Opening Night (Part 2/2)
Title: Opening Night (or, How the Colonials Came to Earth and Hollywood Made A Movie About It), Part 2/2
Author: miabicicletta
Rating: PG-13
For Summary & Notes, see Part 1
When the title sequence came up, a single thought flooded her mind: It was an eerie thing to watch your whole world annihilated.
Feeling relatively unaffected by the images of the Cylon attack, Laura felt an odd sense of shame.
But, then again, none of them had been there. There was almost no footage in existence, from any of the worlds, of the carnage that had taken place that fateful day. The photograph of the unknown solider brought to his knees by the burning of Picon that had been captured by a photojournalist who made it aboard the last transit off the planet, was one of the few that had survived the exodus. She had no memories to compare with the events, apart from a frantic wireless call from her shuttle to Caprica. She had no memories to compare with the events, apart from a frantic wireless call from her shuttle to Jack Greene on Caprica. All she had heard were thundering crashes before the line went dead.
On screen, huge explosions leveled the Colonies. The Forum on Caprica, burned to the ground. The great temples and sacred places on Gemenon, reduced to rubble by the warheads. The plains on Libran, coastal towns of Picon, jungles of Saggitaron--all of the familiar, iconic places had been skillfully rendered and re-imagined for this brutal montage. It was horrifying and unreal, loud and seemingly insensitive--a rather mindless spectacle. Since she hadn't actually experienced it, Laura felt very removed from the devastation.
Apparently there were a lot of lensflares at the end of the worlds.
***
They had done a good job with the casting, and glanced over Her "Dying Leader" bit, attributing it to an simple, curable illness for which no medicine was available. Miracle of miracles, some had been found on Kobol, tying that little storyline up quite nicely.
On the whole, it was surreal and faintly amusing.
Until the Pegasus showed up.
***
"We could...take this elsewhere." The Admiral sidled up to her commander, trailing her trigger finger down the length of his sleeve. "Of course, Commander, if there's something going on between you and the President..."
Bill was furious. "That never happened!" He whispered in her ear.
Laugh suppressed a humorless giggle. Her nerves were increasingly on edge with every scene in this farce. "You weren't her type."
***
She blinked back tears when Billy died. He would have been mortified by how he'd been portrayed in this rubbish. She smiled at the thought of that sour expression on his baby face. Bill squeezed her hand.
***
Mercifully, there was no mention of stolen babies or elections. Small favors, indeed.
***
New Caprica. Much to Laura's delight, the plot emphasized Baltar's failure in leadership and focused more on the supporting characters.
Starbuck's kidnapping. The insurgency (the film kept calling them "rebels" and "freedom fighters"). Saul Tigh's torture. Her own was greatly exaggerated. Bill knew what really happened, but it didn't stop him from visibly tensing for the duration.
As Laura watched the scenes unfold -- the tension heightened with tensile music, all shrieking strings and percussion, slow motion expressions and extreme close ups -- she reasoned that however insufferable she found Hollywood, it was at least an improvement over New Caprica.
Barely.
***
"Bill, you came back..."
"I couldn't leave our people behind. Couldn't leave you behind, Laura..."
"Oh, Bill..."
Mouth open, she stared in horror.
Laura Roslin was used to a general lack of privacy. She never went anywhere alone, given the necessity and dedication of her security detail. Her daily schedule was scrutinzed by almost anyone with the inclination to look it up, as was her wardrobe, her habits, her preference in tea....
But, for all of the public attention she'd grown used to over the last several years, none of it made her as self-conscious as seeing her doppelganger embrace a fictional version of Bill Adama in a passionate kiss on a movie screen the size of Galactica's hanger bay.
She squirmed in her chair, blushing fiercely and avoiding eye contact with everyone she knew. At least it was dark.
Beside her, Bill groaned and hung his head.
Somewhere behind her, Kara Thrace was hollering her wild and raucus approval. Laura made a mental note to smack her later.
***
And then there was the sex scene.
"Madame President, I seem to recall you suggesting that we 'start having babies...'"
"Oh my Gods. Oh my Gods. Oh my gods..." Laura Roslin was sure nothing, ever, had ever horrified her as much as this.
"Are they frakking kidding me with this?" Bill growled in disbelief. Laura was vaguely grateful that he was not currently armed (though she wished she was).
Unintentionally, she caught Saul Tigh's gaze, and frowned at his sly grin.
Frakking Hollywood.
***
By the time the conclusion rolled around, Laura almost couldn't take it anymore.
She had very nearly gotten up and walked out on the final scenes wherein Baltar "saved the day", or whatever. Her contempt for him had not tempered since his death. The onscreen Gaius...communed, she supposed was the word for it, with one of the hybrids, and then there was the confrontation with the Cavil in charge. Then something else happened, accompanied by explosions and Vipers making near escapes and big, thematic music...blah blah blah. It was all grandiose absurdity, an attempt to thrill the audience. It made her stomach turn.
She'd lived the real thing, and was galled by this Hollywood-style ending, particularly how the film attributed Baltar's "visions" and "gifts"to his success in obtaining the coordinates for Earth from the strange and mystic cylon hybrid. It was all part of predictable character arc about his "redemption," pointing the way to his eventual "sacrifice." Laura preferred to think of it as the last gasps of a great analytical mind, reaching up through the layers of madness that had enveloped him.
In the end, the "resolution" posed many unanswered questions--the still unknown identities of the final five, if the cylons would return and find them, how the people of Earth would accept them...
All of which only served to remind Laura about those very real problems and about the terrifying possibility of a sequel.
When the lights came up, the audience applauded loudly around them. The smarmy director gave a smarmy speech about the next smarmy thing he'd be up to.
Bill looked at Laura, eyes grave and dark behind his glasses. "This is gonna be a long night."
She nodded. Gods that was true.
***
Bill was silent during the ride to the reception. It was just as well, she had grown increasingly angry from the moment the end credits began to role.
Angry at the producers. Angry at the directors. Angry at herself for not having been more involved in this frakkin' travesty. Angry at this frakkin' culture and what passed for entertainment.
Livid, she clenched her jaw, steeling herself for the strength to get through the after party. She wanted to spend as little time at the event as possible, make an obligatory appearance and then quietly disappear upstairs to her room.
It became apparent very quickly that this would not be happening anytime soon.
Laura struggled to maintain her composure when passing through the area cordoned off for the press, cheerfully giving a number of bland, non-committal sound bites to the entertainment reporters.
After fighting her way through the throng, she passed through open french doors to the reception area. The party area was comprised of a large indoor room, tastefully underlit and styled to mimic the minimalist design of Galactica herself. Waiters circled the room with trays of drinks. She heard one woman order a "Colonial 151" and another ask for a "Tauron-tini".
Bill is going to love this...
Laura slowly made her way through the room. Many of those in attendance were the kind of important, polished-looking people with healthy tans and overly bright smiles. Movie types. She didn't didn't feel up to engaging any of them in conversation, and made a beeline for the first familiar face she recognized.
She found Saul Tigh by the bar. The man had a magnet for free liquor.
"Hell of a night," he groused, holding up a drink in toast.
"You said it, Colonel." Catching the bartenders eye, she motioned for him to bring whatever Saul was drinking. Knowing Saul, it would something strong and neat. Just what she needed.
"Another few those, if you don't mind," she heard, over her shoulder as she accepted the glass. Laura turned to find Lee and his father approaching them.
"How did you enjoy our moment in the sun?" She asked, chiding him. Lee's story line had been almost as licentious as her own.
"It was...something," Lee finished lamely. He shrugged, affecting a smile. "If nothing else, it'll help curry sympathy for us, even for those who think its exaggerated and sacchrine."
Bill grunted in a semi-agreement, raising his glass to his lips. "Dee make it here?"
"Oh, she's around. Let's just says she wasn't a fan of some of her character development."
"There's always another fight with Dee."
Saul grunted, clearly familiar with the shifting moods of women. "If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you, son. Feels like I've got ninety-nine problems, but at least a --"
"Lee!"
Lee pursed his lips as his wife gestured for him to join her with a group of the smiling, polished-types. Lee ducked his head and tossed back his drink, nodding towards his father and Laura. "If you'll excuse me."
Saul grumbled something and took a long drink of his scotch. He looked unfocused, and kept cocking his head to the crowd, as if he heard something. He twitched a little, gruffly barking at the the bartender to tone the music down.
"Something bothering you, Saul?" Bill asked.
"Uh? Oh, just got a lot on my mind.
Odd, Laura thought. She hadn't heard any music yet.
***
When all was said and done, mortification aside, it did manage to settle some long standing bets between members of the Colonial Fleet.
"Helo, where's my twenty cubits!" Calling out to her former crewmate, Kara Thrace shimmied past him, gleeful over her apparent victory. The beads of her low-cut dress sparkled in the stylish dim light.
Great, Laura sighed.
"No way, Starbuck; I don't owe you anything yet." Tempered but grinning, Karl Agathon shook his head, and, arm slung around his wife, gestured with a finger towards the couple in question. "Just cause it's in some stupid movie doesn't prove anything."
Athena quirked a smile of her own.
"You get that, right Starbuck? Pretty sure you know a thing or two about embellishing the truth for the value of a good story, otherwise you'd have nothing to distract us from your weak-ass Triad face..."
Starbuck spun on her heel as she passed them, walking backwards on a beeline towards where Laura stood.
"That's why I'm the legend around these parts." With a wink and bang, bang, guns-blazing gesture of her hands, she turned and set about proving her point.
"Rough night's about to get worse," Helo remarked, taking in a long breath.
Athena nodded in agreement. "Good thing there's an open bar."
Privately, Laura agreed.
***
Anticipating a conversation with Kara she wasn't ready to have yet, Laura excused herself, breaking away with the excuse of heading to the restroom. Unfortunately, in doing so she found herself in the direct path of one of the most obnoxious film producers, who promptly called the leading actors over from their VIP table for yet another discussion of the premiere. Perhaps dealing with Starbuck would have been easier, in the long run. Laura smiled, and endured, ever the professional.
When she was finally able to extract herself from the overly friendly grasp of the executive producer, she ran into Tory, who was staring off across the room, looking distracted and more than a bit dazed. Laura could't fault her. Compared to the simplicity of the Camp Picon, the reception hall and sprawling outdoor patio and grounds sparkled with an unnerving decadence. She cringed at the thought of how much money had been spent on a party -- a party meant to satisfy egos and placate studio executives. No doubt they were all patting themselves on the back downing cocktails and enjoying the fruits of their labor, as her previous interaction had suggested.
Laura suppressed the urge to list the many uses the money for the design budget alone could have been used for. Tory felt much the same way.
"I can't decide if this whole thing is hilarious, or if I should be sit down and cry."
"You and me both. Gods, part of me would like to sue their asses for...whatever. Bad art."
"I don't think that's actually a crime, Ma'am. Have you seen what they put on television?"
Faintly, Laura recalled that Tory had discovered a weakness for some reality show about models.
"That's not art, Tory. Sure we can't sue them?"
"Well, I haven't passed the bar ma'am but I know a little bit," Tory began.
Laura waved her off. "All right, all right. Enough of that." She smiled, and with a gentle shove, ushered her aide towards a group of young men and women near the patio. "Go have fun, Tory. Or try to. You've earned it."
***
From what Laura could gather in an unofficial census, opinions on the film seemed to fall one of two ways: those who found it ridiculous (the Colonials) and those who didn't (everyone else).
As she passed by Galen Tyrol, she overheard him accuse a screenwriter of fabricating plot points.
The producer defended himself. "Hey, I did all kinds fact checking "
"Why type of facts are those?" Tyrol said, glowering at him. Sam gave Tyrol a strange look, and they glanced at one another for a moment. Even from several yards away they both looked unsettled, by the evening's event or something else.
"You're out of your mind. Did you have anyone from Camp Picon look over that dreck?"
"Mr. Tyrol, I won't deny we took some artistic license, but that's the nature of screenwriting. But if you're unhappy with the way we adapted events, perhaps for sequel..."
Grimacing, Laura suddenly wanted another drink.
***
Three producers, four actors, and someone who claimed to be "in development" later, Laura was beginning to feel liable to commit acts that no amount of political importance could absolve her of if she didn't get out of here soon.
"I think I need some air," she said, catching Bill's eye and gesturing to the outdoor patio garden.
He nodded and moved to follow her, but stopped as something caught his eye. Laura glanced over her shoulder.
Across the room, Kara Thrace stood next to the DJ, threw back her drink and hollered a pilots cheer out over the crowd.
"This one goes out to LEE ADAMA!"
A raucus beat started up, all uptempo percussion and catchy guitar riffs.
Laura was about to respond to Lee when a woman began to sing,"Your daddy don't know what your mama's gonna do tonight. Oh, your daddy don't know..."
That was it. Laura had had it.
***
She paced with fury, unable to comprehend how Bill could lean against the stone wall lining the garden patio looking so placid.
"I blame your son," she groused to Bill, tripping a little in her rage and falling out of her shoe in the process.
"I agree. Definitely Lee's fault." Bill nodded his stoic assent, trying to help her and being swatted away. "But, just for posterity's sake, what are we blaming him for exactly?"
"For this fiasco. He was so hell-bent on advocating for this whole sordid thing. He's so annoyingly idealistic...Oh, don't give me that 'aw shucks, that'd be my fault, ma'am' look, Bill Adama. I could kill you, too, right now. With this shoe!" She stumbled again a little as she tried to coax it back onto her foot.
"Laura..."
"Right now! You and Lee both, I've got one for each of you. The only thing that's keeping me in check is that I really frakkin' like these shoes."
He sighed, settling against the dias as she tugged at the shoe again. "I can see that, though I'm not sure why."
"Because I don't have an airlock at the moment!"
"Meant the shoes," he muttered. "Laura, it's just a movie."
She unleashed the full force of her anger on him.
"Actually, it's a joke. For heaven's sake, they made poor Billy the comic relief in every scene. Billy. They didn't show how smart he was, or how capable. He dug up those admiral's pips, when I was sure they'd be impossible to find. Forget that he used to volunteer what little spare time he had with the grade school children on the Rising Star because they reminded him of his niece and nephews. One of those producers in that room back there made him a joke, because someone's account recalled one awkward moment or offhand opinion about a boy who meant more to me than anyone else in my life up until then. They made him a joke, Bill. That is unacceptable."
She knew her voice was rising, that she was in danger of really losing it, but couldn't bring herself to care. Crossing her arms, she went on.
"Gods, and New Caprica? They made us seem... obvious, and what's worse, they made it seem cheap. Tawdry. You might have been made out as a hero, but all I got to be was the damsel in distress, always needing to be saved from disease or Cylons or my own emotional whatever. The damsel, while in reality I was organizing an insurgency and being tortured for my troubles. And I'm sorry if this is a blow to your ego, Bill, but I did not have time to pine away for you. I was too busy trying to hold together what was left of us. It's wasn't just a movie, Bill. It was our lives. Our experiences and memories are all that is left of the Colonies. And that depiction tonight was terrible."
He opened his mouth to reply, but was beaten to the punch by an interloper.
"So boss, they get it right?"
Kara Thrace sauntered over, smiling an abusurdly bright smile, given the circumstances. As much as she had come to like the young pilot, Laura couldn't help but recall her earlier desire to throttle the girl.
Laura attempted to project an air of innocence.
"Precisely what did they get right, Captain Thrace?" It was impossible not to know what she was hinting at: Starbuck did nothing subtle.
So help me, if you know what's good for you, Kara...
"You got money riding on it?" Bill asked her casually,
"Bet your ass."
"Admiral, I'd rather if this conversation didn't--"
"New Caprica. Where's that leave you?"
"Bill!" Laura hissed at him.
"Ohhh ho ho! Well off, sir! Helo's going to be high and dry after this!"
"Do me a favor. Keep it in the family. Resist the urge to be your loudmouth self, Starbuck."
"Wilco, sir. Don't worry ma'am. After seeing that dress, I doubt anyone will be calling you 'Old Lady' anytime soon..." With that, Kara flitted off with a little less coordination than she should have had.
"Bill..." Laura began to growl, but her complaint was interrupted.
"What?" He straightened and edged in closer to her, refusing to back down from her ire. "We've just been outed to everyone on this planet with a fix for bad science fiction or intergalactic political nuance, and you're worried about Kara Thrace knowing when we got involved?"
"I'd have preferred a bit more discretion. From both of you."
"Time for discretion is over. We're here. We're settled. We did the job."
"It's not that simple."
"You've been waltzing around this for a long time. Time you looked at your cards and made a decision, Laura." He looked at her coldly. "I think maybe you already have."
With that, he turned angrily and left, leaving Laura and her temper alone on the patio.
***
From inside the main room, the dance floor crowed with young people as a bawdy singer purred a tune Laura half-recognized. Something about lovers caught in a bad romance. She was far too practical to internalize the sentiments layered in a pop song du jour, but still. The Gods, Laura wryly thought, had a rather nasty way of amusing themselves.
Sighing, she tipped her head to the darkening sky. She strolled aimlessly along the walkway, finding herself near a too-blue pool and collapsing in lounge chair.
Laura knew herself well enough to recognize she was projecting much of her frustration into an otherwise trite and ultimately insignificant event. Bill was right, it was just a movie.
If she was honest with herself, as she was not always willing to be, Laura could see that much of her
emotional reaction tonight had been the result of the decisions she'd been grappling with all week. All year. Since the fall. All of the above. It was all coming to a head with the appointment, and the agency, and the treaty terms moving forward which keep her tied up in more diplomacy, for years to come. It was easy to see why she was displacing her fears onto the film. Well, that and it was awful.
No. If Laura was honest with herself, as she was not always able to be, she knew what she had to do.
"Madame Prez!" Kara had wandered back over, carrying a bottle of something in her hand. She'd lost her shoes somewhere. "Not joining the party?"
"Needed a break."
Kara collapsed in the chair beside her. "I can relate. Been a while since I wore anything with a heel bigger than combat boots."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment.
"So you scare the Old Man off?"
"Let's just say that you and I both have a less than stellar track record when it comes to men in our lives."
"I'll drink to that."
"Give me that," Laura said, holding out her hand.
"Can't refuse a superior officer."
"You routinely refuse your superior officers, Starbuck."
"Only ones outside the family," Kara replied with a wink.
Laura laughed. "And especially the ones in the family," Laura countered, with a smirk.
"Can't argue that, Ma'am."
"Laura."
"Hmmm?" Starbuck asked, taking a long pull from the bottle. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Say what now?"
"It's just 'Laura', Kara. Before, you called me Madame President. Technically, I'm not the president anymore."
Kara seemed to consider that for a moment, but offered, "Not to get too heavy, ma'am, but you're the last leader of the Twelve Colonies. You'll always be our president."
Well, there was that.
"Besides," Kara continued, "you're still the de facto 'Lady in Charge.' They'll just be calling you Ambassador now. Which, by the way, is a hell of a demotion. You should really register your complaints."
Laura snorted in faint amusement, taking her own pull from the bottle. "Think I could put in for some retroactive hazard pay while I'm at it?"
"Paychecks are nice, kinda forgotten the fun cubits -- sorry, dollars -- will get you. But I'd take my reward in...whatever this is, at the moment." She passed the bottle back to Laura, who held it up and squinted to read the label.
The music wafting over the garden patio changed to a new pop song, and Starbuck sensed the transition, sitting up.
"I love this song. Come dance, you'll feel better. Especially if you kick those things off."
"Thank you, Kara, but I think not. I have some amends to make." Laura glanced up toward the hotels upper floors. "Go, live a little," she said, pointing toward Sam Anders, who'd spotted them across the pool."
"Aye, aye. Don't wear him out, " Kara said, brightly.
"It's not a school night, Captain."
"Touche, Madame Airlock."
"Go dance with your husband, Kara. Before one of those little blonde starlets snatches him up."
"He is pretty easy on the eyes, isn't he? Good thing, too, cause there's not much behind 'em..." Sam eased an arm around her and leaned in close.
"Aw, Kara, what do you take me as? I don't think you understand the intelligence that Sam Anders has."
Starbuck rolled her eyes.
***
He was out on the terrace, leaning over the railing, studying the view. The pink stone was still slightly warm from the strong afternoon sunlight, the metal railing cool beneath her touch as she moved beside him. On the far side of the railing stretched a long trough, leveled precisely and filled with green plants and flowers that flooded the air with a wild, verdant scent.
"I never asked if you read the last book I sent you," Laura said calmly.
"I did."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
He studied her sidelong. "It was pretty good."
"Oh?"
"Liked the main character. Harriet. Defied convention, didn't let anyone tell her how to live her life. Got a lot of grief for it, though. Still, I liked her spirit. Reminds me of someone I know."
Laura smiled. "I'm sorry." Forgive me?
He placed his hand over hers. He would always forgive her, even if she broke his heart. Bill turned his attention back out over the hills and the long sparkling gridlines of the city, but not before she caught the corners of his mouth turning up. "Kid was a pain in the ass, though."
She laughed, thinking of Lee and Kara. "True. The dear ones almost always are." She thought fondly of Billy, wishing he could have been here to see this world. She wondered what he would have have made of them all now.
As if sensing her sorrow, Bill snaked his arm around her waist and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He dropped a kiss on her temple.
A thought struck her. "You know, that was a rather good mystery. Though I think you liked it because of the happy ending. Earnest Lord Peter and his aristocratic charm. Saves the day. Gets the girl." Laura felt rather than saw him smile.
"Always been my motto."
"Bill, I've been thinking..."
"Should I be worried?"
"Only if you were planning on sleeping tonight, Admiral," she growled playfully.
"Not if I can help it." He chuckled, low and close to her ear. Gods, how his voice thrilled her. "What have you been thinking?"
"I spoke to the former President yesterday. They're in the process of staffing the Office of Colonial Affairs. They wanted my recommendations on who to bring in from the Fleet. I think they're trying to organize ahead of schedule, allow some time for everyone to get to know one another."
"That's a good strategy. Unit cohesion's important."
"There's so much work to do. Still. It's funny, we spent so much time caught up in the frenzy of searching for Earth, were so consumed by it that I rarely ever considered what would need to be done once we arrived. If we arrived. Having to share it with a few hundred tribes of overpopulated, multi lingual, polytheistic, technological adolescents, didn't even enter my mind."
He sighed heavily, shoulders sagging a little in disappointment, but he gave voice to none of it, even as his heart sank. They both knew what the Ambassadorship meant.
"It's nothing you can't handle, Laura." He sighed in that distinctly Bill way, the way no other sigh or voice or man could ever quite capture. She turned in his arms and leaned against the terrace balcony to face him.
"Like I said, the President liked my suggestions the other day."
"Not all he liked."
"Oh stop."
"Can you blame me?"
"Oh, I blame you for a great many things, Admiral. You drive me to distraction." Something in her tone suggested not always in a good way.
"That's a problem?"
"No. Yes. It was different, before. We had the advantage of being able to be discreet on Galactica. There weren't cameras and reporters and terrible films made about us." She reached for the words to explain herself. "It's all so...public. It would be worse with the Ambassadorship."
"The Fleet comes first, we agreed on that much from the beginning."
"The Fleet did come first...but we're not a fleet anymore, Bill. We're not an ad hoc coterie anymore, caught between stars and their troubles. "You'll be in San Diego. I'd be in New York, Washington, wherever."
She laid her hands flat against his chest and looked him in the eyes. "I fought this too long, Bill. Kept you away for a lot of reasons that now don't seem like very good ones at all. I don't want you on the other side of a planet or a continent. I don't want you on the other side of the room if I can help it."
The corner of his mouth raised, hinting at the bloom of a smile as the full meaning of her words began to sink in.
"That so?"
"It is."
His dear, familiar features were full of unasked questions. All of which had only one answer.
"I'm not accepting the job, Bill. I'm recommending Lee."
He remained silent, but the smile on his face grew and his grip on her waist tightened.
"I gave them my two cubits, and I think what I've contributed this past year has been important, and will go a long way toward improving our standing with the international leadership. But...I'm tired. I want someone else to take care of the heavy lifting. I did my part, I played my role. I lived for the Fleet, Bill. We both did. I think I've earned the right to have a life now."
She snuggled into the crook of his neck, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, feeling the tension in his shoulders dissipate and his chin come to rest on her the top of her head.
"What will you do, take up knitting?"
She snorted. Trust Bill Adama to ask the tough questions.
"If I had the inclination, I just might. But as nice as darning your socks and making supper every night sounds, I'm bit overqualified to be housewife, Bill."
"Yeah, but how you'd excel at it," he teased.
"Mmm, there's a university a few hours north of here. They want me for a position in their graduate school. It's a new chair; I'd be free to design my curriculum, to teach about the Colonies. I'm going to accept."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"There's also a project I want to start. A museum, a non-profit...I haven't worked out the details yet. I'll need everyone's help. I think it'd be good for Kara."
"What is it?"
"I'm calling it 'The Colonial Memory Project'. Our homeworlds might be gone, but there is so much we need to preserve. The Colonies aren't dead, not as long as someone remembers them. I want to help keep them alive."
His eyes were bright, even in the low light of the terrace. Laura averted her eyes coyly. "And there's us."
"You find that place yet?"
"As a matter of fact, I did."
He leaned in, kissing her a little more forcefully than she had expected. Bill Adama. Even now, he was still surprsing her.
"You want to go to bed?"
She flashed him a predatory grin, hooked a finger under his bowtie, and stepped backward towards the room.
"Not on your frakking life, Admiral." She turned on her heel, unzipping her dress, smiling more freely than she had in a long time.
Might as well enjoy her symbolic seniority while it lasted. She felt him come up behind her, his hands helping to slide the dress down her body, his voice in her ear:
"The military is at your command, Madam President."
And it was.
***
Kara Thrace splashed her foot in the shimmering water.
"So, Apollo, the world ended, we saved humanity, and got a movie made about our frakked up existence. Think the worst is over for this lifetime?" On her left, Sam had passed out, which was not unusual. On her right, pants rolled up and feet dangling in the pool as well, sat at an at-ease Lee Adama, which was.
"I don't know," he replied, honestly. "We never did learn who the final five were. They could be here, waiting with us. Maybe they died on New Caprica, or on the basestars in those last fights before we jumped to Earth. There are still a lot of unanswered questions. It's possible they could find us again."
Kara took a long pull from her bottle and passed it over to him. "Bet those studio execs would love that."
Lee stared out at the hazy night sky above them. He took a swig of the bottle, and passed it back. "You know, it wasn't that bad."
Kara raised an eyebrow, accepting the bottle
"I'm just saying, it could have been worse."
"How the frak is that possible?" She elbowed him with minimal intent to injure, and took a long pull.
Lee caught her eye and smirked. "Could have been a musical."
They laughed together.
At last, things were good.
***
Sunday New York Times
Weddings and Celebrations
Monterey, CA - Dr. Laura Roslin, former President of the
Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and Admiral William Adama,
former Commander in Chief of the Colonial Fleet, were
married this past week in a small, civil ceremony in coastal California.
The event was attended by close friends and family of all
planetary origins.
The pair are very happy.
---
THE BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
Directed by Michael Bay
Starring
Kathleen York as President Laura Roslin
Richard Gere as Admiral William Adama
Chris Pine as Lee Adama
Rachel McAdams as Kara Thrace
Woody Harrelson as Saul Tigh
Kim Cattrall as Ellen Tigh
Gary Oldman as Tom Zarek
Zac Efron as Billy Kekeiya
Jake Gyllenhaal as Karl "Helo" Agathon
Ming Na as Sharon "Athena" Agathon
Famke Jannsen as Six
Jude Law as Gaius Baltar
Parminder Nagra as Tory Foster
John Krasinski as Jammer
Ellen Page as Racetrack
John Cho as Hot Dog
CCH Pounder as Elosha
Ed Asner as Dr. Jack Cottle
Sean Penn as Romo Lampkin
Kate Winslet as D'Anna Biers
Cillian Murphy as Leoben Conoy
Beyonce Knowles as Anastasia Dualla
Nathan Fillion as Sam Anders
James Franco as Felix Gaeta
Philip Seymour Hoffman as Chief Tyrol
Miley Cyrus as Cally Henderson Tyrol
Sam Neill as John Cavil
Kevin Spacey as Doral
Chiwetel Ejiofor as Simon
AND - If you're thinking that all these peeps is younger/hotter than their BSG-verse counterparts...that is part of the joke :) It's Hollywood!
Author: miabicicletta
Rating: PG-13
For Summary & Notes, see Part 1
When the title sequence came up, a single thought flooded her mind: It was an eerie thing to watch your whole world annihilated.
Feeling relatively unaffected by the images of the Cylon attack, Laura felt an odd sense of shame.
But, then again, none of them had been there. There was almost no footage in existence, from any of the worlds, of the carnage that had taken place that fateful day. The photograph of the unknown solider brought to his knees by the burning of Picon that had been captured by a photojournalist who made it aboard the last transit off the planet, was one of the few that had survived the exodus. She had no memories to compare with the events, apart from a frantic wireless call from her shuttle to Caprica. She had no memories to compare with the events, apart from a frantic wireless call from her shuttle to Jack Greene on Caprica. All she had heard were thundering crashes before the line went dead.
On screen, huge explosions leveled the Colonies. The Forum on Caprica, burned to the ground. The great temples and sacred places on Gemenon, reduced to rubble by the warheads. The plains on Libran, coastal towns of Picon, jungles of Saggitaron--all of the familiar, iconic places had been skillfully rendered and re-imagined for this brutal montage. It was horrifying and unreal, loud and seemingly insensitive--a rather mindless spectacle. Since she hadn't actually experienced it, Laura felt very removed from the devastation.
Apparently there were a lot of lensflares at the end of the worlds.
***
They had done a good job with the casting, and glanced over Her "Dying Leader" bit, attributing it to an simple, curable illness for which no medicine was available. Miracle of miracles, some had been found on Kobol, tying that little storyline up quite nicely.
On the whole, it was surreal and faintly amusing.
Until the Pegasus showed up.
***
"We could...take this elsewhere." The Admiral sidled up to her commander, trailing her trigger finger down the length of his sleeve. "Of course, Commander, if there's something going on between you and the President..."
Bill was furious. "That never happened!" He whispered in her ear.
Laugh suppressed a humorless giggle. Her nerves were increasingly on edge with every scene in this farce. "You weren't her type."
***
She blinked back tears when Billy died. He would have been mortified by how he'd been portrayed in this rubbish. She smiled at the thought of that sour expression on his baby face. Bill squeezed her hand.
***
Mercifully, there was no mention of stolen babies or elections. Small favors, indeed.
***
New Caprica. Much to Laura's delight, the plot emphasized Baltar's failure in leadership and focused more on the supporting characters.
Starbuck's kidnapping. The insurgency (the film kept calling them "rebels" and "freedom fighters"). Saul Tigh's torture. Her own was greatly exaggerated. Bill knew what really happened, but it didn't stop him from visibly tensing for the duration.
As Laura watched the scenes unfold -- the tension heightened with tensile music, all shrieking strings and percussion, slow motion expressions and extreme close ups -- she reasoned that however insufferable she found Hollywood, it was at least an improvement over New Caprica.
Barely.
***
"Bill, you came back..."
"I couldn't leave our people behind. Couldn't leave you behind, Laura..."
"Oh, Bill..."
Mouth open, she stared in horror.
Laura Roslin was used to a general lack of privacy. She never went anywhere alone, given the necessity and dedication of her security detail. Her daily schedule was scrutinzed by almost anyone with the inclination to look it up, as was her wardrobe, her habits, her preference in tea....
But, for all of the public attention she'd grown used to over the last several years, none of it made her as self-conscious as seeing her doppelganger embrace a fictional version of Bill Adama in a passionate kiss on a movie screen the size of Galactica's hanger bay.
She squirmed in her chair, blushing fiercely and avoiding eye contact with everyone she knew. At least it was dark.
Beside her, Bill groaned and hung his head.
Somewhere behind her, Kara Thrace was hollering her wild and raucus approval. Laura made a mental note to smack her later.
***
And then there was the sex scene.
"Madame President, I seem to recall you suggesting that we 'start having babies...'"
"Oh my Gods. Oh my Gods. Oh my gods..." Laura Roslin was sure nothing, ever, had ever horrified her as much as this.
"Are they frakking kidding me with this?" Bill growled in disbelief. Laura was vaguely grateful that he was not currently armed (though she wished she was).
Unintentionally, she caught Saul Tigh's gaze, and frowned at his sly grin.
Frakking Hollywood.
***
By the time the conclusion rolled around, Laura almost couldn't take it anymore.
She had very nearly gotten up and walked out on the final scenes wherein Baltar "saved the day", or whatever. Her contempt for him had not tempered since his death. The onscreen Gaius...communed, she supposed was the word for it, with one of the hybrids, and then there was the confrontation with the Cavil in charge. Then something else happened, accompanied by explosions and Vipers making near escapes and big, thematic music...blah blah blah. It was all grandiose absurdity, an attempt to thrill the audience. It made her stomach turn.
She'd lived the real thing, and was galled by this Hollywood-style ending, particularly how the film attributed Baltar's "visions" and "gifts"to his success in obtaining the coordinates for Earth from the strange and mystic cylon hybrid. It was all part of predictable character arc about his "redemption," pointing the way to his eventual "sacrifice." Laura preferred to think of it as the last gasps of a great analytical mind, reaching up through the layers of madness that had enveloped him.
In the end, the "resolution" posed many unanswered questions--the still unknown identities of the final five, if the cylons would return and find them, how the people of Earth would accept them...
All of which only served to remind Laura about those very real problems and about the terrifying possibility of a sequel.
When the lights came up, the audience applauded loudly around them. The smarmy director gave a smarmy speech about the next smarmy thing he'd be up to.
Bill looked at Laura, eyes grave and dark behind his glasses. "This is gonna be a long night."
She nodded. Gods that was true.
***
Bill was silent during the ride to the reception. It was just as well, she had grown increasingly angry from the moment the end credits began to role.
Angry at the producers. Angry at the directors. Angry at herself for not having been more involved in this frakkin' travesty. Angry at this frakkin' culture and what passed for entertainment.
Livid, she clenched her jaw, steeling herself for the strength to get through the after party. She wanted to spend as little time at the event as possible, make an obligatory appearance and then quietly disappear upstairs to her room.
It became apparent very quickly that this would not be happening anytime soon.
Laura struggled to maintain her composure when passing through the area cordoned off for the press, cheerfully giving a number of bland, non-committal sound bites to the entertainment reporters.
After fighting her way through the throng, she passed through open french doors to the reception area. The party area was comprised of a large indoor room, tastefully underlit and styled to mimic the minimalist design of Galactica herself. Waiters circled the room with trays of drinks. She heard one woman order a "Colonial 151" and another ask for a "Tauron-tini".
Bill is going to love this...
Laura slowly made her way through the room. Many of those in attendance were the kind of important, polished-looking people with healthy tans and overly bright smiles. Movie types. She didn't didn't feel up to engaging any of them in conversation, and made a beeline for the first familiar face she recognized.
She found Saul Tigh by the bar. The man had a magnet for free liquor.
"Hell of a night," he groused, holding up a drink in toast.
"You said it, Colonel." Catching the bartenders eye, she motioned for him to bring whatever Saul was drinking. Knowing Saul, it would something strong and neat. Just what she needed.
"Another few those, if you don't mind," she heard, over her shoulder as she accepted the glass. Laura turned to find Lee and his father approaching them.
"How did you enjoy our moment in the sun?" She asked, chiding him. Lee's story line had been almost as licentious as her own.
"It was...something," Lee finished lamely. He shrugged, affecting a smile. "If nothing else, it'll help curry sympathy for us, even for those who think its exaggerated and sacchrine."
Bill grunted in a semi-agreement, raising his glass to his lips. "Dee make it here?"
"Oh, she's around. Let's just says she wasn't a fan of some of her character development."
"There's always another fight with Dee."
Saul grunted, clearly familiar with the shifting moods of women. "If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you, son. Feels like I've got ninety-nine problems, but at least a --"
"Lee!"
Lee pursed his lips as his wife gestured for him to join her with a group of the smiling, polished-types. Lee ducked his head and tossed back his drink, nodding towards his father and Laura. "If you'll excuse me."
Saul grumbled something and took a long drink of his scotch. He looked unfocused, and kept cocking his head to the crowd, as if he heard something. He twitched a little, gruffly barking at the the bartender to tone the music down.
"Something bothering you, Saul?" Bill asked.
"Uh? Oh, just got a lot on my mind.
Odd, Laura thought. She hadn't heard any music yet.
***
When all was said and done, mortification aside, it did manage to settle some long standing bets between members of the Colonial Fleet.
"Helo, where's my twenty cubits!" Calling out to her former crewmate, Kara Thrace shimmied past him, gleeful over her apparent victory. The beads of her low-cut dress sparkled in the stylish dim light.
Great, Laura sighed.
"No way, Starbuck; I don't owe you anything yet." Tempered but grinning, Karl Agathon shook his head, and, arm slung around his wife, gestured with a finger towards the couple in question. "Just cause it's in some stupid movie doesn't prove anything."
Athena quirked a smile of her own.
"You get that, right Starbuck? Pretty sure you know a thing or two about embellishing the truth for the value of a good story, otherwise you'd have nothing to distract us from your weak-ass Triad face..."
Starbuck spun on her heel as she passed them, walking backwards on a beeline towards where Laura stood.
"That's why I'm the legend around these parts." With a wink and bang, bang, guns-blazing gesture of her hands, she turned and set about proving her point.
"Rough night's about to get worse," Helo remarked, taking in a long breath.
Athena nodded in agreement. "Good thing there's an open bar."
Privately, Laura agreed.
***
Anticipating a conversation with Kara she wasn't ready to have yet, Laura excused herself, breaking away with the excuse of heading to the restroom. Unfortunately, in doing so she found herself in the direct path of one of the most obnoxious film producers, who promptly called the leading actors over from their VIP table for yet another discussion of the premiere. Perhaps dealing with Starbuck would have been easier, in the long run. Laura smiled, and endured, ever the professional.
When she was finally able to extract herself from the overly friendly grasp of the executive producer, she ran into Tory, who was staring off across the room, looking distracted and more than a bit dazed. Laura could't fault her. Compared to the simplicity of the Camp Picon, the reception hall and sprawling outdoor patio and grounds sparkled with an unnerving decadence. She cringed at the thought of how much money had been spent on a party -- a party meant to satisfy egos and placate studio executives. No doubt they were all patting themselves on the back downing cocktails and enjoying the fruits of their labor, as her previous interaction had suggested.
Laura suppressed the urge to list the many uses the money for the design budget alone could have been used for. Tory felt much the same way.
"I can't decide if this whole thing is hilarious, or if I should be sit down and cry."
"You and me both. Gods, part of me would like to sue their asses for...whatever. Bad art."
"I don't think that's actually a crime, Ma'am. Have you seen what they put on television?"
Faintly, Laura recalled that Tory had discovered a weakness for some reality show about models.
"That's not art, Tory. Sure we can't sue them?"
"Well, I haven't passed the bar ma'am but I know a little bit," Tory began.
Laura waved her off. "All right, all right. Enough of that." She smiled, and with a gentle shove, ushered her aide towards a group of young men and women near the patio. "Go have fun, Tory. Or try to. You've earned it."
***
From what Laura could gather in an unofficial census, opinions on the film seemed to fall one of two ways: those who found it ridiculous (the Colonials) and those who didn't (everyone else).
As she passed by Galen Tyrol, she overheard him accuse a screenwriter of fabricating plot points.
The producer defended himself. "Hey, I did all kinds fact checking "
"Why type of facts are those?" Tyrol said, glowering at him. Sam gave Tyrol a strange look, and they glanced at one another for a moment. Even from several yards away they both looked unsettled, by the evening's event or something else.
"You're out of your mind. Did you have anyone from Camp Picon look over that dreck?"
"Mr. Tyrol, I won't deny we took some artistic license, but that's the nature of screenwriting. But if you're unhappy with the way we adapted events, perhaps for sequel..."
Grimacing, Laura suddenly wanted another drink.
***
Three producers, four actors, and someone who claimed to be "in development" later, Laura was beginning to feel liable to commit acts that no amount of political importance could absolve her of if she didn't get out of here soon.
"I think I need some air," she said, catching Bill's eye and gesturing to the outdoor patio garden.
He nodded and moved to follow her, but stopped as something caught his eye. Laura glanced over her shoulder.
Across the room, Kara Thrace stood next to the DJ, threw back her drink and hollered a pilots cheer out over the crowd.
"This one goes out to LEE ADAMA!"
A raucus beat started up, all uptempo percussion and catchy guitar riffs.
Laura was about to respond to Lee when a woman began to sing,"Your daddy don't know what your mama's gonna do tonight. Oh, your daddy don't know..."
That was it. Laura had had it.
***
She paced with fury, unable to comprehend how Bill could lean against the stone wall lining the garden patio looking so placid.
"I blame your son," she groused to Bill, tripping a little in her rage and falling out of her shoe in the process.
"I agree. Definitely Lee's fault." Bill nodded his stoic assent, trying to help her and being swatted away. "But, just for posterity's sake, what are we blaming him for exactly?"
"For this fiasco. He was so hell-bent on advocating for this whole sordid thing. He's so annoyingly idealistic...Oh, don't give me that 'aw shucks, that'd be my fault, ma'am' look, Bill Adama. I could kill you, too, right now. With this shoe!" She stumbled again a little as she tried to coax it back onto her foot.
"Laura..."
"Right now! You and Lee both, I've got one for each of you. The only thing that's keeping me in check is that I really frakkin' like these shoes."
He sighed, settling against the dias as she tugged at the shoe again. "I can see that, though I'm not sure why."
"Because I don't have an airlock at the moment!"
"Meant the shoes," he muttered. "Laura, it's just a movie."
She unleashed the full force of her anger on him.
"Actually, it's a joke. For heaven's sake, they made poor Billy the comic relief in every scene. Billy. They didn't show how smart he was, or how capable. He dug up those admiral's pips, when I was sure they'd be impossible to find. Forget that he used to volunteer what little spare time he had with the grade school children on the Rising Star because they reminded him of his niece and nephews. One of those producers in that room back there made him a joke, because someone's account recalled one awkward moment or offhand opinion about a boy who meant more to me than anyone else in my life up until then. They made him a joke, Bill. That is unacceptable."
She knew her voice was rising, that she was in danger of really losing it, but couldn't bring herself to care. Crossing her arms, she went on.
"Gods, and New Caprica? They made us seem... obvious, and what's worse, they made it seem cheap. Tawdry. You might have been made out as a hero, but all I got to be was the damsel in distress, always needing to be saved from disease or Cylons or my own emotional whatever. The damsel, while in reality I was organizing an insurgency and being tortured for my troubles. And I'm sorry if this is a blow to your ego, Bill, but I did not have time to pine away for you. I was too busy trying to hold together what was left of us. It's wasn't just a movie, Bill. It was our lives. Our experiences and memories are all that is left of the Colonies. And that depiction tonight was terrible."
He opened his mouth to reply, but was beaten to the punch by an interloper.
"So boss, they get it right?"
Kara Thrace sauntered over, smiling an abusurdly bright smile, given the circumstances. As much as she had come to like the young pilot, Laura couldn't help but recall her earlier desire to throttle the girl.
Laura attempted to project an air of innocence.
"Precisely what did they get right, Captain Thrace?" It was impossible not to know what she was hinting at: Starbuck did nothing subtle.
So help me, if you know what's good for you, Kara...
"You got money riding on it?" Bill asked her casually,
"Bet your ass."
"Admiral, I'd rather if this conversation didn't--"
"New Caprica. Where's that leave you?"
"Bill!" Laura hissed at him.
"Ohhh ho ho! Well off, sir! Helo's going to be high and dry after this!"
"Do me a favor. Keep it in the family. Resist the urge to be your loudmouth self, Starbuck."
"Wilco, sir. Don't worry ma'am. After seeing that dress, I doubt anyone will be calling you 'Old Lady' anytime soon..." With that, Kara flitted off with a little less coordination than she should have had.
"Bill..." Laura began to growl, but her complaint was interrupted.
"What?" He straightened and edged in closer to her, refusing to back down from her ire. "We've just been outed to everyone on this planet with a fix for bad science fiction or intergalactic political nuance, and you're worried about Kara Thrace knowing when we got involved?"
"I'd have preferred a bit more discretion. From both of you."
"Time for discretion is over. We're here. We're settled. We did the job."
"It's not that simple."
"You've been waltzing around this for a long time. Time you looked at your cards and made a decision, Laura." He looked at her coldly. "I think maybe you already have."
With that, he turned angrily and left, leaving Laura and her temper alone on the patio.
***
From inside the main room, the dance floor crowed with young people as a bawdy singer purred a tune Laura half-recognized. Something about lovers caught in a bad romance. She was far too practical to internalize the sentiments layered in a pop song du jour, but still. The Gods, Laura wryly thought, had a rather nasty way of amusing themselves.
Sighing, she tipped her head to the darkening sky. She strolled aimlessly along the walkway, finding herself near a too-blue pool and collapsing in lounge chair.
Laura knew herself well enough to recognize she was projecting much of her frustration into an otherwise trite and ultimately insignificant event. Bill was right, it was just a movie.
If she was honest with herself, as she was not always willing to be, Laura could see that much of her
emotional reaction tonight had been the result of the decisions she'd been grappling with all week. All year. Since the fall. All of the above. It was all coming to a head with the appointment, and the agency, and the treaty terms moving forward which keep her tied up in more diplomacy, for years to come. It was easy to see why she was displacing her fears onto the film. Well, that and it was awful.
No. If Laura was honest with herself, as she was not always able to be, she knew what she had to do.
"Madame Prez!" Kara had wandered back over, carrying a bottle of something in her hand. She'd lost her shoes somewhere. "Not joining the party?"
"Needed a break."
Kara collapsed in the chair beside her. "I can relate. Been a while since I wore anything with a heel bigger than combat boots."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment.
"So you scare the Old Man off?"
"Let's just say that you and I both have a less than stellar track record when it comes to men in our lives."
"I'll drink to that."
"Give me that," Laura said, holding out her hand.
"Can't refuse a superior officer."
"You routinely refuse your superior officers, Starbuck."
"Only ones outside the family," Kara replied with a wink.
Laura laughed. "And especially the ones in the family," Laura countered, with a smirk.
"Can't argue that, Ma'am."
"Laura."
"Hmmm?" Starbuck asked, taking a long pull from the bottle. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Say what now?"
"It's just 'Laura', Kara. Before, you called me Madame President. Technically, I'm not the president anymore."
Kara seemed to consider that for a moment, but offered, "Not to get too heavy, ma'am, but you're the last leader of the Twelve Colonies. You'll always be our president."
Well, there was that.
"Besides," Kara continued, "you're still the de facto 'Lady in Charge.' They'll just be calling you Ambassador now. Which, by the way, is a hell of a demotion. You should really register your complaints."
Laura snorted in faint amusement, taking her own pull from the bottle. "Think I could put in for some retroactive hazard pay while I'm at it?"
"Paychecks are nice, kinda forgotten the fun cubits -- sorry, dollars -- will get you. But I'd take my reward in...whatever this is, at the moment." She passed the bottle back to Laura, who held it up and squinted to read the label.
The music wafting over the garden patio changed to a new pop song, and Starbuck sensed the transition, sitting up.
"I love this song. Come dance, you'll feel better. Especially if you kick those things off."
"Thank you, Kara, but I think not. I have some amends to make." Laura glanced up toward the hotels upper floors. "Go, live a little," she said, pointing toward Sam Anders, who'd spotted them across the pool."
"Aye, aye. Don't wear him out, " Kara said, brightly.
"It's not a school night, Captain."
"Touche, Madame Airlock."
"Go dance with your husband, Kara. Before one of those little blonde starlets snatches him up."
"He is pretty easy on the eyes, isn't he? Good thing, too, cause there's not much behind 'em..." Sam eased an arm around her and leaned in close.
"Aw, Kara, what do you take me as? I don't think you understand the intelligence that Sam Anders has."
Starbuck rolled her eyes.
***
He was out on the terrace, leaning over the railing, studying the view. The pink stone was still slightly warm from the strong afternoon sunlight, the metal railing cool beneath her touch as she moved beside him. On the far side of the railing stretched a long trough, leveled precisely and filled with green plants and flowers that flooded the air with a wild, verdant scent.
"I never asked if you read the last book I sent you," Laura said calmly.
"I did."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
He studied her sidelong. "It was pretty good."
"Oh?"
"Liked the main character. Harriet. Defied convention, didn't let anyone tell her how to live her life. Got a lot of grief for it, though. Still, I liked her spirit. Reminds me of someone I know."
Laura smiled. "I'm sorry." Forgive me?
He placed his hand over hers. He would always forgive her, even if she broke his heart. Bill turned his attention back out over the hills and the long sparkling gridlines of the city, but not before she caught the corners of his mouth turning up. "Kid was a pain in the ass, though."
She laughed, thinking of Lee and Kara. "True. The dear ones almost always are." She thought fondly of Billy, wishing he could have been here to see this world. She wondered what he would have have made of them all now.
As if sensing her sorrow, Bill snaked his arm around her waist and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He dropped a kiss on her temple.
A thought struck her. "You know, that was a rather good mystery. Though I think you liked it because of the happy ending. Earnest Lord Peter and his aristocratic charm. Saves the day. Gets the girl." Laura felt rather than saw him smile.
"Always been my motto."
"Bill, I've been thinking..."
"Should I be worried?"
"Only if you were planning on sleeping tonight, Admiral," she growled playfully.
"Not if I can help it." He chuckled, low and close to her ear. Gods, how his voice thrilled her. "What have you been thinking?"
"I spoke to the former President yesterday. They're in the process of staffing the Office of Colonial Affairs. They wanted my recommendations on who to bring in from the Fleet. I think they're trying to organize ahead of schedule, allow some time for everyone to get to know one another."
"That's a good strategy. Unit cohesion's important."
"There's so much work to do. Still. It's funny, we spent so much time caught up in the frenzy of searching for Earth, were so consumed by it that I rarely ever considered what would need to be done once we arrived. If we arrived. Having to share it with a few hundred tribes of overpopulated, multi lingual, polytheistic, technological adolescents, didn't even enter my mind."
He sighed heavily, shoulders sagging a little in disappointment, but he gave voice to none of it, even as his heart sank. They both knew what the Ambassadorship meant.
"It's nothing you can't handle, Laura." He sighed in that distinctly Bill way, the way no other sigh or voice or man could ever quite capture. She turned in his arms and leaned against the terrace balcony to face him.
"Like I said, the President liked my suggestions the other day."
"Not all he liked."
"Oh stop."
"Can you blame me?"
"Oh, I blame you for a great many things, Admiral. You drive me to distraction." Something in her tone suggested not always in a good way.
"That's a problem?"
"No. Yes. It was different, before. We had the advantage of being able to be discreet on Galactica. There weren't cameras and reporters and terrible films made about us." She reached for the words to explain herself. "It's all so...public. It would be worse with the Ambassadorship."
"The Fleet comes first, we agreed on that much from the beginning."
"The Fleet did come first...but we're not a fleet anymore, Bill. We're not an ad hoc coterie anymore, caught between stars and their troubles. "You'll be in San Diego. I'd be in New York, Washington, wherever."
She laid her hands flat against his chest and looked him in the eyes. "I fought this too long, Bill. Kept you away for a lot of reasons that now don't seem like very good ones at all. I don't want you on the other side of a planet or a continent. I don't want you on the other side of the room if I can help it."
The corner of his mouth raised, hinting at the bloom of a smile as the full meaning of her words began to sink in.
"That so?"
"It is."
His dear, familiar features were full of unasked questions. All of which had only one answer.
"I'm not accepting the job, Bill. I'm recommending Lee."
He remained silent, but the smile on his face grew and his grip on her waist tightened.
"I gave them my two cubits, and I think what I've contributed this past year has been important, and will go a long way toward improving our standing with the international leadership. But...I'm tired. I want someone else to take care of the heavy lifting. I did my part, I played my role. I lived for the Fleet, Bill. We both did. I think I've earned the right to have a life now."
She snuggled into the crook of his neck, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, feeling the tension in his shoulders dissipate and his chin come to rest on her the top of her head.
"What will you do, take up knitting?"
She snorted. Trust Bill Adama to ask the tough questions.
"If I had the inclination, I just might. But as nice as darning your socks and making supper every night sounds, I'm bit overqualified to be housewife, Bill."
"Yeah, but how you'd excel at it," he teased.
"Mmm, there's a university a few hours north of here. They want me for a position in their graduate school. It's a new chair; I'd be free to design my curriculum, to teach about the Colonies. I'm going to accept."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"There's also a project I want to start. A museum, a non-profit...I haven't worked out the details yet. I'll need everyone's help. I think it'd be good for Kara."
"What is it?"
"I'm calling it 'The Colonial Memory Project'. Our homeworlds might be gone, but there is so much we need to preserve. The Colonies aren't dead, not as long as someone remembers them. I want to help keep them alive."
His eyes were bright, even in the low light of the terrace. Laura averted her eyes coyly. "And there's us."
"You find that place yet?"
"As a matter of fact, I did."
He leaned in, kissing her a little more forcefully than she had expected. Bill Adama. Even now, he was still surprsing her.
"You want to go to bed?"
She flashed him a predatory grin, hooked a finger under his bowtie, and stepped backward towards the room.
"Not on your frakking life, Admiral." She turned on her heel, unzipping her dress, smiling more freely than she had in a long time.
Might as well enjoy her symbolic seniority while it lasted. She felt him come up behind her, his hands helping to slide the dress down her body, his voice in her ear:
"The military is at your command, Madam President."
And it was.
***
Kara Thrace splashed her foot in the shimmering water.
"So, Apollo, the world ended, we saved humanity, and got a movie made about our frakked up existence. Think the worst is over for this lifetime?" On her left, Sam had passed out, which was not unusual. On her right, pants rolled up and feet dangling in the pool as well, sat at an at-ease Lee Adama, which was.
"I don't know," he replied, honestly. "We never did learn who the final five were. They could be here, waiting with us. Maybe they died on New Caprica, or on the basestars in those last fights before we jumped to Earth. There are still a lot of unanswered questions. It's possible they could find us again."
Kara took a long pull from her bottle and passed it over to him. "Bet those studio execs would love that."
Lee stared out at the hazy night sky above them. He took a swig of the bottle, and passed it back. "You know, it wasn't that bad."
Kara raised an eyebrow, accepting the bottle
"I'm just saying, it could have been worse."
"How the frak is that possible?" She elbowed him with minimal intent to injure, and took a long pull.
Lee caught her eye and smirked. "Could have been a musical."
They laughed together.
At last, things were good.
***
Sunday New York Times
Weddings and Celebrations
Monterey, CA - Dr. Laura Roslin, former President of the
Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and Admiral William Adama,
former Commander in Chief of the Colonial Fleet, were
married this past week in a small, civil ceremony in coastal California.
The event was attended by close friends and family of all
planetary origins.
The pair are very happy.
---
THE BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
Directed by Michael Bay
Starring
Kathleen York as President Laura Roslin
Richard Gere as Admiral William Adama
Chris Pine as Lee Adama
Rachel McAdams as Kara Thrace
Woody Harrelson as Saul Tigh
Kim Cattrall as Ellen Tigh
Gary Oldman as Tom Zarek
Zac Efron as Billy Kekeiya
Jake Gyllenhaal as Karl "Helo" Agathon
Ming Na as Sharon "Athena" Agathon
Famke Jannsen as Six
Jude Law as Gaius Baltar
Parminder Nagra as Tory Foster
John Krasinski as Jammer
Ellen Page as Racetrack
John Cho as Hot Dog
CCH Pounder as Elosha
Ed Asner as Dr. Jack Cottle
Sean Penn as Romo Lampkin
Kate Winslet as D'Anna Biers
Cillian Murphy as Leoben Conoy
Beyonce Knowles as Anastasia Dualla
Nathan Fillion as Sam Anders
James Franco as Felix Gaeta
Philip Seymour Hoffman as Chief Tyrol
Miley Cyrus as Cally Henderson Tyrol
Sam Neill as John Cavil
Kevin Spacey as Doral
Chiwetel Ejiofor as Simon
AND - If you're thinking that all these peeps is younger/hotter than their BSG-verse counterparts...that is part of the joke :) It's Hollywood!