Sapphire Skies

A/N: Here it is. My first BSG fic. Shamelessly fluffy complete with a cheesy title and solely designed to still a bit of the raging pain "Daybreak" inflicted. I hope you enjoy this and may I say that I would be very very grateful for reviews? ;-)

Summary: 150.000 years later, a young teacher reads an ancient legend to a group of children.

She never really knew what to do with herself over the long stretch of the summer holidays. Teaching was in her essence and therefore something she felt like she needed to purely exist. So she had jumped at the chance to do something productive and take a summer job at the nearby military base. She enjoyed the opportunity to work with children of all ages and the wide spectrum of activities that she was allowed to offer them. For the past few weeks, it had been math puzzles and quizzes in the morning and recreational activities in the afternoon. The number of children taking part in her classes fluctuated every day with the unpredictability of military life. She led larger groups into the plains to play soccer or football and swam in the lake with smaller groups. Also, the children's personal nature and temperament had to be taken into account so she always chose spontaneously. She enjoyed the freedom to plan her own curriculum and the carelessness that came with the absence of grades.

Today she had a small group of two boys and a girl between six and eight that had just arrived the previous evening to spend part of their summer vacation with their father. They all seemed yet a little shy and not in the mood to exercise themselves in the baking heat of a July day so she had offered to take the short walk up the hill and read them a story. Clutching a large old leather-bound volume to her chest, she clambered after them, panting slightly with the exertion of keeping up with the three youngsters scrambling along the path in front of her. She gazed up at the brilliant blue sky and the gentle curve of the mountains in the distance and smiled to herself. The children would love her story, she was sure.

A few months ago, she had tracked down an old book about the town in the local library. It hadn't been easy to find but she had eventually spotted it in a closed-off section of the old building, half-forgotten and gathering dust on a low shelf. She had pulled it out and found her clothing stained with decade-old dust, but she couldn't have cared less. The book was large and leather-bound and full of stories she wanted to explore. The clerk, an old man she liked and respected, had eventually found her in a corner, engrossed in her new treasure. He liked her, she knew, as she was one of the few young people who still visited regularly. Indicating the room around them, he had told her to keep the book, as this was a section of the library that would soon be dissolved. So now it was hers, still complete with the stamp of the library, though now cleared of the dust. The pages were thick and heavy and yellowed with age, the old leather still smooth and soft to the touch.

She gathered the children around herself on a rock formation and opened the book. She didn't need a bookmark to find the page she was looking for. Among the many stories, this was the one she liked best. She almost knew it by heart now, but she enjoyed the heaviness of the book in her hands and the old letters printed boldly and closely together all over the page. When the children had quieted down around her, she rested the book on her lap.

"The story I am going to read to you now is about this hill. We're sitting right where it took place."

"Is it a murder mystery?" One of the boys wanted to know eagerly but she just chuckled.

"No, it's a different kind of story. Listen."

And she began to read.

"Many years ago, before time was being chronicled, there were a man and a woman in love. They had been seeking a place to bring their people to for a long time, had navigated their fleet through many dangers, toils and snares and they had finally arrived at their destination. They marveled at the beauty of life around them. The sapphire skies, the lush green hills and the rich animal life. Happiness filled their hearts but there was a thorn that stung them, something so final that they both knew they needed to face. The woman was ill and soon the man had to carry her everywhere as her legs did no longer support the weight of her frail body. She died right next to him and he held her hand in his, crying with the loss of love. But she had been ill for so long that he was prepared for the end, that he had cherished the little time they had spent together and he buried her on a hill that overlooked the valley. The man never left the spot where his beloved was resting and every day he told her about his quiet, solitary life while looking at the beautiful world around him. He waited patiently and not unhappily for death to claim him so they could be reunited again. And he knew that in another life and another time, they would be together again."

When she had finished, she smiled at the children who looked a little lost.

"That's a sad story!" the girl complained. "I don't like sad stories. I want a happy ending!"

She closed the book and leaned comfortably against the warm rock behind her. "That is your lesson for today. Not every happy ending can easily be recognized as such. Sometimes they make you cry and you wish the story had ended differently but when you look a little more closely, you find that death is just part of the circle of life. And circles don't end, do they?"

The little girl looked stricken for a moment but then seemed to ponder her teacher's words. "Is it like music? My father sometimes listens to violins and it's a sad song, but it is his favorite."

She smiled. "Exactly. Sometimes a haunting theme is the most beautiful because it touches your heart."

One of the boys furrowed his brow. "Why did the man stay alone for the rest of his life and waited for death? I mean, why didn't he go and find someone else or killed himself?"

"He loved her and he was content. I like to believe that he knew that his life had been rich and filled and he needed nothing more than the memory of the woman he loved and the beauty of the world around him. As for not killing himself, I think he did enjoy life even though she was not in it anymore."

"I think she was," the other boy said thoughtfully. "She was in his heart. Our dad always tells us that even though we don't see him very often, we're always in his heart."

She ran her fingertips over the weathered surface of the book in her hands. "That is a very good thought," she lauded him.

"Do you think they saw each other again?" the girl asked her.

Her teacher smiled, enjoying the sunlight on her face. "Who knows?" she said vaguely. "That's also part of the beauty of that story. Maybe love does transcend time and space. We don't know. Hanging on to that thought, however, is a comfort, isn't it?"

The children nodded and she felt a pang of sadness in her heart. Who was she to talk about love to them? Her relationships had always been ill-fated and short, laced with either heartbreak or indifference. Maybe that was why she liked the story of the two people so much. It was so short and so ominous but sitting here on that hill, she could see exactly what the lonely man had seen. Vibrant life around her, the sunlight filtering through the mountains, the whispering leaves of a nearby group of trees and the endless, beautiful sky. In a place like this it was easy to believe in all the suggested themes of the story. The circle of life, the stream that met the ocean that met the stream, the constancy of life, the existence of souls and soulmates and maybe, the endurance of love. She smiled at her own cheesy thoughts. Maybe she was getting soft, after all. She looked around herself and found the children unusually quiet and submerged in their thoughts. This place was calming and she was happy to share that calm with the children she had just met this morning. For a moment, she closed her eyes until she heard footsteps approach.

A tall man in uniform stood in front of them, imposing with his round spectacles and hard-set face but kind at the same time as he reached out his arms for the children who scrambled to their feet and ran over to embrace him. She got up herself and adjusted her dress. The military wasn't exactly her thing and she had never understood the reserved nature of officers but there was something strangely familiar about him. After greeting each of his children individually, the man looked up at her.

"Go get your things, okay?" she told the children. "Don't forget your artwork."

The man approached her, smiling. "This is a beautiful spot. I got off a little earlier today and I could see you from they valley."

She found herself smiling back and sat down again, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. "It's calming somehow," she agreed. "I don't know what it is, but somehow it feels old, ancient really, as if it had always been here."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away when I read the story about this place to the children." She handed him the book and watched him while he read the few sentences the story consisted of. His eyes were warm and for a moment, full of emotion. He read slowly, as if he wanted to cherish every single word and she liked it. Liked him, she realized, startled. They had just met a few minutes ago. How could she determine that she liked him? She catalogued his weathered face, the few wrinkles around his eyes, his full hair and the deep blue eyes. He seemed familiar despite the fact that she was sure she had never seen him before.

When he looked up, she was ashamed of her sentiments and dismissed them with a wave, feeling light-headed and foolish.

"That's beautiful," he said. "Explains a little bit about the magic of this place."

"Doesn't it?" she smirked, still a little uneasy in his presence.

"Can you lend me the book? I'd like to read the other stories, too."

She grinned. "Never lend books. You can keep it. I know it almost by heart, anyway."

She didn't know where that had come from or why she was giving him her favorite book as a present. Was the sun messing with her head?

"Well, then thank you for the gift, Miss-"

He trailed off, suddenly aware of the fact that they had not properly introduced themselves. She chuckled and reached out her hand for his to shake.

"Laura. Laura Roslin."

"William Adama."

The End