Bill had spent the entire day with Laura, and he enjoyed every minute of it. Although he always liked her company, she seemed a different person on New Caprica. If anyone would have told him a year earlier, that he'd be sharing a smoke or lounging on the sand (alluvial deposits, he corrected himself) with the President of the Twelve Colonies, (former or otherwise) he would have scoffed at the improbability of it. But there he was, on his back, lying on sandbags with Laura very close by his side. And it was the happiest he'd felt in years. And he knew it had nothing to do with New Caprica or Baltar's administration and everything to do with the woman who'd once again taken him by surprise.
He wondered what things were like for her. He knew she was a trooper-she easily could have had a successful career in the fleet, probably outranking him quickly-and that she was slow to complain about anything. That was one of the things he admired most about her, but he wished she would tell him if anything was bothering her, or if there was anything he could do.
He was surprised when Laura decided to settle. As far as he was concerned, she owed the people nothing, and he would have been happy to provide her quarters and even a job on Galactica. But she had come up with her own plan before he even offered his. Her plan was logical and well conceived; he couldn't argue with anything she said: She was a teacher without a job, and there were students without a teacher. It made perfect sense. He suspected she had an eventual power-play in mind. He'd learned over the months that Laura was usually a few moves ahead of everyone else, and she kept things close to her vest-he'd hate to go against her in triad or chess.
But just then, it seemed she was as relaxed as he was. They had a discussion about enjoying the moment, and then Laura became quiet. He wondered how conflicted she was between enjoying the moment and wanting to hate New Caprica and Baltar. Her apparent embrace of New Caprica jarred with the woman who was willing to rig an election to keep people from settling.
"What are you thinking about, Laura?"
"Shooting rubber bands at the stars."
"I'm not sure that would work."
"No, but it might be fun."
"Fun?"
"There's not much to do on this mudhole, Bill. I have to get my kicks somehow."
"What happened to enjoying the moment?"
"I'm enjoying the moment with you now, but when you leave, and I sober up, I'll still be on this mudhole. Maybe we have a break, but it's not exactly a paradise."
"I know."
"Hence the weed."
"And shooting rubber bands at the stars."
"That too."
"I have other ideas."
"Do tell, Admiral."
"A celebration of a kind."
"What are we celebrating?"
"It's been about a year since I put you in the brig."
"And that's something to celebrate?"
"Not that, exactly. What came after?"
"What are you talking about?"
"We made up. Became friends."
"Yes we did."
"And you never used my assholishness against me, why?"
"I never had to."
"Whadya mean?"
"You were hellbent on showing me you'd changed. On being a good man. It wasn't necessary to bring up our struggles. Plus, I was sick, and I needed you to safeguard the fleet. Our past didn't matter anymore."
"And here we are a year later."
"Happy Anniversary."
"Would you like to make it even happier?"
"More weed?"
"No. I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be conducive to my purpose."
"Which is?"
"This." Bill gently brought Laura's face toward his own. His actions made his intent clear, and he left her plenty of opportunity to make him abort his mission. She didn't.
"This is good," she said after coming up for air. "What else did you have in mind?"
"Let's go to your tent and find out."
"I can't shoot rubber bands at the stars from there."
"No, but I'll be sure to distract you enough."
"You'd better, Admiral. This make up sex was a year late!"
"Can we even still call it that?"
"I don't know. Maybe we'll have to have another fight, and make up for that."
"Or we could just work with what we have. I did put you in the brig. You must have some resentment still."
"Of course I do. And I incited a mutiny against you. And defied you by escaping with a third of the fleet."
"We're redoing Kobol, then?"
"Yup."
"Let's go. Your tent awaits."