The cylons moved up to her, their heavy feet clanging, their joints creaking. Their red eyes stared straight at her, assessing and detailing. They were curious. Why would a human woman, so obviously near death, come to the same spot, each and every day, at the exact same time? What could possibly be achieved from it? Their hands reached out, transforming into guns. They should neutralize the threat, take care of the woman now just in case anything happens. In case she called for reinforcements. Yet something held them back. She stared up at them, her eyes doing assessments of their own. They could not determine emotions, they were prohibited from considering such complex features. So as she looked them up and down, they saw just a female human, frail in stature, no weapons on her. They left her alone, turning around and walking out of the building.

"They do not hurt me, Laura," the woman called out, to which both cylons turned around, regarding her once more, "but they do wish you harm. You are reluctant to believe in me, so believe this. One of you will die, Laura Roslin. The earth of Caprica demands another soul, and your crew will deliver it."

She fell silent, her eyes closing. The cylons walked away, their eyes scanning the buildings around them as they left the woman on her own, sitting in the middle of the museum.

....

Kara Thrace had always hated sleepovers.

On the rare occasion that her mother let her round her friends, Kara had always been to sleepovers. She couldn't refuse them. However, it didn't mean that she had to like them. It wasn't what other people said in their dreams (the President mentioned the Old Man in hers, Helo whispered about Hera in his, Burgundy was ordering noodles in his) that bothered Kara. She would keep their dreams a secret. No, it wasn't what they said that put Kara off sleepovers. It wasn't the noises they made in their sleep, the slight dribbling, the snores. It wasn't any of these things that had long since put Kara off of going to sleepovers. What put Kara off the most was nightmares. She hated seeing a person suffer in their dream, moaning, sometimes thrashing, always the screaming when waking up. Nocturnal by nature, Kara could only sit and watch helplessly while people she knew and liked suffering in something they could not control. It was no use waking them up, it did not take away the memories, the fear. So she merely sat, unable to look away (it would not help, she could still hear).

She watched as a tear slipped down the cheek of Laura Roslin, her eyes flickering slightly, as if battling to wake up. Kara willed her to fight, to realise that it wasn't real. Laura moaned, a soft 'no' leaving her throat. Her hand twitched, a seemingly insignificant gesture compared to her shaking body. It had been going on for the last ten minutes, but luckily it had been quiet so far, not waking Helo or Burgundy from their peaceful slumber. Athena and Racetrack, having already had their rest, were sitting up front and talking in low tones, joking. They were blissfully unaware of what was going on in the back.

"C'mon," Starbuck whispered forcefully, hoping that it penetrated Laura's subconscious, causing her to wake up. It didn't, and Laura started to shake more.

"no-" Laura murmured, her voice broken, pleading, "no blood ... no blood ... please don't ..."

Kara felt a shiver run down her spine at the desperation in the President's voice. Laura's hand clutched at her own suit jacket, scrunching the material up. She was starting to get louder, the fear in her voice rising.

"No, please no! Don't say it! Spare us!"

Her raised voice was starting to get the attention of the two pilots in front as Athena turned her head slightly, curious as to the disturbance behind her. She looked at the President, who was shaking, moaning. She then turned to Starbuck, who was sitting opposite her, knees up to her chin and arms securely holding her legs on the seat.

Laura screamed, alerting all the crew. Helo jolted awake, pushing himself up in his chair, his hands flying to his pistol. Burgundy jumped up, head slamming the top of the raptor, hands also ready on his own gun. Athena and Racetrack both jumped, but did not move, except to glance at the now awake President, who was looking startled.

Silence reigned throughout the small space, broken only by Laura's heavy breathing and the muttered curses as Burgundy brought his hand up to the top of his head where he had collided with the raptor.

Laura shakily wrapped her suit jacket tighter round her body, wondering what the hell had happened. She was in the Delphi Museum, watching as the two cylons met the woman she was going to see. The woman had said something ... one of the crew was going to die!

Laura sucked in a breath and looked around her, her gaze meeting concerned faces as they all regarded her questioningly.

"Bad dream," she gave a shaky smile, willing herself to regain her composure, "I'm not in trouble, you can relax."

Helo moved his hand away from his gun, as did Burgundy, and both relaxed. Athena and Racetrack raised their eyebrows at each other, before turning back to the controls of the raptor. Laura felt relief as they all carried on their duties. However, as she looked around, she noticed that Starbuck still stared at her.

"Kara?" Laura asked softly, wondering why she was staring at her with such intensity.

"Some sleepover, huh?"

Laura opened her mouth to question the comment, but decided better of it. Making a small noise in the back of her throat, she instead glanced at the rest of the crew. She didn't want any of them to die. Maybe it was a choice? Maybe she could save them somehow? She had to believe that she could save them.

Starbuck was still regarding her and Laura looked at her again. This time, however, a small smile appeared on the young pilot's face, although it did not reach her eyes. Did Laura's nightmare affect Starbuck more than it affected herself?

"So," Kara muttered, still grinning slightly, "The Old Man, huh?"

....

"Move like you have a frakking purpose!"

Tigh pushed Tom Zarek hurriedly, his anger rising at the slow moving man in front. They had been moving through the vents for the past half hour, steadily making their way upwards to the next deck. Tigh insisted that Zarek go in front, so he could make sure that they weren't followed as the armed groups made their way through the deck. Soon after they set off on their journey, however, Tigh soon regretted this decision. Zarek was slow moving and reluctant, despite the obvious emergency.

Tigh was reaching the end of his tether as Zarek stopped yet again in front of him.

"Perhaps you don't know Mr Vice President," he snapped, his tone heavy with sarcasm, "but below us there is decompression. We need to get to the next deck, alert CIC and get the problem frakking fixed!"

"Colonel Tigh, with all due respect," Zarek replied, his hand coming up to wipe sweat away from his forehead, "it is hot and it is cramped up here. You are military, you can handle it. I, however, am a civilian."

Tigh bit back a reply of "terrorist", knowing that now would not be the most prudent time to retaliate, no matter how amusing it would be to see Zarek's reaction.

"Sir!" a marine called from the front, stopping the line, "we're here."

"Right," Tigh barked out, "we need to find the nearest comm to CIC. After that, we'll do a sweep of this level, before pushing back to the level below and doing sweep of what hasn't been decompressed."

The marines nodded their agreement to the orders, and light filtered in to the vents as the front marine pulled the grate away. With easy grace not expected of men in full guard uniform, the marines slipped through the space one at a time. Tigh pushed Zarek in front of him, herding him towards the light. Zarek clumsily pushed forwards and hung his legs over the edge.

"You know, climbing through vents isn't usually the requirements of a Vice President." he said, smirking slightly as he turned his head towards Tigh. The light illuminated his features and Tigh could see the sweat and exhaustion on Zarek's face.

"And babysitting ex-terrorist-turned-vice-president isn't a requirement of XO either, now move!"

"Yessir." Zarek smiled, before dropping down through the space, disappearing from sight. Tigh shook his head, moving forward and dropping down to the level below him.

He stood up slowly, glad to be able to stretch and walk around.

"Right," he ordered, turning around to face his marines, "the comm is nearby so-"

It was Zarek's expression that gave Tigh the first warning signal. He brought his sentence to a halt. Zarek's mouth was hanging open, looking over Tigh's shoulder. With great trepidation, Tigh turned around, his hand slowly caressing his gun at his side.

"No need for that Colonel. You're surrounded, so don't bother."

The voice was rough, filled with an intense hatred. Tigh turned around and was greeted with the barrel of a gun pointed directly at his own head.