”
Gods, she wanted a break. For the past three and a half hours, Laura had been sitting at her desk, reading report after report, taking notes and signing the countless documents that had piled up over her past two weeks in Galactica’s sickbay. Although she was thinking more clearly than she had for months, letters were beginning to blur together, dancing a delightful waltz across the hard, recycled paper. She blinked.
The phone rang. Billy must have been as distracted as she was, because it took him a few moments to notice. He looked up at her with a sheepish smirk as he answered, one she returned with an amused eyebrow raise. “Yes - who?” he asked whoever was on the line. “One moment, please.” Turning to face Laura more fully, he tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “A raptor is requesting permission to land. They say they have an old friend of yours on board - Elinore Walker?”
Of all the things she had anticipated, that was not one of them. Not even close. Nearly choking on her own tongue, Laura sputtered and tried to speak, an effort that took several attempts. “Ellie Walker? Oh, gods, Billy - no, I’m fine,” she assured her young aide hastily as he stood in concern. “Um, yes, let them land. That’s fine. Send someone to meet her when she gets here.” Billy relayed her instructions dutifully before hanging up and turning back to her, staring.
“Who’s Ellie Walker?” he asked.
Laura put her head in her hands. “She was my roommate in college,” she answered, voice muffled. “Gods, I haven’t seen this woman in - twenty years? I think so.” She looked up. “Listen to me, Billy - I need you to understand - this is a part of my life that I’m not proud of.” Her half sentences and the clear anxiety in her voice seemed to worry him even more, as he walked over to her desk and opened his mouth to speak. She stopped him by standing and disappearing into her curtained-off sleeping area for several seconds before returning with a small cardboard box full of books. “You see this?” she asked.
“Those are the books I found for you while you were in the hospital,” Billy replied, clearly not sure what he was supposed to be seeing.
“That’s right,” Laura agreed. She pulled out a thick paperback book, well-worn and dog-eared, with a picture of an attractive, muscled man surrounded by trees, a blonde woman at his side. Across the top was scrawled a title - Jungle Fever. She turned it over to reveal a summary on the back, along with a small black and white picture of the author, a flamboyantly dressed woman with large breasts and big hair. “This is Ellie Walker.”
“Someone say my name?” a rich, throaty voice called from across the room as Billy’s mouth dropped open. Laura started, and took a deep breath before straightening up to come face to face with her best friend from college.
She gave a tense half-smile. “Hello, Ellie.”
“Dott!” Ellie cried, pulling her into a hug. “So it’s true! They told me you were president but I said I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.” She stepped back and winked. “’Course, I didn’t believe it when I heard you became - what was it, the Secretary of Teaching?”
“Secretary of Education,” Laura corrected her. How was I ever friends with this woman?
Ellie nodded. “Yes, that. But I shouldn’t have been surprised, Richard had been after you since we graduated. You look good!” she barreled on before Laura could respond. “Could probably do with - oh, and who are you?” Billy paled at being addressed directly.
“This is Billy Keikeya, my assistant,” Laura introduced warily. Ellie blatantly eyed the younger man.
“Billy, hellllooo,” she purred, walking over and holding out a manicured hand. “I’m Ellie Walker.”
Billy gulped, but took her hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, voice a touch higher than usual.
Laura came to his rescue, amused despite herself. “Ellie, would you like some tea?” she asked. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger.” The blonde woman laughed.
“You know me too well, Dott,” she replied, pulling out a cigarette. Billy started to say something, but stopped as Laura rolled her eyes and gave him a half-shrug. There was no point in arguing. “Tea sounds fine. Sugar, if you’ve got any. If not,” she winked at Billy, “I’m sure you can just stick your finger in it; sweeten it right up.”
Billy made a beeline for the door, pausing only to mouth over his shoulder “Dott?”, and then moving at double speed upon Laura’s subsequent death glare. She turned her attention back to Ellie.
“So have you been in the fleet all this time?” she asked. Ellie shook her head.
“No, I was on the Pegasus.” At Laura’s incredulous look, she continued, “Oh, don’t look so surprised, I was doing a story for Starling magazine. Got myself a job in the galley after the attacks, it was either that or be left on a planet somewhere.”
Her voice had become a little more strained, and Laura found herself desperate to lighten the mood. During their friendship, all those years ago, it had been easy to lean on each other. She had been a natural nurturer. It struck her, not for the first time, how awkward she now felt one-on-one. “I didn’t realize you could cook,” she finally said.
“It took awhile,” Ellie admitted, taking a drag on her cigarette. She leaned back in her chair. “But I’m on Cloud Nine now, pulled a few strings. I talked to someone in the press about maybe working for the Fleet News Service.” She shrugged. “Every man for himself these days, I guess.”
Laura nodded uncomfortably. “It’ll be nice to have a friendly face at those press conferences,” she replied. “I’m sure you’ll be able to catch people’s attention.” She suddenly smirked. “You certainly caught Billy’s.”
“Oh, Dott, he’s precious,” Ellie laughed. “Hell, I’d become president if I got those kinds of perks.”
“Just wait ‘till you see my military advisor.” The words escaped her before she thought about them, and a startled giggle sprang past her lips. She’d never thought about Lee Adama like that - there was no denying that he was attractive, but he was half her age, and besides, at this stage in her life - and her career - if she were ever to consider a relationship, it would be with someone like his father. Not that she would ever say so to Ellie; guard down or not, she knew she would never hear the end of it. Still, it was a strangely wonderful feeling, discussing men in a purely physical sense with an old friend - hell, it felt good to be discussing men at all.
Ellie’s eyes sparkled in conspiratorial amusement. “Well, then, I can’t wait to meet him.” As she spoke, a degree of tension that Laura hadn’t even noticed smoothed from her face. She realized, like a blow to her head, that Ellie had been nervous - nervous about seeing her. The old Ellie never would have been, and it was suddenly clearer than ever that she wasn’t the only one who had changed.
“It’s good to see you,” she said, a little surprised at how sincere the words were. “I’m glad you came by.”
For a moment Ellie looked like she might say something, but Billy chose that moment to return with their tea. He had taken longer than usual, Laura noted, and tried not to laugh as he silently handed them their cups; Ellie took the opportunity to brush her fingers against his and whisper a throaty “Thank you” in his ear. The poor boy was already beet red again.
“Madame President,” he began, and cleared his throat. “Madame President, you have a meeting with the Enkidu captain in five minutes about overcrowding concerns.” Laura nodded, standing.
Ellie followed suit. “I guess I should be going, then,” she said, and moved to give Laura another hug, one that she found much easier to return. “It’s good to see you too,” she added quietly before heading towards the door.
“Ellie,” Laura stopped her. “I’m going to be on Cloud Nine next week to meet with the Quorum. I’ll get in touch with you - I’d like to have a chance to catch up.” She grabbed a post-it from her desk and scribbled her direct line on it. After a moment’s thought, she glanced at her contacts sheet and added Ellen Tigh’s number.
Ellie smiled widely as she accepted the paper. “And will you bring him along?” she asked, eying Billy. Laura snorted.
“Not a chance in cylon hell.”