Title: You Could Be Happy

Author: redknightalex

Pairing: Gina/Cain mainly, mention of other canon-only pairings.

Rating: PG-13, nothing you haven't seen on the show. There is some nudity, sexual references and violence. If it increased I'll be sure to update the rating.

Warnings: Bit o' drama and angst mixed with those all-important what the frak now moments. I'm trying to steer away from those real-heavy subjects like torture, etc. that we had already seen on the show. Again, it it changes, I'll let you know.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the computer I wrote this on.

Setting/Spoilers: This takes place immediately after Pegasus is reunited with Galactica (or the other way around) and Cain meets with Adama and Roslin. There may or may not be spoilers up to the episode "Pegasus" so just knowing what happens in them will help. As the story continues I may also deal with what occurs in later episodes, like "Resurrection Ship" and "Black Market".

Summary: In a world where Gina isn't revealed as a Cylon when Pegasus meets Galactica, Admiral Cain has to deal with the consequences of governing the rest of humanity in her own unique fashion.

Author's Note (read as needed): I've always been fascinated by Admiral Cain and was somewhat dissatisfied with how the show treated and portrayed her. I was disappointed that she had to die although I cannot really find fault with how she did (very poetic with a tinge of tragedy and irony). She would have been a great contrast to Adama that Roslin no longer gave, the two had become a team and their earlier conflict had dissolved. She was also a character that showed you just how many shades of gray people really do have. Such a great opportunity gone to waste, I believe. So I want to bring her back with just a few things changed.

My main goal for this fic is to look at how Cain would have handled suddenly being in charge of a large civilian fleet, president, and political system. How would Cain have reacted to suddenly having hope for the human species again? Or did she view 40k+ people as still an insignificant number?

I also want to answer the question what if Cain had to deal with Gina's Cylonism later on and in a more mature way? Her reaction on the show was, although completely human, very knee-jerkish and didn't have all the soul-searching and moral redefining that Adama had with Athena. If given the time and slightly different circumstances I believe Cain would have handled it very differently and in a manner more becoming of her station. Or, at least, how I think she could have handled it if she was surrounded by mediators between her pain and Gina.

So, really, this is an au sort-of story. Gina hasn't been revealed to be a Cylon by the time Pegasus joins Galactica and Cain has made a few choices differently.

Prologue

Suddenly she moaned. She moaned long, hard, and full of passion. Then she hunched her shoulders, threw her head back, and laughed.

She could feel it.

Baltar turned to look at her. He liked to think he understood the basic functions of his affectionately called "Head Six" and there were times when he even understood her logic. This was not one of those times. He wasn't even touching her and she was moaning in what appeared to be sexual ecstasy.

He glanced around discreetly, counting the number of people in the hallway before turning to her and asking, "do you have an explanation?"

Leveling her head, she gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen appear on her face.

"You're going to have a familiar visitor."

Chapter 1

She took a deep breath after stepping down from the Raptor when she arrived back on her own ship. It was like being home after a long vacation and having that feeling of finally being back where you belonged. Vacations and shore leaves were always nice but they could never hold a candle to the peace found only in that one, specific place. And Pegasus was home. Everything about it calmed her, centered her, focused her. This past excursion was the first in almost a year that had taken her off the ship in any form. She couldn't even remember the last time she boarded a Raptor and sat in a Vipor for anything over than inspection.

She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and breathed it all in again.

She hadn't thought of it that way before. What do you do when you can finally change your locale? Should you be moving about as if you were free, as if you had a choice, or continue to plant your feet on the same bulkheads, on the same strips of metal?

Opening her eyes, she glanced around. She could still hear the parties going on in the back rooms of the hanger. People were happy. Ecstatic. This was the first bit of goods news they have had since the colonies were destroyed. Even she had to smile and praise her luck at times. Finding the Galactica and the ships hovering around it like bees to their queen could only come from some divine intervention. The Gods were still looking after their much maligned creations. This was proof.

She took one step, then two, until she was walking at her normal, steady cadence. For the first time she found herself weaving in and out of other people instead of having others weave around her. Everything was chaotic and she desperately wanted to correct it all, to restore things to order, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't put herself up to the task. Tomorrow the work would begin again, 110% given and received. Today...today was for celebration. Perhaps even she would partake in the festivities.

Her meeting with Commander Adama and President Roslin was informative. It gave her much to think about, much to evaluate. Suddenly she was in charge of an actual military, of an actual fleet, instead of her one battlestar. Did this mean she had to change her tactical plans? Should she worry about the civilian fleet? Should she even worry about having a president to "report" to.

She turned a corner and her lip twitched dangerously. The presidency was a farce, an act, to make the civilians feel better, to let them have a small sense of peace and comfort. To make matters worse, Adama, a military man, had decided to kiss-up to the secretary of education and work with her to try and outrun the Cylons. They were all forgetting that a war is being raged and whether or not they decided to fight it was not up to them. They had become too defensive, too docile, too scared to hit back. They were acting like an abused dog, too hurt and wounded to do anything but lick its own wounds and whimper at any approaching shadow. It disgusted her. Did they not feel sick themselves for not avenging their fallen comrades? How could they sleep at night knowing that they were doing nothing?

All this left her to think about how Pegasus had been performing. She and her battlestar were pulling all of the dead weight left behind by Adama and his entourage. If Adama had been on the offensive this whole time like he should have been then maybe....

No, she chastised herself, no use thinking of what ifs, of what could have been. The past is the past, you cannot change it, you only have to accept it and have faith that you did what was right. She had done everything she knew to be right at that given time with those circumstances and she faulted herself for nothing. If given the chance she would change nothing. Absolutely nothing. She believed it with all her might.

She was nearing her quarters, more than halfway there. So close.

What to do now with this fleet? Could she continue her guerrilla warfare? How much power did the president have? Would people really miss the president? Could she relieve Roslin of her position if the woman got in her way? Did she have to worry about her imminent death? Could she take power then? Did she need to institute martial law? Would the fleet rebel? How much power did the fleet have? Resources? People? Professionals? Could some be reassigned? How many families? How many crimes? Problems? Deadweights?

She shook her head. There were too many variables, too many unknowns, to make a concrete plan. She needed to know more. She needed to know about the Galactica, about Roslin, about the fleet. She just need more information before she drew up her plan.

She knew one thing for certain: she was in command.

...and she just wanted to lay down for just a few minutes and think. She wanted to be home.

Her pace picked up as she headed to her quarters. She was suddenly anxious to get to her sanctuary, the one place she allowed casual seating, the only place she ever closed her eyes for longer than a few seconds. She could be weak in her quarters...to a point. There were still a few things she would never, could never, do, not even behind the closed hatch.

She turned the corner to find the guard assigned to covering her quarters. Although he had an air of perfect professionalism about him she could see right through his mask. He was still on duty and, although it was important work, he would not be able to enjoy the celebrations until his shift was over six hours from now. By that time most of the cigars would have been smoked and many would have already found a partner to rack with for the night. He would miss out, once again, all because of his poor luck at drawing the late shift.

Stopping before the hatch, she looked him over. Her lip twitched.

"You're relieved," she said, her voice sounding strange and distant even to her own ears.

He looked at her, blinking twice before shouldering his rifle, giving her a crisp salute, and walking at a brisk pace towards his locker. One did not question her orders, especially when it was a gift.

When he was out of sight, she smiled faintly. Today was for celebration and being nice, she reminded herself. Furthermore you couldn't ask one of your subordinates to do something you wouldn't yourself do and, tonight, all she wanted to do was to be happy.

Without another moment's thought Admiral Cain stepped through the hatch and into her quarters only to be engulfed in an over-powering embrace.

"Isn't it wonderful?!" was mumbled against her neck.

Cain's slight smile widened into one as full blown as the nearest star and returned the embrace. Turning her head to the side she breathed in another familiar scent. This scent, which only this one particular woman had, made her head spin, her lungs seize, and her knees weaken. But, above all, it made her deliriously happy. In the back of her mind she wondered if a person could also be a place to call home.

Cain pushed Gina away so that she could look directly into eyes bursting with a new-found hope. She wasn't sure if she shared this hope, this general feeling of well-being, but who was she to dampen Gina's spirits?

"It is wonderful," Cain whispered before slowly, carefully, leaning in for a kiss.