Because muses have to be appeased...
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Voyager Crossover
Pairing: Roslin/Janeway
Rating: G
Word count: 490
A/N: Un-beta'd.
Summary: Dinner time on Colonial One
Adama watches them both over dinner. They, however, have almost completely ignored him.
He has noticed that while sitting their height difference is evened out, making it easier for them to catch and hold each other's eye with no deference implied. And it is as clear as day that neither of these two women will submit to anything or anyone, not even each other.
Not yet.
He watched Janeway, as Laura explained about the Cylons; the part machine, part flesh threat that lurks without and within. As she explains about the death of the Colonies and about the desperate search for the mythical Earth.
Earth, the place Kathryn grew up.
He watches Laura as Janeway speaks further about the challenges she has faced. Aliens of many varieties beyond the imagination. Though something in her voice returns his focus to the newcomer when she speaks of the Borg.
Could that really be loss on her face?
****
Kathryn listens to Roslin, with an intentness that reminds her of her first days at the Academy. She has had to suppress the urge to take notes more than once. Laura's simple, low voiced, precise explanation of the state of her
universe is compelling.
She recognises the tiredness and the pain of leading a lost people. Though leadership is clearly not all that's taking it's toll on the woman in front of her. Her portions are visibly smaller and are still cleared away barely touched. Her hands are cold and papery, when Kathryn holds them for a moment, an instinctive gesture of solidarity, as Laura recounts the loss of the Olympic Carrier.
She is surprised when she is sorry to have to let them go.
****
Laura is tired. The pain in her body dulls her ability to concentrate, but not the other pains, those caused by the loss of each and every soul who had died in the days since she was sworn in.
The acceptance and forgiveness in the stranger across the table, and the sharing eases the pain, just a little.
Just a little more, again, when Janeway's strong, warm hands embrace hers for a long moment that feels strangely too short when it's over.
She has avoided contact, as much as possible, since she learned her fate. There is an exception to this rule... but each time that happens, she promises herself never again.
It is as if Kathryn is infusing her with Earth, through hands than have held the soil of the planet themselves and know the same longing to see it.
****
Laura feels Bill leave. His departure removes a weight from the room she hadn't realised was there. For once, she is grateful for his hatred of ceremony.
Kathryn notices only the changes in temperature and pressure as the big Admiral leaves.
William Adama understands he leaves behind him a soft soprano and a gravelly alto who know neither the words nor the melody, but are already singing in harmony.
Pairing: Roslin/Janeway
Rating: G
Word count: 490
A/N: Un-beta'd.
Summary: Dinner time on Colonial One
Adama watches them both over dinner. They, however, have almost completely ignored him.
He has noticed that while sitting their height difference is evened out, making it easier for them to catch and hold each other's eye with no deference implied. And it is as clear as day that neither of these two women will submit to anything or anyone, not even each other.
Not yet.
He watched Janeway, as Laura explained about the Cylons; the part machine, part flesh threat that lurks without and within. As she explains about the death of the Colonies and about the desperate search for the mythical Earth.
Earth, the place Kathryn grew up.
He watches Laura as Janeway speaks further about the challenges she has faced. Aliens of many varieties beyond the imagination. Though something in her voice returns his focus to the newcomer when she speaks of the Borg.
Could that really be loss on her face?
****
Kathryn listens to Roslin, with an intentness that reminds her of her first days at the Academy. She has had to suppress the urge to take notes more than once. Laura's simple, low voiced, precise explanation of the state of her
universe is compelling.
She recognises the tiredness and the pain of leading a lost people. Though leadership is clearly not all that's taking it's toll on the woman in front of her. Her portions are visibly smaller and are still cleared away barely touched. Her hands are cold and papery, when Kathryn holds them for a moment, an instinctive gesture of solidarity, as Laura recounts the loss of the Olympic Carrier.
She is surprised when she is sorry to have to let them go.
****
Laura is tired. The pain in her body dulls her ability to concentrate, but not the other pains, those caused by the loss of each and every soul who had died in the days since she was sworn in.
The acceptance and forgiveness in the stranger across the table, and the sharing eases the pain, just a little.
Just a little more, again, when Janeway's strong, warm hands embrace hers for a long moment that feels strangely too short when it's over.
She has avoided contact, as much as possible, since she learned her fate. There is an exception to this rule... but each time that happens, she promises herself never again.
It is as if Kathryn is infusing her with Earth, through hands than have held the soil of the planet themselves and know the same longing to see it.
****
Laura feels Bill leave. His departure removes a weight from the room she hadn't realised was there. For once, she is grateful for his hatred of ceremony.
Kathryn notices only the changes in temperature and pressure as the big Admiral leaves.
William Adama understands he leaves behind him a soft soprano and a gravelly alto who know neither the words nor the melody, but are already singing in harmony.