Entry tags:

adama/roslin, author: claraon, mlh: not dead, rating: pg, winner: funny

Denialand
Title: Denialand
Author: claraon
Rating: T
Pairings: A/R
Spoilers: Up to the end.
Summary: Not!Dead Laura makes fangirls happy.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable people and events are totally intended.



Chaos raged in CIC. The Final Five had interrupted their download, Sam was screaming his pain. A Doral model opened fire, and Bill crouched over Laura, shielding her from the fire. The agitation seemed to have propel Galactica in motion. She roared, and they heard Kara’s shouting. Gravity crushed the two leaders impossibly closer, and the world went black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The early hours of morning were the best. The nightmares that let Laura sweaty and shivering were always before in the night. In the morning, they drifted in and out of sleep in turn, Laura safely enclosed in Bill’s arms. Nothing existed beyond the bunk, no worries clouding their minds but the simple pleasure of being together.

Laura stirred and sighed, prompting Bill to hold her tighter to him, and drop feather-like kisses on her shoulder. Both minds still too hazy for coherent thought, they indulged in tactile conversation. Day after day, the President forced herself to be rational, practical, drawing the Admiral in her steadfast wake. Bill encouraged Laura to just feel. And it felt good. Almost too good, in fact.

She had turned in Bill’s arms, his morning erection pressing against her thigh. The dull ache that usually seeped through her bones was all but gone. She wasn’t cold either, though that may be due to the fact that she still had her wig on. She was now draped over Bill, and his hands roamed from her sides to her breasts, lingering there just a moment before sliding to her neck. He pulled at her wig to discard it, knowing it could otherwise become a nuisance when things got more…animated.


Laura yelped. The wig was still on. Bill tried to slide his fingers beneath it, in vain. Something was wrong. He stopped his exploration of Laura’s body, and she reached above her for the light. Her hand didn’t meet the side of the bunk, but a wooden pane. She fumbled some more, surprised to feel a bedside table under her fingers. Finally, she found a switch.

Once her eyes recovered from the unexpected brightness, they froze, stunned at what they discovered. The bed she and Bill were on sat in the middle of a richly furnished room. Around it stood an ancient wardrobe, a chest of drawers on which rested a fishing bowl, a tall mirror, and a bookshelf that threatened to burst at any minute with over-spilling volumes. Scarlet curtains were drawn in front of a window. The bed itself was intricately carved, the head wearing the delicate inscription Sine Qua Non.

Bill was greeted with a quite different sight: red, over and around him. Long tendrils of vibrant hair he hadn’t seen in a very long while spilled on his face. Through them, he discerned Laura’s breasts, framed by a light pink negligee.

“Bill…,” said Laura gingerly, “I don’t think we’re on Galactica.”

Memories started to come back to them. They had gone to free Hera from Cavil’s claws. There had been a fight, Laura’s visions mingling with reality. And then… then a draw. The Final Five had agreed to give Cavil resurrection, and all had been going fine until bright lights flashed through CIC. The Chief’s hands were around Tory’s neck, and all had gone haywire. The last thing they could remember was the pull of an FTL jump.

Laura rolled on her side, letting Bill see for himself.

“What the frak is going on?” his first reflex was to tighten his grip around her waist protectively.

“I don’t know,” Laura answered, a familiar feeling creeping over her. She cleared her throat. “When Baltar and I went to see the hybrid, and the baseship jumped away, I kept having visions,” she didn’t know why she hadn’t told him that before. The process hadn’t mattered at the time, only the result.

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So what, we’re hallucinating together?”

She flashed him a smile, “how romantic.” He chuckled, tucking an errand strand of hair behind her ear.

“I gotta say, it’s a nice vision.” He rolled over her, nuzzling at her neck, “I missed your hair.”

“Me too,” she whispered, sliding a knee between his legs, suddenly eager to resume their earlier activity.

“I love your hair”.

She giggled, eyes sparkling with amusement when meeting his. She grasped his hardness.

“About time.”
They kissed passionately, moving together, nibbling, biting, soothing, reveling in Laura’s new found strength.

A loud shriek erupting from behind the door brought them to a halt. They barely had time to disentangle before the door flew open.

“Daddy!”

Within seconds, the bed was invaded by two small children. The girl climbed on Bill.

“Juan says GI Joe is better than Barbie because he has an army suit and that means he can fly a Viper. But girls can fly Vipers too, right Daddy?” she bounced on Bill’s stomach, “right?!”

“Not girls who wear pink!”

“But Mommy is wearing pink.”

Juan sighed dramatically, “Mommy doesn’t fly Viper, Neve. She is Prez’dent.”

At the end of the bed, the head of a smaller girl appeared. While Neve babbled away at Bill’s dumbstruck face, Laura watched the toddler struggle to climb onto the bed. At her third failed attempt, she fell back, landing on her butt. Her lower lip showed the first signs of wobbling, and it was Laura could do to wince, bracing herself for the piercing wail that was sure to come.

Juan seemed to have noticed as well, for he lunged toward the end of the bed, hiding his face in his hands. The wobbling lip immobilized, as big green eyes focused on the boy.

“Boo!” he cried, revealing his face to her. The baby giggled. He repeated the same actions again and again, “Boo! No cry Emily, boo!”

Laura’s astonishment progressively dispersed, and she leaned forward to observe the game. The second Emily saw Laura appear over Juan, she stretched her arms to her, gurgling happily. Unable to resist to such a sight, she grabbed the toddler off the ground.

No sooner was Emily enclosed in Laura’s arms that a loud “Rai wants a hug too!” resonated in the room, and a fourth child hopped on the bed.

Overwhelmed by this invasion of agitated brown curls, Bill and Laura barely noticed the entry of a pale teenage girl.

“I apologize for the rude awakening. I went outside for a moment and they all took the opportunity to rush in here.”

Were the girl’s eyes purple?

“Come on, all of you, breakfast is ready!”

“But Star! We’re bed camping!” cried Neve from beneath the blankets.

The four children reluctantly left the bedroom, but not before dropping a kiss each on both Laura and Bill’s mouths.

The door closed, and they turned to each other, the last ten minutes dawning on them. Behind Bill, Laura spotted a note on the bedside table.

“Welcome to Denialand,
The Fangirls.”


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“What are fangirls?” asked Laura, reaching for the card.

“Air conditioning people? I don’t know.”

There were many things they didn’t know. A million questions flew threw Bill’s mind. Where were they? What had happened to the Galactica? Who were those children? Why had he never seen that nightie of Laura’s before?
Laura rose from the bed. She stopped, surprised at finding a reflection of herself in the mirror she had lost all hopes of ever seeing again.

“We need to go and find out,” she said opening the wardrobe.

In spite of its size, it actually contained very little. She recognized the red dress she had lost in the Exodus from New Caprica. Bill’s dress grey pants were also hanging, stained by white paint. The jacket was missing. In the drawers, she found her white wrap blouse. It would never go with the dress, but she didn’t appear to have a choice. In the corner hanged two brightly colored costumes. Laura took them out to have a better look.

The first one was a shiny red and blue, long-sleeved unitard. It was decorated with a net-like black pattern. On the chest was sown a spider. The other consisted of golden shorts, and a starry red and blue corset. To the hanger was attached matching bracelets and a hair band.

Wondering who would ever wear such ridiculous costumes, Bill grabbed the tanks Laura was holding out to him, and got dressed.

“Bill?”

He turned to see Laura’s naked back, as she clasped her bra.

“I think the fish are starring at my breasts.”


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Star, who was apparently their nanny, had left a note on the kitchen table, saying that she was taking the children out to the lake. Laura and Bill thus decided to go for a walk in search for more information.

The cabin in which they had woken up stood by a stream. In the distance, they could see a lake, and behind it mountains, chiseling the horizon. A patch of familiar looking New Caprican plants grew on one side of the cabin, a sign on the fence warning “Don’t touch without permission of the Bitches,” and in smaller print “no churning allowed either.”

They followed a beaten track that eventually led them to a village. A church marked its entry. Sound was rising from its high windows, and as the couple drew closer, sound became music, which in turn became words.

“Hail Mary full of Bill,

Coveted is your hair amongst women,

And blessed are your giggles…”

Laura raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t a possessive woman. It didn’t stop her from wondering if that village had an airlock that could contain any woman pretending to be full of her Bill. Said Bill sneaked a hand around her waist and kissed her temple lightly.

“And I’m the passive-aggressive one?”

She shot him a disapproving glare, discredited somewhat by the smile tugging at her lips. They resumed their walk.

They arrived on the central square. In the middle stood a fountain, that looked suspiciously like the one in Caprica City’s park. A polished plaque on the side read “Flailplosion happened here on July 4th 2008.”

Laura noticed the village was mostly populated by women. Here came two wearing mismatched matching socks. All waved at her and Bill when they saw them. One of them had actually called them “Admiral Roslin” and “Mister President”. Around the fountain was organized some sort of market, and at the various booths, they caught bits of conversations.

“I’m not depressed. I’m deeply introspective with a slight dramatic flair.”

“Randle rocks!”

“But I don’t know which bra to wear!”

One stall advertised for an art gallery, stating that the paintings were sold in exchange for smutfic. What an odd name for a currency. Members of the Flailing Corporation sold cookies. The girl selling them informed Laura and Bill that all the profits went towards the Dragon*Con trip.

“They have dragons too?” asked Laura, getting decidedly uncomfortable.

They had arrived in front of a bookshop. Through the window was displayed “The Beauty and The Beast, an audiobook by EJO.” The faces on the front-cover looked oddly familiar, and it took both their pairs of glasses to confirm that it was indeed them, Laura wearing a richly decorated yellow dress, and Bill a puffy shirt, and tights.

“Wait, who are they calling beast?” he growled.

He didn’t have much time to ponder on it for long, however, for an eager group of girls came up to them, asking both if they could please sign a petition in the name of the One True God. The petition was entitled “His Name is Jack, Not Sherman, bitch.”

Bill signed, sending them away politely, as Laura buried her face into his shoulder, trying to repress an erupting giggle fit. She raised her eyes, and spotted the most welcome figure walking towards them.

“Oh my Gods! Billy!”

She let go of Bill’s hand to pull the boy into an embrace, to which he responded just as fiercely.

“Madam President. It’s so good to see you.”

“Please, Billy, call me Laura,” she caressed his face, making sure he was really there.

“It’s good to see you too, Billy,” one of her hands mindlessly came up to fix his tie, “have you been here long?”

“A while. I don’t know, actually. All days look the same here, it’s a bit hard to keep track of time.”

He nodded a greeting at Bill, his eyes flickering for a moment over the hand that rested at the small of Laura’s back. A genuine smile dimpled his cheek.

“What is this place?”

“I don’t know Ma’am…Laura,” he gestured for them to start walking again, stepping away from the market place through a narrow street.
“
I just woke up here one day, and all these women have been checking up on me since. Some calls themselves the nymph squad, other the frakkers… But they’re mostly harmless.”

“Have you seen anyone else?”

“Yes. Lee and Kara arrived a few days ago. I was supposed to meet them here.”

Here was in front of an imposing temple-like building. Billy explained it housed the government.

“From what I’ve gathered, they are leading some sort of co-ruling communist monarchy.”

The motto, engraved on the pediment, indeed stated “All fangirls are equal, but we are more equal than others.”

They heard a sob, coming from the front steps.

“I don’t know what to write for MLH! I’m completely blocked!” shrieked a woman.

“Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me?” her friend answered, bending over her.

“I was afraid you’d be mad at meee!”

“Well, darling, I’m torn. On the one hand, my heart goes out to you. On the other, I want to ram a pen in your hand and shout ‘get writing you melodramatic bitch!’ See my dilemma?”

“Here they are!” said Billy, drawing Bill and Laura’s attention back to him.

Bill hugged both his children. Lee then embraced Laura, and after a moment of hesitation, Kara did the same.

“We can’t talk here,” she whispered.

“But I think I found a way out of here,” said Lee.

“He’s not a joker and we’re not thieves.”

Everyone turned to Kara, perplex.

“Nevermind. We have to rush, but we’ll meet you tonight at your cabin.”

Without further explanation, they departed.

Billy smiled apologetically, “I’m afraid I can’t stay either. One of the girls, a blond who sings a lot, has been following me around, so I need to be on the move.”

He nodded at Bill once more, Laura kissed his cheek, and he left them to find their own way back.

On the government building’s steps, two girls were arguing with a clearly exasperated clerk.

“But the flyboy and his nugget have to have a snow fight!” they squealed in unison.

“For the 271th time, ladies, one cannot have a snow fight when there is no snow!”

He turned around and hurried inside. In his haste, he didn’t notice the woman walking out with her arms full of legal paperwork. The two clashed. Papers flew around.

“Frak!” cried the woman.

From the lobby, someone shouted “STACHE!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Night had fallen on Denialand. Putting the children to sleep had been a task worthy of any mission of the highest tactical difficulty. Rai had refused to finish the dinner the nanny had left for them, Neve couldn’t hear enough of Ever see a little light, Juan wanted flying stories, and Emily simply started whimpering every time Laura did as little as walking towards the door.

From various pictures hung on the walls and subtle questioning, they had gathered that Neve and Juan were five years old twins. Rai was three, and Emily nearly two.

“We got one for each year!”had whispered, or rather shrieked, Laura in Bill’s ear.

He had chuckled.

“Oh you think this is funny?”

“Well, you’re the one who banned abortion, Madam President.”

“There’s a difference between abortion and contraception, Admiral.”

“What’s wrong? You’re a teacher. I thought you loved children.”

“It’s beside the point. Have they ever heard of that thing called menopause?”

They were now sitting in by the fire in the main room of their cabin. Lee and Kara had joined them in time for coffee, and they were waiting for Billy to arrive. When he did, he took the time to carefully shut every curtain before sitting down.

“So, as Lee told you earlier, we found a way to get out of here,” started Kara, “from the intel we’ve gathered, the fangirls don’t ever leave Denialand, so we believe we could cross border through the mountains, right about here,” she traced the path with the eraser end of her pencil, “it will be tough, but we can do it.”

“What’s on the other side?” asked Bill.

“We’re not sure, sir. The place is called Switzerland. It can’t be as bad as here anyway.”

“And I found the perfect camouflage!” interrupted Lee, clearly excited. He reached for the big bag he had brought with him, “see, I got here only dressed in a towel. It took me a few days to find something to replace it. Billy here eventually shared his wardrobe with me (nice shirts, by the way man), but before that…let’s just say I had to improvise.”

“He ripped off the curtains in his room.”

“Kara! Don’t spoil my story!”

She stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his right out back.

“Anyway, I have studied what the natives wear across the border, and I came up with these!”

He took out several pieces of clothes: shirts, shorts, skirts and odd looking strappy things, all made out of some green curtain fabric.

“They are called lederhosen,” he informed them proudly, “both fashionable and practical!”

“Talking about fashion,” remarked Laura, not the least appealed by the idea, “next time you decided to wear my red shirt, Lee, please ask first and at least put it back where you took it.”

“What do you mean, your red shirt?” asked Lee, suddenly pale, “wasn’t it Dad’s?”
Billy emitted a cough that did a poor job of hiding a giggle. Kara didn’t even bother, and snorted at Lee’s embarrassed face.

“What about the children?” asked Bill, bringing them back to the matter at hand.

“We’re bringing them with us.” Laura’s voice called for no discussion. “I don’t trust that Star girl, or whatever she’s called.”

Lee took out a set of smaller lederhosen. “It was the plan, Ma’am.”

And thus, at the break of dawn, they set off in the mountains, Laura, Bill, and their seven children. Neve hopping ahead, closely followed by Kara, Rai on Billy’s shoulders and Emily still asleep, nestled in Laura’s neck. Behind were the three Adama men walking as one, proud, determined, and ready to embark on new and exciting adventures.

After all, all of it had happened before, and would happen again. Again. Again.

JUMP!