Chapter One:

My name is Laura Roslin. I'm a freshman at Caprica University, the best university in the colonies. I decided to follow in my mother's footsteps and become a teacher. I've always loved children, and I think I might want to have a few once I find the right guy…

Today was the beginning of a new semester. I was taking a few required classes, others were just electives. I took a lot of college courses at the local community college while still in High School just because I could, and I wanted to get my degree in as short a time as possible. For my electives, I was allowed to take some Graduate classes so I could get my Masters degree right after my Undergrad. I took a class that focused on the Teacher's Union and School Improvement. This would appeal to the Political side of me, fostered mainly by my father. He hoped that one day I might become the Secretary of Education. It was in that class that my life changed.

My first day in class, and we are in a gigantic lecture hall. Great… Just great… Oh and I'm here before the teacher, just the norm. But wait… No one is here… this is just brilliant. I know I'm in the right place. So I'm just going to go sit in the back, about 6 rows back right in the middle. That's more like it.

I saw a guy walk in. He looked about 20 and… Oh my god… Um… He's muscular and highly attractive and if he sits next to me I will not be able to focus… Shit… He saw me, and smiled, and now he's walking towards me. Frak… He sat next to me. Am I blushing? I can feel the blood rushing to my face.

"You're blushing."

"Excuse me?"

"You're blushing. I can see it. And you not doing too well on trying to hide it behind your hair." Crap… He noticed. "I'm Bill Adama." He put out his hand for a handshake.

I instinctively grabbed it and shook it. "Laura Roslin."

"You seem a bit young to be in this class. Most of the people here are working on their grads. You on the other hand… What's your story?" He had one of the most attractive voices ever in the history of mankind. It was soft, yet gravely; strong, yet caressing.

"I'm actually a freshman Undergrad. I took so many of the required classes while in high school so I had room in my schedule for one to many electives. I told my counselor that I knew I wanted to continue my education with a teaching degree of some sort and she told me that I could take any of the grad courses I wanted. My father was very active in Veteran Affairs and Educational Reform and since I adored my father, I took this class."

"Interesting… Your father wouldn't happen to be-"

"Edward Roslin. Yes that is my father."

"Well, the next time you see him tell him that all of the veterans he's worked for are truly grateful for all that he has done."

"Did…you…"

"No, I didn't fight in the War. My father did and he tried to get help for problems he developed while in the Navy. Your father's work allowed that to happen, so my family is eternally grateful. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your father."

We talked for what seemed like hours while waiting for the professor, or even a TA. When Professor Adar walked in and began his lesson, Bill (as I was able to now call him) and I wrote notes to each other about how weird this teacher was. Even after class, he walked me to my vintage 1970 mustang and we just kept talking. It was so easy to talk to this guy. I think I'm in love…

"So, Laura, how was your day?" It was times like these where I wished I didn't live at home. Then I realized I had a message to give.

"It went well, dad. I met a few new people. I like most of my professors. Oh, dad. I forgot to tell you. I met this one guy, William Adama; maybe you recognize the name, in my Teacher's Union class. Any ways, his father was a veteran and he wanted to say thank you for all of the work you had done for the VA. He said that if you hadn't done what you did, he wouldn't be in that class."

"Oh well, honey… I don't know how to respond to that. Tell him he is very welcome and I wish him luck in his future."

I thought to myself, You don't need me to tell him. You can tell him yourself when you get the chance. I got his number, so you can call him if you need to.

"I will, dad." My father then continued talking in some long conversation about my younger sisters' lives that I personally didn't care about at the time. I just kept daydreaming about Bill. What would happen if something happened between us? What's his background? I thought of the most ridiculous scenarios. Maybe he was in some motorcycle gang that dealt drugs and illegal guns or something like that. I felt my heart start to race just at the thought of a rebellious lifestyle I might lead if…

"Laura, you ok? You didn't eat much tonight… You're not going through one of you phases again are you?" My little sister Cheryl was the closest person in the world to me. She was like my child and a best friend all in one, tied to me by parental blood and family. I couldn't have loved anyone more. After my mother's death, I went through phases of deep depression and rage. These led to periods of anorexia and bulimia, and other self harm. I felt so awful for having her be scarred by those images of my despair.

"No, babe. I'm just not hungry tonight. I'm… I think I fell in love."

"Ooh! Tell me all about it!" So we ran giggling from the kitchen as soon as we finished up the dishes up to my room. My father was reading a book to my youngest sister Sandra, one of my childhood favorites actually, on the couch so we wouldn't have to be worried about them interrupting us.

We hopped onto the bed with the journal we kept together to remember all of our memories spent with each other. It was an idea given to me by my childhood therapist. And we wrote down everything that happened today.