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A RUMOR OF PEACE	By : Acaciarose Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6494 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights over Harry Potter or Battlestar Galactica. I borrow them for my enjoyment only. I make no money or profit from these works.

Chapter List
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Roark was alone, working very late in his office. A rare occurrence of late as most nights would find him gone from the office before fifteen or sixteen hundred. To head home with his brother, cooking dinner then spending the evening in one or the other apartment, sitting before the fireplace.
Sometimes they would discuss their plans for the next day, each studying the map they had each pinned to their walls. Or just relaxing, reading for Harry, and for Roark he'd be working on a cross stitch project, of which he had way too many going, but he could never decide what he wanted to work on at any given time, so...several going at once.
Sometimes, he and Harry would go out to dinner with Severus and the Durins, usually to one of the local Cantina's. Most often it was to the Aquarian, where they would have dinner, talk, laugh, they would share the letters they had received from home, and just generally have fun, never once discussing their case, for that one night, putting it behind them and just being together.
Then there was the few and far between night, he would join Ardyn for dinner, which was now proving to be an exercise in frustration, yielding him nothing more than a horrible headache by the time he got home for the night. As the last six sectars {months} had passed, he, Harry, and the Durins had found the last of their leaks.
It had turned out they had a total of seven men, two of them being on their team, the other five within the Garrison, then they had five women, three were secretaries, the other two in non-important jobs, leaking whatever information they could get their hands on.
Then there was Ardyn.
They KNEW he was their main leak. Knew it with everything in them, but unfortunately for them, they still had not been able to find any definitive proof. He was too careful, too guarded, too good at covering his tracks. No real surprise. He'd been a Colonial Warrior for nearly twenty yahren {year}.
They were all still hoping that he would make some kind of mistake, that sooner or later he would get careless and make some kind of misstep.
"Eventually," Harry had growled late one night after Roark had returned from one of those dinners, telling them everything that had happened when they had shown up at his door, "he has GOT to make a mistake. No ONE can be that good at hiding what they're doing. Perhaps he already has and we just haven't found it yet, nor have we been around when he DOES."
"A fool's hope, Harry," Severus had told him from where he sat with his back to the hearth, nursing a tumbler of rich, dark amber Taurin fire whiskey. "I will say this about him, he is on par with some of our best undercover agents," he had said, his eyes narrowed on Roark's face.
He sat back in his chair now, stretching his body, hearing several bones crack as he had been leaning over his desk for far too long. He had, he thought, found his brother and Severus generally waiting for him when he had gotten home from those dinners, Severus immediately handing him the new headache potion he had created just for Roark as it not only took care of his headache, but dulled those psychic gifts, that were slowly, but surely becoming more of a problem, interfering in his day in one way or another. It was also now so strong, it would put him to sleep in a matter of a centar {hour} or two.
The Durins would then show up shortly after that, and with a hot mug of tea in hand, he would tell them everything. That's when they learned about the timetable of the new potion. He had apparently fallen asleep leaning into Jordan's side, head pillowed on his chest on one of those late-night meetings.
"Everything in me is screaming," he had told them, sipping his tea, leaning lazily against Jordan.
"Screaming what?" he had been asked, seeing his eyes beginning to droop.
"That there is something wrong. But what it is, I can't put a finger too. He's definitely hiding a great deal, but again, it's a job trying to find out what as his mind is just so..." his sudden shudder had had Jordan hugging him to his side, "for a man who doesn't have any magic, he's done a hell of a job secreting his thought's in a jumbled, unorganized mess of nothing. It's so bad, that after only a few centons {minutes} of looking, I have the most god-awful headache."
Frowns had appeared on all their faces at that as Tyler sat forward. "Are we SURE he doesn't have any magic?"
"He's never shown any sign of it."
"Unless he's found a way to hide that too."
THAT, and several OTHER things were what had him in his office so late now. Riddle had, as of several secton's {weeks} ago, ordered a team of Terminators to begin eliminating the team investigating him, and one by one, they had all begun to fall, until only he, Harry, Severus, the Durins, and Tristyn remained. They had all had close calls, managing to kill those sent to kill them
Which now led Roark to the other problem. The problem that was Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Terminators extraordinaire. They now knew that the pair were playing with them. Taunting them. His head fell back, and his eyes slipped closed.
Rodolphus was following him, just as Rabastan was following Harry. Every time they left Aquarian Colonial Headquarters to head out into the Capitol to follow up on Riddle's many ventures into the world of deep crime, the brothers would let them know they were there, letting them catch brief glimpses of them.
While they would be busy arresting people and confiscating goods, they would suddenly feel themselves being watched, and upon turning to locate the source, would find the brothers often leaning against brick or stone walls of buildings, or against lamp posts, their lips turned up in mocking, half smirks, their sherry eyes locked on them, watching every move they made.
It was, Harry and Roark would later admit to themselves, and each other, once they were safe within the walls of their apartments, driving them completely insane. Which, Roark thought as he swore sharply, was probably their intent. Every fucking time he saw Rodophus, he would feel his body begin to react in ways it had never done so before. The attraction he had felt for him that first night, growing stronger, sharper, and at an alarming rate every time he saw the man.
Even now, sitting here at his desk, thinking about that damn Terminator had his heart picking up its beat, his blood warming, beginning to race through his veins... "FUCK!" he jumped to his feet and began to pace his office, trying to find something else to think about.
No such luck.
Running his hand through his hair, he now remembered Harry telling him, late one night not so long ago, that he was having the same problem with Rabastan. He had, late one night, said in a nearly breathless tone, surprised him by grabbing his hand, pulling him into a secluded, recessed archway to press him against the brick wall and whisper into his ear exactly what he planned to do to him very...VERY soon. He had been released as quickly as he had been grabbed, and Rabastan had vanished into the night.
"Fuck, Rory," he had said later to his brother as he gulped down a tumbler of saggitarian whiskey, "I reacted so strongly to his words, I wanted to grab him and kiss him right then and there until we were both breathless and wanting much more. He is driving me INSANE!" he had cried out, running an agitated hand through his hair.
DAMN THEM! What the hell was it with these two that were drawing him and his brother to them over and over again? Like bees to honey, or moths to flame. Suddenly he chuckled, thinking, 'Not a good analogy there, Roark,' he said to himself, as bees would generally get stuck in honey, and the moths would get burned by the flames if they flew too close to the fire. Huh. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'that was their plan all along, Drive us completely insane before ending our lives.' He would need to talk to Harry about that later.
With a deep sigh, he returned his attention back to his desk, looking at the papers spread out over the surface. Progress reports. He had been putting them off for far too long, and now they were, he had been reminded by Severus earlier that evening, very late. Going back to his chair he sat, put fingers to keyboard, read what he had last typed out, then set to work once again.
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A RUMOR OF PEACE