Response to challenge crossovers
I don't know how I did this, but I just did. And I don't know if this works either. lol
An Alias-Battlestar Galactica crossover.
Post-Epiphanies for BSG and post-s3 for Alias.
A little over 500 words too. XD
Her reflection stared at her. She looked different. At the back of her mind, having alabaster skin, auburn hair and green eyes seemed wrong, but it also felt right. She reached out and touched the mirror. Different, but not.
“Madame President?” a voice from outside the bathroom called out, “the Admiral’s on his way from Galactica.”
Her heart jumped a little. “Thank you, Billy.” She said, her voice sounding somewhat foreign. Bill, she thought and smiled.
She stepped out of the bathroom and looked around. A young man sat in front of her desk, diligently scribbling on a piece of paper. By the wall was a whiteboard with a five-digit number written on it.
“The Admiral wants to discuss the growing problem of the black market, specifically how the Pegasus is involved.”
She blankly stared at him. There was something wrong and she couldn’t comprehend why she’s feeling loopy, why her memories seemed so disjointed with her body and thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” her brain raced to remember his name, “Billy. I’m… out-of-sorts right now.” She said, “Could you, uh, give me a short briefing on this before the… the Admiral gets here?”
“Of course, Madame President.” The young man smiled at her, “It’s nice to have you back, Ma’am.”
He was so young and appeared so idealistic. Efficient too, she realized when he managed to give her the situation in less than five minutes.
There was a knock… somewhere, and the curtains slid open.
“Admiral Adama.” She greeted pleasantly as she stood up from her chair. Her guest, a barrel-chested man in a dark blue military uniform, entered.
“Madame President.” His voice was low, husky. He approached the desk and she motioned him to sit down.
She lowered herself to the chair. He had beautiful blue eyes, she thought, and she remembered how they would light up whenever he smiled. Her brows furrowed. How could she know that when everything else seem like a blur?
Suddenly, she felt a sharp tug in her chest, a painful tug. She drew in a sharp breath, making the Admiral and her aide look at her with concern.
She waved it off and settled on her chair, “Well, let me put it this way, black markets are inevitable. Let’s be realistic-”
Another sharp tug in her chest, much more painful this time. It knocked the breath out of her, gripping her by the shoulders. “Oh my gods.”
A sharp spasm went through her and she gasped for air. Frak, she thought. What’s happening to her?
“Billy,” she heard the admiral bark to her aide, “Call Doc Cottle.”
She felt strong hands touch her and gently balanced her, “Laura.” He said, “Laura, just try to relax.”
Laura. Laura. Laura.
“Jack?”
“He’ll be here.”
Her heart started to beat faster and she felt herself falling, spiraling to a deep, dark, endless pit. She felt numb all over. She couldn’t move.
“Are you awake, little sister?” a familiar voice echoed around her.
She opened her eyes. The lights were low. The room was cold. She tried to move, but found that her arms were restrained.
“Irina.” A face, her sisters, appeared in her line of sight, “Il Diluvio. What can you tell me about it?”
She couldn’t speak. She finally understood what was wrong, finally had an inkling of what was happening to her.
“Tell me, sister.”
“Or what?” Irina defiantly asked.
“Or we do it again.”
An Alias-Battlestar Galactica crossover.
Post-Epiphanies for BSG and post-s3 for Alias.
A little over 500 words too. XD
Her reflection stared at her. She looked different. At the back of her mind, having alabaster skin, auburn hair and green eyes seemed wrong, but it also felt right. She reached out and touched the mirror. Different, but not.
“Madame President?” a voice from outside the bathroom called out, “the Admiral’s on his way from Galactica.”
Her heart jumped a little. “Thank you, Billy.” She said, her voice sounding somewhat foreign. Bill, she thought and smiled.
She stepped out of the bathroom and looked around. A young man sat in front of her desk, diligently scribbling on a piece of paper. By the wall was a whiteboard with a five-digit number written on it.
“The Admiral wants to discuss the growing problem of the black market, specifically how the Pegasus is involved.”
She blankly stared at him. There was something wrong and she couldn’t comprehend why she’s feeling loopy, why her memories seemed so disjointed with her body and thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” her brain raced to remember his name, “Billy. I’m… out-of-sorts right now.” She said, “Could you, uh, give me a short briefing on this before the… the Admiral gets here?”
“Of course, Madame President.” The young man smiled at her, “It’s nice to have you back, Ma’am.”
He was so young and appeared so idealistic. Efficient too, she realized when he managed to give her the situation in less than five minutes.
There was a knock… somewhere, and the curtains slid open.
“Admiral Adama.” She greeted pleasantly as she stood up from her chair. Her guest, a barrel-chested man in a dark blue military uniform, entered.
“Madame President.” His voice was low, husky. He approached the desk and she motioned him to sit down.
She lowered herself to the chair. He had beautiful blue eyes, she thought, and she remembered how they would light up whenever he smiled. Her brows furrowed. How could she know that when everything else seem like a blur?
Suddenly, she felt a sharp tug in her chest, a painful tug. She drew in a sharp breath, making the Admiral and her aide look at her with concern.
She waved it off and settled on her chair, “Well, let me put it this way, black markets are inevitable. Let’s be realistic-”
Another sharp tug in her chest, much more painful this time. It knocked the breath out of her, gripping her by the shoulders. “Oh my gods.”
A sharp spasm went through her and she gasped for air. Frak, she thought. What’s happening to her?
“Billy,” she heard the admiral bark to her aide, “Call Doc Cottle.”
She felt strong hands touch her and gently balanced her, “Laura.” He said, “Laura, just try to relax.”
Laura. Laura. Laura.
“Jack?”
“He’ll be here.”
Her heart started to beat faster and she felt herself falling, spiraling to a deep, dark, endless pit. She felt numb all over. She couldn’t move.
“Are you awake, little sister?” a familiar voice echoed around her.
She opened her eyes. The lights were low. The room was cold. She tried to move, but found that her arms were restrained.
“Irina.” A face, her sisters, appeared in her line of sight, “Il Diluvio. What can you tell me about it?”
She couldn’t speak. She finally understood what was wrong, finally had an inkling of what was happening to her.
“Tell me, sister.”
“Or what?” Irina defiantly asked.
“Or we do it again.”