Laura Roslin and the Adama Boys
Just a quick drabble. At least to my, admittedly loose, rules.
Standard disclaimers, my words are my own, but Battlestar Galactica the tv show, and any associated characters, are not.
It's angsty and based in the beginning of the fourth season for those concerned with spoilers. The synopsis is pretty simple.
Laura is annoyed.
There are two Adamas.
Much as she sometimes wished otherwise, there are in fact, two of them. She had to remember that. She should be grateful for that. And she was. Despite her occasional urge to strangle either one or both of them, she was grateful for that. It was just, they were, each in their own way, so… Adama-ish.
Often difficult to live with. Impossible to ignore.
She had to find a way to make her peace with both of them.
It's funny; she's always had trouble with that.
Peace and a close relationship with the Adamas, both of them, at the same time. Why did a close relationship with one so often mean being at odds with the other? Yes, they were often at odds themselves, and yet. They always came back together in the end, like magnets which had been temporarily depolarized.
They never asked her to, but somehow, in the meantime, she always ended up in the middle.
It's funny; the first time she'd (semi-jokingly) wished there was only one Adama, it had always been the older one she'd been willing to dispense with. Seeing eye to eye with Captain Apollo had always seemed so much easier than bearing the responsibilities of the Fleet with Commander Husker.
(She wasn’t even sure she’d known his call sign then. She'd always just thought of him, in her head, at least, as Stone-Faced Adama. Thankfully, she'd been able to keep that from slipping out, though she’d almost blurted it out once to Billy.)
Still, despite their differences, they’d quickly formed a partnership during that long run from the Colonies, both of them bending over backwards to make it work.
And it had, mostly. Other than that small hiccup over Kobol.
After Kobol, after her Atheist Admiral had decided there were too many coincidences to ignore, after he’d decided to at least pretend, she’d wondered. Wondered, at least a little tiny bit, in the back of her mind, if he’d decided it was just easier to go along with her, for as long as she lasted. Wondered if it was just easier to deal with her rather than President Gaius Baltar. Wondered if he'd tried so hard to make it work knowing he wouldn’t have to do it over the long-term.
Better that than thinking it was pity.
In any case, she'd found a way to deal with an obstinate Adama back then. She’d find a way, now, to deal with his equally obstinate son. Even if it was harder, now. Even if she was angrier, now. Even if she, and her temper, were more brittle.
New Caprica and Baltar had seen to that. So had the return of her cancer. Even with the diloxin treatments, she could feel her cells, the smallest parts of her, dying, every minute of every day.
So, yes, desperation played its role as well.
She struggled to be patient, with people and their foibles. She struggled to make it a priority. Even so, she wasn't ready to forgive Lee, wasn't ready to re-absorb him into her makeshift family. Wasn't ready to, wasn't ready to want to. Wasn’t ready to give up the strength her anger gave her.
Maybe the Adama boys really were rubbing off on her. For them, for Bill especially, the political had always been personal. Somewhere along the line, without her really noticing it, she’d come to feel that way too.
Better that than thinking Baltar, New Caprica, and cancer, were to blame.
In any case, Lee had shown every willingness to meet her half way, just as his father had once done. She’d been the one who’d been downright rude, freezing him out with anger and disdain. Meanwhile, Bill had been scrupulous in his steadfast refusal to pick sides, all but physically stepping out of the way as she and Lee manoeuvred their way into a new dynamic. He’d ignored her provocations, ignored the fact that she’d been less than discreet regarding her frustration with his son.
She grimaced.
Maybe it was Bill’s idea of penance, or maybe he’d just learnt from the last time he’d been caught between them. He hadn’t had a choice, then, either, but that hadn’t made her any more willing to forgive. She hadn’t enjoyed seeing him choose the principles, evoked so nobly by his son, over loyalty to her. Even if they were her principles too.
The truth was she was glad her boys were getting on so much better; glad Lee felt he’d finally escaped his father’s shadow. He was a natural leader and he’d started to shine is his new role; he was growing day by day. She knew Bill wasn’t quite as happy with his only remaining son out of his protective orbit. Still, subconsciously, he seemed grateful he and his son were finding ways to be family more often, even if he had little clue of how that had actually come about.
It was funny, she’d chosen her successor around the same time she’d struggled to form a working relationship with his father. She’d just never imagined either of those relationships developing in quite this way.
She struggled to focus; she got so tired these days. Fighting with Lee, with the Quorum and Baltar and Zarek and Cottle and Kara, struggling to deal with both Lee and Bill at the same time, it all took so much. Maybe the Lords of Kobol would forgive her if she took the easy road, just for a bit. Or maybe they were trying to let her know that she didn’t have to fight her family quite so hard. Maybe they were trying to tell her to let those close to her share her load.
A woman’s secrets remained between her and her gods, right?
If the political was personal, maybe she could trust her love for her family, let them in, just a little bit.
After all… Adamas.
They weren’t going anywhere.
Standard disclaimers, my words are my own, but Battlestar Galactica the tv show, and any associated characters, are not.
It's angsty and based in the beginning of the fourth season for those concerned with spoilers. The synopsis is pretty simple.
Laura is annoyed.
There are two Adamas.
Much as she sometimes wished otherwise, there are in fact, two of them. She had to remember that. She should be grateful for that. And she was. Despite her occasional urge to strangle either one or both of them, she was grateful for that. It was just, they were, each in their own way, so… Adama-ish.
Often difficult to live with. Impossible to ignore.
She had to find a way to make her peace with both of them.
It's funny; she's always had trouble with that.
Peace and a close relationship with the Adamas, both of them, at the same time. Why did a close relationship with one so often mean being at odds with the other? Yes, they were often at odds themselves, and yet. They always came back together in the end, like magnets which had been temporarily depolarized.
They never asked her to, but somehow, in the meantime, she always ended up in the middle.
It's funny; the first time she'd (semi-jokingly) wished there was only one Adama, it had always been the older one she'd been willing to dispense with. Seeing eye to eye with Captain Apollo had always seemed so much easier than bearing the responsibilities of the Fleet with Commander Husker.
(She wasn’t even sure she’d known his call sign then. She'd always just thought of him, in her head, at least, as Stone-Faced Adama. Thankfully, she'd been able to keep that from slipping out, though she’d almost blurted it out once to Billy.)
Still, despite their differences, they’d quickly formed a partnership during that long run from the Colonies, both of them bending over backwards to make it work.
And it had, mostly. Other than that small hiccup over Kobol.
After Kobol, after her Atheist Admiral had decided there were too many coincidences to ignore, after he’d decided to at least pretend, she’d wondered. Wondered, at least a little tiny bit, in the back of her mind, if he’d decided it was just easier to go along with her, for as long as she lasted. Wondered if it was just easier to deal with her rather than President Gaius Baltar. Wondered if he'd tried so hard to make it work knowing he wouldn’t have to do it over the long-term.
Better that than thinking it was pity.
In any case, she'd found a way to deal with an obstinate Adama back then. She’d find a way, now, to deal with his equally obstinate son. Even if it was harder, now. Even if she was angrier, now. Even if she, and her temper, were more brittle.
New Caprica and Baltar had seen to that. So had the return of her cancer. Even with the diloxin treatments, she could feel her cells, the smallest parts of her, dying, every minute of every day.
So, yes, desperation played its role as well.
She struggled to be patient, with people and their foibles. She struggled to make it a priority. Even so, she wasn't ready to forgive Lee, wasn't ready to re-absorb him into her makeshift family. Wasn't ready to, wasn't ready to want to. Wasn’t ready to give up the strength her anger gave her.
Maybe the Adama boys really were rubbing off on her. For them, for Bill especially, the political had always been personal. Somewhere along the line, without her really noticing it, she’d come to feel that way too.
Better that than thinking Baltar, New Caprica, and cancer, were to blame.
In any case, Lee had shown every willingness to meet her half way, just as his father had once done. She’d been the one who’d been downright rude, freezing him out with anger and disdain. Meanwhile, Bill had been scrupulous in his steadfast refusal to pick sides, all but physically stepping out of the way as she and Lee manoeuvred their way into a new dynamic. He’d ignored her provocations, ignored the fact that she’d been less than discreet regarding her frustration with his son.
She grimaced.
Maybe it was Bill’s idea of penance, or maybe he’d just learnt from the last time he’d been caught between them. He hadn’t had a choice, then, either, but that hadn’t made her any more willing to forgive. She hadn’t enjoyed seeing him choose the principles, evoked so nobly by his son, over loyalty to her. Even if they were her principles too.
The truth was she was glad her boys were getting on so much better; glad Lee felt he’d finally escaped his father’s shadow. He was a natural leader and he’d started to shine is his new role; he was growing day by day. She knew Bill wasn’t quite as happy with his only remaining son out of his protective orbit. Still, subconsciously, he seemed grateful he and his son were finding ways to be family more often, even if he had little clue of how that had actually come about.
It was funny, she’d chosen her successor around the same time she’d struggled to form a working relationship with his father. She’d just never imagined either of those relationships developing in quite this way.
She struggled to focus; she got so tired these days. Fighting with Lee, with the Quorum and Baltar and Zarek and Cottle and Kara, struggling to deal with both Lee and Bill at the same time, it all took so much. Maybe the Lords of Kobol would forgive her if she took the easy road, just for a bit. Or maybe they were trying to let her know that she didn’t have to fight her family quite so hard. Maybe they were trying to tell her to let those close to her share her load.
A woman’s secrets remained between her and her gods, right?
If the political was personal, maybe she could trust her love for her family, let them in, just a little bit.
After all… Adamas.
They weren’t going anywhere.