Author:
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Baltar/Ellen and Ellen/Saul.
Rating: R.
Setting: During and Post-"Lay Down Your Burdens Part 2."
Words: 924.
Summary: Ellen was a survivor.
No one saved humanity. Roslin banned abortion in an executive order, but that didn't save humanity. Bill's guns killed more humans than Cylons. And Ellen joined the resistance.
Ellen hated the wall of the dead, which had been move to New Caprica almost as soon as they'd touched down. Everyone knew someone who died and set up their memorials with blood-filled tears. Ellen pasted a picture of her brother on the wall and blew him a kiss goodbye. Saul asked if she was okay; Ellen nodded and took a sip from her hip flask.
The crew gossiped about which fly boy she banged in his dusty hanger. Ellen only smiled and shined them on. They believed that her life was a party. But she was a survivor.
New soldiers were few and far between with everyone moving to Baltar's pet planet. And Ellen didn't frak the same guy twice with the exception of her husband; unless she needed something.
Ellen knew how to play the system, to how to work the black market without literally getting her throat cut. She kept her liquor cabinet stocked along with basic supplies. As an officer's wife, she'd attended a few conferences on how to survive with only shoe laces, tin foil, and an officer's uniform. She wasn't going to end up with pneumonia and without antibiotics like Anders.
"Hello, Mr. President," Ellen said, standing in front of Baltar's desk. Once again, she'd found Baltar talking to himself about god. "Sorry to interrupt."
Baltar turned his chair around. He carried himself as a benevolent genius, but Ellen knew better than to trust him. "Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Tigh?"
"Please," Ellen stepped forward, leg coming out from under her skirt, "you thought I was a Cylon. I think we're on a first name basis." She didn't need to be drunk for this. Baltar certainly wasn't bad looking and only slightly rank.
"And what can I do for you, Ellen?"
The closer she moved to him, the more she wished for a drink. His smell worsened, and Ellen smiled, thinking how showers seemed to be a luxury for even New Caprica's President. Showers were one of the only reasons she allowed Saul to remain aboard Galactica.
"I need a favor." Ellen sat on the corner of his desk and leaned toward him. There were few papers scattered across it, surprising considering both his lack of leadership skills and the minimal availability of paper.
Baltar picked up a pen from his desk and twirled it in his fingers. All he needed was some sort of sinister facial hair to pull of the evil dictator look. "What exactly is it you need? And how to you plan on repaying this favor?"
Ellen unbuttoned her jacket. She positioned herself so her breasts pushed up under her pink camisole. "A plot of land. I've finally convinced Saul to move from that ratty old ship."
"You're definitely a convincing woman," Baltar said. He smiled at her, the whites of his teeth gleaming. She felt like she was 20-something again and dancing for an older, foul-smelling man. But, at least, Baltar stank of rare liquor and power instead of cheap beer and poverty. He ran his hand over Ellen's knee.
Ellen frakked Baltar in the stink of sweat and come aboard Colonial One. She kept her eyes on a stain on the floor instead of the grimy windows. The stain was shaped like a viper. And Baltar grunted against her, sounding like the noises the children claimed came from the forest at night. Ellen climbed off him as soon as he came with a groan and a bit of drool on her shoulder. She turned her head and straightened her skirt as he disposed of the used condom.
"I suppose I can find something for you and the Colonel," Baltar said. He handed her a small piece of paper and told her see Gaeta.
Ellen thanked him and didn't flinch as she saw a shadow behind his curtain. No doubt, it was one of the whores Baltar kept on his ship. Rumor was that he supplied them with Chamalla and booze as payment.
"Mrs. Tigh," Baltar said as her hand was on the release hatch, "if you need anything else, just let me know."
Ellen nodded and continued across the mud and rocks.
Three weeks later, the Cylons came and Bill escaped aboard his precious ship. Ellen hadn't had a drink in 21 days and hadn't fought with her husband in 10. She clasped Saul's hand when the Centurions marched down the middle of the colony and slept listening to his heartbeat.
Ellen frakked Baltar one more time - when she needed flour. This time, she recognized the shadow as Number Six and Baltar didn't invite her back.
Instead, Ellen scrubbed Baltar from her skin and then stood in line, behind Roslin and Maya, waiting for Gaeta. The resistance needed her. Saul's recruits needed more than the rations on their plates. And her husband needed more than the hope that Bill would return after all.
Ellen made love to Saul that night, knowing that this was their last stand. That humanity wasn't going to be saved. She kissed him fiercely and pulled his body so close to hers that he could barely thrust. When they were done, Ellen sobbed into Saul's chest and he kissed away her tears, telling her that he loved her. But love wasn't coming to save humanity, even if it provided fuel for the resistance.