The Son Also Rises

2009.32.F.7 - Random encounter: A reporter with a grudge

There had probably been fewer than thirty people in the room when he'd been sworn in, but the newly-appointed President Leland Joseph Adama would have sworn he shaken at least two hundred hands in the last hour, if the cramp in his fingers was any indication. Glad-handing was not his very least favorite thing about being involved in politics, but it wasn't far from the bottom of the list.

( Interview )


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2009.23.3.D - Parliament

OOC: Canon during 4x03, "The Ties That Bind"

They were all staring at me. Lee Adama, no longer Captain or Major or Commander Lee Adama, but just citizen Lee Adama of the Colonies. Although, when you think about it, that's a pretty strange thing for a person to consider themselves these days, a citizen of the Twelve Colonies, since there aren't any to speak of. But as a citizen, at least legally, of Caprica, I was eligible to be sitting down at that table with all those other people staring at me.

( The Distinguished Gentleman )


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287 - Prison

They won't let me wash the blood off my hands.

All right, they're not going to let me go to godsdamn sickbay so I can be there with my father while he's fighting for his frakking life. Tigh's being an ass and trying to be a commanding officer, and I should expect that from him. All right, they're going to throw me in hack, probably for the little time left on my misbegotten military career. I was expecting that after what I did for President Roslin.

But I've got my frakking father's blood on my hands. Frak, my arms are red almost to the godsdamn elbows and they still won't frakking let me wash it off!

It's not like I haven't seen the inside of a brig before. You're not friends with Kara Thrace and not occasionally get a remind what it's like behind bars. But it's different. Everything's smaller. Colder. Closer in. Somewhere on this tin can, my father is taking what might be his last breaths through lungs that might be shredded by some frakking toaster's bullets, and I can't even be there to watch him die.

President Roslin in the cell next door keeps wondering out loud how the Old Man is doing. She's worried, I can see it. More than that, I can hear it in her voice and I don't think I've ever heard Laura Roslin this shaken up.

And wouldn't you frakking know it, she can't stop staring at my hands.

Neither can I.

It's dry now, red turned almost black, flaking off at the edges. I have my father's blood on my hands, and all I'm thinking about are the things I can't tell him. I can't tell him how sorry I am that I had to disobey Tigh's orders, but that I'm not sorry I did. I can't tell him how much I've come to understand and appreciate the man he is and the person he was, and how grateful I am for the things that I think he was starting to understand about me.

I can't tell him I'd never leave, either.

Sitting down on the hard steel bench, I don't know what's going to happen next. All I can guess is that it's going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better.

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282 - Talk about funeral arrangements.

I knew he probably wouldn't have wanted me to do it, but then I wasn't a soldier under his command any more.

( Contains spoilers for the series finale, 'Daybreak' parts 1 and 2 )

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280 - What are you thinking?

( Contains spoilers for the series finale, 'Daybreak' parts 1 & 2 )

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2009.15.A.3 - Scenario: You have to mount a strategic rescue operation.

OOC Note: Normally, the Lee I write in this community is an AU, but with this topic, I couldn't resist the opportunity to write a response from canon. So, this response takes only show canon into account.

( Contains spoilers through the series finale )


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275 - "You can't control life, at least you can control your version."
— Chuck Palahniuk (Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories)

( Contains spoilers for the series finale, 'Daybreak, Part 2' )

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273 - "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" (Who watches the watchmen?)

In my current line of work, I've found I still take flack for being the Admiral's son, just of a different kind. People like to accuse me of being too invested in military interests, of being too easily influenced by my father, of putting the needs of Galactica before the rest of the fleet's. I've been accused of being nothing more than a mouthpiece for the Admiral, his way of legitimizing his control of all aspects of the fleet.

( Contains spoilers for episode 4x18, 'Islanded in a Stream of Stars' )

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270 - Thirteen

((A press release from the Office of the Vice-President of the Colonies))

When I was in high school, my friends and I went to a local street fair and dared one another to go into a fortune teller's tent. She wasn't an Oracle or Priestess or anything like that, just some woman in a colorful scarf and lots of bracelets that I assumed would look at my palm or deal some cards and tell me vague, imprecise predictions that would apply to anyone.

I was the one who ended up walking in, of course, and instead of cards, she asked me my birth date. She said that numbers had great significance. She jotted down the date and did some calculations, I guess... and proceeded to make a bunch of vague, imprecise predictions that would apply to anyone.

That pretty much convinced me that numbers having great significance was anything but garbage. Until now.

( Spoilers for current season of BSG )

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268 - The End

( In Memoriam )

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