Fic - Shifted Bias
Shifted Bias
Summary: Everything ended but the world.
Rated: MA
Spoilers: Miniseries
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
I've had this story rolling around in my head for a while, and with the glut of "What if they'd met under different circumstances?" fics I've read lately, I decided to write it down. Hope you enjoy!
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Laura Roslin was so bored at the Galactica retirement dinner she was actually entertaining thoughts of her own funeral. Of course, it helped that she’d been given a medical death sentence the day before, but she imagined Oren Nagala’s droning voice was instigating similar thoughts in a few other guests, as well. Gods, but the man could go on! she thought. How was it possible that one of the most celebrated ships in the Colonial Fleet was getting such a mind-numbing send off? She thought briefly of the stoic Commander Adama and how eloquently (if a little oddly) he’d spoken the day before, and she wondered what must be going on in his mind at the moment. Her eyes scanned the table to his seat and she was surprised to find he was watching her.
His eyes flicked away the minute she caught them on her, but there'd been no mistaking it. He’d definitely been staring. At what, she wondered. She certainly hadn’t made a very good impression on him. Her mood had made her sarcastic and not at all diplomatic during their brief tour, and she’d been certain she’d offended him beyond all interest that afternoon. She briefly wondered if her appearance had anything to do with it. She was, after all, attending her own “retirement” in a way, and had dressed for the occasion. The silk, navy strapless gown hugged her in all the right places, and she had to admit that her hair and makeup had turned out flawlessly even though she hadn’t made the effort to go to a salon. After deciding she didn’t want to spend her last months fighting Richard for a job she really didn’t want anymore, she’d decided that tonight was her last official function before she resigned, and she was going to make it count. It pleased her a little bit to think she could still catch a man’s attention. Especially a man with arms like his… However, one look at Adama’s left hand told her all she wanted to know about the possibility of his motive being attraction. He was married, which meant he wasn’t interested in her that way at all, or he was a letch. Neither outcome having much to offer, she turned her attention elsewhere.
Except there wasn’t anything else to turn her attention to, at the moment. Nagala was still prattling on inanely about duty and honor, and everyone else at the party looked just as bored as she did. Well, frak this, she thought and got up. Though she’d yet to feel the effects of the disease that was wasting her away by the minute, she thought she'd still well and truly deserved the coveted prescription that had yielded the two very high quality joints now resting in her purse. She made her way to the balcony doors at the back of the room and slipped away to get stoned out of her mind. The only way she was going to make it through the required amount of time left before she could leave gracefully was intoxicated, and she was a messy drunk. So she slipped quietly out into the rain, and into a sheltered corner of the balcony where she was sure no one would come looking for her.
******************
Where the hell was she going? Adama wondered as he saw the Secretary of Education abruptly leave their table. Well, he guessed it wasn’t so surprising. She was the first rat to jump a rapidly sinking ship. It was all he could do not to belly up to the bar and start doing shots like he was 25 again just to make things more interesting. The truth was, Adar’s administration was all about looking forward to newer ideals, younger people and innovative technologies, all of which had made four old battlestars and a handful of other military installations from the war obsolete in the last 18 months. Each one had been honored in turn with an depressing banquet filled with more people who didn't give a damn than did. Everyone in the room had been to at least three such functions before, Bill included, and it didn’t make it any better that this one doubled as his own retirement party. No one wanted to be here, least of all listening to Admiral Nagala go on ad nauseam about Galactica’s record. The man could have commented on a couple frakking on the dance floor and made it sound uninteresting.
Of course, to be fair, Adama had been partially distracted all evening. Laura Roslin had been on his mind since the previous afternoon. Once the day had ended, a few things had stayed with him. One had been his rather unexpected and odd speech, another had been the inevitable, but excruciating confrontation with his son, and the last had been his rather unsettling encounter with the attractive but annoyingly glib Secretary of Education. Once the dust had settled and he’d realized his speech hadn’t any fallout to be afraid of, and that there was nothing he was going to be able to do about his son for a very long time, that only left his regrettable behavior toward the woman in the lavender suit. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realized that she’d just been doing her job (which happened to be making sure a ship he loved was not forgotten by future generations), and he’d treated her like an upstart nugget. Sure she had a bit of a smart mouth, but if he were honest, he liked a little sass in a woman, and she hadn’t deserved the brunt of his grizzled Colonial officer routine. He’d wanted to apologize, and the only redeeming quality of this party, as far as he was concerned, was that it afforded him the opportunity to do so.
And then they’d been seated at the same table. She’d greeted him briefly, but that had been their only interaction. She’d played the gracious hostess all evening to anyone who’d wished to speak with her, and between that and his own meet-and-greets, by the time the speeches had begun, he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to speak with her privately. But he had gotten the chance observe her discreetly. She was exceedingly polite and elegant, not to mention modest and considerate, always taking a sincere personal interest in whomever she was speaking to. Not to mention she looked positively stunning in what Bill could only describe as a gown that would have made him do a double-take had his own mother been wearing it. Once the speeches had started, he’d found himself without even the most minor distraction, and he couldn’t help but stare in earnest. True, she was lovely, but he’d seen lovely women in his day, and it’d been a long time since appearance alone had been able to hold his attention like this. No, it was something in the way she carried herself. And something about the delicate smile that seemed so natural and yet barely there. On the surface she looked as bored as everyone else, staring blankly into the foreground, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was something deeper at work. She just looked so unspeakably… sad.
And then she’d caught him looking at her and the smile became a bemused smirk. He’d immediately averted his eyes and the ice-cold water of embarrassment turned his head firmly toward Admiral Nagala. He’d been in the middle of dismissing his musings as the foolish projections of his own loneliness when she’d abruptly left the table. He watched as she gracefully swept away to a back balcony door, and he realized that his opportunity to speak with her had just presented itself. He waited what he thought was an appropriate amount of time, and then rose from his seat to follow her.
*********************
Pfft... who needs dialogue?
Summary: Everything ended but the world.
Rated: MA
Spoilers: Miniseries
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
I've had this story rolling around in my head for a while, and with the glut of "What if they'd met under different circumstances?" fics I've read lately, I decided to write it down. Hope you enjoy!
***********************
Laura Roslin was so bored at the Galactica retirement dinner she was actually entertaining thoughts of her own funeral. Of course, it helped that she’d been given a medical death sentence the day before, but she imagined Oren Nagala’s droning voice was instigating similar thoughts in a few other guests, as well. Gods, but the man could go on! she thought. How was it possible that one of the most celebrated ships in the Colonial Fleet was getting such a mind-numbing send off? She thought briefly of the stoic Commander Adama and how eloquently (if a little oddly) he’d spoken the day before, and she wondered what must be going on in his mind at the moment. Her eyes scanned the table to his seat and she was surprised to find he was watching her.
His eyes flicked away the minute she caught them on her, but there'd been no mistaking it. He’d definitely been staring. At what, she wondered. She certainly hadn’t made a very good impression on him. Her mood had made her sarcastic and not at all diplomatic during their brief tour, and she’d been certain she’d offended him beyond all interest that afternoon. She briefly wondered if her appearance had anything to do with it. She was, after all, attending her own “retirement” in a way, and had dressed for the occasion. The silk, navy strapless gown hugged her in all the right places, and she had to admit that her hair and makeup had turned out flawlessly even though she hadn’t made the effort to go to a salon. After deciding she didn’t want to spend her last months fighting Richard for a job she really didn’t want anymore, she’d decided that tonight was her last official function before she resigned, and she was going to make it count. It pleased her a little bit to think she could still catch a man’s attention. Especially a man with arms like his… However, one look at Adama’s left hand told her all she wanted to know about the possibility of his motive being attraction. He was married, which meant he wasn’t interested in her that way at all, or he was a letch. Neither outcome having much to offer, she turned her attention elsewhere.
Except there wasn’t anything else to turn her attention to, at the moment. Nagala was still prattling on inanely about duty and honor, and everyone else at the party looked just as bored as she did. Well, frak this, she thought and got up. Though she’d yet to feel the effects of the disease that was wasting her away by the minute, she thought she'd still well and truly deserved the coveted prescription that had yielded the two very high quality joints now resting in her purse. She made her way to the balcony doors at the back of the room and slipped away to get stoned out of her mind. The only way she was going to make it through the required amount of time left before she could leave gracefully was intoxicated, and she was a messy drunk. So she slipped quietly out into the rain, and into a sheltered corner of the balcony where she was sure no one would come looking for her.
******************
Where the hell was she going? Adama wondered as he saw the Secretary of Education abruptly leave their table. Well, he guessed it wasn’t so surprising. She was the first rat to jump a rapidly sinking ship. It was all he could do not to belly up to the bar and start doing shots like he was 25 again just to make things more interesting. The truth was, Adar’s administration was all about looking forward to newer ideals, younger people and innovative technologies, all of which had made four old battlestars and a handful of other military installations from the war obsolete in the last 18 months. Each one had been honored in turn with an depressing banquet filled with more people who didn't give a damn than did. Everyone in the room had been to at least three such functions before, Bill included, and it didn’t make it any better that this one doubled as his own retirement party. No one wanted to be here, least of all listening to Admiral Nagala go on ad nauseam about Galactica’s record. The man could have commented on a couple frakking on the dance floor and made it sound uninteresting.
Of course, to be fair, Adama had been partially distracted all evening. Laura Roslin had been on his mind since the previous afternoon. Once the day had ended, a few things had stayed with him. One had been his rather unexpected and odd speech, another had been the inevitable, but excruciating confrontation with his son, and the last had been his rather unsettling encounter with the attractive but annoyingly glib Secretary of Education. Once the dust had settled and he’d realized his speech hadn’t any fallout to be afraid of, and that there was nothing he was going to be able to do about his son for a very long time, that only left his regrettable behavior toward the woman in the lavender suit. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realized that she’d just been doing her job (which happened to be making sure a ship he loved was not forgotten by future generations), and he’d treated her like an upstart nugget. Sure she had a bit of a smart mouth, but if he were honest, he liked a little sass in a woman, and she hadn’t deserved the brunt of his grizzled Colonial officer routine. He’d wanted to apologize, and the only redeeming quality of this party, as far as he was concerned, was that it afforded him the opportunity to do so.
And then they’d been seated at the same table. She’d greeted him briefly, but that had been their only interaction. She’d played the gracious hostess all evening to anyone who’d wished to speak with her, and between that and his own meet-and-greets, by the time the speeches had begun, he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to speak with her privately. But he had gotten the chance observe her discreetly. She was exceedingly polite and elegant, not to mention modest and considerate, always taking a sincere personal interest in whomever she was speaking to. Not to mention she looked positively stunning in what Bill could only describe as a gown that would have made him do a double-take had his own mother been wearing it. Once the speeches had started, he’d found himself without even the most minor distraction, and he couldn’t help but stare in earnest. True, she was lovely, but he’d seen lovely women in his day, and it’d been a long time since appearance alone had been able to hold his attention like this. No, it was something in the way she carried herself. And something about the delicate smile that seemed so natural and yet barely there. On the surface she looked as bored as everyone else, staring blankly into the foreground, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was something deeper at work. She just looked so unspeakably… sad.
And then she’d caught him looking at her and the smile became a bemused smirk. He’d immediately averted his eyes and the ice-cold water of embarrassment turned his head firmly toward Admiral Nagala. He’d been in the middle of dismissing his musings as the foolish projections of his own loneliness when she’d abruptly left the table. He watched as she gracefully swept away to a back balcony door, and he realized that his opportunity to speak with her had just presented itself. He waited what he thought was an appropriate amount of time, and then rose from his seat to follow her.
*********************
Pfft... who needs dialogue?