She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Glasses?"

He found them on the nightstand and carefully placed them on her nose. "There's something you should know…" he said, and he sat down on the edge of her bed to explain Sharon's proposition to her.

Halfway through it she tiredly closed her eyes. It was not the reaction he had expected. "Laura?" he asked uncertain.

"I'm here."

The fact that she had withdrawn this way filled him with unease. "Should I stop?" The quirk of fate that had brought the solution was so close and yet so unreachable must grate at her even more than it had at him when he first heard it. I shouldn't have brought it up.

She opened her eyes, easily spotted his dejection and slipped her hand into his again. "Sharon offered it to me. Weeks ago."

That gave him pause. "You never …"

She waved the hidden accusation away as unimportant and irrelevant. "It's impossible." She tried to raise herself on her elbows for emphasis, but sank back to the bed tiredly. "It would break humanity's spirit if I defect; even if I abdicate first."

He agreed. She held the fleet together by sheer force of her character.

"It's a clever plan, though," she said.

"I've studied it from every angle," he replied. "I can see no way we can save your life, not without risking …" you becoming a Cylon. His military mind was still looking for an opening. "If at least we could let it backfire on them. Teach them not to frak with our minds like this."

She remained silent, regarding him pensively as if appraising him against a measure she hadn't disclosed, but that he seemed to fall short of nevertheless.

It made him uneasy. "What?" he asked.

She took a deep breath before answering. "We can."

"We can?"

She nodded soberly. "We can. I've had some time to consider it and found that their proposal has one serious weakness. I intend to use it. But I need your help."

"A flaw in their plan? You mean, other than that we are not going to fall for it?"

"Oh, but we will fall for it."

Did she just say…?

"We will?"

He observed her guardedly. He hadn't for a second taken into account the possibility that Laura might contemplate to go along with the Cylon scheme. He had no back-up plan for that, other than that he knew that he couldn't allow it to happen, that he would have to stop her. The prospect of having to force her to die made him reel.

"The plan allows me access to their most valuable commodity," she argued.

The plan would give the Cylons full control over our most valuable commodity.

"So?" asked as neutrally as possible.

She bit her lip, scrutinizing him. Her grip on his hand strengthened.

Gods, don't let her start begging for her life now. He braced himself.

"If they let me in … I can take them out."

"What?!"

It was so out of the anticipated pattern of dialog that he did a double take. For a second he drew closer, not believing what he'd heard; but the confirmation was there in her eyes. He recoiled and gaped at her before he abruptly turned away. Suicide.

"No." His voice left no room for negotiation.

He walked away from the bed, struggling to get a grip on his emotions and leaned against his temporary desk, staring at the curtain that surrounded the area.

A suicide run. The final and least attractive of all military options. He'd witnessed defeated commanders destroy their broken ships in the First Cylon War; the final crash to take a superior enemy with them, to make their deaths count. But this…

Behind his back, she was silent. Waiting him out, no doubt, before she started her argument. Well, he wasn't going to help her with this one. He kept his back to her while he tried to regroup and gather counter arguments against her far-fetched, half-baked plan. How in the hell did she think she would… She wasn't military… He wouldn't allow …

The cold of the metal deck crept into his naked feet; he had left his shoes by the bed. The discomfort calmed him enough to consider that she was waiting for him to speak. He turned. Spotted his shoes, and found her slouched in her bed, her eyes closed.

"Laura?"

Cottle's fifteen minutes had come and gone and he had used them to discuss … 'Business' would be a very mild term to describe it. He'd haggled with her about life and death; her life and death. He went back to her side.

Her hands rested oddly immobile next to her hips. A thin film of sweat had appeared on her brow.

"Laura?"

"Just tired."

"Should I call Cottle?"

"No," she breathed.

"Should I go?"

She made a faint negating sound. Her hand moved over the blanket, opening a little. He took it, and pulled a chair near to sit, to wait with her until the spell had passed. She grew paler though; paler and perhaps a little green. Beads of sweat formed on her face and arms.

"Bill?" she asked after a while.

"Yes?" he squeezed her hand.

"Better go now. Going to …" she seemed to be grappling for the right word "…puke."

"I've seen puking before," he answered calmly, quickly scanning the area for the something she could use. "Can you hold this?" He handed her the basin he found in the nightstand.

When she started to shudder, he supported her back to hold her upright and held her hair back with the other hand.

Laura dry-heaved, making strangled sounds and convulsed as her body tried to rid itself of something that wasn't there.

He rubbed her damp back soothingly, shushing softly.

Her voice was the first thing to recover. "There's something to be said for not eating. You can let me down now."

Left to its own devices, her body sank limply against the mattress again. Adama regarded her worriedly, his mind preoccupied with her outrageous plan and still not feeling better about it.

"It's a military decision," he put forward.

Her sigh held a note of exasperation. He belatedly realized she'd wanted to keep him out of this decision, to spare him second thoughts about it later.

"Yes it is, Commander." She said. "Tough choice," she added cynically.

He winced. "Don't make light of it."

"It's hardly premature," she reminded him weakly. "Either I die here," a small movement of her hand indicated the disdain she felt for her environment. "Or I take out the largest Cylon vessel we've ever seen, the one where they reproduce themselves, their weapons factory, the one they have, incidentally, invited me into."

Either you die here, where I can comfort you, or I have to let you go and you'll be utterly alone in the end. He shook his head and pulled her close.

"I will die, Bill." Her voice had dropped to a whisper near his collar. "Very soon. It won't be pleasant." She had seen her mother end like this. He knew she didn't want to go that road. He never believed there was an alternative, but now she'd found one.

"You have to let me go," she murmured near his ear.

He froze, unwilling to even go in his mind to where that concession would take him.

She huddled closer. "You know what will happen if I stay," she persisted.

"I do," he admitted.

"Jack would take care of me," she put in. "You would be the one to suffer." He knew he'd live in Life Station until she died and nodded his cheek against hers. "I don't want that," she said.

"I'll live," he dismissed her argument hoarsely. "You know what would happen if you go," he turned her argument around. He could easily picture her. The explosives strapped around her abdomen… The last blink of her eye before she pressed the button...The detonation that ripped her body …
He shuddered. She held him.

"It would be quick, though," she said, pushing him up and away from her to see his face. "Not this waiting …" she paused until she had his full attention "…or this dreading which part of my brain will go next."

That scenario rattled him - almost as much as her plan. The brain tumor left her defenseless, with no alternative than to wait for inevitable degeneration, loss of dignity and a slow painful end.

"My death can achieve something; it can really mean something. Not just this … waste."

He didn't know what to offer her, and began to consider she might even be right, but he just couldn't, couldn't - and silently shook his head. "I don't want you to die," he rasped.

She turned her head away; her eyes drifted through the room, avoiding his. "Do you think I want to die?" A small tremor in the corner of her mouth betrayed her before the tears appeared in her eyes.

[time: a little later ]

It had been over an hour since he'd left the President, and Cottle thought it well beyond time to up her sedation and send the Commander away. He opened the curtain, syringe in hand, and halted abruptly. As much as he'd secretly enjoyed Adama's reaction to his admonition to stick to foot rubbing, he hadn't for a second expected the picture he'd find.

Adama stretched out on her bed, face down, half covering her in what was at the same time a protective and a possessive gesture. Her arms were wrapped around his torso. The couple rested tranquilly, unmoving but for the hardly perceptible shaking of the Commander's body and the minute travel of her hands over the back of his uniform jacket. They seemed lost for the world.

Cottle stood still, hesitating. His wry remark remained unspoken as the cloud of gloom the couple radiated reached him and made him forget what it was he wanted to make light about. Adama's vigilance in the past few days had conveyed in more than words what this bond meant to him, but it hadn't prepared Cottle for the depth of his distress. The doctor's professional instincts compelled him to stop the Commander from upsetting his patient, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb what was likely to be one of their last private moments.

He started when he noticed Roslin watching him watching them. He held up his hands defensively and with an apologetic gesture turned to leave; his decision made. The President nodded quietly, smiled wanly and turned her face back to Adama. The last thing Cottle heard was the wounded groan with which the Commander responded to her kiss. He briskly moved himself and his nurses out of earshot.

[a little later, still in Life Station]

"Bill?" She tapped his back.

He immediately transferred his weight to his side and looked down at her. She shook her head in response to his unspoken apology.

"It's time we set things in motion," she said gently. "The Cylons need to know we plan to walk into their trap."

The plan. The suicide run. It still rattled him. Not that she had come up with it. He wouldn't have thought of it, ever, but now that he'd heard it, her plan did make sense. She'd always placed herself at the service of her single objective. What troubled him was that he had to let her go like this... alone… He still wasn't sure he could do that.

"Your plan needs modification," he told her.

The way she tiredly regarded him stopped him from elaborating. Her hand left his back and she weakly tried to push him away.

"There's a condition," Adama said, caressing her face with a finger, stung by her wariness. There was only one way this was going to work, one way he could allow this to happen.

Her eyes slowly focused on him again. "Yes?" she croaked.

"We'll do this together. I'll walk this path with you as far as I can."

She looked at him a long time, her expression shifting from forlorn to bewildered to astonished.

Adama kept his breathing even, stopping himself from putting forward his argument, hoping she would just give in, allow him at least this much, now that he had to lose her so soon.

She finally nodded mutely.

"Deal," she whispered.

In Life Station, the small group of people involved in the plan had gathered around the President's bed. Laura lay propped up against the pillows; looking gray and exhausted. She seemed to be following the discussion with only a small part her attention, and focused on the documents in her hand.

"I still think it's a frakking stupid idea that you join her in that shuttle," Tigh told Adama gruffly. "Too many eggs in one basket."

"He has a point there," Apollo put forward. Tigh's head snapped around, surprised by the unexpected support.

Adama pursed his lips. "I don't anticipate any problems," he said. "But in case something unexpectedly goes wrong, you take over, Saul. It's as simple as that."

"Erm," Starbuck interjected, "I heard that was not a huge success last time."

Tigh glared at her and opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but Adama silenced him with a curt gesture. "The decision is made. She goes. So I go."

In the sudden silence Billy stepped towards the bed and handed Roslin a pen. She stared at the papers for a moment longer and then placed her signature on them.

"Would you mind witnessing this please, Lieutenant … Captain?" she asked, holding out the documents to them.

"What is it?" Starbuck asked, accepting the pen and the papers.

"My resignation."

Starbuck straightened wide-eyed, and Apollo came to attention. "It's an honor," he said gravely.

"Shouldn't the Vice-President be in on this?" Tigh disrupted the solemn atmosphere.

"It's on a need-to-know basis," Adama said. "He doesn't need to know."

Tigh's raised brows indicated he very much doubted that.

"I'm not willing to take any chances, Colonel," Laura added. "I can't risk failure." She shuddered. "There's too much at stake. For humanity… and for me personally. Just tell him afterward. The paperwork covers you."

"But who's in charge in the interim?" Tigh asked pointedly.

There was an awkward silence in which the visitors looked at each other. Kara shrugged. Billy looked uncertain, Adama watched Roslin.

"It won't be for long, Colonel," she said softly.