Warning: major character death

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.

Chapter 2: Collateral Damage

Laura Roslin paced in the cramped space between her bed and her desk for what felt like the fiftieth time. "Why won't someone give me answers?"

Tory watched her boss from one of the chairs. "It's been half an hour. Maybe we should try calling Galactica again."

The president nodded and picked up the phone. After being asked to wait a while longer, Colonel Tigh's voice was heard. "Galactica, Tigh here."

Where in the universe is Bill? "Colonel, I would like to know what's going on. Did the rebel ship leave? Is the fleet still in trouble?" she probed.

"The other Cylons have been destroyed and yes, the rebel ship left. The fleet is safe," he told her.

She drummed her fingers on the desk. "Then where is the admiral?"

"Madame President, Why don't I meet you at Galactica's docking bay and explain everything?" he suggested, as if he had been expecting her comment.

Roslin glanced at Tory, who shrugged. "Alright Colonel, I'll be right there."

Shortly, her Raptor docked on Galactica. Tigh stood by as she stepped off. Then he motioned for her to follow him. She rolled her eyes and Tory accompanied her. "Saul, how long are you going to continue this cloak-and-dagger affair before you tell me what in Pythia's name is going on?" Roslin whispered sharply.

He stopped walking in front of a door that was all too familiar to Laura. She tried to look at him instead of the door as he answered, even as revulsion for their location boiled in her stomach. "There was a civilian transport caught in the crossfire. They were headed to the Astral Queen and disobeyed orders to wait until the battle was finished to continue their trip. The windows were hit and all thirty people onboard died."

"Exposure?" Roslin asked.

Tigh nodded. "They were also carrying some illegal substances."

"That's probably why they didn't want to wait," Tory concluded.

"I want a full write-up on that. We need to know exactly what they were carrying and whom it was going to," Roslin requested.

"Yes, ma'am," Tigh replied. The colonel glanced at the door and then back to Roslin. Something about his gaze made him look ten years older. "If you'd follow me…"

"Tory, please stay out here," the president requested before following him.

For a morgue, it did not smell like death, but rather the odor was antiseptic, more like a combination of Life Station and formaldehyde. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she recalled that the temperature was lower in the room, much like a refrigerator. She looked around and saw several shrouded forms laid out on tables. Tigh glanced at a tag and pulled back the sheet hiding the head. "Tom," Roslin said quietly.

"We think he might've been behind the smuggling, but you can't prove much, seeing as he's dead. Bill and I caught part of a conversation about it," Tigh remarked.

She nodded and followed him as he navigated past a few more bodies. "Where is he, Saul? Obviously he's not here."

Tigh glanced at another tag, a forlorn look settling in his eye that made Roslin all the more uncomfortable. "Look at this one and you'll understand."

Glaring at him with momentary irritation, she turned toward the body, slowly reaching for the sheet. As she touched the material, the tip of her finger brushed the person's hair and she suppressed a shiver. Memories of finding Billy in the morgue were spilling out of the mental file she had placed them in. I hate this place. Why did he have to bring me here?

She pulled back the sheet and gasped. "No! This can't be right!" she exclaimed, wheeling around to find Tigh. "He can't be dead!"

A tear trickled out of the man's lone eye. "I'm afraid it is, Laura."

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the body. How unfair the gods were to kill him without leaving a mark on him, she thought as tears pricked her eyes. Even at his worst, the man before her could be called an almost-son. She pulled the sheet back over and wiped her eyes.

"Why was he on that transport?" she asked weakly.

"Probably had something to do with Zarek and politics," Tigh muttered.

Then she remembered why she had come to Galactica. "I have to find Bill. Where is he?"

"Should be in his quarters," Saul replied.

Laura rushed out of the door, almost bumping into Tory. "Madame President, where are you going?"

"I have to speak with the admiral," was her only answer. Tory decided that waiting in CIC with the colonel was a better use of her time than chasing the president at that moment.

As Laura rushed toward the admiral's quarters, her thoughts bounced in a thousand directions as she tried to figure out something to say to the man. What was there to say for such a tragedy? Tears continued to slip down her face as she moved along the corridors, disregarding the concerned stars of the people around her as her security detail trailed behind. Nothing she could say would change the fact that Lee Adama was dead.

(My thanks to carolann, voodooDRUG, mscrwth, Ms.McGonagall, Mariel3, SNa9oABC, and Leliana McKay for reviewing :D)