It's only 11 pm but after multiple bottles of beer and way too many shots of whiskey, Bill is feeling more drunk than he has felt in quite a long while. If this were six months ago, he would still be coherent, pleasantly buzzed, and staying for a few more rounds of drinks. Of course, if this were six months ago, he would have insisted that all three ladies accompany him back to his room. Never lacking in the stamina department, he would have given each of them a night to remember.

But tonight is different, a night where each drink he slams down his throat dulls the memory he has of a certain red-head that pervasively invaded his head throughout the day, a little pain in his heart following each and every thought of her. If drowning himself in booze is a logical way to force her from his mind, then frakking a random stranger will certainly chase thoughts of her away forever.

As he and his frak-snack blond stand outside of the club waiting for a cab, he struggles to remember her name. Kerri? Carol? Kelsey? Chrissy? It doesn't really matter as long as I forget about HER. The blond is extremely friendly, busying herself with nibbling on his ears, then running the tip of her tongue down his neck. He doesn't even realize she has unbuttoned his shirt until he feels her hand on his bare chest.

"Mmmm, Bill, we're going to have so much fun tonight," she purrs, kissing his lips and parting them with her tongue. The cab pulls up and Bill, being the gentleman he is, opens the door for her to crawl in. Once inside, he tells the driver their destination, then he and the blond become better acquainted with some deep tonsil-probing kisses. She suddenly straddles Bill's lap, familiar giggles escaping her lips as she leans her face down to kiss him again.

"Laura, we should wait until we get back to the hotel," he mumbles between kisses.

She pulls back from him, a nonplussed look on her face. "I'm not Laura, sweetie."

"Ohhh, yehh, sorry, I mean…. Caroline," he says, proud that he finally remembers her name.

"Carolanne, sweetie," she corrects him, running her fingers through his thick wavy hair.

The cabbie taps on the glass divider between him and the backseat. "No sex in the cab. I need you two sitting side by side otherwise I'll have to pull over and let you out."

"He's no fun," Carolanne whispers, her lips forming a pout. She slides off Bill's lap and sits next to him, then runs her hand up between his legs feeling his erection grow. "Someone wants to come out and play," she teases, sliding his zipper down.

"Not in my cab!" the driver yells tapping on the glass again.

"What can we do?" she snaps back at him, her sudden anger causing Bill to sit up straight and pull his zipper up.

"Kiss. You can kiss. That's it," he replies.

She grabs Bill's face with both her hands pulling him into a deep sloppy kiss, her tongue probing every inch of his mouth. It's erotic as hell but it's not what he really wants. He breaks the kiss, then runs his thumb along her bottom lip before placing a soft sensual kiss there.

"You're so sweet," Carolanne purrs, the cab pulling into the hotel parking lot. "You want to take it slow and easy?"

"I don't want to hurry. I want to make love to you all night, Laura," Bill replies.

Carolanne suddenly slides across the backseat to put some distance between them. "I told you I'm not Laura," she says angrily. "Say my name."

Say my name. The memory of the night he spent with Laura after bringing her and Cheryl home from the hospital flashes in his mind at those three words: Laura's straddling him, her delicate hands on his chest, fingers teasing his muscles, beautiful green eyes staring into him, red curls spilled along her bare shoulder. He recalls wondering what it would be like waking up next to her every morning.

Bill stares at the blond across from him as the cab comes to a stop near the hotel entrance. "I'm sorry, I can't do this." He hands the driver double the amount of fare, then looks at the blond and says, "I've covered your ride back to the club."

"You son of a bitch!" she yells, slapping him hard across the face, scratching him with her fake nails so that tiny droplets of blood trickle from his cheek.

"Hey! No fighting!" the driver yells.

"I'm leaving. Take her back to the club," Bill orders the driver. He stumbles from the cab rubbing his cheek, looking at the blood on his fingers. He's certain it stings but he's drunk enough he can't really feel it.

"What do you suppose that's about?" Ellen says as she and Saul pull up in a cab, having just witnessed Carolanne hitting Bill. Saul pays the fare as Ellen approaches Bill, the cab with Carolanne driving away as she hurls insults at him.

"Bill, are you okay?" she asks when she sees the blood on his face.

"I…I don't know," he says, stumbling away from her toward the hotel entrance.

"Whoa, there, Bill, you've had a lot to drink," Saul says placing Bill's arm around his shoulders to help him walk. "Ellen," Saul says, nodding for her to do the same with Bill's other arm. "Let's get him up to his room."

"I can't get her out of my head," Bill groans as they guide him to the elevators.

"Who, Bill?" Ellen asks gently.

"Laura," he replies with a hint of sadness.

Saul makes eye contact with Ellen. "He broke up with a red-head a few days ago."

"That would explain all the whiskey he was knocking back," Ellen surmises.

"I've got you, buddy," Saul says to Bill. "We'll get you to your room so you can sleep this off."

When they arrive at his room, they immediately place him on his back on the edge of the king size bed. "Saul, why does he have a nicer room than you?" Ellen asks looking around.

"I don't know, what difference does it make?" he replies. "Help me get his clothes off."

Bill's shirt is already unbuttoned and untucked from Carolanne's ministrations in the cab, so Ellen easily slips his shirt off while Saul holds him up. She then undoes his belt buckle and slides his zipper down when Saul says, "You would have to do the pants, wouldn't you?"

"I'm just trying to get him undressed, Saul!"

"Do his shoes first! We can't take his pants off before we take his shoes off!"

"Oh," she replies, quickly pulling the shoes from his feet.

"Pull his pants off while I lift him up," Saul orders.

Saul pulls Bill's waist up and Ellen quickly slides his pants down, accidentally pulling his boxers down partway, exposing all of Bill's privates.

"Laura," Bill sighs.

"Oops," Ellen says when she realizes what happened. "Um, oh…oh my," she says eyeing Bill's erection. "I bet he can handle three women," she remarks with a flirty smirk.

"Gods, Ellen!" Saul says pulling Bill's shorts back into place.

"Well, you know, I wasn't expecting him to be that…. well-endowed," she tries to explain to Saul's glare.

They role him to his side and place a waste basket at the edge of the bed in case he vomits. Ellen covers him with a blanket from the closet and they leave a lamp on near the desk where they have left his clothes folded in a neat pile.

The Wednesday morning training sessions are a mix of things Bill already knows with a few new items peppered in, enough so that he has to pay closer attention which is a challenge due to the throbbing headache he is suffering from the previous night's drinking binge. Ironically, his pain is a relief to him because his mind isn't constantly wandering to Laura. He alternates drinking coffee and water all morning to flush the alcohol from his system and keep him awake for the afternoon session. Lunch is another buffet and after he fills his plate, Saul joins him at a table in the middle of the conference room.

"Feeling any better?" Saul snickers. "How many shots did you do last night?"

"I lost count," Bill grumbles, popping a couple of pain relievers with his meal. "You and Ellen take me to my room?"

"Yeh, tucked you in all nice and cozy. Looked like a baby sleeping when we left."

Bill snorts at his description. "A nice, big, drunk baby."

"Do you remember anything else?" Saul inquires.

Bill touches the scratch on his face, the image of the blond screaming at him and striking him flashing in his mind. "That woman hit me, yelled at me. I had to get away from her."

"What happened? You were both so friendly when you left the club."

What did happen? His memory is hazy, but the longer he chews his food and thinks, the more information about the previous night comes back to him. "Oh!" he finally exclaims. "Gods," he says shaking his head.

"Are you going to share that information?" Saul presses.

"I'd rather not."

"Okay," Saul says poking at his salad. "Does it have anything to do with Laura?"

"Did I say something to you and Ellen last night?" Bill asks, surprised that Saul knows her name.

"You mentioned not being able to get her out of your head, then said her name a couple of times. She the red-head you broke up with?"

"Not exactly. She broke up with me," Bill replies.

"She's not into 3-ways, 4-ways?"

"I don't know, we never had sex."

Saul looks at his friend perplexed. "All that commotion last night over a woman you haven't even slept with?" He chuckles and shakes his head. "You've got it bad for her, don't you?"

"I'm trying to forget her, but every time I turn around, something reminds me of her."

"Let's try another place tonight – maybe you can meet someone else. Unless you don't really want to forget Laura."

"I need to forget her," Bill replies quickly. "I have to."

"Alright," Saul replies, looking at Bill suspiciously because of his insistence to forget Laura. "Ellen and I will stop by your room around 6. She has the night off."

"I'll be ready."

For the afternoon sessions, Bill is taken to the base where he meets with some military higher ups. Security is tight for these meetings and only a handful of the trainees are allowed to attend. First they are searched, then cell phones and other electronics are taken from everyone before they enter the secure meeting room.

The meetings focus on the cylons, the recent war, and the fragility of the armistice with them. A large part of Bill's job will be to gather information from civilian captains about any suspicious activity they witness on their flights, even if it is something minor. Bill will interview these captains and other witnesses, compile reports, and communicate with the military about the findings. He may occasionally be asked to go on some civilian flights to further an investigation and if there is extreme suspicious activity, which the general referred to as level 4, he may be temporarily stationed on a battlestar to aid in black ops missions. When the general opens the meeting to questions, the liaison from Virgon asks how many levels there are.

"There are six levels. Level 0 is no suspicious activity, and we hope that most ships will report level 0 after each run. Levels 1 through 3 are low, medium, and high suspicious activity and you will be provided examples of each in our training tomorrow morning. Level 4 is extreme suspicious activity."

"What's Level 5?" Bill asks when the general pauses.

"The armistice is broken and we are at war," the general grimly replies.

It's 5 pm by the time the meetings end, then it's a good 15-minute trip back to his hotel room. After a quick shower and shave, he dresses in tan slacks and a blue button-down shirt, what he refers to as his "lady-killer" outfit since women always remark how his blue eyes match his shirt. He steps back and looks in the mirror after carefully running his fingers through his hair, then realizes he's wearing the same outfit from his only date with Laura. It doesn't matter.

He reaches for his phone to check the time, then remembers that it had been turned off at the base when it was taken from him. After turning it back on, messages and notifications begin to appear and he glances at them as they pop up, looking for any that need an immediate response. One text message causes him to catch his breath:

I'm sorry. I made a mistake. If you'd still like to talk, I'll be at the café Friday evening at 7 pm.