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New Caprica
12:04
Οκτώβρης (Oktobris) - month ten of occupation
Strips of torn fabric decorated the main street at the heart of the Colony. Tents trailed off in all directions, the narrow, muddied paths between them feeding in to merge with the main stream. Each alley brought scores of New Capricans converging onto the markets that flourished with the ‘almost’ warmth of the day. Laura Roslin, just one of the hundreds of souls picking their way through the array of produce on display. This was the last harvest market of the season and without refrigeration or large storage facilities, it was the final chance to taste fresh food for at least four months. The atmosphere seemed positive enough, but underneath - behind the fabric of their tents, they were all thinking, there's not enough food...
The military had already been here, securing large amounts of grain and salted meat for the fleet's dwindling pilots. No-one might be interested in manning the flight decks of space at the moment, but give them a few months of nothing but weevil infested bread and rotten meat and they might change their minds. The boredom was worth it for the food alone.
Laura fought the crowds around one stall, eventually making her way far enough in to glimpse the table on offer. There wasn't much left - a dozen or so bags of grain, one with a worn edge leaking precious seeds to the ground.
"Yes ma'am?" the woman who was once young had aged terribly from the task of attending her fields.
"Ah, two bags." Laura held up the number on her hands as well in case she wasn't heard over the noise of desperate haggling. She would have bought all of them but she had precious little to bargain with - and she wasn't ready to part with the beautiful stone around her neck - not yet. It remained the only gift the Admiral had given to her and she would rather starve than lose it.
The woman went to pick up the leaking bag but Laura shook her head. "Not that one." She shot Laura a 'beggars shouldn't be choosers' look before reluctantly picking the bag next to it and placing them both on the table. Laura passed her a container of pain killers with nine tablets left inside. The woman counted them, then nodded. A fair trade was passed.
The bags of grain were heavy for their size and Laura struggled to pull them off the table. Food was so frakking heavy. But she needed it - the young child was spending more and more time in her care with her mother struggling to secure enough of a life for the both of them.
Laura had one more stop to make, Tyrol said he had a little yeast to part with in return for one of her pain killers. Cally needed them, her pregnancy had set off horrendous back pain and as the time grew closer - and the cold worse, the pain was becoming too much to bare. Laura knew a lot about pain - she knew that if there was something she could do to take it away from another, then she would.
The thing she hated most about market day was that it turned the ordered streets into an absolute mess. She knew roughly where she was going, but it was hard to tell exactly because all the tents looked the same. The only difference coming from their varying states of decay.
'Down from the square - turn left, no - right and fourteenth on the left.' Laura stopped again, resting the heavy grain bags on the ground, taking a moment to secure her shoulder bag as well.
Walking along what could be the equivalent of Bia Street, Laura counted the tents carefully until she came to number fourteen. Counting manually was a pain and she often wondered why they hadn't at least tried to instate some kind of primitive street names.
Number Fourteen was a largish tent - larger than she would have expected. Its Kiekie shell spanned the better part of five meters which made it about ten meters deep. It certainly wasn't a family tent, but then again, Tyrol had never said he would be at home. More than likely he was finishing up another Union meeting and just wanted her to stop by there.
It didn't matter - she was tired and just wanted to go home and prepare lunch before the child and her mother arrived.
It was a mistake - from the moment she walked in. Everything screamed at her and she knew -
This was the wrong tent.
She could feel it as she entered the diminished light filtering in from several gashes in the 'ceiling'. A group of thirty or so packed into the space around a make shift stage that was really just a sheet of metal bridging the gap between two stones. The air smelt of cigars and ambrosia, rancid garbage left to decay at its edges where three or four elderly people slumped against the tent walls - muttering to themselves in intoxicated hallucinations. Whispering broke out from those next to her and spread through the room, people shifting to face her, anger and disgust rising from within them.
Panic rooted her to the ground, this was not the Union tent. Behind the table hung one of the old election posters, the one with her and Baltar standing side by side. She remembered that day vividly, it was way back in the time she thought she was going to win. Baltar's image was exactly how she remembered it being, his greasy hair glistening from the poster's surface. Her picture though, was torn slightly at the edges - mud from outside smeared over her suit and, to her horror, an assortment of sharp objects jutted out. Knives that had embedded themselves in the board.
This tent belonged to those still loyal to Baltar, but worse, this was the extremist movement and they hated her for trying to steal the election from him. They blamed her for their hardship in space, and for the oppression of the military. Word was, they wanted her out of the picture - in the permanent sense. She hadn't believed the rumours, until now.
Oh frak.
"Looky what the cold dragged in." Leered one of the more tortured faces. His clothing was covered in mud, streaks of it also hiding the various gashes and sores that had only stopped bleeding recently.
"Well I'll be frakked if it isn't the bitch herself." This time, the room parted and Laura noticed that the stage was empty, the man who had been occupying it making his way through a crowd restless with anticipation. They were waiting to see what their leader would do with the arrival of their greatest enemy.
"Look everyone," he continued, "It's our very own, President" the man gave a little bow, rising to meet Laura. He moved so that he came uncomfortably close to her, his smell particularly strong. She wondered if he had ever been sober. "What brings you here ma'am?"
The crowd laughed maliciously, this was the most interesting thing that had happened to them in months. For the first time Laura Roslin was not surrounded by her usual entourage of protectors. This was their world, and she had entered all on her own - what happened next, well, that wasn't their fault now was it?
"My apologies, I was - " she searched for a valid excuse, trying not to meet their eyes, "looking for someone. But - obviously they're not here so I'll just be - "
"Going?"
"Yes."
"Oh no, I don't think so. What sort of hosts would we be if we didn't give our ex-president and one true prophet the welcome she deserves." Laura really didn't like the way he was smiling at her - or the way the crowd was gradually inching closer.
"That's very kind of you but I really should be - "
"Ah, you've been shopping I see - stocking up for the long winter?"
"The same as everyone else." Maybe she could talk herself out of this.
"Those bags must be heavy."
"Nothing I can't manage." She could smell every detail of him as he leant down closer.
"Here, let me help." And he took the bags from her, smiling before passing them back behind him where they disappeared into the crowd. There was nothing she could do.
The bastard.
The crowd broke into applause and the man backed off, hands raised in the air. Things could have been worse, if he was satisfied with two bags of grain, then she was lucky. Laura tested a step backward, the man seeming to show no interest. It looked as if he was going to let her go until he caught a glimpse of the precious stone around her neck. Laura tried to take another step back but he was too fast - grabbing her arm, preventing her retreat. "What's this then?"
"None of your business." she cut quickly, attempting but failing another retreat.
"It's mighty pretty ma'am, why, worth enough to feed the entire room. What do you say we propose a trade, your life for this fine jewel of yours?"
Laura pulled her arm away. "Frak you."
"If only darlin'"
The way he looked at her made Laura feel sick.
"Now hand over that pretty necklace of yours and you can be on your way."
"No."
"Have it your way."
For a brief second she wondered what that meant. Then, without warning three or four of the crowd leapt upon her. "No! Get your hands off me!" She struggled against them, yelling as loudly as she could but she already felt their hands moving to where the stone sat around her neck. Despite her efforts Laura knew she was losing, someone had hold of the leather band and was pulling without consideration for her neck.
"Frakking animals! Let her go!"
The room paused at the bellowing voice of the Vice President standing on the stage. They were all quiet for a moment, not sure what to do. "I said let her go - NOW!"
The formerly dominant male released his grip on her arm. "Frak this shit." And then he left the tent, the fun seemingly over. Once he released her, the others seemed to follow begrudgingly.
Zarek remained on stage long enough to quite the crowd before moving towards Laura. He came up to her, whispering quietly. "Are you okay?" she nodded. "We have to leave." Laura didn't protest, letting him lead her out of the tent gently by the arm.
Once outside and a safe distance he pulled her aside into one of the smaller streets. "Laura, are you insane? It's not safe, you could have been - they could have - you're damn frakking lucky! Laura?" Tom stopped, faltering when he realised Laura was close to tears. Sometimes he forgot that she was a person, she always gave the illusion of some untouchable creature, whether it be prophet or president. It would take Zarek a while to get used to the fact that he would have to be gentle with 'Laura'. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head, regaining her composure, her hand feeling the tender skin around her neck. "That was very good of you."
"Did they hurt you?"
"No." she said as convincingly as possible.
"Thank the gods."
"I thought you hated me?" Laura was a little taken aback by his earnest response.
"I don't hate you Laura, besides, could you imagine what the Admiral would do if anything happened to you?" He smiled, "It was as much about saving my own skin as it was yours. See," he said as Laura returned the smile, "there - I'm back to being the selfish terrorist we all know and hate."
"I don't hate you either." She laughed a little, it was strange, they had spent so long 'hating' each other they hadn't realised that they were all in this mess together. Just because she disagreed with him on politics didn't mean there wasn't still a good person in there somewhere.
He loosened his grip on her arm, holding it only tight enough to make sure she didn't fall over. "You should hate me Laura - I know I do. It was my idea, New Caprica - I wanted to beat you so badly and for what?"
"Politician." she quipped.
"Terrorist." he corrected. "Even when it became obvious you had rigged the election, Baltar wouldn't hear of it - he believed so strongly in your goodness."
"You disappointed?"
"No - impressed." They were silent for a minute, it was surreal, talking to each other like this. Maybe it was true, old friends and old enemies became one and the same.
"Oh frak."
"What?"
"They took my food!" Laura broke away from Zarek, "What am I supposed to do now?"
"Leave that to me, you just get yourself home." Zarek looked at her seriously, "And ma'am, try not to wander into any more tents on the way."
"What about Cally?"
"What?"
"I was supposed to trade this for yeast." She retrieved the small bottle.
"Leave that to me as well." Habit - she hesitated. "If I was going to steal from you Laura, I would have done so already."
New Caprica
26:00
Οκτώβρης (Oktobris) - month ten of occupation
Laura fiddled with the fire in her tent. Frak the lot of them, she was cold and she wanted a fire so she was going to have one. Besides, she couldn't let the tent get too cold with the little one - medicine was so scarce that a cold could be the undoing of a child. Thankfully, the child in question was sleeping peacefully over in the crib in the corner - her mother having dropped her off early in the afternoon. It had taken her hours to quiet her, she was hungry and Laura had nothing to feed her. It almost broke her that children were starving because of their - her mistakes.
There had been no word from the Admiral, and after the last chat she had with Lee - she had no reason to believe that he would be coming.
Laura knelt on the ground - not another month, another month by herself. She didn't know if she could keep this up much longer. She was strong – she was a leader, but she couldn’t do all of it on her own.
The heavy thud of several objects hitting the floor behind her startled Laura. She didn't move for a minute - not sure what to think or do. The events of the day past made her slow to trust unknown sounds.
It was then that she heard it, the voice she had longed to hear for so many weeks now.
"Miss me?"
Behind her, Laura found the Admiral, two sizable bags of grain and another of smaller bag at his feet, a large smile spreading across his weathered features. At once she forgot the sorry state she had been in, choosing to ignore the damp skin below her eyes and instead fix them on him. Taking in every feature she had taken pains to catalog.
She wasn't sure how long they were there for before Bill offered his hand and she took it, the movement pulling upwards and straight into his arms which encircled her - holding her tightly. She couldn't see the layer of moisture build up around his sight as he held her. Laura drew him as close as she could.
Judging by his gift of food - Zarek had confessed everything to him. The honest bastard.
"I thought you were confined to your ship." she managed, finally bringing her head up to rest above his shoulder, neither letting go yet.
"I am." Was that a mutinous grin? "I should never have left you here." he confessed into her hair, bringing her closer again, feeling the fragile bone structure beneath her jumper. The Admiral surprised that the action didn't break her.
The news of Laura's encounter had first reached him with the returning supply ship. An unexpected phone call disturbed him from his daily watch over the planet, and who was he to find on the other end of the line but that lousy traitor and terrorist - Vice President Tom Zarek. A man who had just moved up a few thousand places in his book.
He finished his duties as always, then dismissed the officer posted outside his cabin. Waited half an hour and then boarded one of the transport ships on its last run back to the Colony. No-one knew he was gone except for Tigh, Lee and perhaps Zarek if he put two and three together.
The fact that Laura had not just fallen, but collapsed against his shoulder told him that Zarek hadn't been exaggerating the situation.
Bill, sensing she was strong enough, moved her back so that he could examine her. The beginnings of bruises circled her wrists, and, where the Admiral pushed up the fabric, were also present on her arms. They were angry marks - and Bill was going to make sure those sorry son's of bitches paid.
"I'm fine. Really."
"Laura, it is my experience that we humans are many things - 'fine' is not one of them."
It was too much emotion to deal with. He was so close, and they needed each other, but for some reason she couldn't deal with it right now. So she changed the subject.
"What's all this?" she said, escaping from his grip, bending down to the objects he had left on her floor.
"Someone said you were hungry."
"These wouldn't be from Galactica's supply now would they Admiral?"
"Ah - no..."
"Liar."
They both forgot about everything for a moment and laughed. Only stopping when they heard noise coming from the corner. The little girl stirred.
"Have you adopted her yet?" asked Bill, Laura already lifting the bundle into her arms.
"You'd think so wouldn't you?"
There was something about the site of the infant in Laura's arms that filled Bill with a feeling he couldn't quite describe.
"She's hungry, I didn't have anything to feed her with today."
"Here, give her to me - we've got food now and if I'm not very much mistaken, she's not the only one in need of feeding."
She smiled, passing the little girl into Bill's confident hold. The action quieting her crying almost at once.
"There's no doubt about it - she likes you."
"It's the moustache - woman love them."
"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you."
Author Notes:
This comes after September: Please, this is just a reminder that this is a series BASED as closly as possible on spoilers that are released. So just take care, if there are any spoilers lurking about then chances are they will be used in here or in one of the companion stories.