BSG FIC: A Wicked and Wild Wind
Title: A Wicked and Wild Wind
Author: lls_mutant
Pairing: Laura Roslin/Tom Zarek, with some Laura Roslin/Bill Adama in there as well
Rating: PG-13 to very light R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 7,900
Summary: New Caprica was exactly what Laura expected: gray, cold, and hopeless. Mostly.
Author's Note: For obsessive_a101- sorry about the lateness, especially when you wrote me such an amazing piece!
Laura would never admit it, but that first breath of fresh air when she stepped out of the Raptor was amazing. The thrall paled quickly, of course- this was New Caprica after all- but after over ten months of living inside, it felt fantastic to have fresh air in her lungs and sunshine on her face. She tilted her chin up and closed her eyes, letting this one moment wash over her.
"Not the hellfire you believed, is it, Laura?"
She didn't even open her eyes. "What are you doing here, Tom?"
"Just serving as the welcoming committee."
"More like gloating." She opened her eyes. Tom had his hands in his pockets of his black leather jacket and his roguish excited-little-boy expression, which would amuse her a lot more if she didn't know in her bones that this was a terrible idea. "Go away."
"So gracious, even in defeat." Tom bowed a little. "I'll leave you to get to know our new home, then."
He'd come over for the express purpose of rubbing it all in her face. Laura was tempted to send a mudball flying at the back of his head. She wasn't President anymore- she could do it. But it probably wasn't the best idea she'd ever had.
She sighed and turned back to the landscape and the feeling of being outdoors.
***
New Caprica was not completely lacking in resources, but building took time, and the first thing that Baltar's administration had focused on was a water treatment facility. Which, Laura had to admit, was exactly what she would have done, a fact that only made her irrationally angry. However, as a result, the "city" of New Caprica consisted of mud, tents, public bathrooms and showers, and more mud.
Prior to her retirement, the Galactica had done a lot of disaster relief work. As a result, her holds had contained a large number of tents that were now set up in neat rows and quadrants. Laura hefted her bag up onto her shoulder and consulted her map again, confirming that this was indeed her tent, and then ducked inside out of the cold.
It was rudimentary at best. A cot, a table, a chair, and a lamp. A floor of packed mud, a marked bathing area on a map. She was not in a good mood when someone knocked on her tent pile, and her mood worsened when she saw who it was.
"It's not a good time, Tom," she said.
"What? The accommodations aren't what you're used to?" He was mocking her as he leaned against the pole.
"That's hardly the issue," Laura said coldly.
"You're lying." Tom looked around. "We were housed better in a Sagittaron labor camp. That's saying something."
"It's not the condition of the accommodations," Laura said. "It's the location."
"That's still an issue for you?"
"Did you really think it wouldn't be?" Laura asked, annoyed. He was baiting her, and it was working.
"Well, I'll make sure your complaint has been registered with the President." He drew the last word out, teasing it on his tongue. Laura drew herself up.
"You surprise me. I expected behavior like this from Baltar, but I never thought that you would stoop to trying to make me grovel."
"No? I was meant to grovel under enough boots. I think it's time the tables were turned."
Laura snorted. "You never groveled, Tom."
His eyes lit with recognition and a little of something else. "I know that. And neither will you, Laura."
"Are we playing 'state the obvious' right now? Because if we are, you're letting in the cold and blocking the light."
"Should I come in?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"No. You should get out. Now."
Tom smirked. "I serve at the pleasure of the president," he said, but mercifully, he left. Laura glared after him, willing his jacket to burst into flames. Judging by the lack of screaming from outside, she was unsuccessful. Really, being the Dying Leader needed to come with more perks.
If she even was the Dying Leader, now that she was no longer dying. Now that they were stranded on this mud ball and no longer a caravan in the stars, searching for Earth.
She tossed her bag to the cot and forced it out of her mind, and furiously began to unpack.
***
She might not be President anymore, but there were still people who would help her out, even as Gaius made noises about "special privileges." (Special privileges, her ass. She wouldn't deny that she couldn't wait to get him back once she was elected back into office in four years.) But it was thanks to them that Laura was in a Raptor, making a personal phone call up to the Galactica.
"How is it down there?" Bill asked.
"Cold. Wet. Muddy."
"So about what you expected."
"Something like that." Laura leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. Bill's voice was soothing in its familiarity. "I'm teaching again."
"Are you enjoying it?"
She sighed. "I don't want to say yes."
"You should. New Caprica is going to be a disaster. Leave all the worries and problems to Baltar and just enjoy your own life."
"Mmm." He made it sound so simple, but they both knew it wasn't. "How are things up there?"
"Quiet. The halls seem empty."
"You could always come down here if you get too lonely," Laura teased. Bill's deep, rumbling laugh answered her.
"Thanks. I'll pass."
"You have no idea what you're missing." She put her feet up on the ECO console.
"Cold. Wet. Muddy. That's what you said, anyway."
"I lied. Palm trees and coconuts."
"Nuts is about what you've got down there. I'm allergic."
"Chicken." Her voice was low and drawn out.
They were flirting, and she knew it. She enjoyed it, just as she always had. But she knew better than to read anything into it. Bill was up on his ship, happy to walk emptying halls with ghosts rather than to even consider coming down here. She didn't have any reason to resent his hesitance, but she wasn't going to be blind to it, either. Another world, another time, another place… but right now, Laura Roslin and Bill Adama weren't separated by thousands of miles, but by their mutual unwillingness to cross them. Laura couldn't tear herself from her people, Bill couldn't tear himself from his ship.
Another world, another time, another place, yes. But not this one.
***
Back on Caprica, she'd learned to beg and to plead and to bargain. When you were Secretary of Education, sometimes it was the only way to make your voice heard. For all that politicians went on about how children were the future, they weren't exactly dying to invest in them.
She'd half-harbored a secret hope that Gaius Baltar might be different. For all his incompetence, treachery, and knavery, Gaius Baltar was, at heart, a scientist. He knew the importance of education, especially now, when so much knowledge was only a generation or two away from being lost. But that little hope was crushed within weeks of her arrival on New Caprica.
"Frankly, I would love to be able to give you all the supplies in the world," Baltar told her, gesturing grandly as he sat at his (her) desk, feet up and leaning back in the chair. "In fact, I will. Mr. Gaeta, please make a note. Give all of the designated school supplies left in the world to Ms. Roslin."
"Uh, that's not much, sir. My numbers say that we have seventeen-"
"My point exactly," Baltar said, before Gaeta could rattle the numbers at them. He turned back to Laura. "Where do you propose that I get these magical school supplies from?"
It took real effort to restrain her tongue. "I was not asking for school supplies, Mr. President. What I am asking for is for two more staff positions to be created and funded. There are children who-"
"Who require homes to live in and food to eat," Baltar said. "Surely those projects take priority."
"I am asking for two teachers," Laura said, trying not to grit her teeth as she spoke. "I hardly think that will interfere with your grand plans."
Baltar simply shrugged.
It was impossible to make her case, not because she didn't have the arguments, but because Baltar had already made up his mind. He wanted to make her life difficult for her, to get his petty revenge for any imagined slights he had felt. But either way, it left her raging and helpless, storming out of his office and through a conference room.
"Frustrating day?"
Tom was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He poured one for her and held it out, arching his eyebrows in invitation. Laura hesitated. Tom Zarek wasn't exactly at the top of her list of people she wanted to spend her time with, but he was still Vice President. If there was anyone Baltar would listen to- or anyone who could manipulate Baltar into doing what he wanted, she really didn't care which- Tom Zarek was that person.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the coffee.
"Have a seat," he said, pulling out a chair for her. She stared at him, and he smirked. "Sagittaron mothers are incredibly strict about manners. Mine was no exception."
The thought of Tom Zarek having a mother was oddly humanizing. Laura took the seat and sipped the coffee. It was black and bitter and quite bad, but it was still coffee. "Thank you," she said.
"No problem. What has you up here? The school?"
Something about the fact he automatically assumed it was the school and had not assigned a more sinister or ulterior motive to her visit relaxed Laura a little bit. "The school," she said. "We need more teachers."
"I see."
"The problem is that if people don't work in their assigned jobs, they don't get paid. Fair enough. But I need to be able to pay teachers. I need at least two, three would be better and four would be best, teachers who can help me with the school and be paid for their efforts."
"Do you have anyone in mind?" Tom asked, templing his fingers together and looking over them at her.
"I am not the only former teacher in the Fleet," Laura said. "There are several others."
Tom nodded, silently considering. "Three," he said finally. "Get three."
Laura cocked her head. "And you're going to pay their salary out of your own pocket?"
"No, I'm going to make Gaius see reason."
Laura snorted into her coffee. "Good luck with that."
"You underestimate me."
"No. You underestimate the stubbornness of Gaius Baltar when he's holding a grudge."
"And yet, you chose him as your Vice President. Would it really have been this repellent for me to hold the position?" He winked at her. Laura ground her teeth against the rim of her coffee cup, because the infuriating part was that she really wasn't sure of the answer. Tom didn't notice. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll prove you wrong. If I don't have the budget for three salaried positions the day after tomorrow, you win."
"I win what?" Laura said.
"The chance to look me in the eye and tell me you were right and I was wrong."
Laura couldn't help laughing at that. "The most valuable commodity on New Caprica, indeed."
Tom shrugged. "Very few people have been given that honor."
"Plenty of people tell you that you were wrong."
"But I never agree. This time, I would be forced to admit it." Tom smiled again, flashing all of his teeth. "Come on, Laura, admit it. You can't resist this chance to bring me to my knees."
"And if you succeed?" Laura asked. "Do I have to be on my knees?" The words were barely out of her mouth when she realized exactly how that sounded, and she clamped her jaw shut to keep from retracting it.
"No," Tom said smoothly, although his smirk deepened. "Either you get the teachers or you get to humiliate me. It's a win-win situation for you."
Laura tilted her head, examining him. "What's your angle, Tom? You aren't the altruist type."
He took a long sip of his own coffee before answering her. "Maybe I agree with you about the value of education. Maybe I'm concerned about the nature of our work system and worry that it's already becoming too much like a labor camp. Maybe I'd like to bury the hatchet between us and for us to become friends. And maybe," he drummed his fingers against the mug, "Gaius needs to remember how he got to his position and why, and this is the perfect chance to remind him."
"Ah, and there is the angle, right there," Laura said. She drained the last of her coffee and stood up, extending her hand to Tom. "All right, then. There's the challenge, should you choose to accept it. Three new teachers."
Tom stood and took her hand. His was warm and callused against hers, and he covered their joined hands with his free one and locked his gaze on hers. "I'll do it," he promised, a little too solemnly. "I won't let you down."
***
Late the next night, Felix Gaeta stopped by the school tent. "Ms. Roslin?" he said, extending a stack of papers to her. "Here are the contracts for three new teachers."
Laura leafed through the papers, noting Baltar's signature on each. "Thank you, Mr. Gaeta."
"Glad to be of service, ma'am." He didn't salute, but Laura thought it was only because he caught himself at the last minute. She shook her head and waved him off, her eyes on the contracts. Tom Zarek had actually come through for her.
Frak. Now what was she going to do about that?
***
It wasn't easy to walk into Colonial One to thank Tom Zarek, but Laura wasn't one to back down from a challenge. So she walked in with her head held high and like she still owned the place, because while she was here to express her gratitude, Tom didn't really need to know how pathetically grateful she was.
"You were right," she said without any preamble, leaning against the door of Tom's office. He looked up from his desk, startled. "Thank you."
It seemed to take him a second or two longer than normal to regain his composure. "You're welcome."
"So did that fulfill your wildest fantasies?" Laura asked sourly. "Me begging you for help?"
Tom blinked. "If you think that's my wildest fantasy, you have a very tame opinion of me, Laura."
Laura closed her eyes at that. "I feel like I should do more to thank you, but I'm afraid to ask what."
"You don't need to. It was an opportunity that served both of our interests. You know politics well enough to see that."
She did, but she wasn't in politics anymore. The position left her feeling wrong-footed and unsure, even if though she knew it shouldn't.
"Or," Tom continued, when Laura didn't speak, "you could go to dinner with me."
Laura arched an eyebrow. "I am sure," she said firmly, "that you are not trying to coerce a constituent into giving you sexual favors for political ones."
Tom's eyes flared open wide in an expression of such genuine surprise that there was no way it could be faked. "No!" he denied hastily. "I just thought… I mean-"
She'd thrown him off-balance, and badly. Interesting. She decided to take pity on him. "I'm sorry, Tom. I overstepped."
"No." He was back to himself again, mostly. Just a little bit ruffled. "I hadn't intended-"
"Where did you have in mind?" Laura interrupted. "Some intimate little corner bistro, or a five star restaurant across town?"
"Cute. There's a bar tent in quadrant A3."
"Of course."
Tom shrugged. "They do at least have some food. It's not bad."
"All right. I'll meet you there tonight."
He smiled at her, and she smiled back. It wouldn't go down in history as her favorite evening ever, but maybe it was time to start thinking of Tom Zarek as a potential ally, even if he was one she'd have to watch every step of the way.
***
The food at the bar tent was exactly what Laura expected; greasy, heavy, and cheap, or it would have been back on the Colonies. Laura picked at her portion as she listened to Tom talk.
"We're finally ready to begin construction on the first apartment complex," he said, carefully tearing the meat off the bones of the roasted bird he was eating. "Gaius is planning on making an occasion of it. 'Founder's Day', he wants to call it." Laura snorted, and Tom looked up. "It's not a bad idea, Laura. The more we can find to celebrate, the happier people will be."
People were already unhappy. The novelty of being outside and out of spaceships had worn off, and the reality of mud and cold was starting to settle in. "I suppose," she allowed.
"You don't like the idea."
She shrugged. "It's not so much the idea of Founder's Day," she admitted. "It's the construction of the apartment complex."
"It will vastly improve conditions and morale," Tom began, but Laura held up her hand.
"Don't give me the arguments, Tom. It's not that it's a bad idea, it's the permanence of the thing."
His eyes lit with understanding. "New Caprica is permanent, Laura. Earth isn't going to happen. Maybe it was never going to happen."
She didn't answer, she just picked at her meat.
Tom cleared his throat. "The beer is good, at least. It's been a long time since I've had beer."
"I saw you drinking one on Colonial Day."
"I meant before that," Tom said easily. "Prison and labor camps aren't exactly known for their alcohol."
He looked like he was going to talk about it. Laura didn't want to hear it. Despite the fact he'd helped her, Tom Zarek still had the potential to be a dangerous political enemy, especially in four years. In four years, she would run for President again, and unless Baltar turned out to be a paragon of excellent judgment, Tom would be her opponent. Respect was one thing, as was cordiality. But she did not need sympathy for the man to cloud her judgment. So she changed the subject, guiding the conversation to talk of food instead of alcohol, urging Tom to tell her about Sagittaron cooking. It was a subject she had very little interest in, but it kept him off of talking about prison.
Late that night, Tom walked her back to her tent. The beer and the food made her warm and relaxed, and they walked close enough that the leather of Tom's jacket brushed against Laura's arm.
"Thanks for joining me," Tom said, when they were standing in front of her tent. "It was nice to have company."
"Thank you for the invitation. It was… interesting."
"Interesting." Tom smirked at her description. "I'm not going to bite you, Laura." He winked. "Unless you ask."
"I'm sure," Laura said dryly. Although, to be fair to Tom, he did have manners and morals. Then again, that was what made him dangerous- the fact that he could be so charming, even when calling for bloody revolution.
He bowed again, and this time there was no mistaking the mocking in the gesture. "My lady," he said, and then headed down the packed dirt road. Laura shook her head and went inside.
***
A smile here, a friendly word there. That was bad enough. But then there was an extra heater for the school tent sent over and two more tables. Scrap paper from the printers in Colonial One and a collection of bedraggled books.
"What is Mr. Zarek's game?" Laura asked Gaeta when he dropped a load off. "There's no reason why he should be doing any of this."
Gaeta looked surprised by her accusation. "The Vice President supports education," he said, like he honestly believed it. The problem with trying to use an innocent in a political game was that they truly were innocent, Laura reflected ruefully. She should have known better than to ask.
***
"You're doing fine," Cottle told her examining the charts.
The medical tent was just as rudimentary as the rest of the settlement, but the equipment inside it bespoke of the civilization that they'd been forced to leave behind. There was something comforting about the beeps and lights, and the electrical cords buried in mud and the whir of the generator. Cottle didn't live planet-side full time yet, but the day was fast coming.
"I'm still waiting for the cancer to reappear," Laura admitted. "For it to all be some dirty trick of Baltar's."
"Well, I can certainly understand why you'd think that," Cottle said, "because I've never seen a patient go into remission like this myself. But so far, so good. Just make sure you see Ishay on the way out. We've got the new vaccinations ready to go."
Laura was sitting in the waiting area when Tom Zarek sat down beside her. "Here for the vaccination?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought Sagittarons didn't set much by modern medicine."
Tom snorted. "Some. All right, many. But I'm not going to turn down good science for shaky faith, especially when I've got no reason to believe that there are any gods waiting to do me favors."
"Is that an admission of guilt, Mr. Zarek?" Laura teased, but Tom's face didn't soften.
"Is it any wonder that the most persecuted, most oppressed planet in the Colonies is the most religious?" Tom asked. "That's what happens when faith is substituted for knowledge. The people become slack, willing to believe that this is their lot because some vengeful deities are raining misery on them, rather than opening their eyes to the truth of their situation. The truth that they are slaves, being taken advantage of by those who would exploit the mindset they bought into."
"Mmm. Sounds suspiciously like one of Gaius Baltar's 'Laura Roslin is a fear-mongerer' campaign speeches."
Tom laughed a little. "If the shoe fits, Laura, feel free to wear it. Although I actually was talking about Sagittaron. Their determination to cling to their faith is part of the problem."
"So you advocate atheism?"
Tom shrugged. "I think those who believe in the Gods are kidding themselves, but I'm not going to say that. But there's a difference between belief and religion. One is a deeper faith in something larger than all of us, and one is a set of rules and brainwashings designed to bring people into a mindset where they can be manipulated and ruled. I understand faith. I can't understand religion. Did you ever spend any time on Sagittaron?"
Laura frowned. "No," she admitted. Because no one went there if they could help it, and travel in and out of Sagittaron was limited anyway.
"It would have been very educational," Tom said. "Hell, it's even educational to go over to the Sagittaron settlement here on New Caprica. It's amazing how they cling to the old ways." Interestingly, he didn't sound as derisive as he did frustrated. "The cycle will not break unless Sagittarons take steps to break it."
"I'd like to think that that sort of oppression isn't happening in this Fleet," Laura said.
"Then you're delusional."
"I didn't say I did think it. I said I'd like to." Laura sighed. "I know if I go over there, I'll see terrible conditions. But tell me, Mr. Vice President, where on New Caprica will I not find those?"
"Things are improving all the time. For example, the nurse just called your for your vaccine."
Laura glared at him and stood up. Leave it to Tom to claim credit for a vaccine he had nothing to do with.
There was truth to what he said about Sagittaron, however. Laura knew that. Just because she didn't agree with his methods didn't mean she didn't see the motivations. She just sometimes… forgot. The Sagittarons were difficult enough to deal with and always had been, even before the Colonies were attacked. It was sometimes hard to remember that Tom had done what he'd done because Sagittaron was his home. She couldn't say she would have done the same- in fact, she knew she wouldn't have. She was the one who said the war was over and they'd lost, she was the one who'd urged Adama to run. But then, that was the difference between them.
But for the first time, and only for a moment, Laura wondered how much she might have liked and respected Tom Zarek if he hadn't chosen to fight his war by terrorism.
***
She hiked. No matter what else New Caprica brought, no matter what trials and difficulties, it brought the chance to be outside, out in the fresh air. The chance to feel alive, now that she had a second chance on life. Laura couldn't resent that.
She followed streams, she climbed hills. She watched the wildlife of this gray, dismal planet and picked the flowers. Life had evolved similarly to that of the Colonies, so most of the species were recognizable, even if not exact replicas of their Colonial counterparts.
There was a place she loved where the stream flowed clear and the sky stretched overhead. It was over an hour's walk from the settlement, far enough that she couldn't hear the bustling of what Baltar called a city. There were only birds here, and the rippling of water over streams, and the smell of fresh air and forest.
She found the leaves by accident. At first she thought they were wild strawberries, and she'd been searching for the telltale sparks of red among the green. But then she remembered the shape from her days in college. It didn't seem quite possible, but then, maybe the gods owed her one by now. She picked a full bouquet of them and carried them back to the settlement.
Cottle would have her head if he knew what she was doing. Drying and smoking unknown leaves without testing them for poison or examining their properties… the hell with Cottle. If she died from this little experiment, at least it would be quick.
She didn't die, and when she inhaled the smoke from her homemade cigarette, she knew it was close to the same stuff. Smoother, actually, and with a sweeter smell. Imagine that. If nothing else, New Caprica grew good drugs. There had to be some irony at work there, especially given the pleasure seeking boozehound of a president.
Still. At least it was something.
***
The smell of the weed was laced through her memories of Founder's Day, lingering on the crisp air and the fabric of Bill Adama's uniform. The music and the sunshine emphasized the hopeful aspect of the day, and people actually seemed optimistic. Darkness and reality felt out of place here.
Laura wouldn't say that she'd dreamed of sleeping with Bill, but it felt like an inevitable conclusion that had been a long time in coming. She lay with him after, wrapped up in the warmth of her blankets in her tent, the stars still fresh in her mind.
In the morning, Bill still went back up to the Galactica, and Laura still stayed on the ground. There were no promises and no plans, only mutual smiles and the reassurance that this had been a good thing. No commitments.
Laura stood in the field and watched his Raptor leave, not regretting anything except for the fact that they weren't all going up there to continue the search for Earth.
***
The first snowfall on New Caprica was wet and white, and the kids were delighted. Laura stood outside, watching them run and scoop snowballs up to throw at each other. Soon a small army of snowmen were erected in the little playground, and the children were all red-cheeked and laughing. Laura was helping with a pair of snow encrusted mittens when something hit her in the back of the head. She whirled to see Tom Zarek, hands in his pockets and whistling innocently.
"You did not just do that."
"Do what?" Tom asked, looking up at the sky.
Laura smiled. "Brianna?" she asked the little girl whose mittens she'd just sorted out. "Did the Vice President just throw a snowball at me?" Brianna nodded. "Hmmm. I see. And what do you think we should about that?"
"I think you should throw a snowball at him," Brianna said, obviously delighted at the prospect.
"Perhaps. But I also think that Mr. Zarek has underestimated how this school sticks together."
"Oh, you are not bringing innocent children into this!" Tom protested.
"You started it," Laura said. "Kids?" She gestured to Tom. "Have at it."
There was one thing kids could be counted on to do, and that was bombard people with snowballs when asked. Within seconds, Tom Zarek was covered in snow, laughing as he scooped up snow to make his own snowballs and fire them back at the kids. Laura couldn't resist throwing a few of her own, and the kids were having fun. It ended with Tom on his back in the snow, one kid dumping snow on his face and two others throwing snowballs at his legs as he half-laughed and half begged for mercy.
"All right." Laura took pity on him and called off her class. "Let's let the Vice President up, please." She reached down and offered him a hand. "Mr. Zarek?"
Tom was still laughing as he took Laura's hand and let her haul him to his feet. His cheeks and nose were red in the cold, and the white of the snow stood out in contrast to his dark hair. "They're vicious," he admitted.
"They're children. I hope you aren't going to bring us all up on the charge of treason."
"No. I'm pretty sure you've got witnesses that saw me throw the first snowball. Bad idea on my part." Tom brushed the snow off. "I was going to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner again, but right now I'm literally terrified of your rejection. Especially when you can release your minions on me."
Laura couldn't help laughing. "You learn quickly."
"So I take it that is a no?"
It could be. It probably should be. But for some reason, Laura heard herself saying, "Actually, no. It's not. I'll meet you at the bar tonight?"
Tom looked like he couldn't believe his luck. "All right. I'll see you tonight."
***
"I don't understand why you're going," Maya said to her that night as Laura dressed to go out. "It's Tom Zarek. It's not like you to get all sappy and mushy just because he had a snowball fight with the kids."
"No, it's not," Laura agreed. "And that's not why I'm going. Does this top look all right?"
"The other one looked better." Successfully diverted by questions of fashion, Maya never noticed that Laura didn't answer her original question. Which was just as well. Laura didn't know the answer, either.
***
It wasn't a date. It was two people with common interests, discussing what was best for the people of the Fleet as they ate food together. It wasn't a date at all. He didn't kiss her, she didn't kiss him. Neither of them even tried, and Tom didn't seem to expect anything, even as he walked her back to her tent again.
It absolutely, positively wasn't a date.
***
The tuberculosis outbreak started in the Sagittaron sector of the settlement. In retrospect, no one was surprised.
"I don't understand it," Laura said to Cottle, listening to the coughing in the medical tent. "The vaccine-"
"The vaccine wasn't for tuberculosis," Cottle explained. He didn't seem overly upset by the fact. "Even if it was, I can't guarantee that the strain we'd vaccinate against is the strain that's going around now."
"So what happens?" Laura asked. "What sort of numbers are we potentially looking at?"
He heard her shift to President again, caught her eye with a sympathetic sort of look. But instead of saying anything, he just lit a cigarette and studied his file. "Well, we've got the antibiotics we'd need, or the Galactica does. We'll have to get more down here."
"That's not an answer, Doctor."
"I need to see our stores. It's not as deadly as you might think. It's stubborn, but we do have some supplies from the disaster relief pods. TB tends to run rampant in refugee camps. And there are measures that can be taken. The question is, will the government stir itself to take them?" He grunted, and they exchanged a meaningful look. After all, it was Gaius Baltar. The answer should be obvious.
***
The answer should have been obvious. Gaius Baltar understood nothing about the finer points of negotiation or the implications of laws. However, to Laura's intense surprise, he rose to this challenge swiftly and, to her mild horror, easily. Antibiotics were obtained, public health measures were imposed, and although distribution was flawed, it eventually happened. What could have been a disaster wasn't.
"Well, the President is a scientist," Gaeta said when Laura expressed her surprise. "What do you expect?"
Of course. Baltar could deal with tuberculosis because it was a matter of science, not a matter of people, and once again his scientific acumen was mistaken for leadership. Laura watched the people, many of whom were growing restless with Baltar's regime, settle back down and express admiration for the President again. She wanted to shake them all, to make them see how blind they were being, but no one would listen. The crisis had been too well averted.
Laura began to feel like she was fighting against smoke, all her moves ineffective against an elusive enemy.
***
The construction on the first apartment building proceeded slowly. Laura watched the bulky building grow in lurches and spurts, never actually getting anywhere close to done. The snow was no longer a fluffy white novelty, but cold, gray slush that just seemed to stay on the ground without melting. It soaked through her shoes as she stood looking at the husk of the building.
"Picking out your apartment?"
He'd startled her, but Laura did her best not to show it. She faced the building, arms crossed over her chest. "You do like sneaking up on people, don't you, Tom?"
"I'm full of surprises," he agreed, stepping beside her. He blew on his fingers, rubbing them together. "It's going slow."
She cocked an eyebrow as she looked at him. "Are you actually admitting failure?"
"No." He sighed heavily. "I am admitting frustration, though."
"Mmm."
"You sound skeptical, like I want people living in the mud and cold."
She glanced at him. He was staring at that building with an expression of betrayal, like the building's unfinished state was a personal insult to him. "I knew this place wasn't going to be paradise," he admitted, "but I didn't think…."
"It would be this bad?"
Tom looked away. "Sagittaron isn't a very hospitable planet, either," he said. "But we managed there." He took a deep breath and turned back to the incomplete building. "We'll manage here, too."
"You really believe that," Laura said slowly. "You really think we can thrive here."
"Did you ever think I didn't?" Tom asked.
"Of course. I thought it was all a ploy for the election."
"Well, I'm not going to say that wasn't the purpose." Tom didn't even look embarrassed as he said that. "Politics, Laura. We needed an issue to separate us from you. But it never would have worked if there wasn't merit to the idea." He shrugged. "I didn't lead us all here to die. I led us here to start a new life. To hide from the Cylons, to grow into a civilization, to put our roots down and thrive."
And what you found instead was a gray wasteland. "It's not too late," Laura said softly. "Disrupting the settlement process would be difficult, but hardly impossible and-"
"It's not too late at all," Tom interrupted sharply. "These things take time. I'm not giving up on New Caprica, if that's what you're thinking. Not when we have this chance."
"This chance," Laura scoffed. "This chance for what?"
"To build something." His voice cut through the wind and her with the same intensity. "To build a society that gets it right, to construct the dawn of a new era in human history. To-"
Laura shut him up with a kiss.
His eyes flared open and for a moment he just stood there as she kissed him, too startled to do anything. But as she didn't pull away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and began to kiss her back, and Laura buried her fingers in the black leather of his jacket.
It wasn't love that made her kiss him, and it wasn't lust. She wasn't even sure exactly what it was, except that it numbed the pain of hearing those dreams of what New Caprica was meant to be as they stood in the mud looking at the reality. The wind whipped around them, catching her skirt and her hair and making them dance.
They found themselves against a half-built wall, sheltered from both wind and view. Laura pulled Tom closer to her and her skirt wound up around her waist, and then he was inside her and she could close her eyes and see nothing. She just felt the rough concrete at her back and him driving into her, one hand holding her leg up as the other braced against the wall. She didn't open her eyes- she didn't want to see his face. She just kept them closed and let her frak her as she frakked him, until all that remained was sensation.
It ended too quickly. Laura found her footing as she straightened her clothing, and Tom moved over and ducked his head against the wall. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, if he was pleased by this or if that expression on his face was something more. Laura decided she didn't care.
"Well," he said, when he got his breath. "That was unexpected."
"It was," Laura agreed.
"But not unwelcome."
She knew then what she hadn't acknowledged for ages- Tom was attracted to her. It was hard to be flattered by that; Laura had the suspicion that twenty years in a mens' labor camp and prison lowered standards. But at the same time, he'd been in a position of power for eight months in the Fleet and several months on New Caprica. He wasn't desperate by any stretch of the imagination.
He was an attractive man- she could admit that. Attractive and surprisingly good at what he did, even if he was unpracticed and rusty. There were worse partners she could have. She straightened her skirt and looked back at the building.
"I'm not a romantic, you know," Tom said when she didn't speak. "I don't expect you to fall into my arms and be swept away. This is what it is, Laura."
"And what is it, Tom?"
He shrugged. "Convenience. A means to an end."
She nodded. "That's right." Something inside her loosened. He understood.
They stood side by side, looking at the building and not saying another word as the wind blew between them.
***
Two things that Laura quickly learned about Tom Zarek: he was more than capable of being discreet, and he was more than capable of keeping his emotions separate from sex. She didn't know why the first surprised her so much- she'd never been able to actually pin any misdeeds on Tom, even though she knew damn well his hands weren't as spotless as he pretended they were. Tom was probably one of the sneakiest people and best liars left in existence. The second, that he could keep his emotions so separate, surprised her in that she was surprised. She wasn't really used to thinking of Tom as someone who had strong emotions.
She was lying in his bed, naked under the covers as she studied the three books he had on his night stand. "Really, Tom?" she asked as she picked one up. "Graphie's Host?"
"I like supernatural novels," Tom said, not opening his eyes. He was lying in his back beside her, half asleep.
"It's not that it's a supernatural novel," Laura said. "It's that I'm quite certain it was popular among teenage girls on Caprica before the attacks."
"I would believe it. But you're the one always complaining to me about how hard it is to find books for the school. So unless you have a better book to give me, preferably with werewolves, I'd ask that you leave it alone."
Laura put the book back. "I should think about going anyway," she said. "I want to be home before dark."
"I can walk you."
"It's not that. I still have marking to do."
"Oh." Tom nestled down into the covers. Laura noticed that he didn't ask her to stay. Just as well, because she would have said no.
She eased out of the bed, her motion making Tom open his eyes long enough to watch her search for her clothing and get dressed. He propped himself up on one elbow. "You look like you're thinking," Laura said suspiciously.
Tom laughed. "Not about anything like what you're thinking, I'm sure," he said. "Truth be told, I was thinking about how Graphie's Host would have been received on Sagittaron."
"Really."
Tom shrugged. "You don't think the subject of censorship is an interesting one to me?"
"I just find it amusing that you're thinking so seriously about a novel that's got sixteen year old girls across the Colonies arguing over which boy a heroine should choose."
"And why should what sixteen year old girls read be considered unimportant?" Tom asked. "Explain me that, Madame Educator."
She really, really hated it when Tom had a point. "I'll see you later," Laura said, slipping her feet into her shoes. Tom, smug in the knowledge that he'd gotten the last word in, watched her go.
It was cold outside the tent, and Laura shivered as she pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders. The dying sunlight bathed everything in a dull gray, and the smells of cooking permeated the air. She wished she could look at New Caprica with a renewed appreciation and affection, but all she saw was the gray and the sludge and the mud, and the unfinished bulk of the apartment complex looming over them all. Nothing had changed, in New Caprica or in her.
***
"I'm coming down tomorrow," Bill told her. "Just for the night. That will be more than enough. Do you want to do dinner?"
"Absolutely," Laura said, smiling as she fiddled with the communicator buttons. "I'll meet you at the airfield." The smile lingered on her lips long after she hung up the communicator.
The day seemed a little brighter when she stepped out of the ship, and the colors a little sharper. And as she made her plans for the evening, clearing the way for Bill to spend the night in her tent, she didn't think about Tom Zarek at all.
***
Tom knew that Laura spent the night with Bill- she could see it on his face. But he didn't say a word, and nothing changed between them. Laura wasn't sure he even cared.
He didn't have other partners, as far as she knew. But then, they were discreet enough that no one knew about them, and Tom was good at hiding things. She might just not know it. The truth was, Laura wasn't sure she even cared.
Bill went back to the Galactica, and nothing changed. Nothing at all, until the day the Cylons landed. Then the whole world turned upside down.
***
With the Centurions clanking outside and the skinjobs patrolling the streets, something in Laura changed. Something became sharper, more purposeful, more energetic. This enemy was not smoke and elusiveness but metal and bone and unambiguous.
She didn't see Tom, but she didn't see much of anyone in the government. They'd bent and bowed, and Laura didn't expect help from any of them. Tom Zarek fell from her mind as she focused on what had to be done.
***
They saved each other on New Caprica, him pulling her back and her throwing him to the ground. She knew he defended her as made her way to Colonial One, and she rewarded his courage in standing up to Baltar and the Cylons with the Vice Presidency. For two whole days, Laura believed that maybe things could change. Miracles had happened, after all- Bill had gotten them all off that godforsaken rock. Tom had his moments, and maybe they could work together. Maybe they could be allies. Maybe there was a chance.
And then Laura found out about the Circle, and she knew that she had misjudged Tom Zarek once again.
***
"You don't change, do you?" Laura said as they stood alone in her office.
Tom shrugged. "Did you expect me to?"
"I really thought you had." Laura shuffled some papers into a pile on her desk.
"Ask yourself something," he said. "Is it possible that you've always seen what you wanted to see when it comes to me? That it's more convenient to see me as a terrorist and a rival?"
"More convenient than what?" Laura asked when he didn't finish his sentence.
Tom smiled a little. "I'm not an archetype, Laura, as much as you might like to believe that I one."
Laura smirked. "This isn't one of those 'you never saw the man I really was' conversations, is it?"
"Actually, that's exactly what it is, but I just couldn't find a way of saying it that didn't sound like a romance novel," Tom laughed. "And having it isn't going to change things, so we'll skip it."
"No," Laura said, moving in. "We don't have to. Tell me, Tom, where was I wrong?"
She didn't know how she wanted him to answer, or if she wanted him to answer at all. She didn’t get either. Instead, Tom closed his briefcase. "It doesn't matter. The damage is done, on both sides. I'll go now, Madame President." He said the last two words with such a bitter contempt that Laura almost pulled back in surprise, except that she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He bowed to her, and then walked out of the office.
Laura stood at her desk, staring at the door. For a moment she was back on New Caprica, in the gray and the cold and the biting wind, Tom next to her as they looked at the mangled hopes of humanity together. But it was a moment, and Laura had never been one to dwell on the past.
She sat down at her desk, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and bent over to her work.
Author: lls_mutant
Pairing: Laura Roslin/Tom Zarek, with some Laura Roslin/Bill Adama in there as well
Rating: PG-13 to very light R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 7,900
Summary: New Caprica was exactly what Laura expected: gray, cold, and hopeless. Mostly.
Author's Note: For obsessive_a101- sorry about the lateness, especially when you wrote me such an amazing piece!
Laura would never admit it, but that first breath of fresh air when she stepped out of the Raptor was amazing. The thrall paled quickly, of course- this was New Caprica after all- but after over ten months of living inside, it felt fantastic to have fresh air in her lungs and sunshine on her face. She tilted her chin up and closed her eyes, letting this one moment wash over her.
"Not the hellfire you believed, is it, Laura?"
She didn't even open her eyes. "What are you doing here, Tom?"
"Just serving as the welcoming committee."
"More like gloating." She opened her eyes. Tom had his hands in his pockets of his black leather jacket and his roguish excited-little-boy expression, which would amuse her a lot more if she didn't know in her bones that this was a terrible idea. "Go away."
"So gracious, even in defeat." Tom bowed a little. "I'll leave you to get to know our new home, then."
He'd come over for the express purpose of rubbing it all in her face. Laura was tempted to send a mudball flying at the back of his head. She wasn't President anymore- she could do it. But it probably wasn't the best idea she'd ever had.
She sighed and turned back to the landscape and the feeling of being outdoors.
***
New Caprica was not completely lacking in resources, but building took time, and the first thing that Baltar's administration had focused on was a water treatment facility. Which, Laura had to admit, was exactly what she would have done, a fact that only made her irrationally angry. However, as a result, the "city" of New Caprica consisted of mud, tents, public bathrooms and showers, and more mud.
Prior to her retirement, the Galactica had done a lot of disaster relief work. As a result, her holds had contained a large number of tents that were now set up in neat rows and quadrants. Laura hefted her bag up onto her shoulder and consulted her map again, confirming that this was indeed her tent, and then ducked inside out of the cold.
It was rudimentary at best. A cot, a table, a chair, and a lamp. A floor of packed mud, a marked bathing area on a map. She was not in a good mood when someone knocked on her tent pile, and her mood worsened when she saw who it was.
"It's not a good time, Tom," she said.
"What? The accommodations aren't what you're used to?" He was mocking her as he leaned against the pole.
"That's hardly the issue," Laura said coldly.
"You're lying." Tom looked around. "We were housed better in a Sagittaron labor camp. That's saying something."
"It's not the condition of the accommodations," Laura said. "It's the location."
"That's still an issue for you?"
"Did you really think it wouldn't be?" Laura asked, annoyed. He was baiting her, and it was working.
"Well, I'll make sure your complaint has been registered with the President." He drew the last word out, teasing it on his tongue. Laura drew herself up.
"You surprise me. I expected behavior like this from Baltar, but I never thought that you would stoop to trying to make me grovel."
"No? I was meant to grovel under enough boots. I think it's time the tables were turned."
Laura snorted. "You never groveled, Tom."
His eyes lit with recognition and a little of something else. "I know that. And neither will you, Laura."
"Are we playing 'state the obvious' right now? Because if we are, you're letting in the cold and blocking the light."
"Should I come in?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"No. You should get out. Now."
Tom smirked. "I serve at the pleasure of the president," he said, but mercifully, he left. Laura glared after him, willing his jacket to burst into flames. Judging by the lack of screaming from outside, she was unsuccessful. Really, being the Dying Leader needed to come with more perks.
If she even was the Dying Leader, now that she was no longer dying. Now that they were stranded on this mud ball and no longer a caravan in the stars, searching for Earth.
She tossed her bag to the cot and forced it out of her mind, and furiously began to unpack.
***
She might not be President anymore, but there were still people who would help her out, even as Gaius made noises about "special privileges." (Special privileges, her ass. She wouldn't deny that she couldn't wait to get him back once she was elected back into office in four years.) But it was thanks to them that Laura was in a Raptor, making a personal phone call up to the Galactica.
"How is it down there?" Bill asked.
"Cold. Wet. Muddy."
"So about what you expected."
"Something like that." Laura leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. Bill's voice was soothing in its familiarity. "I'm teaching again."
"Are you enjoying it?"
She sighed. "I don't want to say yes."
"You should. New Caprica is going to be a disaster. Leave all the worries and problems to Baltar and just enjoy your own life."
"Mmm." He made it sound so simple, but they both knew it wasn't. "How are things up there?"
"Quiet. The halls seem empty."
"You could always come down here if you get too lonely," Laura teased. Bill's deep, rumbling laugh answered her.
"Thanks. I'll pass."
"You have no idea what you're missing." She put her feet up on the ECO console.
"Cold. Wet. Muddy. That's what you said, anyway."
"I lied. Palm trees and coconuts."
"Nuts is about what you've got down there. I'm allergic."
"Chicken." Her voice was low and drawn out.
They were flirting, and she knew it. She enjoyed it, just as she always had. But she knew better than to read anything into it. Bill was up on his ship, happy to walk emptying halls with ghosts rather than to even consider coming down here. She didn't have any reason to resent his hesitance, but she wasn't going to be blind to it, either. Another world, another time, another place… but right now, Laura Roslin and Bill Adama weren't separated by thousands of miles, but by their mutual unwillingness to cross them. Laura couldn't tear herself from her people, Bill couldn't tear himself from his ship.
Another world, another time, another place, yes. But not this one.
***
Back on Caprica, she'd learned to beg and to plead and to bargain. When you were Secretary of Education, sometimes it was the only way to make your voice heard. For all that politicians went on about how children were the future, they weren't exactly dying to invest in them.
She'd half-harbored a secret hope that Gaius Baltar might be different. For all his incompetence, treachery, and knavery, Gaius Baltar was, at heart, a scientist. He knew the importance of education, especially now, when so much knowledge was only a generation or two away from being lost. But that little hope was crushed within weeks of her arrival on New Caprica.
"Frankly, I would love to be able to give you all the supplies in the world," Baltar told her, gesturing grandly as he sat at his (her) desk, feet up and leaning back in the chair. "In fact, I will. Mr. Gaeta, please make a note. Give all of the designated school supplies left in the world to Ms. Roslin."
"Uh, that's not much, sir. My numbers say that we have seventeen-"
"My point exactly," Baltar said, before Gaeta could rattle the numbers at them. He turned back to Laura. "Where do you propose that I get these magical school supplies from?"
It took real effort to restrain her tongue. "I was not asking for school supplies, Mr. President. What I am asking for is for two more staff positions to be created and funded. There are children who-"
"Who require homes to live in and food to eat," Baltar said. "Surely those projects take priority."
"I am asking for two teachers," Laura said, trying not to grit her teeth as she spoke. "I hardly think that will interfere with your grand plans."
Baltar simply shrugged.
It was impossible to make her case, not because she didn't have the arguments, but because Baltar had already made up his mind. He wanted to make her life difficult for her, to get his petty revenge for any imagined slights he had felt. But either way, it left her raging and helpless, storming out of his office and through a conference room.
"Frustrating day?"
Tom was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He poured one for her and held it out, arching his eyebrows in invitation. Laura hesitated. Tom Zarek wasn't exactly at the top of her list of people she wanted to spend her time with, but he was still Vice President. If there was anyone Baltar would listen to- or anyone who could manipulate Baltar into doing what he wanted, she really didn't care which- Tom Zarek was that person.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the coffee.
"Have a seat," he said, pulling out a chair for her. She stared at him, and he smirked. "Sagittaron mothers are incredibly strict about manners. Mine was no exception."
The thought of Tom Zarek having a mother was oddly humanizing. Laura took the seat and sipped the coffee. It was black and bitter and quite bad, but it was still coffee. "Thank you," she said.
"No problem. What has you up here? The school?"
Something about the fact he automatically assumed it was the school and had not assigned a more sinister or ulterior motive to her visit relaxed Laura a little bit. "The school," she said. "We need more teachers."
"I see."
"The problem is that if people don't work in their assigned jobs, they don't get paid. Fair enough. But I need to be able to pay teachers. I need at least two, three would be better and four would be best, teachers who can help me with the school and be paid for their efforts."
"Do you have anyone in mind?" Tom asked, templing his fingers together and looking over them at her.
"I am not the only former teacher in the Fleet," Laura said. "There are several others."
Tom nodded, silently considering. "Three," he said finally. "Get three."
Laura cocked her head. "And you're going to pay their salary out of your own pocket?"
"No, I'm going to make Gaius see reason."
Laura snorted into her coffee. "Good luck with that."
"You underestimate me."
"No. You underestimate the stubbornness of Gaius Baltar when he's holding a grudge."
"And yet, you chose him as your Vice President. Would it really have been this repellent for me to hold the position?" He winked at her. Laura ground her teeth against the rim of her coffee cup, because the infuriating part was that she really wasn't sure of the answer. Tom didn't notice. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll prove you wrong. If I don't have the budget for three salaried positions the day after tomorrow, you win."
"I win what?" Laura said.
"The chance to look me in the eye and tell me you were right and I was wrong."
Laura couldn't help laughing at that. "The most valuable commodity on New Caprica, indeed."
Tom shrugged. "Very few people have been given that honor."
"Plenty of people tell you that you were wrong."
"But I never agree. This time, I would be forced to admit it." Tom smiled again, flashing all of his teeth. "Come on, Laura, admit it. You can't resist this chance to bring me to my knees."
"And if you succeed?" Laura asked. "Do I have to be on my knees?" The words were barely out of her mouth when she realized exactly how that sounded, and she clamped her jaw shut to keep from retracting it.
"No," Tom said smoothly, although his smirk deepened. "Either you get the teachers or you get to humiliate me. It's a win-win situation for you."
Laura tilted her head, examining him. "What's your angle, Tom? You aren't the altruist type."
He took a long sip of his own coffee before answering her. "Maybe I agree with you about the value of education. Maybe I'm concerned about the nature of our work system and worry that it's already becoming too much like a labor camp. Maybe I'd like to bury the hatchet between us and for us to become friends. And maybe," he drummed his fingers against the mug, "Gaius needs to remember how he got to his position and why, and this is the perfect chance to remind him."
"Ah, and there is the angle, right there," Laura said. She drained the last of her coffee and stood up, extending her hand to Tom. "All right, then. There's the challenge, should you choose to accept it. Three new teachers."
Tom stood and took her hand. His was warm and callused against hers, and he covered their joined hands with his free one and locked his gaze on hers. "I'll do it," he promised, a little too solemnly. "I won't let you down."
***
Late the next night, Felix Gaeta stopped by the school tent. "Ms. Roslin?" he said, extending a stack of papers to her. "Here are the contracts for three new teachers."
Laura leafed through the papers, noting Baltar's signature on each. "Thank you, Mr. Gaeta."
"Glad to be of service, ma'am." He didn't salute, but Laura thought it was only because he caught himself at the last minute. She shook her head and waved him off, her eyes on the contracts. Tom Zarek had actually come through for her.
Frak. Now what was she going to do about that?
***
It wasn't easy to walk into Colonial One to thank Tom Zarek, but Laura wasn't one to back down from a challenge. So she walked in with her head held high and like she still owned the place, because while she was here to express her gratitude, Tom didn't really need to know how pathetically grateful she was.
"You were right," she said without any preamble, leaning against the door of Tom's office. He looked up from his desk, startled. "Thank you."
It seemed to take him a second or two longer than normal to regain his composure. "You're welcome."
"So did that fulfill your wildest fantasies?" Laura asked sourly. "Me begging you for help?"
Tom blinked. "If you think that's my wildest fantasy, you have a very tame opinion of me, Laura."
Laura closed her eyes at that. "I feel like I should do more to thank you, but I'm afraid to ask what."
"You don't need to. It was an opportunity that served both of our interests. You know politics well enough to see that."
She did, but she wasn't in politics anymore. The position left her feeling wrong-footed and unsure, even if though she knew it shouldn't.
"Or," Tom continued, when Laura didn't speak, "you could go to dinner with me."
Laura arched an eyebrow. "I am sure," she said firmly, "that you are not trying to coerce a constituent into giving you sexual favors for political ones."
Tom's eyes flared open wide in an expression of such genuine surprise that there was no way it could be faked. "No!" he denied hastily. "I just thought… I mean-"
She'd thrown him off-balance, and badly. Interesting. She decided to take pity on him. "I'm sorry, Tom. I overstepped."
"No." He was back to himself again, mostly. Just a little bit ruffled. "I hadn't intended-"
"Where did you have in mind?" Laura interrupted. "Some intimate little corner bistro, or a five star restaurant across town?"
"Cute. There's a bar tent in quadrant A3."
"Of course."
Tom shrugged. "They do at least have some food. It's not bad."
"All right. I'll meet you there tonight."
He smiled at her, and she smiled back. It wouldn't go down in history as her favorite evening ever, but maybe it was time to start thinking of Tom Zarek as a potential ally, even if he was one she'd have to watch every step of the way.
***
The food at the bar tent was exactly what Laura expected; greasy, heavy, and cheap, or it would have been back on the Colonies. Laura picked at her portion as she listened to Tom talk.
"We're finally ready to begin construction on the first apartment complex," he said, carefully tearing the meat off the bones of the roasted bird he was eating. "Gaius is planning on making an occasion of it. 'Founder's Day', he wants to call it." Laura snorted, and Tom looked up. "It's not a bad idea, Laura. The more we can find to celebrate, the happier people will be."
People were already unhappy. The novelty of being outside and out of spaceships had worn off, and the reality of mud and cold was starting to settle in. "I suppose," she allowed.
"You don't like the idea."
She shrugged. "It's not so much the idea of Founder's Day," she admitted. "It's the construction of the apartment complex."
"It will vastly improve conditions and morale," Tom began, but Laura held up her hand.
"Don't give me the arguments, Tom. It's not that it's a bad idea, it's the permanence of the thing."
His eyes lit with understanding. "New Caprica is permanent, Laura. Earth isn't going to happen. Maybe it was never going to happen."
She didn't answer, she just picked at her meat.
Tom cleared his throat. "The beer is good, at least. It's been a long time since I've had beer."
"I saw you drinking one on Colonial Day."
"I meant before that," Tom said easily. "Prison and labor camps aren't exactly known for their alcohol."
He looked like he was going to talk about it. Laura didn't want to hear it. Despite the fact he'd helped her, Tom Zarek still had the potential to be a dangerous political enemy, especially in four years. In four years, she would run for President again, and unless Baltar turned out to be a paragon of excellent judgment, Tom would be her opponent. Respect was one thing, as was cordiality. But she did not need sympathy for the man to cloud her judgment. So she changed the subject, guiding the conversation to talk of food instead of alcohol, urging Tom to tell her about Sagittaron cooking. It was a subject she had very little interest in, but it kept him off of talking about prison.
Late that night, Tom walked her back to her tent. The beer and the food made her warm and relaxed, and they walked close enough that the leather of Tom's jacket brushed against Laura's arm.
"Thanks for joining me," Tom said, when they were standing in front of her tent. "It was nice to have company."
"Thank you for the invitation. It was… interesting."
"Interesting." Tom smirked at her description. "I'm not going to bite you, Laura." He winked. "Unless you ask."
"I'm sure," Laura said dryly. Although, to be fair to Tom, he did have manners and morals. Then again, that was what made him dangerous- the fact that he could be so charming, even when calling for bloody revolution.
He bowed again, and this time there was no mistaking the mocking in the gesture. "My lady," he said, and then headed down the packed dirt road. Laura shook her head and went inside.
***
A smile here, a friendly word there. That was bad enough. But then there was an extra heater for the school tent sent over and two more tables. Scrap paper from the printers in Colonial One and a collection of bedraggled books.
"What is Mr. Zarek's game?" Laura asked Gaeta when he dropped a load off. "There's no reason why he should be doing any of this."
Gaeta looked surprised by her accusation. "The Vice President supports education," he said, like he honestly believed it. The problem with trying to use an innocent in a political game was that they truly were innocent, Laura reflected ruefully. She should have known better than to ask.
***
"You're doing fine," Cottle told her examining the charts.
The medical tent was just as rudimentary as the rest of the settlement, but the equipment inside it bespoke of the civilization that they'd been forced to leave behind. There was something comforting about the beeps and lights, and the electrical cords buried in mud and the whir of the generator. Cottle didn't live planet-side full time yet, but the day was fast coming.
"I'm still waiting for the cancer to reappear," Laura admitted. "For it to all be some dirty trick of Baltar's."
"Well, I can certainly understand why you'd think that," Cottle said, "because I've never seen a patient go into remission like this myself. But so far, so good. Just make sure you see Ishay on the way out. We've got the new vaccinations ready to go."
Laura was sitting in the waiting area when Tom Zarek sat down beside her. "Here for the vaccination?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought Sagittarons didn't set much by modern medicine."
Tom snorted. "Some. All right, many. But I'm not going to turn down good science for shaky faith, especially when I've got no reason to believe that there are any gods waiting to do me favors."
"Is that an admission of guilt, Mr. Zarek?" Laura teased, but Tom's face didn't soften.
"Is it any wonder that the most persecuted, most oppressed planet in the Colonies is the most religious?" Tom asked. "That's what happens when faith is substituted for knowledge. The people become slack, willing to believe that this is their lot because some vengeful deities are raining misery on them, rather than opening their eyes to the truth of their situation. The truth that they are slaves, being taken advantage of by those who would exploit the mindset they bought into."
"Mmm. Sounds suspiciously like one of Gaius Baltar's 'Laura Roslin is a fear-mongerer' campaign speeches."
Tom laughed a little. "If the shoe fits, Laura, feel free to wear it. Although I actually was talking about Sagittaron. Their determination to cling to their faith is part of the problem."
"So you advocate atheism?"
Tom shrugged. "I think those who believe in the Gods are kidding themselves, but I'm not going to say that. But there's a difference between belief and religion. One is a deeper faith in something larger than all of us, and one is a set of rules and brainwashings designed to bring people into a mindset where they can be manipulated and ruled. I understand faith. I can't understand religion. Did you ever spend any time on Sagittaron?"
Laura frowned. "No," she admitted. Because no one went there if they could help it, and travel in and out of Sagittaron was limited anyway.
"It would have been very educational," Tom said. "Hell, it's even educational to go over to the Sagittaron settlement here on New Caprica. It's amazing how they cling to the old ways." Interestingly, he didn't sound as derisive as he did frustrated. "The cycle will not break unless Sagittarons take steps to break it."
"I'd like to think that that sort of oppression isn't happening in this Fleet," Laura said.
"Then you're delusional."
"I didn't say I did think it. I said I'd like to." Laura sighed. "I know if I go over there, I'll see terrible conditions. But tell me, Mr. Vice President, where on New Caprica will I not find those?"
"Things are improving all the time. For example, the nurse just called your for your vaccine."
Laura glared at him and stood up. Leave it to Tom to claim credit for a vaccine he had nothing to do with.
There was truth to what he said about Sagittaron, however. Laura knew that. Just because she didn't agree with his methods didn't mean she didn't see the motivations. She just sometimes… forgot. The Sagittarons were difficult enough to deal with and always had been, even before the Colonies were attacked. It was sometimes hard to remember that Tom had done what he'd done because Sagittaron was his home. She couldn't say she would have done the same- in fact, she knew she wouldn't have. She was the one who said the war was over and they'd lost, she was the one who'd urged Adama to run. But then, that was the difference between them.
But for the first time, and only for a moment, Laura wondered how much she might have liked and respected Tom Zarek if he hadn't chosen to fight his war by terrorism.
***
She hiked. No matter what else New Caprica brought, no matter what trials and difficulties, it brought the chance to be outside, out in the fresh air. The chance to feel alive, now that she had a second chance on life. Laura couldn't resent that.
She followed streams, she climbed hills. She watched the wildlife of this gray, dismal planet and picked the flowers. Life had evolved similarly to that of the Colonies, so most of the species were recognizable, even if not exact replicas of their Colonial counterparts.
There was a place she loved where the stream flowed clear and the sky stretched overhead. It was over an hour's walk from the settlement, far enough that she couldn't hear the bustling of what Baltar called a city. There were only birds here, and the rippling of water over streams, and the smell of fresh air and forest.
She found the leaves by accident. At first she thought they were wild strawberries, and she'd been searching for the telltale sparks of red among the green. But then she remembered the shape from her days in college. It didn't seem quite possible, but then, maybe the gods owed her one by now. She picked a full bouquet of them and carried them back to the settlement.
Cottle would have her head if he knew what she was doing. Drying and smoking unknown leaves without testing them for poison or examining their properties… the hell with Cottle. If she died from this little experiment, at least it would be quick.
She didn't die, and when she inhaled the smoke from her homemade cigarette, she knew it was close to the same stuff. Smoother, actually, and with a sweeter smell. Imagine that. If nothing else, New Caprica grew good drugs. There had to be some irony at work there, especially given the pleasure seeking boozehound of a president.
Still. At least it was something.
***
The smell of the weed was laced through her memories of Founder's Day, lingering on the crisp air and the fabric of Bill Adama's uniform. The music and the sunshine emphasized the hopeful aspect of the day, and people actually seemed optimistic. Darkness and reality felt out of place here.
Laura wouldn't say that she'd dreamed of sleeping with Bill, but it felt like an inevitable conclusion that had been a long time in coming. She lay with him after, wrapped up in the warmth of her blankets in her tent, the stars still fresh in her mind.
In the morning, Bill still went back up to the Galactica, and Laura still stayed on the ground. There were no promises and no plans, only mutual smiles and the reassurance that this had been a good thing. No commitments.
Laura stood in the field and watched his Raptor leave, not regretting anything except for the fact that they weren't all going up there to continue the search for Earth.
***
The first snowfall on New Caprica was wet and white, and the kids were delighted. Laura stood outside, watching them run and scoop snowballs up to throw at each other. Soon a small army of snowmen were erected in the little playground, and the children were all red-cheeked and laughing. Laura was helping with a pair of snow encrusted mittens when something hit her in the back of the head. She whirled to see Tom Zarek, hands in his pockets and whistling innocently.
"You did not just do that."
"Do what?" Tom asked, looking up at the sky.
Laura smiled. "Brianna?" she asked the little girl whose mittens she'd just sorted out. "Did the Vice President just throw a snowball at me?" Brianna nodded. "Hmmm. I see. And what do you think we should about that?"
"I think you should throw a snowball at him," Brianna said, obviously delighted at the prospect.
"Perhaps. But I also think that Mr. Zarek has underestimated how this school sticks together."
"Oh, you are not bringing innocent children into this!" Tom protested.
"You started it," Laura said. "Kids?" She gestured to Tom. "Have at it."
There was one thing kids could be counted on to do, and that was bombard people with snowballs when asked. Within seconds, Tom Zarek was covered in snow, laughing as he scooped up snow to make his own snowballs and fire them back at the kids. Laura couldn't resist throwing a few of her own, and the kids were having fun. It ended with Tom on his back in the snow, one kid dumping snow on his face and two others throwing snowballs at his legs as he half-laughed and half begged for mercy.
"All right." Laura took pity on him and called off her class. "Let's let the Vice President up, please." She reached down and offered him a hand. "Mr. Zarek?"
Tom was still laughing as he took Laura's hand and let her haul him to his feet. His cheeks and nose were red in the cold, and the white of the snow stood out in contrast to his dark hair. "They're vicious," he admitted.
"They're children. I hope you aren't going to bring us all up on the charge of treason."
"No. I'm pretty sure you've got witnesses that saw me throw the first snowball. Bad idea on my part." Tom brushed the snow off. "I was going to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner again, but right now I'm literally terrified of your rejection. Especially when you can release your minions on me."
Laura couldn't help laughing. "You learn quickly."
"So I take it that is a no?"
It could be. It probably should be. But for some reason, Laura heard herself saying, "Actually, no. It's not. I'll meet you at the bar tonight?"
Tom looked like he couldn't believe his luck. "All right. I'll see you tonight."
***
"I don't understand why you're going," Maya said to her that night as Laura dressed to go out. "It's Tom Zarek. It's not like you to get all sappy and mushy just because he had a snowball fight with the kids."
"No, it's not," Laura agreed. "And that's not why I'm going. Does this top look all right?"
"The other one looked better." Successfully diverted by questions of fashion, Maya never noticed that Laura didn't answer her original question. Which was just as well. Laura didn't know the answer, either.
***
It wasn't a date. It was two people with common interests, discussing what was best for the people of the Fleet as they ate food together. It wasn't a date at all. He didn't kiss her, she didn't kiss him. Neither of them even tried, and Tom didn't seem to expect anything, even as he walked her back to her tent again.
It absolutely, positively wasn't a date.
***
The tuberculosis outbreak started in the Sagittaron sector of the settlement. In retrospect, no one was surprised.
"I don't understand it," Laura said to Cottle, listening to the coughing in the medical tent. "The vaccine-"
"The vaccine wasn't for tuberculosis," Cottle explained. He didn't seem overly upset by the fact. "Even if it was, I can't guarantee that the strain we'd vaccinate against is the strain that's going around now."
"So what happens?" Laura asked. "What sort of numbers are we potentially looking at?"
He heard her shift to President again, caught her eye with a sympathetic sort of look. But instead of saying anything, he just lit a cigarette and studied his file. "Well, we've got the antibiotics we'd need, or the Galactica does. We'll have to get more down here."
"That's not an answer, Doctor."
"I need to see our stores. It's not as deadly as you might think. It's stubborn, but we do have some supplies from the disaster relief pods. TB tends to run rampant in refugee camps. And there are measures that can be taken. The question is, will the government stir itself to take them?" He grunted, and they exchanged a meaningful look. After all, it was Gaius Baltar. The answer should be obvious.
***
The answer should have been obvious. Gaius Baltar understood nothing about the finer points of negotiation or the implications of laws. However, to Laura's intense surprise, he rose to this challenge swiftly and, to her mild horror, easily. Antibiotics were obtained, public health measures were imposed, and although distribution was flawed, it eventually happened. What could have been a disaster wasn't.
"Well, the President is a scientist," Gaeta said when Laura expressed her surprise. "What do you expect?"
Of course. Baltar could deal with tuberculosis because it was a matter of science, not a matter of people, and once again his scientific acumen was mistaken for leadership. Laura watched the people, many of whom were growing restless with Baltar's regime, settle back down and express admiration for the President again. She wanted to shake them all, to make them see how blind they were being, but no one would listen. The crisis had been too well averted.
Laura began to feel like she was fighting against smoke, all her moves ineffective against an elusive enemy.
***
The construction on the first apartment building proceeded slowly. Laura watched the bulky building grow in lurches and spurts, never actually getting anywhere close to done. The snow was no longer a fluffy white novelty, but cold, gray slush that just seemed to stay on the ground without melting. It soaked through her shoes as she stood looking at the husk of the building.
"Picking out your apartment?"
He'd startled her, but Laura did her best not to show it. She faced the building, arms crossed over her chest. "You do like sneaking up on people, don't you, Tom?"
"I'm full of surprises," he agreed, stepping beside her. He blew on his fingers, rubbing them together. "It's going slow."
She cocked an eyebrow as she looked at him. "Are you actually admitting failure?"
"No." He sighed heavily. "I am admitting frustration, though."
"Mmm."
"You sound skeptical, like I want people living in the mud and cold."
She glanced at him. He was staring at that building with an expression of betrayal, like the building's unfinished state was a personal insult to him. "I knew this place wasn't going to be paradise," he admitted, "but I didn't think…."
"It would be this bad?"
Tom looked away. "Sagittaron isn't a very hospitable planet, either," he said. "But we managed there." He took a deep breath and turned back to the incomplete building. "We'll manage here, too."
"You really believe that," Laura said slowly. "You really think we can thrive here."
"Did you ever think I didn't?" Tom asked.
"Of course. I thought it was all a ploy for the election."
"Well, I'm not going to say that wasn't the purpose." Tom didn't even look embarrassed as he said that. "Politics, Laura. We needed an issue to separate us from you. But it never would have worked if there wasn't merit to the idea." He shrugged. "I didn't lead us all here to die. I led us here to start a new life. To hide from the Cylons, to grow into a civilization, to put our roots down and thrive."
And what you found instead was a gray wasteland. "It's not too late," Laura said softly. "Disrupting the settlement process would be difficult, but hardly impossible and-"
"It's not too late at all," Tom interrupted sharply. "These things take time. I'm not giving up on New Caprica, if that's what you're thinking. Not when we have this chance."
"This chance," Laura scoffed. "This chance for what?"
"To build something." His voice cut through the wind and her with the same intensity. "To build a society that gets it right, to construct the dawn of a new era in human history. To-"
Laura shut him up with a kiss.
His eyes flared open and for a moment he just stood there as she kissed him, too startled to do anything. But as she didn't pull away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and began to kiss her back, and Laura buried her fingers in the black leather of his jacket.
It wasn't love that made her kiss him, and it wasn't lust. She wasn't even sure exactly what it was, except that it numbed the pain of hearing those dreams of what New Caprica was meant to be as they stood in the mud looking at the reality. The wind whipped around them, catching her skirt and her hair and making them dance.
They found themselves against a half-built wall, sheltered from both wind and view. Laura pulled Tom closer to her and her skirt wound up around her waist, and then he was inside her and she could close her eyes and see nothing. She just felt the rough concrete at her back and him driving into her, one hand holding her leg up as the other braced against the wall. She didn't open her eyes- she didn't want to see his face. She just kept them closed and let her frak her as she frakked him, until all that remained was sensation.
It ended too quickly. Laura found her footing as she straightened her clothing, and Tom moved over and ducked his head against the wall. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, if he was pleased by this or if that expression on his face was something more. Laura decided she didn't care.
"Well," he said, when he got his breath. "That was unexpected."
"It was," Laura agreed.
"But not unwelcome."
She knew then what she hadn't acknowledged for ages- Tom was attracted to her. It was hard to be flattered by that; Laura had the suspicion that twenty years in a mens' labor camp and prison lowered standards. But at the same time, he'd been in a position of power for eight months in the Fleet and several months on New Caprica. He wasn't desperate by any stretch of the imagination.
He was an attractive man- she could admit that. Attractive and surprisingly good at what he did, even if he was unpracticed and rusty. There were worse partners she could have. She straightened her skirt and looked back at the building.
"I'm not a romantic, you know," Tom said when she didn't speak. "I don't expect you to fall into my arms and be swept away. This is what it is, Laura."
"And what is it, Tom?"
He shrugged. "Convenience. A means to an end."
She nodded. "That's right." Something inside her loosened. He understood.
They stood side by side, looking at the building and not saying another word as the wind blew between them.
***
Two things that Laura quickly learned about Tom Zarek: he was more than capable of being discreet, and he was more than capable of keeping his emotions separate from sex. She didn't know why the first surprised her so much- she'd never been able to actually pin any misdeeds on Tom, even though she knew damn well his hands weren't as spotless as he pretended they were. Tom was probably one of the sneakiest people and best liars left in existence. The second, that he could keep his emotions so separate, surprised her in that she was surprised. She wasn't really used to thinking of Tom as someone who had strong emotions.
She was lying in his bed, naked under the covers as she studied the three books he had on his night stand. "Really, Tom?" she asked as she picked one up. "Graphie's Host?"
"I like supernatural novels," Tom said, not opening his eyes. He was lying in his back beside her, half asleep.
"It's not that it's a supernatural novel," Laura said. "It's that I'm quite certain it was popular among teenage girls on Caprica before the attacks."
"I would believe it. But you're the one always complaining to me about how hard it is to find books for the school. So unless you have a better book to give me, preferably with werewolves, I'd ask that you leave it alone."
Laura put the book back. "I should think about going anyway," she said. "I want to be home before dark."
"I can walk you."
"It's not that. I still have marking to do."
"Oh." Tom nestled down into the covers. Laura noticed that he didn't ask her to stay. Just as well, because she would have said no.
She eased out of the bed, her motion making Tom open his eyes long enough to watch her search for her clothing and get dressed. He propped himself up on one elbow. "You look like you're thinking," Laura said suspiciously.
Tom laughed. "Not about anything like what you're thinking, I'm sure," he said. "Truth be told, I was thinking about how Graphie's Host would have been received on Sagittaron."
"Really."
Tom shrugged. "You don't think the subject of censorship is an interesting one to me?"
"I just find it amusing that you're thinking so seriously about a novel that's got sixteen year old girls across the Colonies arguing over which boy a heroine should choose."
"And why should what sixteen year old girls read be considered unimportant?" Tom asked. "Explain me that, Madame Educator."
She really, really hated it when Tom had a point. "I'll see you later," Laura said, slipping her feet into her shoes. Tom, smug in the knowledge that he'd gotten the last word in, watched her go.
It was cold outside the tent, and Laura shivered as she pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders. The dying sunlight bathed everything in a dull gray, and the smells of cooking permeated the air. She wished she could look at New Caprica with a renewed appreciation and affection, but all she saw was the gray and the sludge and the mud, and the unfinished bulk of the apartment complex looming over them all. Nothing had changed, in New Caprica or in her.
***
"I'm coming down tomorrow," Bill told her. "Just for the night. That will be more than enough. Do you want to do dinner?"
"Absolutely," Laura said, smiling as she fiddled with the communicator buttons. "I'll meet you at the airfield." The smile lingered on her lips long after she hung up the communicator.
The day seemed a little brighter when she stepped out of the ship, and the colors a little sharper. And as she made her plans for the evening, clearing the way for Bill to spend the night in her tent, she didn't think about Tom Zarek at all.
***
Tom knew that Laura spent the night with Bill- she could see it on his face. But he didn't say a word, and nothing changed between them. Laura wasn't sure he even cared.
He didn't have other partners, as far as she knew. But then, they were discreet enough that no one knew about them, and Tom was good at hiding things. She might just not know it. The truth was, Laura wasn't sure she even cared.
Bill went back to the Galactica, and nothing changed. Nothing at all, until the day the Cylons landed. Then the whole world turned upside down.
***
With the Centurions clanking outside and the skinjobs patrolling the streets, something in Laura changed. Something became sharper, more purposeful, more energetic. This enemy was not smoke and elusiveness but metal and bone and unambiguous.
She didn't see Tom, but she didn't see much of anyone in the government. They'd bent and bowed, and Laura didn't expect help from any of them. Tom Zarek fell from her mind as she focused on what had to be done.
***
They saved each other on New Caprica, him pulling her back and her throwing him to the ground. She knew he defended her as made her way to Colonial One, and she rewarded his courage in standing up to Baltar and the Cylons with the Vice Presidency. For two whole days, Laura believed that maybe things could change. Miracles had happened, after all- Bill had gotten them all off that godforsaken rock. Tom had his moments, and maybe they could work together. Maybe they could be allies. Maybe there was a chance.
And then Laura found out about the Circle, and she knew that she had misjudged Tom Zarek once again.
***
"You don't change, do you?" Laura said as they stood alone in her office.
Tom shrugged. "Did you expect me to?"
"I really thought you had." Laura shuffled some papers into a pile on her desk.
"Ask yourself something," he said. "Is it possible that you've always seen what you wanted to see when it comes to me? That it's more convenient to see me as a terrorist and a rival?"
"More convenient than what?" Laura asked when he didn't finish his sentence.
Tom smiled a little. "I'm not an archetype, Laura, as much as you might like to believe that I one."
Laura smirked. "This isn't one of those 'you never saw the man I really was' conversations, is it?"
"Actually, that's exactly what it is, but I just couldn't find a way of saying it that didn't sound like a romance novel," Tom laughed. "And having it isn't going to change things, so we'll skip it."
"No," Laura said, moving in. "We don't have to. Tell me, Tom, where was I wrong?"
She didn't know how she wanted him to answer, or if she wanted him to answer at all. She didn’t get either. Instead, Tom closed his briefcase. "It doesn't matter. The damage is done, on both sides. I'll go now, Madame President." He said the last two words with such a bitter contempt that Laura almost pulled back in surprise, except that she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He bowed to her, and then walked out of the office.
Laura stood at her desk, staring at the door. For a moment she was back on New Caprica, in the gray and the cold and the biting wind, Tom next to her as they looked at the mangled hopes of humanity together. But it was a moment, and Laura had never been one to dwell on the past.
She sat down at her desk, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and bent over to her work.