A/N: There are seven stages of grief (if one adheres to that theory). The idea of Adama going through those stages after losing Laura, all while adjusting to life outside the Galactica , on a new planet, away from the others, came to me recently. It has probably been done in one form or another already. But this is my take on the idea.

I see stages one and two sort of blending together.

Forward Momentum

Prologue:

Bill had put his wedding ring on her finger, held her cooling hand in his, and let out a terrible moan of pain as they glided across the rich, beautiful landscape of humanity's new home. What he had taken such joy in mere moments before now temporarily became grey and dull and meaningless. Laura really had been the light in his life, this new life of terror and war that had finally come to an end. Now he faced a different kind of terror. Years before when his son Zak had died, Bill Adama grieved, and grieved hard. Those were difficult, horrible days. But he still had work and friends and family to lean on. Now, with the remainder of the people from the Twelve Colonies deliberately left miles and miles behind and in search of their own little spot to call home, Bill had never felt more utterly alone. It should have been a triumphant, happy time. But, Admiral Bill Adama, simply Bill now, was about to face the most trying days of his life.

1: Unmoving

(The first stage is shock or disbelief)

Once he set the Raptor down, Bill leaned back in the seat, his face blank, his body limp and boneless feeling. His mind was numb, as though Doc Cottle had given him a heavy dose of some narcotic or other. He felt as though layers and layers of thick cotton smothered all his senses or as if he was buried deep, deep underground, the weight of the soil cutting him off from everything else.

Laura had been dying for years now. Somewhere inside Bill was a part that knew and accepted the inevitability of cancer taking her life. He was a realist after all. But he had done a fine job of forgetting that part, conveniently pushing it out of the way. He wanted to enjoy his time with Laura and the pall of death was not conducive to enjoyment.

Once death's door had opened and she had been ready to walk through. A miracle, Hera's blood, had given her a reprieve. Seeing her there in the infirmary, haggard and weak, had alerted Bill to his feelings. He liked this woman, admired her and wanted to spend more time with her. The idea of death stealing that chance from him had vexed the man more than he would admit to most.

Now that her death was actually upon him, he couldn't quite process the reality. Bill needed to fight his way out of the fog and that would take a bit of time and effort. All he wanted to do was stay in this empty space he now inhabited. At least there was no pain.

Bill was strong in both mind and spirit however, and the shock wore off rapidly. He sat up straight again, set his shoulders and looked over at Laura.

"You must be uncomfortable there," he stated. "Let's get you out."

Two: Conversations with the Dead

(The second stage is denial)

"It's a beautiful spot, Laura. Just look at the sky and all that green. We're up high here so we can see everything around us. What do you think?"

Gently, Bill unstrapped Laura's body and carried it out of the aircraft, walking a short distance before laying her down on the grass. He tucked her hair behind her ears and checked to make certain that his simple gold band was still on her slender finger. Then he smoothed out the wrinkles in her well-worn blazer.

"There, that's better," he declared, giving her a tender smile that would have melted her heart.

Bill sat on the ground beside her prone form and gazed out at the landscape. After all the struggles and all the sacrifice, here they were; a new planet to call home, a planet full of life and possibilities. He and Laura were supposed to end their days here together. That would not happen. Accepting the reality of her death, though he knew it to be true, was too difficult a task right now. Bill needed to pretend that his Laura was still breathing, that she would laugh that laugh of hers and look at him with those wise green eyes that saw so deeply into everyone and everything.

"I wonder how the others are doing. They should stick together, make a settlement of some kind, don't you think?"

He paused, long enough for her to reply. She didn't, of course, but Bill ignored that fact. She was simply being reticent and thoughtful as she could be sometimes.

"They'll be all right. There's lots of game, fresh water, fish. Yes, they'll manage. I'm sure of it."

The only sound was the wind in the grasses and the rush of wings as a flock of colourful birds flew by. They were stunning and the Admiral felt a stirring in his heart. He had spent most of his time since the devastation of humankind aboard the Galactica, hard, cold, grey metal. Colour was a rarity there and nature, aside from the stars and the planets, nonexistent.

"Did you see that, Laura? Gods, they were gorgeous." His smile was wide and he took off his glasses to wipe at his damp blue eyes, almost overcome by the power of the moment.

Bill sat for hours, unmoving, taking in his surroundings, breathing in the pure, fresh, sweet smelling air of the new world. His stomach began to grumble, an annoyance, one he gave into after a bit more time.

"Guess a man has to eat," he quipped and walked back down to the Raptor.

Inside was a pack stuffed full of standard military rations, the kind that would last for years and years if unopened, a few cooking utensils, a blanket, two sleeping bags and a lighter. He returned and showed his selection to Laura.

"Better start a fire so I can heat up this chicken."

He gathered some firewood. There was plenty about, twigs along with bigger bits of wood. He pulled a few tufts of grass for kindling and then arranged everything carefully, placing stones around the wood in a tidy circle. He was reminded of his younger days, fishing and camping with his father on those rare occasions when the man had some time to spare. Finding a larger rock, he placed that over one end of the firewood and then lit the kindling. The fire took and the flames grew stronger. Filling the pot with water from his canteen, he placed that on the large rock. The water would boil quickly. It was a trick his father had taught him.

"I'm just going to fill up my canteen, Laura. There's a stream right over that way. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He hated leaving her, lying there alone and vulnerable. Moving at a trot, Bill made it to the stream, filled his canteen and trotted right back. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, a brilliant orange ball of fire, and the air seemed to cool instantly. He moved closer to the fire and watched as the water began to bubble. He inserted the freeze dried packet of food and waited a few minutes before taking it out carefully with a fork.

"Pretty soon, I'll have to start fishing and hunting," he informed Laura. "This crap will only keep us going for a week or so." He opened the hot packet gingerly, holding it away from his face as the steam was released. With the military issue fork he dug in, eating enthusiastically. "Not great, but I've had worse."

Sated and suddenly very, very tired, he leaned back in the near darkness, grabbing the blanket from his pack, and curling up beside Laura. He made sure that she was covered too. It was uncomfortable, but fatigue drove him to slumber anyway. His sleep was deep and sound, unbroken by dreams.

The sun's rays, warm and comforting, woke him. Bill grimaced as he sat up and rubbed his back, bemoaning the stones that had caused the pain.

"Good morning, Laura," he beamed. He dragged a hand through his salt and pepper hair and wondered why his love had not replied.

Bill glanced over at her face, stiff and motionless, lifeless. Her body was rigid beneath the blanket and it was then that reality truly hit. Laura Roslin, his Laura, was dead.