Battlestar Galactica

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Things Fall Apart
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

THAT SHE BE SPARED THE PAIN
(III: Difficulty In Beginning.)

"Now I have learned from unimpeachable sources that President Laura Roslin has for some time now been sharing hallucinogenic visions with two Cylons within our Fleet: One, Sharon Agathon, sent on the classified Demetrius mission, and the other, a Cylon prisoner being held aboard the Galac..."

His lover. The girl who waits on the other side of the wall. Laura listens to a reel-to-reel, eyes closed. Lee watches her, one more bird head brought to the master, as her eyes roll back. Her wig remains steadfast. She opens her eyes, and turns it off. Lee and Laura, the Delegate from Caprica that no longer exists, and the President of a Rag-Tag Fleet of what was once a collection of Colonies: They don't know about her. They know all about her but they don't know about her. Wouldn't really care if they did. This is war.

"Uh-uh. It's not that easy, Madam President." Roslin tells Lee to try it sometime. When the world rests on your shoulders, sometimes it is that easy. Because it's not forever, it's just a few seconds in the cabin before you head out again. "Most of the population has heard that broadcast," he says, but she knows that. It's the point of broadcasts. The Colonies are no longer 2.0, they don't know about niches, about our little websites. "Look, I take no pleasure in putting this before you. In fact, they practically had to push me through that door..." A door against which he's been pushing against since his appointment, and beyond which, Laura points out, he's surely more than happy to stay. The inner sanctum: he's finally earned passage, with a dog-eared novel Emily already read her.

"I can't put one foot in front of another without someone blocking my path asking me what the hell is going on!" Lee starts to lecture her about the welfare of the Fleet, as is his wont, and she cuts him dead. As is hers. "-- Excuse me. As long as I am in this office, the welfare of this Fleet is not something you need to worry about." Captain Apollo's not going down without a fight, and tells her she owes the people. We the people. Her people. She owes them.

"What if suddenly all your beliefs were called into question? Up is down," she says over his protests. "Black is white. Scripture is fiction. Home is thin air, instead of solid ground. Et cetera." These aren't questions. This is rhetorical. What if you had your life turned upside-down, and then again, and then again, and then in one final irony, once more? He tells her he's sorry for all she's endured, but it's nothing less than anybody, and she knows that. Not the point. "What would you do if I told you the truth?" she says. Telling him the truth by talking about telling the truth.

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Battlestar Galactica

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