Author: Regency
Title: Haunted
Category: AU, I suppose.
Summary: She isn’t haunted anymore.
Disclaimer: Ron D. Moore owns it all.
~~~
She wonders if she’s gone insane or if ‘insane’ is the word
for what she is now. She wonders whether it’s denial or when this is what being blessed has come to mean.
She wonders when obeying the gods meant being haunted by those you may have trampled
to obey them. She guesses she deserves it, but she ignores him at first nonetheless.
He doesn’t mind, doesn’t speak much unless they’re alone. He
watches her without judgment, which makes the haunting that much worse. He sits in his own place, seeming so real as though
he were any of the other people who come and go from her office during the day.
He doesn’t ask the hard questions. He inquires about her health and comfort,
but nothing other than that. He takes care of her in a way. He directs her to a shower or a glass of ambrosia. He guides her
to bed. He watches her until she dreams and then he’s in them.
He’s there when she tells them to Elosha, right beside her, saying nothing
as usual. He smiles when she’s funny and shares in most of her moods. He’s become her closest advisor, her silent
and invisible partner.
The sicker she gets, the more the plotting begins behind closed doors, and soon
he’s the only one she can trust. She talks to him now, acknowledging him in company and alone.
They all think she’s gone crazy with the cancer; they don’t see their
Commander standing protectively over her shoulder, guarding her against their attacks. But when they go too far, he makes
himself felt. He scowls, and though unseen, they step away, realizing that she is protected by more than just position.
Someone up there cares about her.
Before long, she’s too sick to even pretend to do the work. Baltar’s
doing more than ever; he’s a shoe-in for the coming election. She hasn’t dared an endorsement for fear of sabotaging
his chances. She knows they thinks she’s lost it. She isn’t even convinced she hasn’t.
On her last day, he’s there. His eyes are darker than she remembers. He’s
holding her hand; so solid and unyielding. He’s humming the song they danced to at the Colonial Day Dance. She’s
surprised he remembers since she doesn’t. He says that he doesn’t have much else to think of.
She asks after Lee, who she hasn’t seen in weeks. He tells her has his job
back, but is considering retirement. Your death hit had, she tells him. He misses his father. Her adversary-ally only smiles
and touches her feverish cheek. He’s the only tangible link to the world she has left. Others have come, but unable
to help or tolerate her one-sided conversations have departed quickly, disheartened.
She isn’t saddened by what and who she has become. She has fulfilled her
destiny and now she can let go. They are saved and on a course for Earth. She will never see it.
The thought makes her cry, but he wipes the tears away with the back of his hand.
All their disagreements are behind them, death is what unites them now. He calls her to him, coaxing her up from her bed slyly.
She follows suspiciously, feeling a leaden weight fall from her. She can breathe again.
The song begins to play in the air and he takes her into his arms. This is their
last dance. She looks into his eyes, feeling the atmosphere around them spark in memory of all the life left for the others.
They waltz slowly, losing sight of her bed where her body lies, of the confining cabin of Colonial One, and the destruction
in their wake. It feels good to be free of destiny. The gods have released her from her service.
This dance lasts longer than last time, but she‘s lost track. His eyes are
a universe unto themselves. There’s nothing more to say. It’s only stars around them now. The velvety emptiness
of space cradles them unrepentantly, awing them with its lights.
Leoben, Tom Zarek, and the Cylons slip from her mind without a sound and she’s
forgotten them. They can do no more harm.
She isn’t haunted anymore.
She’s happy.
