DISCLAIMER: Battlestar Galactica is the property of Glen A. Larson, Sci-Fi Channel, R & D TV, Sky and NBC Universal.
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Life, But Not As We Know It
Laura Roslin opened her eyes, taking in a great gasp of air. It hurt. Everything hurt. She remembered dying. She remembered giving up. She remembered her greatest fear. That this wouldn't be the end.
The world blurred. She was cold, lying in a vat of cooling gel. Someone was looking down at her. She blinked. The woman smiled. Laura started to cry. It wasn't over. She was looking at her self. It was true. Her greatest fear beyond the fear of dying, beyond the fear of letting everyone down.
"It's all right, Laura," the woman said soothingly. "Everything's going to be okay."
So, that was that. She was a Cylon after all.
In a way it was a relief. That hidden fear she had always had since the day she had been sworn in as President of the Twelve Colonies. That this was more than just an accident of fate that it was part of some grand design. It explained everything.
There were a handful of others on the Resurrection Ship. Some she recognised, already identified as Cylon agents, others she did not know. At least not as Cylons. There were more Cylons amongst the fleet than any of them had realised.
And she had been amongst them.
There were three other `Laura' models on the ship. They were very understanding, very supportive. It would take time, they told her. She had been under deep cover, their most precious sleeper agent. It would all come back to her in time. Her commitment, her conviction to the true Cylon Cause. All her doubts would fade away.
She was very protective of `her' identity. She tried to keep apart from the others. They were on their way back to Caprica now. It seemed strange to her that the Cylons had destroyed humanity only to move in and take up pretty much where humanity had left off. They had showed her footage of how it was now in Caprica since all the humans were removed. Living in their houses, reading their books, drinking in their coffee shops and bars. If it wasn't so scary it would be pathetic.
There was a knock at her door. "Laura, I need to talk to you." It was her own voice. It was one of her alter-ego's.
"Leave me alone, please. I need " What did she need? That was the question. For this not to be real, for it to be some last breath nightmare, that last twisted neuron firing before her brain died for good.
"You can't hide away for ever, Laura. You have to face the reality of your existence sooner or later. You had a difficult job to do, we appreciate that, we really do. You're something of a hero amongst us Laura's. All we want to do is help you through this."
Laura opened the door. Her other self was wearing an almost severely plain white shirt, a dark suit, conservative jacket, A-line skirt with hemline firmly at the knee. Clothes she had worn herself a million times. Was her inherent dress sense part of her programming? "You'd better come in," Laura said.
Her Cylon-self came in, sat on the bed. Laura paused, sat down beside her. There really wasn't anywhere else to sit.
"We know from other's who have gone deep under cover amongst the humans how difficult it can be to adjust, to rid yourself of their mindset, their corruption," her other self said smoothly. "Having to deal with them day after day. Believing yourself to be one of them. Thinking that you were all alone." Her hand strayed, reaching to touch Laura's dark red hair. "Everything is going to be all right, Laura. You have to believe that."
Laura shivered under her touch. "It's been so long," she confessed suddenly. "I don't know what to believe."
"Then let me take care of you. Let me remind you of who and what you are."
Laura wondered if they were doing something her, exerting some kind of influence because she should be saying no, she should be pushing this woman, this creature away but she could not. The Cylon's hands were smoothing over her skin, unfastening the buttons of her blouse, pushing it down over her shoulders. Pushing her down flat on the bed, turning to straddle her. The Cylon's hands her hands. They were the same. Since her `resurrection' she had lost those few scars she had acquired over the years. She had lost whatever made her unique. Had there ever been a real Laura Roslin? When had she been replaced? Was she still alive, held prisoner somewhere in a Cylon facility? One of the camps that Starbuck had described.
The Cylon's lips closed over one of her nipples. Laura fought the urge to push her away expecting the pain that such intimate contact would give. Old habits died She didn't have breast cancer any more. The slightest touch no longer brought pain. Yet she still felt as if it should.
Some days the cancer had left her feeling inhuman. She had had to suppress all of her human instincts just to get through the day. The joke was on her, she supposed. All along, all along she hadn't been human. She'd been a Cylon. A toaster. A thing. The Cylon's voice, her voice whispered close to her ear.
"Do you like the same things as we like? Do you like to be touched here?" A finger tip ghosted over the back of her neck and Laura could not suppress a shiver. "Or here " A hand trailed up the inside of her thigh stopping just short of her centre. Despite her strength of will screaming at her she could feel herself getting wet, smell herself, her arousal. She was disgusting, this was a sin in the eyes of the Lords of Kobol, an abomination
As the Cylon's fingers penetrated her, making her gasp and shiver it was as if something inside her broke. Or maybe it was finally put right. She gave herself freely to the contact. This was no abomination, this was how it was amongst the Cylon. Who better to give and receive love than your own kind. Where better to find love than amongst those who knew you more intimately than any other? And she had held herself apart for so long, both before and after her resurrection. This after all was the purest manifestation of God: the giving and receiving of pleasure. Laura gave herself up to it, surrendered all the fears and resentments of her former existence. None of it mattered anymore. She was who she was who she had always been. And she was finally home. Laura gasped, eyes fluttering closed as wave after wave of pleasure ran through her.
Her other self smiled down at her. "Better?"
"Much. Thank you," Laura smiled.
"No need to thank me," the other smiled. "We'll be home in a few hours, back on Caprica. Then you'll see all that we've accomplished whilst you were away."
"And what will I do on Caprica?" Laura asked, genuinely puzzled.
The answer was startling and simple.
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