#shawns convinced he’s hiding something because he’s so cool and polite but it turns out he really just is like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malecftw · 6 years ago

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Europe with Shawn (new version)

So this lil one got deleted for some reason so here is the new version. I actually thought it was gonna be horrible but I don’t really mind it that much. The key points of the original story are def still there, just written differently. Enjoy! (A/N is the original one)

A/N: Y’all can thank the ‘there’s nothing holding me back’ music video for this holy hot damn creativity struck me like lightning (ok that didn’t make sense ignore this and enjoy!)

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Warnings: none, just fluffffff

Word count: 1.505

Masterlist.

Requests are open!

Shawn adjusted his position in the wooden chair as the interviewer asked him another question. Sitting under the bright professional lights, in front of the big camera, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to you.

Ever since you’d joined him in the UK for the first show of the European tour, you’d become inseparable. Shawn came back to earth when the room fell silent, awaiting his answer to the blonde interviewer’s question.

‘I’m sorry what was that?’ He said apologetically. The interviewer looked at him, acting like she could see right through him but in reality, she had no clue. She posed the question again, carefully articulating to make her English seem perfect but Shawn could still easily pick up on the foreign accent.

This time, he actually answered her question in full detail, trying to be as specific and complete as he could and she seemed happy with what she got out of him. As she asked him another question, the phone in his back pocket buzzed and he smirked, knowing exactly what it meant without even having to look at it.

When you’d joined him on tour, you’d made it a thing to venture out into every new city, finding different, new, cool places to eat while he worked. It was perfect since Shawn got to do what he loved while you got to go on a new adventure basically every other day. Preferably, you’d eat somewhere that had specific cuisine of said country, which wasn’t always the safest option.

Shawn silently thanked his manager in his head for only booking one interview today, bubbling with excitement to spend more time with you, wondering what kind of place you’d chosen today.

After the interview, he made sure to thank and say goodbye to everyone in the room. His parents raised him to be respectful and polite and while he was aching to get out of there, he also couldn’t not stick to his morals.

As he walked out of the building, he immediately opened up the notification that had your name on it. You’d just shared your location with him. No message, no nothing and he knew how much you loved making him curious for these kinds of things, so he followed the blue arrow on the map on his phone. As he dodged several variously colored Vespa’s and groups of tourists with sun hats on, he thought back to the memories you’d made over the past couple of months.

Your silk dress was giving you a godly shine in the summer sun as you sipped on a glass of wine at a French restaurant. Within viewing distance of the Eiffel Tower, you’d chosen the perfect spot for a little lunch date. However, both of you had quickly realized that snails were not your forte and while you tried it, it didn’t take you long to abandon the snails and go hunting for some macaroons.

Or that time you did an Escape Room after having had a typical German Bratwurst. That’s wasn’t really planned out or you would’ve dressed appropriately for the occasion since it had so much physical stuff that was not suited for your high heels and short skirt. Shawn didn’t mind though, when your skirt riled up, showing off your skin but he always respectfully stood in front of you, hiding you from plain sight as you fixed yourself. Eventually, you really got into it and being the gentleman that he is, he decided to carry your red pumps as you had the time of your lives solving puzzles and running against time itself.

As you were walking out of the Escape Room, you entered the main lobby of the building and the guy at the entrance looked at Shawn funnily as he noticed the red pumps. Of course, Shawn turned a lighter shade of red and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Or that time at the cat café in Amsterdam. That was freaking adorable for all of 5 minutes until you found out you were very allergic to their fur. You powered through it and left with a new found love for any pets that didn’t have fur.

Of course, you were waiting for someone to recognize him but as of yet, you’d chosen lowkey places. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone was going to snap a picture of the both of you and post it to the internet. But it was okay. You both knew it was bound to happen and rather than being secretive and cooped up inside all day, you wanted to enjoy this. Enjoy Europe with each other, two kids in love having the time of their lives. You’d had the talk and come to the conclusion that your relationship was strong enough to take the blow.

Shawn took in his surroundings, stood in front of a small alleyway that seemingly went nowhere, your location told him differently. The chills were running up his arms as he was suddenly walking into the shadow of the old town of Rome. Leaving the fancy designer shops behind him, all of a sudden he was surrounded by old houses, each giving off their own vibe and charm. He lifted his sunglasses and set them on the top of his head, not needing them anymore since no sunlight could reach between these high houses on either side of the small alley.

All of a sudden, he spotted you in the window of the tiniest restaurant. The facade being covered in sunflowers which oddly enough matched the peach color of the outside walls. He stood still, observing you for a second. You long hair cascaded down your back and moved along with you as you laughed at something the waiter said. Two wine glasses were put in front of you and you couldn’t help but twirl yours around in your hand, debating on whether or not to have a little taste before you arrived. You looked pure, carefree, happy. Away from the constant stress of your job, away from the boring drag of a normal life. He realized he wouldn’t be able to take you everywhere, but you’d be easier to convince to come with him on the road, simply because you lived for traveling and exploring.

You looked up from the wineglass and noticed Shawn staring at you through the window. Your smile faded slightly before coming back times ten. He broke eye contact first and decided to enter the little restaurant you’d chosen out for the two of you. The waiter greeted him and Shawn slightly bowed his head as an awkward sign of acknowledgment and respect.

You giggled at his awkward stance but quickly looked down when his intense gaze bore deep into your soul. You stood up to greet him and he took you into his arms, taking you by surprise when he deepened the peck on your lips for a second. His chocolate brown eyes stared at your lips once more before realizing you should kinda limit the PDA. Not that you hated showing each other off in public, you just didn’t want to be sickening to others.

You both sat down and tasted the red wine you’d picked out, both of you approving before starting to talk about both of your days. Both of you happily making some small talk while you waited for your food, which arrived shortly after.

You groaned as you took in the smell of your lasagne, while Shawn’s mouth watered at the sight of his Pasta Carbonara. He knew he could trust you with food choices (apart from that snail thing yeah that was gross) so he usually just let you order since he was always famished after doing press or rehearsals. You’d really outdone yourself this time and you were proud of the choices you’d made.

You ate in silence, but when dessert rolled along, you started talking about the next few days. Shawn had made sure he had a couple days off here in Rome since he knew it was your favorite city and you really wanted to see the sights. Just another one of the countless thoughtful things he did for you day in day out.

He played with your fingers while you excitedly talked about what you wanted to do with the time off and he couldn’t help but smile. Here you were, all excited, so excited, to spend time with him and only him. You didn’t care about the money or the fortune, you just cared about him, his love and making memories with him.

Your excitement was infectious and he smirked as he thought about it. Visiting the Colosseum, the Sistine Chapel, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain,...

He couldn’t wait to see you check each and every one off of your bucket list, your little face no doubt filled with constant excitement.

He couldn’t wait for making memories with his best friend and the love of his life, for the rest of his life.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagine #fluff

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wearecylons-blog · 8 years ago

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Treat You Better - New Story!

The title is based on the song by Shawn Mendes. The plot too, somewhat-ish, but see for yourself ;)

Story is an AU set on Caprica. Bill has left the fleet to work for a security company, Laura’s working for the government.

I hope you enjoy it!

xxx Viv

The first time he met her, he wouldn’t have thought it possible.

She was a kind woman. Very calm, maybe a bit reserved – he could tell her smiles, though warm, never came from heart – he had talked with her on several occasions, and it was obvious that she was also an extremely smart woman. Smarter than she let on at first sight. She was very well-educated and had a strong passion for literature; all traits one would suspect in the Secretary of Education, but she was also fun company. Easy to talk to and as it turned out very observant. Talking with her about people passing by or other staff in general was always great fun; she had an extraordinary ability in guessing what other people wanted and/or needed.

Maybe, in retrospect it shouldn’t have surprised him that much after all. Considering that side of her.

Bill had walked into the President’s office to inform him about a hacking attempt onto the man’s email account, without so much as a knock. The issue wasn’t something unusual, a lot of attempts were made to spy on anything the President might be doing, especially via all means the colonial web offered; however, Bill had never felt good about networks and in spite of his colleagues downplaying comments he had instantly decided to tell his boss about the matter.

Shirley, Adar’s assistant, had told him the President was currently in a meeting with Secretary Roslin but didn’t object when he replied it was an urgent matter. She let him pass and Bill gave the door a polite knock and then simply entered.

At first the only thing that seemed out of order was that both adults supposedly occupying the room were not in it. Bill closed the door behind him and then looked around, instantly alert. He was in charge of the President’s security staff. Adar had insisted to have an “open” door which meant that his personal detail did not constantly reside at his door. Even though they had advised against that he had insisted; in the end, they had given into his wish, but not without the compromise of setting up extra guards at all entrances and exits on the presidential floor. It was simply too risky otherwise.

At this very moment Bill Adama cursed himself and his superiors of the Caprican Security Company. His hand moved to his side arm when he called out: “Mr. President?!”

A door behind the office’s desk burst open and Richard Adar tumbled out. He looked dishevelled and distressed.

“Adama!” he greeted Bill. “What happened?”

Obviously he assumed to be called to an emergency. “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I just had been under the impression you were conferring with Secretary Roslin at the moment, but neither of you-…” Bill’s voice faded away. He had just noticed something else was odd about the room. A blazer, a pair of pumps and ... was that a pair of panties lying on the floor next to the prominent desk? It suddenly dawned on him; they had been having that kind of conference. Adama blinked. It felt like an ice bucket had been emptied over his head.

The President shuffled were he stood. He had recognised the look of dawning comprehension on the face of his head of security. Quickly figuring out his options he decided it was best to play with open cards. After all, letting Bill in on their secret might come of advantage at some point.

“You can come out Laura.”

For a split second Bill was trying to convince himself that he might be mistaken. Maybe she had left the office without Shirley noticing. Maybe it was another woman the president had been hiding in his bathroom. But he recognised her shoes and once the president called her name he knew he couldn’t be wrong.

Laura Roslin’s form emerged from the bathroom. Her face was impassive, straight posture, hands dangling at her sides. Only when she saw the incredulous expression in Bill’s eyes did she seem to falter in her steps. Her cheeks blushed slightly, almost invisible to the eye.

Richard, who had not been paying any attention to the details of his surroundings, but instead had quickly developed a what he called master plan, started talking again: “Mr. Adama. As you can see, the Secretary of Education and I find ourselves in a most sensitive situation.”

Bill listened to the President, not any emotion reflected on his facial expression, whilst Laura quickly gathered her discarded clothes. Out of the corner of his eyes he could make out how she slipped her piece of undergarment into her blazer’s pocket. It disgusted him, and at the same time he felt terribly betrayed.

“It was only a matter of time before you or your team would find out, so why not take the opportunity to discuss the precautions we should take.” Adar spoke as if they were discussing any kind of state business. He did not even have the politeness to show a tiny sign of embarrassment or remorse because of the situation. Bill got even more disgusted.

“Of course, under no circumstances can my wife learn of any of this. Nor the media or public. But I think with your help that can be most easily prevented. There won’t be anything suspicious about you escorting Ms. Roslin to any place,” he said that with the air of someone who had just had a groundbreaking breakthrough in finding a cure against cancer. “We can arrange meetings in different places on the Colonies, which will be far easier than using our offices or the buildings' bathrooms,” Adar laughed.

Bastard, was the first thing that came into Bill’s mind.

“You want me to help you cheating on Mrs. Adar?” he asked. Adar might be the president, but Bill couldn’t care less at the moment. He also glanced at Laura after posing his question. At least she had the decency to look slightly ashamed. When their eyes met that changed however; defiance was also creeping into her eyes.

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that. Laura and I can’t defend ourselves against nature’s will, now, can we?” He spotted Bill’s sceptic look and suddenly the friendly demeanour faded. “But then again, that is none of your business nor your concern.” He strode over to stand next to Roslin.

“Mr. Adama, I don’t think it’s necessary but I command you to keep this information privately. Secretary Roslin or I shall approach you when we require your service, which you will provide.”

“Of course, Mr. President.” Bill was no fool. He wouldn’t risk his job because the President’s dick liked to do as it pleased. Neither would he risk it because Ms. Sweetheart-Laura-Roslin couldn’t resist that very dick.

Adar seemed pleased with things. “Perfect. Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I have a telephone conference with Virgon in 10 minutes.”

They were dismissed.

Roslin walked past him towards the door, Bill followed her.

To his immense relief neither the President nor the Secretary contacted Bill the weeks following the incident. He had changed the rotation schedule for his team and made sure he didn’t have any business too close to the presidential floor or the 5th floor (where the department of education was located) for a while. The mere thought of what he had witnessed and what they had told him still made him stand on edge. He couldn’t say that Adar’s actions had actually surprised him. He had suspected him to be a complete moron a long time ago. The inability of controlling his dick fit perfectly well into that picture, but he was very surprised by Laura Roslin. Surprised and disappointed.

Of course he knew he wasn’t in the position to judge anyone, least of all her. They had shared the occasional private chat during lunch break or an official event, but that had been all. They weren’t close, they weren’t friends, but nevertheless he felt let down. Bill had liked her. Of all people working in this building she had been the most pleasant. Except for Saul … and the rest of his men of course, but they didn’t really belong to the building anyway.

Bill grunted. Not for the first time did he wish he hadn’t resigned from the Colonial Fleet. He’d give a lot in this very moment to be onboard a Battlestar, even if it were only to scrub its floors. But then he thought of Bulldog and the Valkyrie. His frak-up that cost him one of his best pilots and friends still caused his guts to clench. Suddenly, he didn’t feel hungry any more.

Lost in thoughts and memories he stared at the water of the pond. It was a warm and sunny day, so he had decided to eat outside in the little park instead of mess. His naked feet were dangling in the fresh water, cooling down and causing ripples on the surface every time he moved. As usual, the park was filled with noise and other people, but none of them were minding him nor the pond. All probably too scared to ruin their suits and other expensive clothing.

A shadow fell across Bill’s face, he looked up. Laura Roslin was standing next to him, holding a doggy bag in one of her hands. She waved it in front of him and asked: “Mind if I join you?”

She didn’t wait for a reply, instead kicked off her shoes and settled down next to him. Once her feet dived into the water as well she gave a content sigh. “This feels good,” she said and then added, “I love the warmth.”

The way she smiled at him made him almost forget his anger at her. Her auburn hair shone like bronze in the light. Laura began to unpack her lunch. “It’s been a while since we shared lunch.”

Her statement brought back all his resentment. “Yeah,” he paused a second, “Actually I should be getting back.”

“But you barely ate,” she pointed out.

“I know. I, I lost my appetite.” It wasn’t a lie really. He no longer felt hungry, just sick, but mainly because of his memories. The way it came across, though, it totally sounded like an insult, even Bill could hear that. Laura stopped smiling at him. Instead she appeared to be exasperated. “Fine. If that’s how you want it to be.”

“The President and I will be attending tonight’s fundraiser for the Colonial Orphans in Delphi. I’ll be taking a cab to get there but he asks you to escort me back home after the event.” She paused a second and pulled out a piece of paper from her purse. “This is the address of an apartment owned by President Adar in Delphi. Don’t worry, nobody knows it’s his. That’s where you will take me instead without anybody noticing.”

Bill took the paper. He felt Laura’s eyes piercing through his forehead while he pretended to study it. Finally he looked at her. He thought about saying something to make her feel bad, he hated this. This wasn’t what he was there for, it was their dirty game. But again, all that came into his mind when he studied her face was how great she looked in the sun.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

There wasn’t any trace of fear or insecurity in her voice and yet Bill instantly knew how important his answer was to her. He took several minutes until he replied. Having Laura this close, outside of the office building … all of a sudden he knew no matter how frakked-up the situation was he could never betray Laura Roslin’s trust. Even if it meant helping Richard Adar and his dick.

“No, I won’t.”

She seemed satisfied with his answer and gave him the tiniest bit of a smile.

They sat there in silence for a short while. “So,” she finally began to speak again, “are going to stay or do you have to get back to work?”

“Sorry,” he cast her a side-glance, “I’m going back inside.”

She hummed in reply while he got up, dried his feet on the grass and put on his socks and shoes. When he walked away towards the government building he turned around once to look back at her.

Laura’s shoulders were hunched while she sat there and ate in solitude. A cloud was passing by, casting a shadow over her form. Though still finding her beautiful, for the first time Bill realised there was something incredibly sad about her. It made him reconsider for a moment if he shouldn’t go back again. But he didn’t. Next moment she straightened her spine, the sadness was still there but harder to see. Laura had put it back inside her.

The first time they had asked Bill for help proceeded extremely smooth and without any flaw. He was a careful and observant man. Sometimes Laura wondered why he had ever left the military, he seemed to be the ideal soldier to her. She tried asking Richard, but he didn’t know or didn’t care.

They started asking Adama for assistance more and more from then on. At the beginning it had felt incredibly awkward for Laura; being driven around by the President’s head of security to perform her duty as the President’s mistress. Bill hadn’t spoken a single word with her at the beginning; the second time she got a couple of “yes” and “no” out of him. The third time she hadn’t even tried but started humming to the music playing on the radio. It had been a classic piece performed by the Caprican Orchestra – her favourite piece since childhood, actually the first one she had learned to play on the piano – it wasn’t a particularly bright tune, however, it calmed her. It reminded her of a quiet and peaceful life she once had.

When he picked her up the morning after that ride he had proposed having breakfast together. She had accepted and though the talk hadn’t been flowing it was the turning point for them.

Laura was aware of what she was doing. She knew Richard was married; she knew his wife, Rachel. Had met her on several occasions, had sat at her table and played the part of the innocent member of cabinet. It bothered her of course, but she also knew that there was more to the marital problems of the Adars than his desire for her body. Starting their affair had been an easy thing; they both had been in need: he for someone to make him feel good, to satisfy his ego; she for someone to satisfy her sexual needs, someone to frak, to make her forget but also not to make her feel attached. She didn’t want to be vulnerable again. Ever.

And yet, the prospect of being judged by Bill Adama made her feel sick about herself. She was very sure, if anybody else, even Rachel, had found out about their affair, it wouldn’t have affected her as much. Of course, she’d be embarrassed and would regret losing her bed partner, but not much else.

Bill and her hadn’t been friends, and they still weren’t. She didn’t do friendships anymore, too many emotions were involved in friendships. But he had been the only human being at work she had felt comfortable with talking to. Having normal conversations with; talking about books, pyramid games, boxing matches. Nothing personal but also nothing superficial. Small talk, but nonetheless real.

He had never said anything to her, but she had seen it in his eyes the very moment he had learned about their affair. The disdain and repulsion. It had made her feel like a school girl again. She hated it, who was the man to judge her? Laura Roslin made her own choices in life, she didn’t give a damn about what Bill Adama or anybody else thought. Most of the time she had been able to convince her of that but lately something else was rearing its nasty head inside her. Laura knew the feeling and she dreaded it. She cared about what Bill thought of her, because … she liked him. She liked Bill Adama, she enjoyed spending time with him, she had become attached to him. Being attached also meant being vulnerable. It scared her, after all, nothing good happened to the people Laura felt attached to. She worked hard at pushing those feelings aside, it was better that way. And anyway, how could she like the man that much? She knew almost nothing about him, nor did he about her. No reason to care about him – no reason for him to judge her.

Her telephone rang. It was Bill, he had come to give her a ride to the reception of the governor of Aerilon. It wasn’t an arrangement made by Richard, Bill had simply offered to give her a ride. His position as head of security allowed him to attend the event as a guest tonight. It was being held at the Aerilon ambassador's house, all security issues had been taken care of by him and his staff, after coordinating with Bill and his men; they only needed to provide a personal security detail for Richard Adar and his wife, a job he had assigned to six of his best men. Laura knew all this because she had asked him why he was attending the event as a guest, he never struck her as the kind of man who liked political parties – something which she totally understood. His explanation had been simple yet not very comprehensive: he cared about the poorer Colonies and wanted to witness the first steps of the government’s policy towards equality.

Whilst she believed his empathy for the poorer Colonies to be sincere, she still found it hard to believe he was that much interested on how the government behaved during a reception. Believable or not, his answer reflected her very personal motives pretty well. As Secretary of Education she had a very good idea about how much the less privileged suffered in this system. She hoped for a fairer future as well and wanted to do her bit by improving the educational systems on all planets. Hopefully Aerilon would make the start.

When she finally came downstairs, she found Bill sitting in his car reading a book while waiting for her. He put it down when she opened the passenger’s door.

“Sorry, I was caught up,” he offered as an apology for not playing gentleman and waiting outside to help her in.

“Don’t worry!” She waved a hand at him. “I’m fine, and after all I’m the one who should be apologising. I kept you waiting.”

They smiled at each other. “What have you been reading?”

He offered her the book. “Searider Falcon!” She recognised the title. “It’s been ages since I read that!”

“It’s one of my favourites,” Bill mentioned.

“Maybe you can lend it to me after you finished.”

“I have a rule, never lend books!”

It wasn’t really said in a rude manner, but Laura didn’t know what else to reply except for: “Oh.”

He started up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. They were quiet during the whole ride, just listening to the news on the broadcast. She felt a bit awkward but not uncomfortable.

When they arrived at their destination Bill got out of the car and opened the door for her. A valet approached them and Bill handed him the keys to his car. Laura took the moment to straighten out the wrinkles on her long, dark green dress made of velvet.

“You- that’s a pretty dress. Nice colour on you!”

Bill had turned back to her. Laura blushed a little, suddenly she became very self-conscious and tried to remind herself that there was no reason to allow Bill Adama that much influence on her emotions.

“Thank you.” Thankfully her voice was as calm and polite as she wanted it to be. “You look quite dashing yourself.”

Usually she only ever got to see him in his work outfit, tonight he was wearing a tux and he did look handsome in it. The realisation caused a strange mix of reactions inside her body: For one, she was surprised because usually the men she complimented were tall, lean and charmingly handsome. Bill was of shorter build, bulgier and not exactly a model. Then she suddenly felt the impulse of wanting to reach out and touch him; to find out how his big muscled form might feel underneath his smart outfit, which ultimately led to her stomach to clench and tingle. She caught herself before that last feeling could wander down to lower regions of her body.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” she proposed. Bill agreed and they went up the front steps into the ambassador's home. Side by side.

A couple of hours later Laura found Bill at the bar. He was talking to a man whom she didn’t know but looked like he was some sort of delegate. Bill spotted her and waved, a second later she joined them. After being introduced to each other the three of them exchanged a couple of more words and then the delegate excused himself.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked Bill once they were on their own.

He smiled and took a sip from his drink – water, she noticed. “Let’s put it this way; it’s the most entertaining political party I have attended so far in my life.”

That made Laura laugh. She raised her glass of wine in return and said: “Cheers!”

They started watching the crowd together, commenting on the different characters present. It was fun, harmless fun. They drank and laughed together. Laura enjoyed herself immensely in his company.

“Laura! Adama!” Richard appeared at their side. “Having a good time?” He placed two empty glasses on the bar’s counter and signalled to the barkeeper for a refill. Laura noticed how Bill’s demeanour changed the second the President had arrived.

“Yes, yes. It’s been a lovely reception,” Laura answered and Bill nodded.

Richard, however, didn’t seem to be that much interested after all. He leaned close to them and whispered: “I need to talk to the Secretary for a minute. Make sure no one disturbs us Adama, will you?”

She could sense Bill’s resentment and only could wonder how Richard possibly couldn’t. The man on her side nodded. “Very well, Mr. President,” he consented.

Richard took Laura by the arm and started to lead her away. “Oh, but Mr. President, this really can’t take much longer than a minute,” she started to say. “We can’t ask Mr. Adama to work for us on his time off. Also, we had just decided to leave. Both of us are tired.” She glanced at Bill while saying that, signalling for him to play along.

“That’s right,” he simply stated.

Richard smiled. “Don’t worry, it’ll just take a minute!” She didn’t know what else to say, so she allowed him to lead her away into a back room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Richard had her pressed against the wall. They started kissing and his hands groped her breasts, trying to find a way beneath the dress. None of the usual sensations started to spread in Laura. All she felt was annoyance. She turned her face away and pushed Richard so she could also move away with her body.

“I don’t think we should be doing this right now.”

“Come on, what’s wrong Laura? No one’s going to notice, we’re discussing- “

“That’s not the point!” she interrupted him exasperatedly. “I don’t feel like it at the moment.”

The lack of understanding was so obvious on his face, it almost made her laugh. “I’m not in the mood to frak right now,” she explained.

“I see,” Richard said slowly. “Is it that time of the month?” He had put on an expression of sympathy and placed both hands on her shoulders. A gesture of comfort, she supposed.

“No. I am just not in the mood to frak,” Laura repeated.

“Oh, come on! I’m sure we can do something about that!” He leaned in to kiss her again. For a split second she was under the impression she had to slap him to make him understand. He was behaving like a horny teenager who was trying to talk his first girlfriend into sleeping with him. However, as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Richard pulled away and a second later the door opened. Bill appeared in the doorway, carrying Laura’s shawl.

“Mr. President, your wife is looking for you,” he gave as an explanation for the interruption. He also gave Laura a pointed stare. She took the hint.

“You better go and see to Rachel,” she said to Richard while moving away from him, “we need to leave now anyway.”

There was nothing he could do but follow her advice. The risk of causing his wife to suspect anything would have been too high. Slightly beaten, Richard bade the two of them goodnight and left the room, throwing one last longing look at Laura, who felt the sudden urge to cover up.

Once he was gone, Bill came closer and offered her the shawl, which she instantly wrapped around her shoulders, hiding her cleavage.

“Thank you,” she said. It was meant as an expression of gratitude towards his gesture but it felt like much more. She was glad to not have to deal with Richard tonight.

They went outside where the valet was already waiting with the car. Laura gave him a tip – she insisted when Bill tried to play the gentleman – they got into the car and drove off.

“I’m glad you didn’t wait long before you came and got me.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but she had the need to tell him this. Bill shrugged with his shoulders.

“You’re welcome,” he said and then added as an afterthought, “You wouldn’t have needed me though. You’re a strong woman, if you don’t want to … hang out with him in there, then you just tell him so and leave.”

Laura blinked at him for a second. “Yes, I know that!” She felt a bit defensive. “But I wanted to thank you nonetheless.”

Bill raised one hand in defence. “Just saying.”

“Saying what?!” When he didn’t answer she implored again: “What?!”.

Still no reaction. All he did was stare ahead onto the road, with that stone-faced expression of his. Laura huffed. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re judging me. You think I’m allowing Richard, the President, to use me like some stupid bimbo.”

All the while she had never turned her gaze away from him. She wanted to see his reaction. He frowned at her words. “I would never call you that.”

“But I am right, am I not?!” He was back at doing his poker face. Laura gave a dry, humourless laugh. “Yes, I am. But you know what, I don’t give a damn about what you think.”

Now she turned away to look out of the side window next to her. There was a moment of silence in the car before he finally decided to speak. “Then why are you making such a big deal out of it? If you don’t care what I think, why bother asking?”

She took a moment to consider his words. “I want you to know that I can make my own choices. Right or wrong doesn’t matter.”

Now it was his turn to cast her an evaluating glance. “But that’s just what I told you. You don’t need help. Why are you making a fuss out of this when you agree?!”

He was beginning to feel irritated, too, she could hear it in his voice. Good, she thought.

Again silence fell over them. The feeling of triumph had only remained for a short time, it was soon replaced by a feeling of helplessness. Once more she found herself confronted with the question of why she cared so much about Bill Adama. Only this time, she couldn’t simply push it away; he was sitting right next to her in a moving vehicle and was asking that very same question.

“I know nothing about you.” She wasn’t sure why she said it.

“True. And I know nothing about you.” Bill’s deep baritone was calm. She liked his voice a lot.

He pulled the car into a parking lot in front of her apartment building’s complex. Laura didn’t make any motions to get out, at that very moment she felt in a bit of a stupor. Bill had turned towards her, so she turned her head to look at him.

“Hello,” he began, “my name’s Bill Adama. I’m an ex-soldier working at the Colonial Security Company. Apart from work I don’t do much else; I try to spend time with my two sons, Lee and Zak, both of them are in the service, too, much to their mother’s dismay – we’ve been divorced for a couple of years now; I read, I spar, I build model ships...and...and I am quite familiar with the kind of women who, you know-”, he waved his hand in the air in a helpless motion but Laura understood. He was referring to her affair with Richard. “You’re right we don’t know much about each other, but I know you’re not one of them, Laura.” It was the first time he used her first name. There was so much caress in the way he pronounced it, it made her feel warm and safe but also scared. It felt too much like it had done at home, with her family. Tears were gathering in her eyes; something that Bill didn’t seem to mind much. He went on: “I don’t know why you’re doing this but I do know it’s your decision. I’m not here to try and convince you to rethink, again, that’d be your decision – yours only. However, I would like to get to know you nonetheless…” Bill took a deep breath, as if he had finally said something that had been bothering him for a very long time. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Tears were streaking down Laura’s face and yet her voice felt much stronger than she had anticipated. She mustered the man next to her. He didn’t press her, he gave her all the time she needed. “I- … it’s hard. I have given up on friendships a long time ago.” She wanted him to understand, she needed him to understand. But she couldn’t tell him, she couldn’t find the words to explain it all. The pain was very deep, it pierced her with every breath. Laura thought about getting out of the car, leaving the confined place. However, she didn’t want to, in a peculiar way she felt good in here. Secure.

Bill reached out with his hand to hold hers. “I see. Take your time then.” The way he looked at her, she almost had the impression she didn’t need words anyway. He understood her. It was ridiculous and reminded her of the sweet, silly women in the novels she had read at high school. She just nodded at his words.

“And Laura,” his body had shifted more in his seat, he was leaning slightly across the gear shift. His hand had wandered under her chin to turn her face towards his. She was confused, but she smiled nonetheless when she saw his eyes. Bill leaned even closer. “Never give up,” he said and then leaned in to close the gap and give her a very soft and sweet kiss.

It was romantic but not in an erotic way. Laura understood that he wasn’t trying to make advances on her right then. She felt deeply moved and yet her tears had stopped. Suddenly she also felt confident. She would try, she would give her best.

It took another couple of weeks until Laura figured what giving her best in her relationship with Bill actually meant to her.

He on the contrary had figured out what he wanted a while ago. In between finding out about her and Adar and their conversation in his car, Bill had done a background check on Laura Roslin. At first glance there wasn’t anything unusual on the report’s list but then on the last page Bill had found the information he had been looking for. Something significant that made a person withdraw themselves the way Laura had apparently done it. There was always something sad, maybe even depressing about the woman. It was hard to see, she hid it well but Bill knew it was there. Something must have happened to cause that, something like losing her remaining family in a car crash, including the unborn baby of her sister.

When they had been sitting in his car and attempted to talk about them, he had known what might be the reason that held her back from opening up. He had no doubt about Laura always having been a very private person, but he was sure the accident had increased that character trait even more.

He decided not to tell her anything of this. Let her choose the right time and place when she would tell him. If she ever wanted to.

Laura had promised him to try and work on their relationship, whatever it was, and that she had been doing. The topics of their conversations had reached a new level, trust was obviously growing between them. They went out from time to time; to concerts, watching a film or just sharing dinner. Never anything special or fancy, but way more intimate than anything they had been doing before. At work things shifted a bit, too. It had been a while since Adar and Laura had needed his assistance, it seemed she rarely met with the President in general anymore. Instead, she spent a lot of time with Bill. It had become their ritual now to share lunch; it had become his favourite time of the day. The deal was, he’d pick up Laura at her office as soon as he had time for a break and they’d either go to mess together, share their home-brought meals by the pond or go to a café. He loved talking to her. They were still avoiding any serious and private topics but they had started on telling each other about their work and Bill occasionally talked about his boys, or the Tighs. She never asked about them but she seemed interested nevertheless whenever he brought either of them up. One of her most recent favourite topics was her new assistant, Billy. He had come straight out of college, still new and inexperienced in basically anything life threw at him, but he was exceptionally bright, too. Bill sometimes wondered if her voice carried the same adoration when she talked about him as it did with Billy; and then he wondered if she ever talked to somebody else about him.

He was lost in his musings while on his way to the 5th floor. He was about to pick her up for their daily lunch date. In his left hand Bill carried his wallet, they’d be eating in mess today, in the right he held a book with golden letters across its cover. Searider Falcon. He had finished it, or rather stopped reading, the day before and decided to give it to Laura today.

When he reached her office, he was greeted by Billy who was busy sorting papers at his desk. He gave the boy a friendly greeting while passing.

“Mr. Adama!” Billy called out. Bill stopped and turned around to look at him. “Secretary Roslin asked me to let you know she won’t be able to make it today.”

Disappointment spread through Bill.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said emphatically, “the President asked her to come and see him rather spontaneously.”

Of course, the young aid didn’t understand what that bit information meant. He had thought, it’d lessen Bill’s disappointment; maybe make it easier, after all the President was their boss.

“I see,” Bill said icily. He on the other hand understood very well what it meant when Adar called Laura to meet with him during lunch break. It was foolish to feel hurt again, after all only because they hadn’t asked for his help in quite a while didn’t mean they had stopped seeing each other. And Laura had never made him any promise or gave him cause to think she was no longer interested in sleeping with Adar. Still, he suddenly felt foolish and stupid for being dumped in favour of the presidential dick.

He clenched his fist and was reminded of the book in his right hand. “Here,” he held it out to Billy, “give her that from me, will you?”

“Of course.”

Bill sighed and went downstairs. He didn’t go to mess but instead went back to his office.

Only half an hour later Laura returned from her meeting with Adar. He had called her to talk with her about their arrangement. She had known for a while that they had to talk but hadn’t been sure on how to brush the subject. However after he had brought it up, she had known it was now or never. Kindly but directly she explained that she no longer felt the way she originally had. Her desire for him had extinguished. Richard had taken it better than she had dared to imagine. Sure, he was disappointed and tried to talk her out of her decision, but she wouldn’t budge. In the end he had to accept her words.

Laura wasn’t quite sure whether to expect some kind of revenge but she still felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

Billy wasn’t at his desk when she came back, he probably was in his own break, so she went straight into her office and closed the door behind her. Having a couple of undisturbed minutes was just what she needed. Laura was no fool, she understood why she had made the decision to end the affair. It made her a bit nervous.

She sat down behind her desk with the intention of powering up her computer. A book was lying on top of a pile of papers. A book, she certainly hadn’t left there. Laura picked it up, she had recognised it right away but read the title anyway. Searider Falcon. Bill must have brought it by. She felt sorry and sad for having had to cancel lunch with him. She hoped he didn’t feel too let down by her.

Staring at the book she suddenly came up with a plan. She’d make up for the raincheck and she just knew how.

Bill had been surprised when he came home to find Zak and his girlfriend Kara standing in his kitchen preparing dinner. Both his sons had keys to his house but usually they gave him a call whenever they decided to come by for a visit. He had a slight sense of foreboding when they greeted him.

Kara was a wonderful girl. Bill had been thrilled when Zak had first introduced them. Their relationship was an open secret; the military wasn’t supposed to know about them, for Kara was Zak’s instructor at flight school, but it was hard not to see the two of them were crazy for each other. By now Bill had already adopted the girl as his own.

As much as he loved both of them and as happy as he was for them, he was very relieved when they assured him that Kara wasn’t pregnant nor that they wanted to get married. He had made the mistake of becoming a father and husband far too early in his life, his boys should live a little, make a career before they’d take any further steps.

The relief didn’t last long. It turned out Zak had come to tell him he’d be leaving service. He had brought Kara as backup. They both explained how much Zak was struggling and that neither deemed him fit enough to wear the uniform. Bill’s heart ached when he heard that. It had been his dream to see both his sons flying a viper; Lee had already done so well. But he also understood how troubled his younger boy was. It reminded him of a time when both children had still been small kids. Even though he was the more extrovert and louder one of his two sons, Zak had also always been the weaker one. It had been him who always lost in fights with other kids, who was being picked at. When he looked at him now, Bill couldn’t help but see that little boy again, sitting in front of him, asking his daddy for help. Only now he was asking for understanding. How could he not give him that?

“Find your own path son. Just promise me to be happy!”

The bright smile he was rewarded with was all he needed to heal his proud father’s heart.

After dinner the three of them went to sit outside on the garden porch Bill had build. Each clutched a bottle of beer and they shared stories. It was a pleasant summer evening.

The doorbell rang.

“I get it.” Kara jumped up and sprinted into the house. Bill wondered who it might be and half expected her to bring back Saul when she returned.

It wasn’t Saul though. It was Laura.

Laura Roslin was standing on his garden porch and Bill couldn’t help but feel totally delighted by seeing her there.

“Hey!” He got up to greet her.

“Hello,” she smiled at him.

Zak and Kara were eyeing them both with great interest. “This is my son Zak and his girlfriend Kara. Guys, this is Laura Roslin. We-”

Before Bill could say anything further Laura had stretched out her hand to shake with the others one after the other and interrupted his introduction. “Friend, we’re friends from work.”

He beamed at her words. Zak went to the garden shed to fetch another chair, whilst Kara fetched Laura a drink. The four of them settled down and spent an hour talking.

It all felt very natural. Never having been a very talkative person came to Bill’s advantage; while the other three were doing the main talk, he had the chance to admire the ensemble on his porch. Zak and Laura appeared to instantly like each other, Kara was a bit more drawn-back, but he had an inkling that it was only a momentarily shyness. Laura’s presence seemed to glow. She fit so very well onto his porch. Bill sighed inwardly, he had long realised why he felt hurt and let down by her actions. He knew where he wished their relationship was heading.

At some point the young couple decided it was time they left. They intended to meet with some friends to celebrate Zak’s leaving. They exchanged goodbyes and Bill showed them out. When he returned Laura was sitting in her chair, very relaxed, enjoying the evening’s sun. She truly was beautiful.

She gave a small hum when he sat down. They lapsed into one of their comfortable silences.

“Searider Falcon.” Laura broke the silence. “I thought you didn’t lend books?”

Bill chuckled. “I don’t.” He didn’t elaborate, so she cast him a questioning look. “It’s a gift,” he explained. She smiled slightly.

“Thank you,” she said and then continued, “I’m sorry I had to miss lunch.”

He didn’t know what to say. They memory brought back unwelcome feelings.

She raised her head and squinted at him. “I had some business to deal with.”

“Yeah, with the President.” He couldn’t help the resentment in his voice.

She didn’t seem to be offended, instead she smiled. “Yes”, then she continued, “I did something I should have done a while ago.”

Bill waited patiently for her to continue. “I told Richard it’s over.”

Again neither spoke for a while. She gave him some time to deal with the news. “Good.” He finally said.

“You must be relieved. It means you no longer will have to help us with our immoral business.”

“True,” he confirmed then paused for a moment. He didn’t know whether he should ask her the following, but he couldn’t help himself. “What made you change your mind?”

Laura had averted her gaze and fixed it onto his flower beds instead. She took a deep breath. “I’ve come to realise why I care so much about what you think.” Bill’s pulse started to quicken. He waited.

“Bill, I care about you a lot. More than I probably should.”

Now his heart was definitely performing one of those traditional dances the Tauron warriors used to perform centuries ago.

His eyes were shining with tears of joy. He got up from his chair and pulled Laura with him. They stood in front of each other on his porch, both shedding silent tears of joy and fear. Of hope. Of love. Bill stroked her cheek. Laura beamed at him.

“About time,” he muttered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close into a long and deep kiss.

~ The End ~

#wearecylons fic #BSG fic #spaceparents fic #Bill Adama #Laura Roslin #Caprica

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96thdayofrage · 8 years ago

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Democrats’ Blind Obsession on Russia-gate

Exclusive: Instead of focusing on President Trump’s poor policies – or fixing their own shortcomings – Democrats obsess over Russia-gate, though the case is flimsy and reeks of McCarthyism, as Daniel Lazare explains.

Democrats are jubilant now that “Trumpcare” has bit the dust. But they should be careful because Russia-gate, the pseudo-scandal that they’ve latched onto in hopes of driving Donald Trump out of office, is also flashing red. The more they ignore the warning signs, the greater the odds that they’ll go down in flames as well.

Russia-gate, of course, is the story of how the Kremlin allegedly used surreptitious means to hijack the American political process and place a “Siberian candidate” in the White House. It purportedly started five years ago when, according to the famous Christopher Steele dossier, Vladimir Putin foresaw that Donald Trump would become president and set about turning him into a compliant tool of Russian interests.

The Kremlin supposedly threw sweetheart real-estate deals his way (although a lucrative hotel plan never materialized for unexplained reasons) and fed him valuable intelligence about his opponents, all the while blackmailing him with a secret video showing him cavorting with prostitutes at Moscow’s Ritz Carlton.

Then, at the height of last year’s election, Russia was said to have followed up by hacking Democratic National Committee computers and releasing thousands of private emails to WikilLeaks in order to embarrass Hillary Clinton and tip the contest in favor of Trump. This audacious effort succeeded when Trump eked out a victory by virtue of the Electoral College. As a result, Vladimir Putin now controls not one presidential office but two, one in Moscow and the other in Washington, DC.

It’s a cool story about treason, international intrigue and hot babes, but it’s no more convincing than “Birthergate” was seven or eight years ago. Putin would have required superhuman powers to predict that Trump would become president at a time when no one other than “The Simpsons” thought he had a chance. The “golden showers” episode, in which Trump’s female hires supposedly urinated on the same bed that Barack and Michelle Obama used on one of their official Russian visits, is unverified and probably unverifiable as well.

The dossier also contains obvious errors and non-sequiturs, as Consortiumnews’ Robert Parry points out, e.g. placing Trump attorney Michael Cohen at a meeting with a Russian official in Prague, a city that Cohen says he’s never visited, or crediting Putin with stirring up resistance to Obama’s proposed Pacific trade deals when opposition had been building for years on its own. The fact that Steele, an ex-MI6 agent, has been in hiding since January does nothing to enhance his credibility.

But yet another flaw concerns the DNC hack itself. Although everyone from The New York Times to the neo-lib hipsters at Vox accepts the story as gospel, it is in fact gone into a nosedive as a growing army of cyber analysts, Internet sleuths, and other Doubting Thomases probe its most obvious contradictions.

‘Confirmation Bias’

One line of attack concerns the question of “confirmation bias,” the tendency of investigators who are already inclined to blame Russia to zero in only on evidence supporting their point of view. When DNC officials discovered that their computers had been compromised, they did what anyone in such a situation would do: they called their lawyer, in this case a former federal prosecutor and cybercrime specialist named Michael Sussmann.

Sussman, in turn, called an old friend named Shawn Henry, former head of the FBI’s cyber division and now president of an Irvine, California, cyber-security firm known as CrowdStrike. Henry contacted his chief technical officer, Russian-born Dimitri Alperovitch, who sent over a team of investigators. Within the day, the CrowdStrike team concluded that the intruders were Russian government operatives.

It sounds as logical and objective as obtaining the name of a top-flight medical specialist and then scheduling an appointment. But the resemblance is misleading. For one thing, cyber sleuths are not objective. As even The New York Times admits: “Attribution, as the skill of identifying a cyberattacker is known, is more art than science. It is often impossible to name an attacker with absolute certainty.”

Hence, it’s more like obtaining the name of a faith healer than a physician. For another, this particular group of cyber sleuths seems to have been even less objective than most.

Like any enterprise, CrowdStrike is in the business of convincing potential customers to purchase its services. Hence it had an incentive to blame the email loss on a dark and spooky Kremlin conspiracy rather than something more mundane such as an internal leak.

As an ex-Soviet who emigrated to America as a teenager, moreover, Alperovitch was particularly inclined to blame Russia first. As he once told a reporter: “A lot of people who are born here don’t appreciate the freedoms we have, the opportunities we have, because they’ve never had it any other way. I have.”

The Soviet-born journalist Yasha Levine, who covered the 2008 Russo-Georgian War over the breakaway province of South Ossetia, recalls that the air at the time was thick with charges of Russian government cyber warfare, none of which proved true, and that Alperovitch “was one of the minor online voices supporting the idea that the cyber attacks against Georgia were some kind of Russian plot.”

Since then, Alperovitch has joined forces with the Atlantic Council, a hawkish Washington think tank funded by the U.S. State Department, NATO, Ukrainian exiles, Persian Gulf oil exporters, and U.S. arms manufacturers, all with interests hostile to a sensible and constructive approach to U.S.-Russian relations.

Indeed, the Atlantic Council has been a spark-plug powering the New Cold War with Russia and maintains close ties with Clinton and her supporters. In 2013, it gave her its “distinguished leadership award,” and in 2015 it recruited her to give a major address kicking off its “Latin American women’s leadership initiative.”

The Atlantic Council also chose ex-Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, a major Clinton ally, to head a Mideast study group that echoed Clinton’s call for a Syrian “no-fly zone, “a proposal that would almost certainly lead to a direct U.S.-Russian military clash.

So the Russophobic Clinton camp hired Russophobic Dimitri Alperovitch, both linked via the Russophobic Atlantic Council, to find out who hacked the DNC. To absolutely no one’s surprise, they decided that Russia was it.

Sloppy Methodology

But CrowdStrike has come under criticism not only on the grounds of bias but methodology. Critics have noted that the firm’s report on the DNC hack was loaded with weasel words suggesting that Russian intelligence was guilty without quite coming out and saying so. It argued, for instance, that hackers were so sophisticated that they had to be state supported:

“Their tradecraft is superb, operational security second to none, and the extensive usage of ‘living-off-the-land’ techniques enables them to easily bypass many security solutions they encounter. In particular, we identified advanced methods consistent with nation-state level capabilities including deliberate targeting and ‘access management’ tradecraft – both groups were constantly going back into the environment to change out their implants, modify persistent methods, move to new Command & Control channels and perform other tasks to try to stay ahead of being detected. Both adversaries engage in extensive political and economic espionage for the benefit of the government of the Russian Federation and are believed to be closely linked to the Russian government’s powerful and highly capable intelligence services.”

The hackers’ methods are so “consistent with nation-state level capabilities” that they “are believed to be closely linked” to Russian intelligence. But does this mean that they, in fact, connected? The report didn’t say. A few weeks later, CrowdStrike CEO George Kurtz admitted that proof was lacking when he told Bloomberg News: “We talk about having high confidence, but there’s no absolute in cyber security, and that’s one of the things that makes it so hard.”

An earlier report by a California cyber security firm known as FireEye was equally evasive. In 2014, it declared that the hackers show “evidence of long-standing, focused operations that indicate a government sponsor – specifically a government based in Moscow” – which in turn “suggests that [they] receives direct ongoing financial and other resources from a well-established organization, most likely a nation state government.”

Indicates, suggests, most likely – this was no more than speculation. When a hacker calling himself Guccifer 2.0 released another batch of Democratic Party documents a couple of days later, DirectThreat, yet another cyber-security firm, concluded that the intervention “most likely is a Russian denial and deception (D&D) effort” aimed at throwing investigators off the track.

The reason had to do with telltale traces that Guccifer 2.0 had left behind, specifically a document uploaded in a Russian-language format by someone calling himself “Felix Edmundovich,” an obvious reference to Felix E. Dzerzhinsky, founder of the Cheka, as the Soviet political police were originally known.

For the Kremlin-done-it crowd, this was proof that Russian intelligence was involved. But this led to another objection: if the hackers were so super-sophisticated, how could they be guilty of such an elementary mistake?

Referring to two of Russia’s top intelligence agencies, Jeffrey Carr, a well-known cyber-security expert, was unable to restrain his sarcasm: “OK. Raise your hand if you think that a GRU or FSB officer would add Iron Felix’s name to the metadata of a stolen document before he released it to the world while pretending to be a Romanian hacker. Someone clearly had a wicked sense of humor.”

Sam Biddle, The Intercept’s formidable tech writer, was equally dismissive: “It’s very hard to buy the argument that the Democrats were hacked by one of the most sophisticated, diabolical foreign intelligence services in history, and that we know this because they screwed up over and over again.”

As Gregory Elich noted in an excellent roundup on Counterpunch, disguising the origin of a hack is trivial even for beginners. Referring to half-baked amateurs, James Scott, a senior fellow at the Washington-based Institute for Critical Infrastructure Technology, pokes funat the very idea of cyber-sleuths claiming to know where one originates:

“It’s common knowledge among even script kiddies that all one needs to do is compromise a system geolocated in Russia (ideally in a government office) and use it as a beachhead for attack so that indicators of compromise lead back to Russia. … Want to add another layer? Compromise a Chinese system, leap-frog onto a hacked Russian machine, and then run the attack from China to Russia to any country on the globe. Want to increase geopolitical tensions, distract the global news cycle, or cause a subtle, but exploitable shift in national positions? Hack a machine in North Korea and use it to hack the aforementioned machine in China, before compromising the Russian system and launching global attacks. This process is so common and simple that’s its virtually ‘Script Kiddie 101’ among malicious cyber upstarts.”

Government Ineptness

After the FBI, Department of Homeland Security, and Director of National Intelligence James Clapper issued a report on Dec. 29 alluding to “malware” used in the DNC attack, Mark Maunder, CEO of Wordfence, Seattle-based makers of a popular computer-security program, joined with a colleague named Rob McMahon to try to track it down. Working through the night, they discovered that the malware was an early version of a publicly available program known as P.A.S. that had been developed in the Ukraine.

This was strange, they recounted, since “one might reasonably expect Russian intelligence operatives to develop their own tools or at least use current malicious tools from outside sources.”

Maunder and McMahon also examined 876 Internet Protocol addresses used by the hackers provided by the Department of Homeland Security and found that the largest number originated in the U.S., followed by Russia, the Netherlands, Germany, France, and China. Some 15 percent were TOR exit notes of unknown origin since they are designed to be anonymous.

“The IP addresses that DHS provided may have been used for an attack by a state actor like Russia,” Maunder and McMahon concluded. “But they don’t appear to provide any association with Russia. They are probably used by a wide range of other malicious actors….”

In other words, proof is nowhere to be found. The only certainty about the DNC hack is that certainty is unwarranted. CrowdStrike’s credibility meanwhile took a major hit after it published a report in December claiming that Russia had used the same malware to hack an Android app that Ukrainian artillery units used to target Russian-backed separatists, a feat that enabled separatists to turn tables on the Ukrainians by pinpointing their location instead.

As a result, CrowdStrike wrote, “Ukrainian artillery forces have lost over 50 percent of their weapons in the two years of conflict and over 80 percent of D-30 howitzers, the highest percentage of loss of any other artillery pieces in Ukraine’s arsenal.”

Unfortunately, the London-based International Institute for Strategic Studies complained that the company had misused its data in coming up with such figures while the Ukrainian Ministry of Defense said that the hacking and resultant combat losses had never occurred at all. Yaroslav Sherstyuk, the Ukrainian military officer who developed the Android app, called the CrowdStrike report “delusional” in an angry Facebook post.

So when CrowdStrike’s findings were put to the test, they failed. Skepticism is therefore in order no less than during the run-up to the invasion of Iraq when the intelligence community lined up solidly behind reports that Saddam Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction Iraq – and Clapper, at the time head of the National Imagery and Mapping Agency, said that the Iraqi dictator had “unquestionably” spirited them over the Syrian border when no WMDs were found.

Democrats certainly have much to criticize. They could go after Trump for sabotaging the fight against global warming, for cutting everything from the National Endowment for the Humanities to the National Institute of Health to add more money to the Pentagon’s budget, for unleashing violence on immigrants, or for escalating U.S. military intervention in the Middle East. Instead, they’ve seized on Trump’s call for a rapprochement with Russia, one of the few semi-sensible things he said on the campaign trail. And the Democrats have made it the centerpiece of a hate-Putin campaign straight out of Orwell.

But if the story of a Kremlin hack of the DNC goes, then precious little of Russia-gate will remain beyond a dubious memo and a few innocuous meetings with the Russian ambassador. The more the Democrats push this latest Washington pseudo-scandal, the more they risk joining the GOP on the political trash heap. Trump could well end up as the last man standing amid the rubble.

Daniel Lazare is the author of several books including The Frozen Republic: How the Constitution Is Paralyzing Democracy (Harcourt Brace).

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