Title: King - Queen - Joker
Author: nnaylime
Author’s Email: nnaylime@livejournal.com
Rating: PG
Pairing: Laura-centric
Summary: 3 drabbles centered around Laura Roslin, Bill Adama, & Gaius Baltar.

Disclaimer: "Battlestar Galactica," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Ron Moore, David Eick, SciFi, R&D TV, Sky TV, and USA Cable Entertainment LLC. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Battlestar Galactica," SciFi, or any representatives of the actors whose characters are involved.

Author’s Notes: These have been sitting on my stick forever.


“Magisterial,” she thought. He thoroughly commanded the rostrum, keeping the crowd in rapt attention.

He looked wise; that suited him. He also looked tired—that did not—and she found it curious.

From what she knew, the Galactica was on an assignment just short of being put out to pasture—and though there was a level of bureaucracy involved in preparing the ship for its new role, Adama appeared battle-weary.

She wondered why. What other battles was this regal commander directing?

What ghosts were hidden in the shadows that washed over his eyes when he spoke of that earlier war?

* * * * *


“Regal,” he thought. Her chin high, her back squared as she stood up to him, unafraid, unflinching.

She was now president, and she was not going to accept challenge to that position.

Part of him admired her for that. He imagined it wouldn’t have been easy having power so suddenly thrust upon her shoulders.

And yet she seemed to be growing into it as much as it threatened to overwhelm her.

He didn’t trust her, couldn’t quite fathom her intentions. At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but admire her and respect the strength and depth of her spirit.

* * * * *


Gaius Baltar was by all reasonable measures an intelligent man, yet she couldn’t help but also consider him a fool.

Lacking in any common sense, driven by an inflated ego, and an instinct for self-preservation, he made choices that she couldn’t comprehend.

And while she wanted to hate him, she could only pity him. From that pity, rose resentment fueled by her frustration at tempering her emotions.

She watched him scurry—frantically trying to cover his tracks, protesting his innocence and looking at her with some mixture of awe, revulsion, and fear.

He was a fool; she hated pitying him.