Human Familiarities [BSG, Adama/Roslin]
Dec. 18th, 2008 12:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misscamHuman Familiarities
by Camilla Sandman
Summary: They've turned off the lights again, and she knows her answers and explanations yesterday were not good enough. [Adama/Roslin]
Rating: Teen. Some implied unpleasant – and pleasant! - activities, nothing graphic.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.
Author's Note: AU from mid-season four. Implies a rather different discovery in Revelations than the one seen on screen. Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyricalviolet for beta.
II
They've turned off the lights again.
At first, she doesn't even realise she has opened her eyes, but slowly awareness sinks in while the darkness stays and she knows this isn't sleep anymore. Knows she isn't blind, as she feared the first time they did it.
They've turned off the lights again, and she knows her answers and explanations yesterday were not good enough.
It'll be Bill's turn today.
She turns slightly, feeling the the warmth of his flesh as she does. He must still sleep, his breath calm and steadied and she lets herself listen to it until her own seem to match the pace. She's can't see his face, but she can trace the lines of it with a finger and the memory of other nights are clear enough in her mind to know what she would see. Peace, something solemn and something almost like youth even with the lines across his face.
Bill, beloved Bill, who is here to be her weakness and she to be his. Two weeks alone she spent in this cell, sure of her own will to endure anything. Four days with him here, and she feels rage and fear growing in equal measure.
She doesn't doubt his ability to endure. She doubts her own to witness it, and she can see the same in him. Love as a weapon, and probably the President of the Twelve Colonies wouldn't have hesitated to do the same.
She can still resent it.
"Laura?"
Bill's voice is strangely loud even as a whisper with nothing else to be heard, and she starts slightly. He takes her hand softly, his palm soft against her knuckles, and the gesture is comforting even with the soreness of her skin.
"Sorry," he says softly, voice still laced with sleep.
"No," she says simply. "Don't be."
She refuses to be.
II
"Miss Roslin..."
"Madam President."
"You're Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies by virtue of all other elligible being dead and you still insist on formality. Why?"
"It has been no less of a responsibility for the way it came about, and all the more a burden. The least I am owed is the title of the office, even from you."
"Very well. Madam President, tell me about the 'final five' again and why you let all but one live."
II
They come for Bill, as she knew they would, and she doesn't fight them. It will just show desperation in her and be incentive for them to keep him interrogated longer. She knows, she's tried, even offered herself instead for all Bill would never let her.
She thinks he's still a little angry at her for that, as she was when he tried the same for her.
This probably isn't torture in the legal sense, she thinks, but hugging the line close enough morally that she would have been uncomfortable ordering it. She hopes someone in charge feels uncomfortable as it is, or they're probably all frakked.
She never thought she would lead them to this, but then again, knowing humanity and learning Cylons, probably she should have.
II
"And you insist you had no intention of leading the 'hostile' Cylons to Earth."
"Every intention not to."
"With all due respect, Madam President, how did you intend to keep a militarily superior enemy away, when agents of them were among your own people?"
"We did not know of all of them, not at first."
"But you knew of the possibility."
"Yes."
II
She has lost count of time when they finally return with Bill, but then, time has long since lost meaning when another day is simply one to be endured and she can't count down to an end when she has no idea when it might come. There is just every moment on its own, and this one is one of painful relief.
He manages to stand even as the door slams and locks behind him, and she moves to his side as the dark settles again. She can hear his breath, unsteady and ragged, and his hands are cold when she puts them in hers.
"Drugs?" she asks.
"Not today," he says, and as he leans his forehead against hers, she can feel drops of water still clinging to his skin. She knows it means; she's returned to him in the same state.
She remembers his anger and very carefully keeps her own in a room of her brain that is constantly screaming as it is. There is no point. Not when she half understands it, not when she remembers all that happened to bring them to this.
Wordlessly, she leads him to the bunk, carefully finding her way in the dark (which is easier than it could have been, as there's very little in their cell to be in the way) until she can sit down with him and touch his face carefully. He doesn't wince too much, so she doesn't think there's any major new bruises.
"They asked about Hera again," he says, and she nods even as she realises what a pointless gesture it is in the dark.
"I think they're still not sure if she's Cylon or human." She pauses for a moment, considering. "Neither am I."
"Doesn't matter," he says softly, brushing a kiss against her temple so softly it's barely a touch at all. "It's what she decides to be that does."
Saul Tigh, she remembers. Saul Tigh the Cylon that decided to be human still, and Bill's friend above all. Saul Tigh that she mourns as much for herself as for Bill.
"Yes," she agrees, because she can't anything else. Athena. Saul. Human by choice, Cylon by blood. Choices matter, lines blur and differences get overshadowed by similarities. She should know. She's learned it.
The Admiral and the President she thinks, and somewhere along the line they decided to be Laura and Bill too and lines have blurred ever since.
II
"I must say I am a little confused by you and Admiral Adama, Madam President. Your homeworlds are bombed to hell by Cylons, you admit to have given orders to both torture and execute Cylons and yet the discovery of Cylon agents close to you are cause for pardon?"
"That was the decision of Lee Adama, acting President at the time."
"Yes. So he told us. But what he could not tell us was whether or not you had done the same."
"I don't know. They had something we wanted, I had to consider that."
"That would be the location to Earth?"
"Yes."
"That the only potential reason to spare them?"
"No. It was hard to see them as Cylons when they had lived as humans so long."
II
See by the fingertips, distinguish by skin. She's used to that with the lights so often off, and in honesty she prefers it to the lights on for days on end, interrupting sleep and seeming to burn even behind closed eyelids.
Perhaps they think the dark is something to be feared, but she's seen too many horrors in the light of day to think that. Been too long in space and thought it home.
Home.
"I miss Galactica," she whispers, Bill's fingers carefully tracing the length of her arm. "I even miss Baltar a very, very little."
Bill's laugh is genuine enough to make her smile, even if it's low in his throat, and she kisses the underside of his jaw to feel it against her lips.
"We put so much in finding Earth, but we never thought much about what we'd find, did we?" she murmurs, thinking back.
"No," he says, and she knows he could remind her he didn't believe in it at all to begin with, and if not for her, they never would have found Earth at all. He could blame her.
He kisses her, softly and with no anger, no offered forgiveness or absolution. He could blame her, but she knows by now he won't.
She leans into the kiss, parting her lips and resting a hand on his shoulder, trying to remember which of them were dislocated. He told her it was fixed and didn't hurt anymore, but they've both done an awful lot of lying about discomforts and pains of late.
That's why she doesn't move away when he rests a hand just below her breast; it doesn't quite seem the moment to tell him about a broken rib still mending.
It's a funny thing really, she thinks distantly.
They never thought they'd find an Earth populated with humans as distrustful and prone to fear as themselves.
II
"You're telling me Cylons are like humans after all and you treated them as individuals?"
"A few of them proved loyalty to us above anything else. Yes, we treated them as individuals, but I never forgot what they were."
"You still considered peace with one faction."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Survival mattered more than revenge."
II
A cell that surely has both microphones picking up every sound and cameras ready to record anything with the possibility of the lights being turned on at any moment is not the ideal place for sex, that is certain.
But frak that. Five times now, in fact.
Probably their keepers think people of the Twelve Colonies all have rabbit genes and have conspiracy theories about plans to repopulate Earth with colonials, but really, really frak that.
He makes a strained noise into her kiss as she moves, her body adjusting to him hard inside her, familiar without being habitual yet. Maybe it will get to that.
She breathes as he moves, lifting her leg to rest across his and even in the dark she can know the expression on his face. She's seen it often enough when he looks at her. It might be a weakness to exploit. It's also how she feels alive.
"I love you," she whispers, and doesn't care who will hear.
II
"You trust Cylons can love?"
"Yes."
"Because humans can?"
"Because they consider themselves our children. Children learn from parents. They've learned from us very well."
"From you, Madam President?"
"From me too."
II
She doesn't sleep after, simply lies awake and stares into the dark, listening to Bill breathe and not sleep either. She probably should, there's no knowing if they might decide to try sleep deprivation again. Sometimes, the uncertainty of what is coming seems worst of all.
Sometimes, that's what keeps a dream a dream. What kept Earth a promised land, and not a planet of people with their own problems.
If Earth's humans had fled to the Twelve Colonies, she can't even say their welcome would have been better. Humans be humans, even when imitated by Cylons.
Yes. Maybe there lies the key. Not trying to reason out what they want, but knowing what she wants. What they've come all this way for.
"Tomorrow," she whispers.
"What?"
"Let me go tomorrow, Bill. I think I know what they'll listen to."
II
"Madam President, you bring your 'Fleet' to Earth for shelter and insist on your good intentions..."
"We only wanted a new home."
"Yes, but when it comes to Earth's survival, your good intentions is not good enough."
"I understand that. I've protected my people from Cylons for years, led them all this way successfully and ensured their survival even to the cost of my own health."
"Your cancer."
"Yes. You do not trust us, but we want the same. Survival."
"You think that is enough?"
"For a start."
II
For a start.
They've turned on the lights again, and it's brighter than daylight as Laura walks out, so much so that the real light of day seems pale when she walks into it.
Still. It's sky. It's release, after a fashion. She'll still be watched, probably for the rest of her life as all of the Twelve Colonies will be for a long time. This isn't trust, not really. That always takes long, she thinks and remembers Athena.
Bill hasn't let go of her hand since they walked out, and still holds it as they watch the sky, ships and clouds overhead. There is a hostile Cylon fleet out there and Earth is arming for it. Bill's been offered an advisory military position and she's sure something will come for her too.
They need someone who knows the Cylons to help fight them. Maybe Earth could do it on its own. Maybe. But it's not certain, and what's at stake matters too much.
She understands that. She's lead them all this way by it.
In the distance, she sees the camp that's been set up for them, where all of her people will pass through until jobs are found and use determined. New start, new welcome, after a fashion.
"You did it," Bill says softly, looking at her with the expression she knows so well.
"We're going to survive, aren't we?" she asks, and maybe she's asking about the two of them, and maybe it's the whole of humanity, and probably it's both.
"Yes," Bill says, his voice warm and his breath too as he leans down. "We will."
Survival. It's how you start a life, after all.
II
FIN
by Camilla Sandman
Summary: They've turned off the lights again, and she knows her answers and explanations yesterday were not good enough. [Adama/Roslin]
Rating: Teen. Some implied unpleasant – and pleasant! - activities, nothing graphic.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.
Author's Note: AU from mid-season four. Implies a rather different discovery in Revelations than the one seen on screen. Many thanks to
lyricalviolet for beta.II
They've turned off the lights again.
At first, she doesn't even realise she has opened her eyes, but slowly awareness sinks in while the darkness stays and she knows this isn't sleep anymore. Knows she isn't blind, as she feared the first time they did it.
They've turned off the lights again, and she knows her answers and explanations yesterday were not good enough.
It'll be Bill's turn today.
She turns slightly, feeling the the warmth of his flesh as she does. He must still sleep, his breath calm and steadied and she lets herself listen to it until her own seem to match the pace. She's can't see his face, but she can trace the lines of it with a finger and the memory of other nights are clear enough in her mind to know what she would see. Peace, something solemn and something almost like youth even with the lines across his face.
Bill, beloved Bill, who is here to be her weakness and she to be his. Two weeks alone she spent in this cell, sure of her own will to endure anything. Four days with him here, and she feels rage and fear growing in equal measure.
She doesn't doubt his ability to endure. She doubts her own to witness it, and she can see the same in him. Love as a weapon, and probably the President of the Twelve Colonies wouldn't have hesitated to do the same.
She can still resent it.
"Laura?"
Bill's voice is strangely loud even as a whisper with nothing else to be heard, and she starts slightly. He takes her hand softly, his palm soft against her knuckles, and the gesture is comforting even with the soreness of her skin.
"Sorry," he says softly, voice still laced with sleep.
"No," she says simply. "Don't be."
She refuses to be.
II
"Miss Roslin..."
"Madam President."
"You're Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies by virtue of all other elligible being dead and you still insist on formality. Why?"
"It has been no less of a responsibility for the way it came about, and all the more a burden. The least I am owed is the title of the office, even from you."
"Very well. Madam President, tell me about the 'final five' again and why you let all but one live."
II
They come for Bill, as she knew they would, and she doesn't fight them. It will just show desperation in her and be incentive for them to keep him interrogated longer. She knows, she's tried, even offered herself instead for all Bill would never let her.
She thinks he's still a little angry at her for that, as she was when he tried the same for her.
This probably isn't torture in the legal sense, she thinks, but hugging the line close enough morally that she would have been uncomfortable ordering it. She hopes someone in charge feels uncomfortable as it is, or they're probably all frakked.
She never thought she would lead them to this, but then again, knowing humanity and learning Cylons, probably she should have.
II
"And you insist you had no intention of leading the 'hostile' Cylons to Earth."
"Every intention not to."
"With all due respect, Madam President, how did you intend to keep a militarily superior enemy away, when agents of them were among your own people?"
"We did not know of all of them, not at first."
"But you knew of the possibility."
"Yes."
II
She has lost count of time when they finally return with Bill, but then, time has long since lost meaning when another day is simply one to be endured and she can't count down to an end when she has no idea when it might come. There is just every moment on its own, and this one is one of painful relief.
He manages to stand even as the door slams and locks behind him, and she moves to his side as the dark settles again. She can hear his breath, unsteady and ragged, and his hands are cold when she puts them in hers.
"Drugs?" she asks.
"Not today," he says, and as he leans his forehead against hers, she can feel drops of water still clinging to his skin. She knows it means; she's returned to him in the same state.
She remembers his anger and very carefully keeps her own in a room of her brain that is constantly screaming as it is. There is no point. Not when she half understands it, not when she remembers all that happened to bring them to this.
Wordlessly, she leads him to the bunk, carefully finding her way in the dark (which is easier than it could have been, as there's very little in their cell to be in the way) until she can sit down with him and touch his face carefully. He doesn't wince too much, so she doesn't think there's any major new bruises.
"They asked about Hera again," he says, and she nods even as she realises what a pointless gesture it is in the dark.
"I think they're still not sure if she's Cylon or human." She pauses for a moment, considering. "Neither am I."
"Doesn't matter," he says softly, brushing a kiss against her temple so softly it's barely a touch at all. "It's what she decides to be that does."
Saul Tigh, she remembers. Saul Tigh the Cylon that decided to be human still, and Bill's friend above all. Saul Tigh that she mourns as much for herself as for Bill.
"Yes," she agrees, because she can't anything else. Athena. Saul. Human by choice, Cylon by blood. Choices matter, lines blur and differences get overshadowed by similarities. She should know. She's learned it.
The Admiral and the President she thinks, and somewhere along the line they decided to be Laura and Bill too and lines have blurred ever since.
II
"I must say I am a little confused by you and Admiral Adama, Madam President. Your homeworlds are bombed to hell by Cylons, you admit to have given orders to both torture and execute Cylons and yet the discovery of Cylon agents close to you are cause for pardon?"
"That was the decision of Lee Adama, acting President at the time."
"Yes. So he told us. But what he could not tell us was whether or not you had done the same."
"I don't know. They had something we wanted, I had to consider that."
"That would be the location to Earth?"
"Yes."
"That the only potential reason to spare them?"
"No. It was hard to see them as Cylons when they had lived as humans so long."
II
See by the fingertips, distinguish by skin. She's used to that with the lights so often off, and in honesty she prefers it to the lights on for days on end, interrupting sleep and seeming to burn even behind closed eyelids.
Perhaps they think the dark is something to be feared, but she's seen too many horrors in the light of day to think that. Been too long in space and thought it home.
Home.
"I miss Galactica," she whispers, Bill's fingers carefully tracing the length of her arm. "I even miss Baltar a very, very little."
Bill's laugh is genuine enough to make her smile, even if it's low in his throat, and she kisses the underside of his jaw to feel it against her lips.
"We put so much in finding Earth, but we never thought much about what we'd find, did we?" she murmurs, thinking back.
"No," he says, and she knows he could remind her he didn't believe in it at all to begin with, and if not for her, they never would have found Earth at all. He could blame her.
He kisses her, softly and with no anger, no offered forgiveness or absolution. He could blame her, but she knows by now he won't.
She leans into the kiss, parting her lips and resting a hand on his shoulder, trying to remember which of them were dislocated. He told her it was fixed and didn't hurt anymore, but they've both done an awful lot of lying about discomforts and pains of late.
That's why she doesn't move away when he rests a hand just below her breast; it doesn't quite seem the moment to tell him about a broken rib still mending.
It's a funny thing really, she thinks distantly.
They never thought they'd find an Earth populated with humans as distrustful and prone to fear as themselves.
II
"You're telling me Cylons are like humans after all and you treated them as individuals?"
"A few of them proved loyalty to us above anything else. Yes, we treated them as individuals, but I never forgot what they were."
"You still considered peace with one faction."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Survival mattered more than revenge."
II
A cell that surely has both microphones picking up every sound and cameras ready to record anything with the possibility of the lights being turned on at any moment is not the ideal place for sex, that is certain.
But frak that. Five times now, in fact.
Probably their keepers think people of the Twelve Colonies all have rabbit genes and have conspiracy theories about plans to repopulate Earth with colonials, but really, really frak that.
He makes a strained noise into her kiss as she moves, her body adjusting to him hard inside her, familiar without being habitual yet. Maybe it will get to that.
She breathes as he moves, lifting her leg to rest across his and even in the dark she can know the expression on his face. She's seen it often enough when he looks at her. It might be a weakness to exploit. It's also how she feels alive.
"I love you," she whispers, and doesn't care who will hear.
II
"You trust Cylons can love?"
"Yes."
"Because humans can?"
"Because they consider themselves our children. Children learn from parents. They've learned from us very well."
"From you, Madam President?"
"From me too."
II
She doesn't sleep after, simply lies awake and stares into the dark, listening to Bill breathe and not sleep either. She probably should, there's no knowing if they might decide to try sleep deprivation again. Sometimes, the uncertainty of what is coming seems worst of all.
Sometimes, that's what keeps a dream a dream. What kept Earth a promised land, and not a planet of people with their own problems.
If Earth's humans had fled to the Twelve Colonies, she can't even say their welcome would have been better. Humans be humans, even when imitated by Cylons.
Yes. Maybe there lies the key. Not trying to reason out what they want, but knowing what she wants. What they've come all this way for.
"Tomorrow," she whispers.
"What?"
"Let me go tomorrow, Bill. I think I know what they'll listen to."
II
"Madam President, you bring your 'Fleet' to Earth for shelter and insist on your good intentions..."
"We only wanted a new home."
"Yes, but when it comes to Earth's survival, your good intentions is not good enough."
"I understand that. I've protected my people from Cylons for years, led them all this way successfully and ensured their survival even to the cost of my own health."
"Your cancer."
"Yes. You do not trust us, but we want the same. Survival."
"You think that is enough?"
"For a start."
II
For a start.
They've turned on the lights again, and it's brighter than daylight as Laura walks out, so much so that the real light of day seems pale when she walks into it.
Still. It's sky. It's release, after a fashion. She'll still be watched, probably for the rest of her life as all of the Twelve Colonies will be for a long time. This isn't trust, not really. That always takes long, she thinks and remembers Athena.
Bill hasn't let go of her hand since they walked out, and still holds it as they watch the sky, ships and clouds overhead. There is a hostile Cylon fleet out there and Earth is arming for it. Bill's been offered an advisory military position and she's sure something will come for her too.
They need someone who knows the Cylons to help fight them. Maybe Earth could do it on its own. Maybe. But it's not certain, and what's at stake matters too much.
She understands that. She's lead them all this way by it.
In the distance, she sees the camp that's been set up for them, where all of her people will pass through until jobs are found and use determined. New start, new welcome, after a fashion.
"You did it," Bill says softly, looking at her with the expression she knows so well.
"We're going to survive, aren't we?" she asks, and maybe she's asking about the two of them, and maybe it's the whole of humanity, and probably it's both.
"Yes," Bill says, his voice warm and his breath too as he leans down. "We will."
Survival. It's how you start a life, after all.
II
FIN
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 11:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:13 pm (UTC)Thanks! (You should totally watch the show though, it's awesome.)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:13 pm (UTC)And yes, I've been distracted by life, but now BSG is almost back and should eat its way into my brain once more. Yay?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:16 pm (UTC)Yeah, I did wonder if they actually sat down and thought through what Earth might be, but then again, humans aren't always that great at seeing beyond expectations. And if they came to our Earth, in current climate of fear and mistrust? Hmm yeah, I don't think that would have been a smooth landing.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:20 pm (UTC)Guess we'll never know how the show might have done it, but hey, that's what fanfic is for. (That, and porn.)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:25 pm (UTC)And yeah, in current world mood? I'm not too sure we'd be all that happy to see them. Conspiracy theorists would go nuts, various governments would probably all lay claim to their technology and we'd have the mother of all immigration debates. I'm sure some would very much welcome them, but it wouldn't be everyone.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-18 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 03:54 am (UTC)Brilliancy! Absolutely lovely!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 12:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 10:33 pm (UTC)*shrugs* Is there a novel adaptation or something?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 12:39 am (UTC)And I doubt there's one for the whole series, but rather has books based on the show.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 12:58 am (UTC)Eeeeee, what are the titles to those books?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-20 12:48 am (UTC)Loved it.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-20 01:35 am (UTC)Yay, you finished it!
This was chilling - I kept hearing the psicop interrogator voice from B5. You know, "Don't think Mr Garibaldi. Don't think Mr Garibaldi. Just tell us what happened after you left Babylon 5?"
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 12:42 am (UTC)LJ's being a bit of a bitch these days, innit?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-20 02:10 am (UTC)The Admiral and the President she thinks, and somewhere along the line they decided to be Laura and Bill too and lines have blurred ever since.
These words says it all. It's all about choices. Great story, great writing, great read, great job!
Thanks for sharing.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 12:44 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 05:19 pm (UTC)I'm so glad I stumble across it again. This was very powerful. Slightly unnerving, but mostly fascinating. Very original. Great job.