Lords of Kobol, Hear My Prayer

FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica/X-Files Crossover
SUMMARY: Her old life on Caprica seems very far away right now.
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Mulder/Scully, Roslin/Scully
SPOILERS: Lay Down Your Burdens
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me and no copyright infringement is intended on my part.
WORD COUNT:  3,000
DATE POSTED: June 2009
NOTE: An excerpt from this story was originally posted to bsg_pornbattle . This story, being a crossover, is fairly AU, although it's arranged around the actual events of Lay Down Your Burdens.

If you're an X-Files fan and have never seen Battlestar Galactica, or vice-versa, I encourage you to give this a try all the same. If you'd like a quick BSG/XF synopsis (warning: it is spoilery), go here. It might be helpful in explaining the slight difference between the universes.

My thanks and love to icedteainthebag, who inspired me this weekend. Writing smut in person with your PLP is the best ever.



She misses the sun on her face. She misses Sunday brunch with the newspapers, scrambled eggs and endless amounts of hot coffee. She misses her mother's voice on the telephone, nagging her to come for dinner. Sometimes she even misses their office in the dank basement of the CBI Building.

01:17 hours and she's half dozing at the back of the Raptor as it travels from Galactica to Colonial One. She's sweaty, exhausted, and her feet hurt. She needs a shower and a back rub. Maybe a nip or two of whiskey, burning her throat on its way down.

She misses Mulder. She tries not to, but the longing sneaks past her carefully constructed defenses when she's especially tired or lonely. The quirk of his smile, the lines around his eyes. Falling asleep on his couch during the pyramid game. The flexing of his shoulder muscles against her hands.

No. Dana shakes her head. She can't think about him like that anymore. Nine months gone. She has to move on. She has to get over her guilt that the randomness of fate spared her. She'd been traveling from a conference on Scorpion when their worlds were destroyed. Mulder wasn't so lucky.

Sometimes she wonders where he was when he died. In their office? Lying on his black leather couch in his apartment? Sometimes she wishes she'd been there with him.

Security on Colonial One is tighter than ever before. Election jitters; no way of knowing what Tom Zarek could do. The marines that normally smile and wave her in actually frisk her. She holds her hands out to the side and lets them have their way with her stained scrubs.

All is quiet on the ship. Laura's aides and hangers-on and campaign workers are asleep in their little racks. Dana treads softly down the corridor. Laura is most likely asleep, too. She'll just slip in her quarters, take a shower. Stealthily pass out.

To her surprise, Laura is not only awake, she's fully dressed and pacing her quarters like a caged animal. Laura barely seems to register Dana's presence.

Dana clears her throat, pushes a hank of hair out of her eyes. "Is everything all right?"

Laura makes a noise at the back of her throat. "Gaius. Frakking. Baltar," she spits out.

Enough said. The man is a weasel, pure and simple. He makes Alex Krycek look like a humanitarian. She touches Laura's shoulder. "What happened?"

"We're frakked," Laura mutters. "The man couldn't be made to see reason."

"And this surprises you?"

"Never mind," says Laura, shaking her head as if to snap out of it. "How are you?"

"Dirty. Smelly. I scrubbed in with Cottle on a bowel resection. Mind if I use your shower?"

"Please do." Laura unbuttons her jacket and carelessly tosses it on a chair.

Colonial One always has more hot water than the Scorpia Traveller, her own ship. Dana luxuriates under the hot spray. Laura has somehow gotten her presidential mitts on some fancy soap that smells like mint and rosemary. She's covered in bubbles, the day's worries washing down the drain with the sweat and blood.

The shower curtain slides open and Dana looks up, a little startled. Laura is there, naked as the proverbial jaybird. Dana quirks a grin. It's going to be a good night after all.

"Dealing with Baltar makes me feel dirty," Laura says, and steps inside the shower stall.

Laura kisses Dana, her lips and tongue warm. Dana remembers the first time Laura kissed her, just a few weeks ago, so unexpected and fierce. There had been the lead up of weeks of flirty looks and double entendres. Dana had just stepped out of the head at the end of a campaign meeting and there was Laura, waiting for her in the passageway. Laura had taken off her glasses and given her that look. The next thing Dana knew, the two of them were in a utility closet and her hands were up Laura's skirt, her tongue in her mouth.

She'd never thought she'd ever kiss another women. Never thought she'd ever kiss anyone but Mulder again.

Laura has a beautiful body, Dana thinks, as she runs her fingers along her slick skin. She's almost old enough to be Dana's mother, but her skin is taut and firm, her breasts firm and round. Dana takes a nipple in her mouth, teasing it with her tongue and teeth. She's rewarded with a low moan from Laura, her voice deep and husky. No, Laura is anything but motherly.

"You need to be frakked," Dana says, surprising herself. She's never been one to talk dirty, never had the courage. But she's done a lot of things she never thought she'd do since the world ended less than a year ago. "You need to be frakked so hard you forget the election, forget all this nonsense." She takes Laura by the shoulders and turns her toward the wall.

Dana soaps up her fingers, her mouth veritably watering at the thought of what she's about to do. She leisurely runs her fingers along Laura's pussy lips, as if she has all the time in the world. "Give it to me," she hears Laura groan.

"Impatient woman," Dana scolds. She lightly brushes her finger past Laura's clit, as if by accident. Laura responds by pushing that lovely bottom of hers into Dana, which creates some very nice friction. She pinches Laura's nipple, enjoying the moan that comes in response.

In for a cubit, in for ten, she thinks and lets one finger slide into Laura's tight heat. "Moremoremore," Laura says through gritted teeth.

Dana's mind suddenly flashes to a night with Mulder in a motel room in some anonymous town on Gemenon, when he took her from behind and it was so wild and uninhibited, the first time she was able to truly let go in bed with him. She remembers how it felt to be on her hands and knees for him. She felt so exposed, so submissive. But it was also almost unbearably exciting as he thrust into her, hard, and she cried out "Moremoremore," into the dark room.

No, she thinks, blinking away what could be spray from the shower or could be a stray tear. No. Mulder is not coming back. No amount of crying or praying or offering supplication to the gods will bring him back.

Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer, she prays almost every night. But there is no answer from the gods.

Laura is whimpering now, her head and hands pressed against the shower stall as Dana plunges three fingers into Laura, all pretense of gentleness gone. She wants to take Laura, to devour her, to ravish and conquer her. It excites her to know that this is the President of Twelve Colonies spreading her legs for her, panting hard as she strokes Laura's clit with the tips of her fingers. If only her constituents could see Laura Roslin now, she thinks.

She stands on tiptoe to whisper in Laura's ear. "Give it up," she says. "Come for me, Laura. Come for me now." She feels Laura's internal muscles clench as if in response and a resounding wail rips from Laura's mouth, so loud that Dana has to clamp her hand on Laura's mouth. The walls aren't exactly soundproofed on Colonial One.

"Gods," Laura says. "That just about killed me."

She kisses Laura's wet shoulder blades, each bump of her vertebrae—cervical, thoracic, lumbar, sacral and coccygeal.

Laura whirls around, her cheeks pink and her eyes dancing. It fills her with strange joy to see Laura so alive. She remembers coming to assist Doc Cottle on a coronary bypass and spying Laura, so small and wasted in her hospital bed. Dana's heart had ached, remember how close she'd come to touching death herself, how she'd been lucky enough to cheat death. She remembers actually smelling death around Laura, felt it lurking in the shadows, ready to drag her to the underworld.

But Laura got lucky, too. The gods must be looking out for the both of them for some reason.




Laura's sheets are crisp and cool to her bare skin, a good deal fresher than those on Dana's rack back on the Scorpia. Ah, the privileges of sleeping with the president. She'd better enjoy it while it lasts, she thinks dourly, if the latest polls are any indication. What's wrong with the people of the Fleet? How can they not see how shallow and self-serving Baltar's promises of a glorious future on a new planet are? No, she will not be so faithless. She has to believe that everything will turn out the way it's meant to be.

She curls up next to Laura. Laura's skin is warm and rosy from the shower. "We'd better get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow," Dana says.

Laura's hand lazily travels along the curve of Dana's hip. "I may never sleep again..."

"You have to have faith," Dana whispers. She reflexively touches the tiny gold amulet of Asclepius, the god of medicine. Her parents gave it to her the day she graduated from medical school.

"I have faith in the gods," Laura says, absently stroking Dana's thigh. "But I don't know if they have faith in me."

"They do." Skeptic as she may be, Dana can almost believe in Laura's destiny. She wants to believe. No, she believes. Laura will lead them all to Earth.

Dana rolls on her side to face Laura. She looks into those green eyes of hers, shaded with dark lashes. "Just believe, Laura," she whispers, and kisses her.

Kissing Laura is so soft, velvety cheeks brushing hers, plush lips and plump tongue. It's an entirely different experience than kissing Mulder. She remembers the rough grain of his stubble scraping her face. That was exciting, but so it this.

She finds that she's fascinated by the similarity and differences in their bodies. They're both women. They're both human. They each have the same basic components—two arms, two legs, two breasts, one vagina. But Laura is taller, longer-limbed than Dana. Her breasts are larger, waist a bit smaller. The thatch of hair between Laura's legs is dark brown, not reddish, thicker and curlier than Dana's own.

"You're an unstoppable force," Laura mutters, hands delightfully stroking and cupping Dana's breasts.

"Women in their thirties are at their sexual peak," Dana helpfully adds.

"Hmm...I'd say I'm at mine now. Don't knock women in their fifties."

Dana most certainly will not knock women in their fifties. She'd love to see a picture of Laura at thirty-five but she finds it hard to believe that Laura could have been any more gorgeous than she is right now, naked as the day she was born, her hair damp and curling wildly about her face.

This is exactly where she wants to be. Here in the privacy of Laura's quarters, far away from the privations and loneliness of this life in exile. This is the place where her longing for Mulder doesn't touch her, at least not as much as when she's alone in her tiny cubicle at night. Her old life on Caprica seems very far away right now.

Laura flops onto her back. "Come here," she rasps and Dana obediently straddles her body. Already she's so wet. So ready for her. Laura's hands squeeze her ass cheeks, her lips at Dana's throat. "You're almost too beautiful," Laura mutters and a blush blooms in Dana's cheeks.

A tug at her arm and Dana knows to slide up to the head of the bed until she's hovering over Laura's face. Oh gods, Dana thinks, this is the president. This is the president and she wants me to sit on her face. So say we all, she thinks.

She feels a wet tongue dart out and gently spread her folds. Dana hears Laura groan and she joins her with one of her own. Soft hands press into her hips, guiding her over Laura's mouth. This woman really knows what she's doing, knows exactly how to tease Dana's clit with the tip of her tongue. Dana feels like her clitoris has doubled in size, has become as plump and juicy as a ripe raspberry. She tilts her head back, stifling a low moan. She wonders if Laura's security detail can hear them making love. But she really doesn't care. This feels too godsdamned good.

Frak stifling her moans, she can't help but let out a loud one as Laura roughly shoves two fingers deeply inside her. Oh, those long fingers of Laura's. Yes.

Dana wants this to last forever, wants to spend all eternity with Laura's lips and tongue and fingers on her and in her. She wants to stay forever in this bed, grinding herself into Laura's beautiful face. But her body is much more impatient than her mind. Her orgasm sneaks up on her, stealthy at first, but then it positively slams through her body in infinite waves that spread from her clit all the way up to her hairline and down to her toes. Is Laura trying to kill her? Send her into cardiac arrest?

She collapses to the mattress, panting. Dana's body is trembling with the aftershocks. "Frak," she mumbles. "What have you done to me?"

Laura kisses her forehead. "Hmm...you inspire me, Dana."

Dana smiles. She certainly could get used to this. If she let herself, she could fall in love with Laura. What's not to love?

Laura switches off the bedside lamp. Her voice is soft in the darkness. "Dana, I need to tell you something," she says, her voice unusually hesitant.

"What's that?" She curls into Laura's soft flesh.

"I don't say things like this easily. Or lightly. But I think I'm starting to fall for you." Laura's fingers twine around the gold chain around Dana's neck.

Dana closes her eyes, stifles a small sigh. It's not a betrayal to Mulder to love someone else, she tells herself. She'd like to think he'd want this for her, this happiness.

She opens her eyes. "Me, too," she says to Laura. "Me, too."

There. Not much of a betrayal after all.

"Oh, good...." Laura says, her voice sliding into sleep.

Dana pulls the covers over their bodies. She settles into Laura, her back pressed into Laura's chest. She breathes in time with Laura's sleep breathing.

She has everything she wants, right here.

Still, she can't help her supplication to the gods.

Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer. Give me another miracle. Please give me a miracle.



The shrill ringing of the telephone jolts Dana out of the deepest sleep. She blinks in the darkness as she hears Laura sit up and scramble for the receiver by the bed.

"Yes?" says Laura, her voice thick with sleepiness.

Dana hears a male voice explaining something on the other end and then Laura saying, "She'll be there as soon as she can." She hangs up the phone.

"Who was that?"

"Cottle on the wireless. He needs you on Galactica. Starbuck is back from Caprica with the survivors. Some are injured. He said he needs an extra pair of hands."

"Thank the gods," Dana breathes. She gets out of bed, her legs wobbly. The clock tells her it's 06:23 hours. She wonders where she stashed her filthy scrubs.

Something occurs to Dana. "Laura, how did Cottle know where to find me?"

Laura snorts with laughter. "There are fewer than 50,000 humans in the Fleet. It's pretty hard to keep secrets."

True enough. Still, Dana hates the idea of the entire Fleet gossiping about her and Laura. She finds her scrubs lurking under a chair and begins dressing. She kisses the top of Laura's head and promises to return as soon as she can to help with last-minute election preparations.



Sickbay is all activity, medics rushing by with bags of blood and trays of instruments. Dana finds Cottle lurking in a corner, crushing out a cigarette in an emesis basin. "Good to see you, kid," he says. "We've got eight injured. I've gotta amputate a foot. Go scrub up."

Dana nods at him and strides off to find a fresh pair of scrubs in the locker room. And then she stops dead in her tracks.

Her eyes are deceiving her. Wishful thinking. A lack of sleep.

No, it can't possibly be.

Mulder, lying in one of the beds.

So thin, his face weather-beaten and stubbled. His forehead and an arm covered with bloodstained bandages.

Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer...

Dana almost trips as she runs to the bed.

His eyes meet hers. Oh, that changeable hazel color. His mouth opens. "Scully," he rasps.

No one has called her Scully in almost a year.

She sinks to her knees by his bedside. "Mulder," she says, her voice wavering. "Is it you?"

He reaches out his bandaged hand to her. "You're alive," he says, blinking hard as if he can't believe his eyes. "I can't believe you're alive."

She presses her cheek to his chest, smelling his sweet and blood. She can feel the unmistakable rhythm of his heartbeat. His hands twine in her hair.

"It's me, Mulder," she says, tears streaming down her face. "It's me."

END