Rock A Bye Scion

by LeoLovesAries

Upon request I tried my hand at the old A/R New Caprica baby fic trope using some combined themes and elements from my past BSG works. Contains mature themes. Do not read if any BSG 2003 canon typical elements trigger you. Roslin centric. Roslin/Adama pairing. Canon divergent. WIP

11. Chapter 11

WARNING BEFORE READING

Hello to anyone left reading. I want to make 2 announcements before the start of chapter 11 so that you can make an informed choice about reading further. Firstly the second section of this chapter has a trigger warning for DubCon. It is marked (TW). I usually don't use warnings as long as the chapter is comparable to content used within the BSG series. In this case the descriptions may be slightly more graphic than what would have been expected for the show. The second announcement is that this may be my last chapter and it does not bring the story to its end. This means this story may go unfinished. As sad as I am to abandon it after so long I think it has mostly lost its audience. Life has been very very busy and my 6 year old and 11 month old leave me with little energy for hobbies these days. I thought things would improve as our baby got older but life has become even more hectic. I have to be careful about what I spend my limited free time doing. Though I like this story it is hard to justify putting the time into keeping it going to completion with just a few readers left as much as I truly appreciate those few who have stuck with it. I also feel like I don't have the proper energy to put into editing which also leaves me with more published errors and I feel maybe the work is just not satisfactory at the moment. I am considering taking a break and then maybe starting something new when I'm able. I just wanted to warn anyone still reading before you take the time to read this chapter. When I decide for sure I'll either mark the fic as unfinished/abandoned (or post the next chapter if I change my mind). Thanks again for all who gave me their time. -LLA

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NEW CAPRICAN COLONIAL TENT CITY;

TEMPLE OF THE GODS PRAYER TENT

WEEK 31 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

Laura could smell the familiar hint of incense in the air as she neared the large tent that served as the encampment's only communal Temple. Though the flaps usually remained closed the scent of ever-burning cerimonial aromatics seeped through the canvas and rode the winds that swirled around their muddy little village. The ritual fragrance had always comforted Laura and warmed her heart. It reminded her of the midnight Saturnalia ceremony she'd attend with her family each year and of outdoor summer celebrations for Kronia at her grandparents' lakehouse. The closer she came to the tabernacle the stronger it became and once Laura arrived and pulled back the large flap to enter it hit all of her senses at once. The smell filled her nose, strong and rich with herbs and oils from the worlds she'd once called home. There was a light haze to the space as dozens of candles burned in worship and memorial and various clay bowls sent wisps of white smoke into the warm atmosphere.

She'd come early in hopes that she might have time to say a prayer before her planned meeting. Cottle had asked her to meet with a midwife, one he intended to have assisting him during her labor and delivery. There were no obstetricians left among the population of medical professionals on New Caprica and though the military doctor had general obstetric training in med-school he often found it beneficial to have another professional from the field working with him during deliveries. The few midwives living on New Caprica were traditional birthworkers, often delivering babies in the mother's tents and so Cottle figured it would be good to have someone with them who was no stranger to a birth outside of a clinic. He'd told Laura that the one he'd chosen was professional, experienced and kind, and that he had full faith in her being a trustworthy part of their plan.

Cottle felt that Laura would need some guidance and education leading up to what she would soon go through. There were no classes or workshops for expectant mother's to take on childbirth and labor like back on the colonies. There were no network videos or articles to read. Meri Brigid the midwife could help her, offer advice, teach her things that Cottle admittedly had no knowledge of.

Anders had warned them to start being careful with who Laura was seen interacting with and so Cottle arranged for the two women to meet at the Temple; a place where the ultra religious cylons mostly stayed away from as if any visitation would upset their so-called one true God.

Laura gripped on to the small bag she held in her hand and watched her step as she made her way inside. There was little order to the Temple. Services were held on holy days and for special rituals like weddings, funerals and naming ceremonies, but people mostly came and went as they pleased, moving the many pillows, cushions and matts to pray according to their respective traditions. Temple offerings were placed in odd spots; a pile of dried flowers in the corner, rows of tiny bottles of wine and pressed oils lining the edges of the tent walls. Those from Saggitaron and Geminion tended to bring in large rocks for Athos and leave them haphazardly strewn about. Now and then the priests and priestesses would come in to bless the space, clear the stones and organize the offerings for holidays and ceremonies. In between then if proper care wasn't taken one could stumble just trying to find a place to meditate.

"This is your first," a voice spoke from one of the tents' corners causing Laura to freeze in place.

The Oracle, Selloi. Laura often saw her there when she came to pray. She always sat among a circle of stones and candles mixing tea leaves and grinding herbs. Unless she was uttering divinations she rarely spoke aloud if not first spoken to and Laura had never attempted conversation with the seer.

"Excuse me?" Laura responded.

"Your first baby," the blind woman said as she shook a vial of some crystalized chamalla onto her palm.

Laura's hands instinctively went under the oversized poncho she wore and rested on her belly.

It unnerved her enough that the Oracle had sensed her presence right away, nevermind that she'd sensed her baby.

"Don't be afraid. I mean you and your little one no harm."

"Yes," Laura finally answered, suddenly feeling a little guilty that she was wary of a temple sister.

The woman looked forward, her dull unfocused eyes looking in no one direction in particular as she licked at the contents of her palm.

"But motherhood isn't all that new to you, is it?

Laura paused and looked around the large tent, making sure that she hadn't missed someone else quietly crouched on a cushion in meditation. Once she was sure that they were alone she began her answer.

"I'm afraid it is quite new. I've never-"

"You've always," the Oracle corrected, cutting her off before she could finish.

Laura scowled.

"I'm sorry?" she replied in confusion.

"First, your sister- no sisters. Two," the soothsayer revised as she began to gently sway in place. "You were the eldest. They looked up to you; more so when your own mother moved on to Elysium. You took her place. They came to you for advice, for comfort."

Laura's face flushed at the woman's words. She'd never been read by an Oracle in her life. She could recall a time as a child when she'd gone to Temple in Caprica City with her mother and aunt. A seer there had spoken to the two women of coming illness, pain and loss. Laura had overheard as she waited nearby in the sanctuary and she'd carried the dread of the foretelling with her for years.

She didn't want to learn another warning of tragedy.

"I'd rather not-"

"Yes. I see that," the Oracle spoke over her again. "You'd rather not. You didn't ask for it. Didn't want it. And yet fate keeps pulling you toward the role even so."

Laura felt the old sense of dread filling her. She didn't want to hear anymore. If there was disaster to come she didn't want to know it yet.

"I don't think-"

"But your people do," the woman halted Laura's words for a third time. "And we exist in this life as others perceive us. Only in our own mind does our idea of ourselves rein true. And you may not feel as though you embody the mother goddess, but she is very plainly alive in you for others to see," she said matter of factly as she shook some more chamalla on to her palm. "It's as evident in the way that you govern, guide and protect your people toward salvation as it is when you teach and nurture their children."

Laura remained silent. She felt the baby suddenly begin to stir as if he'd just woken from a nap. She wondered if it was her rising anxieties over the Oracle's words that had disturbed him and she rubbed gently at her belly as if she could comfort him from the outside.

"There exists a dyad you've become

a part of," the scarfed woman continued as she somehow pointed her finger in Laura's precise direction. "The Archetype it would seem…of the father and the mother. Two that lead their flock together. You've found your place there, reluctant though you may be. A symbolic pairing that's now manifested itself into the tangible."

Laura felt her jaw hanging slack and forced it closed as she struggled to absorb the words.

"Don't look so surprised," the Oracle mused with a smirk. "That happens sometimes. When something exists so powerfully within the realm of the mind and spirit it often materializes into our physical world in some way, as you can see," she added, gesturing toward the bump in Laura's middle.

"I'm sorry," Laura said, shaking her head. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You will. In time. Though, whether you understand or not, you'll have still played the part," the woman said with a shrug.

Laura didn't know what to say. She didn't want to prompt further prophecy, but she didn't want to disrespect a holy Oracle either. Her mother had always told her to honor the sibyls. She'd believed that the gods still used them to speak their divine words to mortals just as they had spoken through Pythia so long ago.

"I brought a temple offering," she said, holding out the bag she'd brought as if the blind woman could see the gesture.

"Is it candy?" the woman asked with a hopeful look on her face.

Laura frowned. She'd brought her last bundle of sage and some dried lavender.

"No," she replied.

The woman shook her head in disappointment as she licked the contents of her palm again.

"The chamalla," she sighed. "So bitter, you know."

Laura chose not to answer. Instead she came closer and knelt down by the stone circle where the woman sat. She emptied out the contents of her bag and placed the sage bundle and the sachet of lavender within the ring. The Orcal stayed silent, offering no thanks for the tidings. Encumbered by her heavy growing belly, Laura regretted how far she'd bent. She struggled to keep her balance as she attempted to get back to her feet.

"The child named for the wife of almighty Zues," the Oracle suddenly spoke again, startling Laura and nearly causing her to lose her footing. "Hera."

Laura swallowed against an immediate tightening in her throat. She looked around the temple once more, this time out of pure paranoia.

There was no fooling this mystic. It was painfully obvious that she truly saw the visions of the gods and that the gods saw all.

"She's dead," Laura lied anyway, knowing it would do no good.

Her eyes began to water and her tears mixed with the effects of the smoke in the room made them sting. She fully expected to be told of the coming penance for her sin.

"She lives as well as you or I," the Oracle said with a scolding wag of her finger. "Perhaps she is where your maternal destiny exists most powerfully."

Laura licked at her lips and shook her head.

"But I'm not-"

"The Triple Goddess," the woman preached over Laura's response. "Goddesses of the Moon, Mothers of the Changing Seasons. You recall the symbol from tradition?"

"Yes," Laura answered, her voice cracking, failing her in one simple word.

She remembered the pendant her grandmother wore of the symbol.

"The waxing, full and waning moon. Three goddesses become one. Hecate, Artemis, Persephone. Three phases of life. The maiden, the mother, the crone. The child Hera is protected by three women. You being one of them. Three women come together to form one; one ultimate love, one goal; the preservation of this special child. You know this. You know your place within the girl's life in this world and the spirit world alike. And now, now soon you'll know motherhood in the most visceral sense. Lucky for you it seems you've had a lifetime of practice."

Laura watched the Oracle continue to sway and shake her vial. She knew things, could sense things and as much as Laura didn't want to know if there was tragedy ahead she couldn't stop her curiosity all together.

"This baby…" she began and then paused. "Is he special? Like Hera? Is there something special about him?"

Selloi licked at her palm again before reaching to rearrange a few crystals that sat on the floor in front of her.

"He is his mother's son," she answered.

"Laura?" a new voice called from behind her.

Startled, Laura turned to see a plump friendly looking woman in a blue sweater and patchwork skirt standing at the Temple entrance. Laura quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Meri?" she tested, though she was almost positive the cheery woman with her hands full of bags and a pack on her back was the one she'd been waiting for.

Her hair was done in many braids all tied up atop her head with simple strips of muslin. Laura's heart nearly skipped a beat as she noticed the symbol that hung from the woman's large dangling earrings; the waxing, full, and waning moons.

"It's so good to meet you," the woman greeted as she placed all but one bag down on the floor. With haste she looked beside the entrance to where a red tasseled rope hung on a hook. Meri wasted no time in taking it and looping it on the outside of the tent flap; a sign that the Temple was closed to the public. Usually only clergy were supposed to implement the red rope, but their need for privacy outweighed the importance of tradition. After making sure the tent was closed, Meri began to make her way toward Laura. "I'm sorry I'm late. I was up all night attending," the midwife explained. "Blessings, Selloi!" she said, quickly turning her attention to the Oracle.

"Did you bring any candy?" the seer asked from within her ring of candles and stones.

Meri smiled knowingly and reached into her knitted satchel that hung across her body. She took out a small crumpled paper bag and tossed it toward the blind woman.

Selloi caught it with two greatful hands. With a small smile she brought it up to her nose and inhaled.

"Cinnamons," she whispered in quiet glee.

"Enjoy, sister. Blessed be!" Meri told her before turning her attention back to Laura.

"Shall we talk over there, Laura?" she suggested gesturing to a small cushioned bench on the other side of the tent.

The two walked over leaving the Oracle with her chamalla and candy.

Meri allowed Laura the bench and gladly took a seat on a prayer rug at her feet.

"Again, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Sherman mentioned you've been quite tired."

"I'm okay," Laura insisted. "I just took some time to - light a candle," she lied, feeling terrible for doing so in a space dedicated to the gods and knowing the seer could likely hear her.

"Well that's good," the other woman said, smiling with her full rosey cheeks. "The little things are important. Living in the moment is so essential. Taking time to reflect, to absorb and to appreciate what's happening now instead of fixating on what's happening next. Life is now."

"I suppose," Laura responded, knowing that she had been failing at doing anything of the sort.

"That's how I get my mothers through labor. Especially first timers. Usually there comes a point or two where they'll insist they can't do it, they can't take it. To that I say, you already are. You're doing it, you're enduring it, right now as we speak. They fixate and they fear that they can't or won't and they fail to see that they already are," she finished with a grin. "Now then, Sherman thought we should get acquainted. I've been a birthworker for twenty-five years. I became a nurse first on Virgon before I decided to do an apprenticeship with the midwife who delivered my first son. I've been helping mothers ever since and I'll be there to help you when the time comes if that's alright with you, Laura," Meri said with a warm smile.

Laura couldn't help but smile back in the woman's presence. She was just so bright and jovial and the way she'd so comfortably greeted her for the first time using her name made Laura feel for a moment as if she hadn't been through the last two years of her life. Even after months of returning to the humble life of a school teacher most people she met still called her Madam President out of respect for her former office. At the very least they called her Ma'am. She still had to regularly remind Maya and Tory that she was just Laura. They treated her like a celebrity, like a prophet, like a leader. Meri had greeted her as if she were any other woman and it felt nice.

"Yes. It is. As long as you understand the need for total secrecy."

Cottle had told Laura that he would only tell the midwife what she needed to know; her medical history and a very generalized version of what was happening. She'd been told that the cylons had threatened to take the former president's unborn son as leverage against the resistance. There was really no other explanation needed to justify the hidden birth and subsequent hidning of the infant. Meri was a supporter of the resistance and she was glad to help one of its leaders in any way she could.

"My only concern is your wellbeing and the wellbeing of this little one," she pledged.

Laura nodded in acceptance.

Meri returned the gesture with a comforting pat to Laura's knee. Agreement in place the woman went to work with no preamble. Without any warning she pulled up one side of Laura's skirt and held it to her knee catching her by surprise. The midwife pressed a warm thumb into Laura's exposed calf above her boot. She looked at her skin for only a second and then dropped the fabric of the skirt looking quite pleased.

"Good. Any pain?" she asked.

"No, but what was that?" Laura questioned, looking puzzled.

"Just checking for excessive swelling and signs of hypertension. You can check at home too. If you press your thumb into your calf and the skin springs back immediately then it's okay, even if it blanches a bit. If it leaves an indentation it's time to get help as fast as you can."

"Oh. Okay. That's good to know."

"How have you been sleeping?"

"I try. It's just difficult. It's hard to get comfortable and, well…"

"You lay awake and worry."

"Yes."

"It's normal, I'm afraid. The last trimester can be quite uncomfortable and all mothers worry. Given the circumstances I understand you have more than enough reason. I would like to try and get you some more sleep though. You'll need all of your strength soon. I'll leave you with a tincture of valerian root extract."

"Valerian?" Laura repeated.

"It's a plant native to the grasslands of Virgon. The root acts as a mild sedative. Been used for centuries to help with insomnia and anxiety. It smells like an old sweaty shoe but it tastes just like berries."

Laura cringed at the description and watched on as Meri began to search her bag while continuing her explanation.

"You'll put ten drops in some water and drink it before bed. No harm done to baby. It's a boy, correct?"

"Yes," Laura confirmed as Meri rummaged through her satchel, rooting through its contents until she found what she was looking for.

"Mind if I take a listen, mama?" she asked as she held up what looked like a small metallic cone.

"With that?" Laura considered.

"Of course. It's a fetoscope horn. It's been used for hundreds of years. No electricity needed. May I?"

Laura looked at the simple device wondering how it would be used. She nodded her consent and Meri excitedly sprang to her knees.

"Lean back slightly for me, if you're able," she instructed.

Laura braced herself by gripping the little prayer bench and leaning backwards.

Meri gently lifted her wrap and tucked it atop Laura's bump so that only the thinner fabric of her shirt was left. She held it there and then with her other hand she placed the larger opening of the horn to Laura's rounded belly. She leaned in, put her ear to the narrow end and listened. Laura felt Meri gently begin to press the horn into her a bit more firmly before lifting it and finding a new place on her belly to listen. Laura wondered how she could hear anything with the primitive tool. As it was, Cottle complained about his old ultrasound machine's audio output. She mused over how he could have such trouble with all of that technology and yet this woman seemed perfectly confident in her little cone.

Meri moved the device about four times before letting out a soft chuckle.

"There we go," she said, finally finding the rhythm. "Nice and strong and steady!"

Laura relaxed a bit as the midwife continued to listen.

"Does he have a name?" she asked with her ear still pressed to the horn.

"No."

"Hello, sweet boy. I'm Meri and I'm going to help your mummy get you out soon so we can finally see your face. You stay in for now and grow, grow, grow!"

Laura tried to stop herself from laughing at the silly little conversation.

Meri leaned up, taking the horn away and pulling Laura' poncho back down to cover her.

"Don't you talk to him?" she asked, noticing Laura's bemusement.

"No…No I don't, I guess I never considered it," she admitted.

"I'd like you to try it if you feel comfortable," Meri requested, returning the tool to her bag. "When you're alone of course. It's good for you and for him. Helps the bonding process. He'll learn your voice before he's even out. Maybe sing to him or hum him a song. If you do it often enough he'll learn to recognize it in the womb. It'll become a comfort to him and come in handy to soothe him when he fusses after he's born."

Laura looked down avoiding the other woman's eyes.

"Maybe," she hesitated. It was hard enough just to feel him move, knowing she'd have to say goodbye soon. Talking to him seemed like it would just make it harder. "It's just…he won't be with me very long after he's born so…"

When she lost her words Meri reached up and rubbed gently at her belly.

"All the more reason to speak to him now before you're apart."

Laura nodded slightly and cleared her throat, attempting to ward off the overwhelming emotion from creeping its way to her larynx and making it painfully tight all over again.

"Sherman noted that you had Placenta Previa that is now resolved. No other complications?"

"None," Laura confirmed. "Well, other than my age."

Meri shook her head.

"Maternal age is not a complication. A mature mother may be at a higher risk for developing them but unless and until one presents itself there is no use worrying about it," she stated rather resolutely.

It was the first time anyone had put it to Laura in those terms before. Had she been more optimistic she thought it would have been an encouraging perspective to hear, but even Meri's cheerful certitude couldn't sway her to believe that all would be well.

"Cottle is concerned about your weight," the woman continued. "How's your diet?"

"About as good as anyones these days I suppose," Laura shrugged.

Meri got up on her knees and began to rub her hands vigorously together blowing a few puffs of warm breath onto them.

"May I?" she asked, holding both palms up and wiggling her fingers.

Laura gave half a nod in response, unsure of what she actually was intending to do.

"Lean back again for me, just a bit," she instructed as she once again pulled Laura's wrap up above her belly.

This time she pushed up her top as well until most of her bump was bare.

With two warmed and gentle hands Meri began to feel around like she was at the market testing a large melon for ripeness. She glided her hands along Laura's skin pressing down gently, rubbing at some spots a little firmer or longer than others.

"Here's a little rump," she noted with a smile. "And some feet all the way up here," she said as she pressed under Laura's ribs. "She moved one hand down beneath the bump and pressed a finger and a thumb firmly on each side. "Head's already starting to descend into the pelvis. Head down. Good. All good. And I think he's a fine size for this stage."

"You can feel all that?"

"Of course. When you've felt as many bellies and babies as I have, it becomes like reading a map."

Meri pulled down Laura's shirt and her wrap and relaxed back onto the prayer rug again.

"When you say descending into the pelvis you mean…" Laura tested.

"Beginning to engage in preparation for birth," Meri affirmed. "You'll feel his head on your cervix once he's dropped all the way down."

"Already?" Laura said as her cheeks grew a little warm.

"Well, he's headed that way," the other woman confirmed with a nod. "Perfectly normal and on track."

"Oh," Laura replied, wondering if her face looked as flushed as it felt.

"Sherman mentioned this is your first,"

Meri began as she rose from the rug and went to fetch one of her many other bags. "I brought some books for you. Do you like to read?" she asked as she returned with a large duffle.

"I do," Laura answered.

Meri returned to her spot at Laura's feet and unzipped the bag. She reached in and began to pull out half dozen books, setting them one by one in a stack on the bench beside Laura's hip.

"I'm sure you know where babies come from," Meri joked, "but these get into detail. Often women have little to no idea of what the labor and birth process is really like until they experience it themselves. Not unless they've attended one. Have you ever been present at a birth, Laura?"

"No," Laura answered, shaking her head. "I remember my mother being in early labor with my youngest sister, but it was so long ago."

She recalled her mother in the beginning stages of labor with Sandra. She'd told Cheryl and Laura that she'd be leaving soon for the hospital to have their baby sister but that she wanted to spend just a little more time with the two girls before there were three. She'd fixed them an early dinner and watched them eat at the table. After that she'd done Laura's hair in braids and given Cheryl a bath all while stopping every ten to fifteen minutes to get through a contraction. It had been early on enough that she was able to hide her discomfort from little Cheryl, but Laura could tell that her mother was in increasing pain. She'd then left them in the care of their aunt and headed to the hospital with their father.

Laura remembered kissing her goodbye and being worried the rest of the night until she woke up to the news that Sandra was born. "I wasn't present for the delivery. I was only eight years old."

"Well it's not much like what we all used to see in movies, so I like to make sure all of my mothers are as prepared as possible. These books aren't in the best shape, I'm afraid. They've been passed around from woman to woman since before the fall of the colonies. There's some torn and marked pages here and there, some missing covers but it's legible and it's all helpful information. Here's one on breathing techniques, one on healing and aftercare and one on nursing. I'll give you a few now and you can swap them out for more the next time we meet."

"Thank you," Laura said as she put her hand atop the stack.

She was quiet as she scanned them, attempting to read the titles from the weathered bindings.

"You're aware it's difficult to feed infants here when they are apart from their birth mothers," Meri began. "We have been able to produce a decent baby formula for those orphaned and fostered but there are times where the supply runs low or we run out of an ingredient for a while. We have several women working as wet nurses too, thank the gods, but from what Sherman told me you plan to express milk for him to be delivered. Is that right?"

"Yes. I mean, that's the plan," Laura qualified. Tory was already working on a delivery strategy that would minimize the chances of anyone being able to connect a courier picking up a supply from Laura's tent to its destination at the foster home. "Cottle thinks it'd be best...If I'm able that is," she amended.

She still couldnt imagine being successful. In her mind she'd only ever associated her breasts with sex and illness. She couldn't imagine that the part of her body that had almost killed her could provide anything life sustaining, but Cottle insisted she try for the sake of the baby.

"I agree," Meri said, adding a small book of meditations for expectant mothers to the top of the stack. "I'll be able to help you with that as well. I'm going to bring you a hand pump when we get a bit closer to your estimated due date. We'll just have to wait and see if there was any duct damage from the tumor or the biopsy. Sherman said there was never a surgical attempt during your cancer treatment."

"No," Laura confirmed. "It was too advanced."

"You certainly are blessed, Laura," the other woman marveled, considering all that she'd been through and survived.

Laura nodded but remained otherwise quiet, focusing on the flickering flames of a few candles that burned nearby.

"I can answer any questions you might have, Laura," Meri prompted, noticing her reluctance.

"Maybe some things Sherman can't answer or that you haven't felt comfortable asking him."

Laura nodded and bit at her lip. She wondered if the woman thought that she was disinterested. She wasn't. It was just that with Cottle everything had seemed so clinical and straightforward. They had a plan. He'd told her what to look for as far as signs of impending labor, told her when she should send Maya to initiate her transport to the Tighs'. Talking to the midwife somehow had suddenly made it seem so much more real. She'd brought books written about all aspects of childbirth, some on topics Laura had never even considered. It was no longer just a plan to be implemented. Between the lines of that plan she was going to go through something tumultuous, something she realized she wasn't prepared for and yet she couldn't bring herself to ask the wise woman at her feet a single useful question.

"I appreciate that," she told her.

Meri tilted her head and smiled.

"So, Laura," she prompted, attempting to help her through her apprehension, "Tell me. How do you feel about your son's upcoming birth?"

Laura looked back to the small stack of worn books that sat beside her and began to shake her head.

"I'm frightened."

NEW CAPRICAN CYLON ADMINISTRATIVE BUILDING;

OFFICE OF JOHN CAVIL

WEEK 31 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

(TW)

Saul was gone again.

This time when they took him Ellen didn't panic. At least not on the outside, not so others could witness her falling apart in fear. This time she had a plan.

She'd washed up, fixed her hair as best as she could and made her way to the cylon administration building.

When she'd arrived she'd thought she would have to camp out for hours looking for Cavil or trying to get someone to take her to him but it was far easier than she'd expected. Though they'd ignored her in the past, this time the first guard she'd spoken to had called a skinjob to escort her into the building and up to Cavil's office where she'd been waiting for him ever since.

It was almost too easy, almost as if they'd been waiting for her.

"Mrs. Tigh, I've been expecting you!" Cavil said as he finally entered.

Ellen jumped to her feet from the seat she'd taken.

"You have?" she asked.

Cavil continued to his desk without affording her any eye contact and began to thumb through a small stack of papers as he stood there.

"Well, I had a feeling we might be seeing one another sooner rather than later," he told her.

"Then you know why, I'm here," Ellen spoke, trying like hell not to lose the last shred of confidence she felt.

"I guess that sort of goes without saying, doesn't it?" Cavil said over his shoulder.

"You told me that if I had a problem I could come back here," she reminded him.

John turned to face her.

"I did say that, didn't I?" he smirked and it made Ellen want to punch him in his smug toaster face.

"And now Saul's been taken again-" she began but John didn't let her finish.

"He's been doing more of the same," he accused. "Inciting violence against the government. He's a terrorist, Ellen. May I call you Ellen?"

She nodded, even though the way he said her name made her skin crawl.

"He's not a terrorist. If you were actually paying attention you'd know he's hardly left our tent in the last two weeks," she claimed as her heart pounded in her chest keeping in mind what he'd done to her the last time she'd spoken up against him.

The bruising had finally faded away.

"Well, you and I both know it's less about what he does and more about what he directs the others to do."

Ellen knew that she couldn't argue much further with the One.

"I just don't want him to be hurt anymore, please," she implored.

Cavil crossed his arms and took a moment to admire the utter distress Ellen was attempting to mask. He found it incredibly gratifying to witness her in such a state.

"The more he cooperates the less…intensive his time in detention is bound to be. If I were you I'd encourage him to be a bit more forthcoming with his information and cool it with the plotting," he said with a shrug.

"I have. I really have," Ellen insisted. "I don't want him involved in anything. I just want him home."

"I understand," Cavil answered as he took a few steps toward her. "It must be lonely at home without him. An empty tent. An empty bed. All alone at night, frightened with no one to protect you."

Ellen's stomach flipped as he began to come even closer..

"I guess if you can't help me…"

"Now I didn't say that. Of course I can."

"You will?"

"I think that can be arranged," he said stopping in his place just a few feet away.

"I could talk to Saul again and tr-"

"I think you and I know that wont work, Ellen," John interceded again. "He doesn't listen to you, does he? Probably never has. Rough and tough Colonel in the Colonial Fleet probably never liked taking orders from a housewife," he needled, enjoying the look on her face, remembering back to when the old fool was still enamoured with her brilliance and he and the other three deferred to her judgment on all things.

"Well, I can be pretty persuasive," she flirted, trying not to let him hear the quiver of fear in her voice.

"I'll just bet you can," he bantered in return, moving nearer toward her as she subconsciously began to step backward. "Now, why don't you show me how persuasive you can be and after that I'll see if I can help you out with what you want."

Ellen gulped. She knew why she'd gone there but suddenly the reality of it was pressing down upon her. She couldn't help but quickly glance toward the door, wondering if there was any fathomable way out of the situation.

"Nuh uh uh. You've already come this far," Cavil scolded her with a wag of his index finger as if she were a naughty child. "I wouldn't try to leave now. I'm sure you wouldn't want to do anything to prolong or worsen your husband's time in detention."

Ellen's eyes began to prick with the threat of tears and it took everything she had inside of herself to breathe deeply and will them away.

"I don't want him to know that I was here," she told the One.

He continued inching closer and closer toward her, finally she could back up no further and she felt her elbows touch the wall behind her.

"I wouldn't dream of telling him, Ellen," he informed her with a sly smirk. "Not even if you programmed me to."

Ellen scowled at the odd man's strange comment but her confusion was quickly overshadowed by her surprise as he abruptly grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her downward.

Though caught off guard she went to her knees willingly, knowing all chance of changing her mind without consequence was long gone. She resolved herself to what she'd gone there to do. It was for Saul. And she'd meant it when she'd vowed to do anything for him. Even this, if she had to.

"Ready to do some persuading?" he teased, looking down at her with a taunting grin.

Ellen knew that she'd have to turn on the charm in order to get through it and get what she wanted. Through her dread and nausea she forced herself to look up at him and smile as if she were eager and ready to please.

He stared down at her expectantly and she took it as her cue to take action.

With all the false confidence and fake sensuality she could muster Ellen licked at her lips and went to undo the One's pants.

She worried for a moment that she might actually become sick to her stomach, but before she could give it a second thought Cavil had his hand gripped under her chin. With a vice hold he put pressure on either side of her jaw using his thumb and middle fingers, prying her mouth open and forcing himself inside before she'd even had a chance to do it herself.

Ellen quickly attempted to take hold of the situation, bringing up her hand to work him, and using every oral tactic she'd learned over the years, just hoping that if she could elicit enough pleasure and demonstrate her willingness that he wouldn't feel the need to be so rough and forceful. Going along with the motions made her feel less violated but she had a sick sinking feeling that he might prefer it if she struggled.

It was over in just a few short minutes as John lost his will, giving into the centuries-long fantasy he had to do this to her. Just seeing her on her knees in front of him had almost been enough to prematurely push him over the edge.

He wondered what Saul would think, he wondered what Sam Anders would think, and then he imagined what her beloved Daniel would think and that was what sent him flooding into her open mouth and into the back of her throat as he let out a grunt and instinctively pushed the back of her head further downward with his palm.

Ellen nearly choked around him before he finally let her up for air.

Cavil put a hand on each of her shoulders again, gripping them and firmly holding her in place waiting for her to look up at him.

Ellen's eyes watered, no longer able to hold her tears back. She so badly wanted to find a way to spit out the contents of her mouth, but short of spitting it in his face she had little choice as he kept her trapped in place. She nearly gagged as she forced herself to swallow.

"That's a good girl," he told her.

She looked at him and though she really wanted to claw his eyes out she attempted a sultry smile. She knew that her eyes were red and her face no doubt blotchy from his initial hold on her, but she had to keep up her part until she was able to get the hell out of there.

"I hope you enjoyed it," she said with a playful wink.

"That I did," he chuckled in return as he rubbed at each of her shoulders where he held her.

Ellen was disgusted but glad that he seemed so satisfied. She prayed it was enough to get what she'd come for.

"So when can I expect Saul home?" she asked hopefully.

John smirked down at her but didn't answer.

With a glint in his eye he abruptly and violently jerked her at her shoulders causing her head to whip backward and slam against the wooden paneling of his office wall with a bang.

It happened so quickly it took Ellen a moment to even realize what he had done. All she'd heard was a dull thump before everything went momentarily silent and her vision went white.

She blinked away the blinding brightness until the One's face came back into view.

She was so terribly confused.

"Oh dear," he said in a fake saccharine tone.

Ellen winced as the pain in her head and neck began to register.

"I didn't mean to do that. Excuse my hands," he told her as he finally removed them from her shoulders. "Sometimes they just have a mind of their own. Must be some sort of a…glitch."

Ellen remained silent, wincing with one hand at the back of her head and the other on her neck where the pain was radiating. She was still struggling to make sense out of what had just happened.

He'd intentionally hurt her for a second time. She knew that she'd been foolish to take the chance in coming but now more than ever she understood that she was in grave danger. It occurred to her that he might have meant to render her unconscious and failed. What would he have done with her had she blacked out? Would he try again?

She heard him clear his throat.

She glanced upward as he turned away from her and zipped his fly up leaving her there on her knees.

The sound of the zipper sent a shiver down Ellen's spine and caused her stomach to churn and roll.

She was beyond disgusted with herself. She knew Saul would be too and so would Sam if they ever knew. Beyond that they'd be furious.

"Your husband should be released in time to be home for curfew, Mrs. Tigh," Cavil said as he opened the drawers of an office cabinet on the other side of the room.

Ellen looked up, her focus sharpening at the One's encouraging words.

"Really?" she asked, her voice sounding scratchy and hoarse to her own ears.

"Of course," he said without bothering to look at her. "I told you I could help. And you did a hell of a job on your end, I must say. Even better than I ever thought."

Ellen glared at his back.

"I'm glad we could work something out," she mumbled as she braced herself in an attempt to stand.

She wondered if she had whiplash. He'd shaken her almost inhumanly hard. She just prayed her face wouldn't bruise again where he'd gripped it. She couldn't explain more black and blues.

"I'm a machine of my word," he snickered. "You go ahead and run along. I'm sure you'll want to get ready for his arrival. Probably should freshen up."

Ellen struggled to her feet, still disoriented from the impact but desperate to get out of the building as fast as possible.

Cavil kept his back to her, going through some binders on a bookshelf.

Ellen wondered for a moment why a robotic mind would need anything written or printed when they were essentially walking computers. She didn't care to stick around to find out. She just wanted to get home to throw up in peace.

She kept her eyes on him as she walked backwards toward the door.

Without turning around Cavil seemed to sense exactly when she grabbed her coat from the rack and was about to cross the threshold.

Only then did he look over his shoulder.

"Goodbye, Ellen," he called as she took off in a sprint down the hallway. "Come see me again some time!"

BATTLESTAR GALACTICA;

QUARTERS OF ADMIRAL ADAMA

WEEK 31 SINCE FLEEING NEW CAPRICAN ORBIT

"Sir?" the familiar voice called from the entrance of Adama's cabin.

Bill turned to see the Eight escorted by Private Chaffee and several other guards. He'd called for her presence alone and for a moment he'd wondered why so many had come with her. For a split second he'd almost forgotten that though she was no longer shackled or bound in any way they still had extra security with her as she traversed the ship. He'd considered calling it off several times. She was, after all training to become a pilot, a colonial officer. If he could put his faith into her in a viper he damn well should be able to trust her on foot around Galactica, but it wasn't about that. He kept it for her safety, unable to fully trust his own limited crew. He wondered if he'd ever feel comfortable enough to let her move about unescorted as one of their own. He supposed that eventually it would be up to her.

Bill nodded, dismissing Chaffee and her other escorts to wait outside.

"Recruit Valerii," he greeted.

"Sir," she replied. "Sir? Uh-" she continued but then stopped herself.

"Go on," Bill told her, sensing her hesitation.

"It's just that Sharon Valerii was the name given to your former pilot. The sleeper Eight. I've never been Sharon Valerii and given the circumstances of her past I'd rather not go by her last name."

Bill took in the cylon woman's explanation for a moment.

"Understood," he told her. "Wish you'd said something sooner. Do you have one you'd rather go by?"

"No, Sir, but I will soon," she replied.

Bill looked at her for a moment, searching her eyes for emotion as he so often found himself doing with her.

"Agathon," he stated, knowing what she was implying.

"Yes, Sir," she confirmed. "If you haven't changed your mind about allowing the marriage, that is."

Bill had gone over the decision long enough. He'd given the couple his answer and he wasn't going to take it back now. Whether anyone else accepted it remained to be seen.

He shook his head and saw a look of relief wash over her. She could be so stoic but other times her expressions were just far too human to be called synthetic and in that, Bill took solace in his choices regarding the cylon.

"How's training going?" he asked as he gestured for her to follow him into his sitting area.

She went without any of the hesitation she'd had when he first began asking for her company. During the initial visits she'd been cuffed until they sat. Once she was no longer considered a prisoner she was constantly wary of her surroundings. It had taken her a while to get comfortable being free in general, let alone in the Admiral's quarters. Now since they'd left New Caprica's orbit he called on her often enough that their visits had become almost a comfort for both of them.

"Good," Sharon confirmed as she took the Admiral's wordless invitation to sit on his sofa. "I mean, I accessed Sharon Valerii's training so…"

"They told me," Bill said with a nod.

It made sense. Why should she waste time if she could download years of knowledge in moments?

"It just seemed like it would save a lot of time," Sharon explained. "I'm just trying to correct for some of the flaws."

"Flaws," he repeated. "Such as?"

"Her landing for one," Sharon listed. "Helo says she came in hot no matter how many times she was corrected. Said she operated with a lot of impatience. I'm trying to do better. If I've learned anything being locked up its-"

"Patience," Bill finished for her. There was no sense of guilt in him for keeping her prisoner as long as he had but he did feel guilt for all that happened to her during her imprisonment. It weighed heavily on him, even more so since he'd gotten to know her.

Bill made his way to the beverage cart and poured himself some water.

"Thirsty?" he asked.

"No, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Bill nodded.

Taking his glass with him he walked over and joined Sharon on the couch with a tired grunt.

"I'm told you're doing very well," he said before taking a sip from his drink. "I wanted

to commend you."

"Thank you, Sir," Sharon accepted.

"You've earned it. Kat seems to think you'll be combat ready in no time."

Sharon remained quiet giving no indication if she agreed with the CAG or not. Bill often mused that she took orders and accepted the word of authority better than most of his human crew.

"I just want everyone ready," he continued, "for when we finally get back to New Caprica."

"Has the Raptor made contact?" Sharon asked, her brows raising in unexpected anticipation.

She was ready. While she didn't share the Admiral's emotional connection to those left on the planet she was more than ready to prove herself to all of them. Cylons and humans alike.

"Not yet," Bill clarified.

Sharon frowned. He'd spoken as if he had good news.

"Then don't you mean if we get back, Sir?" she posed, causing the Admiral to glare up at her from his drink.

"I mean when," he firmly reiterated.

"And if we don't?" Sharon asked plainly.

Bill let out his breath and set his now empty glass down on the old trunk that served as his coffee table.

"I'm still not ready to consider that," he told her as he removed his glasses and began to rub at his eyes.

Sharon bit at her lip as she watched him. She could see his inner turmoil so clearly. Some humans were impossible to sense, guarding their emotions under well worn masks, but not Adama. She could see how he felt at all times.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" she asked.

"Of course," he muttered as he rubbed at his newly grown mustache.

"Is it because of Roslin?" Sharon boldy questioned causing the Admiral to scowl in her direction.

"Excuse me?" he returned, his tone obviously irritated.

Sharon shrugged, unintimidated. She'd asked permission to speak her mind and he'd granted it. She worried little about overstepping with the Admiral. Adama called on her almost weekly. It was obvious that he wanted someone to talk to and for reasons Sharon still couldn't fully understand, he'd chosen her as a confidant.

"Sorry, Sir. I don't mean to get personal. But your son is here in the fleet aboard Pegasus," Sharon shrugged. "I just presumed that leaving Roslin down on the planet would probably be the hardest part for you and why it's so difficult for you to consider the possibility that we'll have to move on without the people on New Caprica."

Though Bill and Laura had stopped hiding their growing affections from others they'd hardly ever spoken to anyone about it. They were aware of the rumors and the gossip, but beyond a few crass remarks from Ellen and Kara early on most people kept their comments to themselves. Their close companionship had been more or less quietly accepted with Roslin.

"We have the majority of our people down there," Bill sternly justified. "Starbuck is down there. My XO and his wife are down there along with half my men. I want them all back."

"Yes, Sir," Sharon replied.

Bill leaned back into the couch cushions and sunk into the soft leather. His shoulders fell and he let out a groan. Sharon's senses were dead on and they both knew it. He missed Laure, gods did he miss her. He missed her lounging beside him on the couch with her bare feet in his lap as they read reports or discussed old books. He missed flying down to the planet just to see her and spend the night. He missed her laugh, missed the smell of her hair and the way she said his name. He even missed arguing with her for frak sake. He missed her and every day he thought about how he'd abandoned her, leaving her to face things he shuddered to think of.

"To answer your question…" he said with a reluctant sigh, "…it is difficult to imagine having to go on without them…Some more than others."

Sharon nodded at the Admirals admission.

"Understood, Sir. She means a lot to you."

Bill clasped his hands together and then looked Sharon in the eye.

"I know there's no love lost there with you and Roslin," he said, feeling the need to acknowledge the recent past.

Sharon looked down to her lap and the back up at him.

"I've made peace with that," she told him. "I have to or I'd never be able to get up each morning."

Bill leaned forward, pinched at the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"When you lose a child people ask how you have the strength to go on," he said keeping his eyes on where his glass sat. "They don't often truly stop to think about what the alternative would mean if we didn't."

Sharon gave a slight hum in agreement.

"Besides that, I know that Roslin was trying to protect her people from what she saw as an unknown threat," Sharon added. "It doesn't mean I forgive her for giving the order to terminate my pregnancy. It just means that I've come to terms with why she thought she needed to. She was willing to do anything to protect the fleet just like I was willing to do anything to protect Hera."

"I guess that's one way to look at it," Bill replied, unwilling to tell a grieving mother how to feel.

"And for what it's worth," Sharon went on. "I hope she's okay. I pray for her often."

"You do?"

As much as Bill adored Laura he wouldn't blame Karl or Sharon for resenting the hell out of her. To hear that Sharon prayed for her was downright bizarre.

"I know it seems strange," She acknowledged. "After I heard she was saved and cured using Hera's blood I was so angry. No one asked, no one warned us of the risks. They just took it."

"For the record, that was me," Bill interjected. "Roslin was in a coma at that point. She had no idea of what we were doing and if she did I'm sure she would have refused it. I gave Cottle and Baltar the order to take the baby's blood."

"I know all that, Sir. And I was angry at first. But ever since Hera died I've had this strange feeling about Roslin, like…like there's a connection there. She's got part of Hera inside of her. My baby's blood is running through her veins. Hera is the reason she lived and I don't want her to die, ya know? Saving that woman was something my baby did during her brief little lifetime and to find out that Laura Roslin's dead or lost to the fleet forever, well it would be like losing the one part of Hera that's still alive. I know that probably doesn't make any sense to you."

Bill hung his head as he took in Sharon's explanation.

"It does in a way," he answered after a bit. "I'd like to let you know that she is a good woman. And that I know how much she hated to give that order" he recounted. "But she felt like she had to make the choice as if it were another enemy aboard the ship. She loves children. She was a teacher before she ever went into politics just like she is now and I know first hand how hard it was for her to find herself fighting off an enemy threat that had come in the form of an innocent baby. Ultimately she was relieved, not because Hera had saved her, but because the decision was taken out of her hands and the child was allowed to live."

Sharon looked down at her lap.

"For a little while anyway."

Bill wasn't sure how the cylon woman would take his defense of Roslin or why he really felt the need to make his case to her when she was still grieving her baby.

"She lived long enough for you to love her forever," he said, placing his hand on hers.

Sharon swallowed hard and did her best to move on.

"I believe Roslin is a decent woman, but not because of anything she's done or hasn't done. I believe it because I see how much you care for her and that tells me all that I need to know," she flatly explained. "I know you don't believe, Admiral, but just so you know, I'll keep praying for Roslin and that part of Hera she carries with her."

Bill nodded in thanks and gently squeezed at her hand.

"I hope she's okay," he said as he exhaled.

"I think she is," Sharon told him. "It's just a feeling I have."

"Think so?" Bill tested.

Sharon nodded.

"But I also have a feeling that we need to get back there very soon."

"Why's that?" Bill examined. It wasn't as if he

didn't agree but Sharon's words seemed more acute, more pointed.

"I can't explain it," Sharon said, shaking her head.

"You don't know anything, do you?" he probed, causing Sharon's brow to furrow. "Or sense something you haven't shared?"

She was insulted, even hurt at the implication, but she knew her place. She understood that she'd never be able to erase who or what she truly was no matter how much she dedicated her life to a human cause or how long she lived amongst them.

"It's a feeling. Just my gut, ya know? I just feel like…if we don't get there soon there won't be anyone left for us to save."

Adama bowed his head and let out his breath.

"I feel the same way."

NEW CAPRICAN COLONIAL TENT CITY;

DWELLING OF LAURA ROSLIN

WEEK 31 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

Ellen had fled the cylon building as quickly as she could. She'd stopped only once under some scaffolding to wipe her face with her scarf and put on her coat. She buttoned it up to her neck, wrapped her scarf around her nose and mouth and donned her hood. She hardly remembered the mad dash she made back to her tent.

When she'd arrived it was only to grab her bag of meager toiletries, a toothbrush, towel and a change of clothes. She'd paused just once to fight off the rising nausea she felt. Within minutes she'd left and made her way to the communal showers.

Ellen had taken as long of a shower as she could manage with her head and ears throbbing. She wanted to cry when the water just wasn't running hot enough, but there were too many others around and the showers tended to echo. At the sinks she'd brushed her teeth until her gums bled and her tongue felt raw.

No longer in a frenzy and feeling rather pained and sluggish Ellen clumsily stumbled through drying herself and getting dressed. As she bent to lace up her boots her skin began to flush hot and cold causing her to perspire. She swore in frustration, angry that she'd just showered only to start sweating through her clothes. She'd first assumed it was an inopportune hot flash, something she dealt with now and then, but when it didn't stop as quickly as she was used to she gave up waiting it out and began the walk home with her coat folded in her arms.

It was then that Laura had spotted her along one of the unfinished wooden walkways.

"Ellen, Ellen," she'd called a few times before she was able to get her attention. "Ellen!"

Ellen had looked up and given Laura a silent greeting, hoping to just say hello and be on her way, but she supposed she looked a little worse than she'd thought. Enough so that Laura was visibly concerned.

"Ellen, are you okay?" Laura asked. "You look pale."

Ellen struggled to answer at first, realizing she hadn't spoken aloud since leaving Cavil's office. She knew she probably seemed a mess and even if she'd had the energy to talk her way out of it Laura Roslin was too sharp to fool.

"My stomach," she started and stopped. "My head. I have a headache," was what she'd managed to get out.

She knew it didn't sound great but the growing alarm on Laura's face told her how bad off she actually was. Judging by the symptoms she was experiencing she was almost sure she had a concussion and maybe mild whiplash.

"Ellen, what's wrong?" Laura asked more firmly, concerned with her lack of focus. "Did something happen to you?"

"Nothing. I'm just not feeling well," she told her, painfully squinting against the light as the sun momentarily peeked through the cloud cover. "I thought a shower would help but it just exhausted me."

"Are you hungover?" Laura tested.

"No, but frak you for asking," Ellen returned.

Laura rolled her eyes ignoring the indignant defence.

"Aren't you freezing?" she asked, gesturing to the coat Ellen held in her arms.

It was far too cold to be out without one, especially coming out of the showers and it was getting colder by the moment.

"Hot flash," Ellen claimed, followed by blink that lasted too long for Laura's liking.

"Let's get you to Cottle," she said decidedly.

She reached out for her arm, but Ellen pulled away from her nearly stumbling backwards as she did so.

"No!" she shouted loud enough to draw attention from some people passing by. She waited for them to move on and then did her best to look Laura in the eye. "I'm sorry," she said in a much lower tone, "I just don't want to go there. I want to go home and wait for Saul."

Laura grimaced as she looked the distraught woman over for any other signs of what could be wrong with her. She appeared shaken or sleep deprived, or maybe even drugged.

"Fine, then come with me," Laura insisted, reaching out again to take Ellen by the arm. This time she didn't pull away. "Hold onto me if you need to."

Ellen accepted her arm but even in her unsteady and woozy mstate she knew she wouldn't dare use Laura to brace herself. If she fainted she had no intention of dragging a pregnant woman down to the ground with her.

The two walked to Laura's at a slow but steady pace. Neither spoke again until they entered the tent.

"Sit down," Laura had instructed, pulling out her desk chair.

Ellen sat, looking despondent and unfocused while Laura went to the kitchen to get her some water.

"Here. Drink this slowly," Laura told her once she returned.

Ellen finally focused only to roll her eyes at the cup being offered.

"Laura, I don't need anything. I'm fine."

"Then just take it. It's water. You can be fine and drink water for frak sake."

Ellen sighed and took the cup. She'd meant to only sip it but as soon as the liquid hit her lips she gulped it down.

Laura watched her with growing concern. Without asking she reached for the cup and took it to be refilled.

When she returned she handed it back to Ellen and watched as she gulped it down again.

"Ellen, did you hear about something that's happened to Saul? Is he okay?"

"No," she snapped. "I mean, I don't know. He's not out yet," she said as her eyes immediately watered and spilled over her lashes to stream down her cheeks.

"Gods, Ellen. I'm so sorry," Laura said shaking her head. "You must be sick with worry."

"I don't want to be without him, Laura," Ellen cried, unable to stop the flood of emotion she'd been holding back since Cavil's office. "We've been together so long that I hardly remember what it was like to be alone."

Laura couldn't really relate to the couple's bond. The longest relationship she'd ever been in had remained so secret that her own family hadn't really known about it beyond rumors for years. She'd lived a mostly solitary life and it was hard for her to imagine being so bound to another person for so long.

"Even at times when things got bad, I always knew I'd rather be miserable with him than apart. He's all I have left and with Bill gone, I'm all he has now too."

"It's obvious how much you both love one another," Laura told her, unable to offer much consolation.

"Things could have been so different," Ellen rambled, her eyes bleary and rimmed red. "If life had gone how we'd planned it. If I hadn't given up on our dreams…I'm not giving up on him this time. This time I'll do anything."

"Ellen, do you want to see Cottle now?" Laura asked again.

Something wasn't right. Even if it was stress induced, she was obviously suffering from something.

Ellen shook her head in protest and immediately regretted it. The back of her skull throbbed and the pain shot down to her neck. She cringed, unable to help it and the pained expression only made Laura more worried.

"You're obviously not well. I can go get him, or see if he can send a nurse."

"No. No, Laura," Ellen refused. "Stop. I haven't slept, I can't remember the last time I ate. My head is killing me. I'm just stressed. That's all. I'm not drunk and I didn't take anything. I don't need Cottle or some frakkin medic to feel me up in a paper gown and then tell me to get some rest. I already know," she said as staunchly and confidently as she could manage in her state.

"You're sure that's all it is?" Laura asked once more.

For a moment Ellen imagined the utter look of shock and horror that would come upon the school teacher's face if she were to come right out and tell her that she'd let a toaster frak her mouth before he slammed her head against a wall.

"Yeah. That's all," she said, looking down toward her lap.

"Then I really think you should at least get some sleep. I know it's probably difficult, but you can't make yourself this sick. Saul doesn't need to be worried about taking care of you once he gets out. Sleep, Ellen," Laura insisted. "You know one of us will wake you as soon as we hear anything."

Ellen let out her breath and dropped her shoulders. They were becoming stiffer and stiffer by the minute.

"You're right," she said just to appease her. "You're absolutely right."

She was admittedly a bit out of it but she was together enough to know that if she did have a concussion she shouldn't sleep for a few hours, especially not alone. Somehow she had to keep herself awake until she felt better. Besides that, Cavil had said Saul would be home before curfew. She had no way of knowing if it was the truth but even so she wanted to wait for him.

"Been doing some reading?" she said, changing the subject as she glanced down at the book on Laura's desk.

"I'm trying," Laura shrugged. "Cottle had me meet with a midwife. She gave me some books."

Ellen ran her still unsteady fingers over the cover that looked like it had been taped back on more than a few times. It was familiar; green with pink lettering over the silhouette of an expectant mother.

"I remember this one," she said with the hint of a sad smile.

Laura didn't know what to say when Ellen spoke of her past. She didn't want to pity her and she doubted Ellen wanted her pity. She just couldn't help thinking of her back then, collecting books and videos for years in eager preparation for something that never happened.

"I guess I didn't realize how little I knew about childbirth," she admitted.

"Your body will do what it's supposed to," Ellen yawned.

"I hope so," Laura sighed. "I guess after cancer I sort of lost faith in my body doing what it's supposed to."

Ellen looked at her, finally a bit more alert than she had seemed before.

"I'd think your faith in your body would be renewed. After all, look what it's done since then. It's done something mine couldn't do even in the prime of my life. It's amazing."

Laura bit her lip and looked down at her rounded tummy. Most of the time she still felt like her body had made some kind of colossal mistake. Ellen saw it as a miraculous occurrence.

"I suppose it is. You're right. Sorry, I didn't intend to minimize it."

"S'okay," Ellen shrugged as she mindlessly fanned the pages of the worn and tattered book.

"I just feel like the odds are stacked against me with this," Laura admitted.

"You'll both be okay. You're a strong woman, Laura," Ellen spoke, her voice still raspy and strained. "Have some frakkin' faith. You have all these people looking out for you to make sure things go well. It'll be okay. And I'll be there," she reasoned as she closed her eyes and rubbed little circles at her temples with the pads of her index fingers.

Laura opened her mouth to respond but then caught herself. Her initial thought was one of surprise. Ellen would be there? At her son's birth? What? Why and who asked her? But they were essentially using her home and the cellar bunker under it for a makeshift delivery room. Why wouldn't she be there? Of course she would. Where was she supposed to go? As Laura thought about it she found herself even more surprised that it actually was in fact bringing her the sense of comfort that Ellen seemed to presume it would.

She hardly knew the woman. They'd had an awful start to their relationship and for the most part Laura assumed the kindness Ellen had expressed over the past months was purely out of the loyalty that she and Saul felt to Bill. And yet she had been so compassionate and thoughtful in ways that no one else had been. They were very different women but Laura supposed they'd begun to share a certain kinship while on the planet.

At one point during their meeting Meri the midwife had asked Laura who would be attending for support. She hadn't had an answer for her. In fact she'd misunderstood the question, listing Cottle and his medic alongside Meri herself. She'd never really considered having anyone else with her. With the danger of the situation and all that Sam had planned for diversions Laura wanted Maya with Isis in a secure location when the time came. As loyal as Tory was to her it just wasn't the kind of thing she could ask her, and Sam needed her elsewhere anyway.

As scared as Laura was, she didn't really think that she needed anyone else. She'd done so many things throughout her life alone. She didn't think that this time would be different, but perhaps having Ellen nearby wouldn't be such a strange idea. It wasn't as if it were a poker game or a cocktail party where she'd have trouble behaving herself. She was knowledgeable and strong willed. She had a genuine love for babies and above all she was optimistic. She probably would be very helpful.

Laura watched her slumped on the desk, eyes closed with her head in her hands.

"Ellen, can I walk you home?"

"It'sokay. I can make it."

"Unless you'd like to stay here and rest for a while?" Laura offered.

Ellen let out a low groan.

"I couldn't do that, Laura," she muttered.

"Why not?" Laura challenged. "The bed is six inches from where you're sitting."

"I'm not gunna sleep in your bed, Laura," Ellen huffed.

"Why not?" Laura argued.

Ellen looked up, her annoyance evident on her face.

"Because I can make it back to my own tent. I was on my way before you dragged me here."

"Because you looked like you were about to fall ass up into the mud!" Laura shouted

"I have a headache," Ellen winced against the volume of her voice.

"What about your stomach?" Laura needled.

"That too," Ellen complained, hunching over and putting her forehead directly on the desk.

Laura grimaced at the other woman's obstinance.

"You know, you've insisted on helping me an awful lot lately. You've gone out of your way to bring me food and herbs, you check on me to see if I'm okay, you've even rearranged your home so I can give birth underneith it for frak sake and you haven't once taken no for an answer!"

"So?" Ellen croaked into the desk's surface.

"So this time, I'm not taking no for an answer either, godsdman it. You're not a machine, Ellen!"

"Gods, stop shouting, it hurts," Ellen whined. "You know, you can be a real nag," she complained, but Laura kept going, unphased by the insult.

"You can't deprive yourself of sleep and food every time Saul's taken. You can't keep going like this! If you won't rest here then I'm making some frakking tea and you're going to drink it. And after you drink it and you're ready to go, I'm walking you the frak home!"

"Geeze," Ellen said looking up from the desk with raised brows, both surprised and amused at Laura's impassioned rant. "Fine," she relented, followed by another yawn she just couldn't hold back. "I give up. Whatever you say, Mom," she chided as rested her heavy head back onto the wooden surface.

Laura opened her mouth to speak, ready with another argument, but she stopped herself as it registered that Ellen had finally given in.

"Good," she said with some finality as she turned to start a kettle for tea.

Ellen thumbed at the corner of Laura's book as her heavy head rested upon the sturdy little desk.

"So…No name yet?" she asked, keen to change the subject.

"No," Laura replied as she filled the teapot.

"You've got some time, I guess. God's, Saul and I had a name picked out for a boy before we even started trying," Ellen drawled on, almost as if she were speaking aloud to herself.

Laura looked up from scooping tea leaves to see Ellen's eyes drifting shut again.

"Can I ask what it was?" she inquired, mostly to make sure that she was still awake and alert.

"Liam," Ellen recalled wistfully, keeping her eyes shut. "Liam, short for William."

Laura's heart immediately sank in her chest. The Tighs had planned to name their child after Bill. He probably never even knew. She felt a sense of guilt come over her. Perhaps Ellen wouldn't have shared it if she were in her right mind. Maybe it had been wrong of her to ask.

Laura wondered for a moment what kind of parents the Tighs would have made. She supposed she couldn't begin to guess. It hadn't happened and as Ellen has said herself, life would have been so different. It wouldn't be right to judge based on what she knew of them now.

"I see," she replied, unsure they should continue on the topic, especially while Ellen wasn't doing well.

"Laura?" Ellen mumbled.

"Hm?"

The kettle suddenly began to whistle loudly with steam cutting the air between them.

"Please…don't let me fall to sleep."

NEW CAPRICAN CYLON ADMINISTRATIVE BUILDING

WEEK 31 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

D'Anna walked down the muddied path passing tent after tent, every one of them empty and abandoned. Dust hung thick in the air, stinging her eyes and throat. It was deathly quiet. Not a single sound from Cylon nor Colonial. Even the constant hum of the generators and rudimentary power system had been stopped. The only sound in the desolate encampment was the wind that twisted its way between the rows and rows of deserted dwellings. The wind seemed to whistle through the tent city blowing through holes in the canvas and discarded pipes and piles of scrap. It carried the lingering smell of burning fuel along with it as it blew through D'Anna's hair and whispered into her ears.

As she walked the whistling wind began to change. It blew with more force and the sounds it seemed to carry became louder and more distinct. Soon it was no whistle at all but a cry, a cry of an infant. D'Anna paused in the middle of the dirt road. The sound of the child's cries drifted along the breeze and into her ears yet again. Forward, she decided. It was coming from ahead.

Determined to find the source of the wailing, D'Anna trudged through the mud faster and faster until something caused her to stop in her tracks. The crying suddenly sounded as if it were far behind her. She listened for a moment more until she was sure. Turning on her heels she began to sprint the opposite way. She ran and ran as the bleating cries became louder and more high pitched. She had to be getting close, she thought, but how much further? She stopped to scan a cluster of ramshackled structures, but the cries were not coming from any of them.

The wind picked up again and D'Anna continued. She nearly stumbled over her own boots when she heard the whimpering of the child distinctly coming from behind her, the direction she'd first been headed. The wind was playing tricks on her and her frustrations were rapidly escalating. Her cheeks burned with anger against the dusty gusts. The harrowing crying grew louder and louder all the while taunting D'Anna as its source seemed to change with the wind. Or perhaps not, she paused in thought and listened carefully. The crying from each direction began to mingle around her in a swirling dusty zephyr. It wasn't switching directions at all, she realized. The sounds were coming from both sides.

"There's two!" D'Anna shouted, waking with a start and shooting upright in her office chair to grip the edge of the desk in front of her. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the artificial light. She'd been so exhausted. Sleep eluded her especially after days she spent visiting the detention center. Most nights she found herself going on late walks wandering the colonial side of the city. As a cylon she was built to need less sleep than a human but she had her limits and they'd been reached. She'd gone to the cylon administrative building intending to meet with Caprica, but the Six had not shown up. Attendance was sparse in the premises all together. They'd built more office space than they'd needed, originally intending it as a functional building for the colonials who'd turned out to want nothing to do with it. Without an audience D'Anna had taken a seat just to rest her eyes for a moment.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" a voice came from the doorway.

Startled, D'Anna looked up to see Sharon watching her with what felt like suspicion.

"I had a dream," she told her blankly.

Sharon eyed her for another long pause, but D'Anna's mind was still too focused on her strange dream to pay the Eight much attention.

"What the frak did you do to the Colonel?" Sharon spat.

D'Anna looked back up at her with a raised brow.

"Pardon?"

Sharon moved further into the room and put her hands on her hips.

"I saw him leaving the detention center with a frakking limp! Visitation logs show you were the one in and out of his cell while he was held this time."

"You mean our enemy, Eight?" D'Anna returned with narrowed eyes, "The man who keeps sending people to blow us up? What did I do to him?"

"He's limping. There's no point. He won't tell you anything!" Sharon shouted.

"We won't need for him to tell us a damned thing if he'd just stop his people from acting like savage animals," D'Anna contested, leaning forward in her chair.

"And hurting him isnt savage?" the Eight countered.

D'Anna smirked and let out a short chuckle under her breath. She almost had a sense of pity for the Eight. She was still so confused, still so torn. Being a sleeper agent had affected her consciousness longterm and it was doubtful that she'd ever truly assimilate. D'Anna would have had some sense of compassion for the copy had she not found her so supremely annoying. Especially now that despite her massive shortcomings and lack of loyalty she was rapidly becoming John's new pet.

"One man's foot is not comparable to a building full of your sisters and brothers, now is it?" D'Anna posed as if she were speaking to a child.

Sharon glared at her for a few moments but she had no argument left to make and she wasn't even sure if she thought D'Anna was right or not. She'd seen Tigh limping away through the detention center gates and her anger had surged. She'd tried to approach him, asking what happened but the XO snarled at her, telling her to go away and leave him alone. She'd made her way into the building to look up the activity logs from his cell and found only D'Anna's ID entered. She'd come to speak to Cavil about it and instead she'd found D'Anna herself before she could get to his office.

"Whatever," she muttered as she turned to leave, giving up on arguing with her. "Get a grip on those dreams, Three," she spitefully goaded over her shoulder as she left. "Wouldn't want the others to start thinking you're unstable."

NEW CAPRICAN COLONIAL TENT CITY;

DWELLING OF GALEN & CALLY TYROL

WEEK 31 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

"Where's the baby gunna go?" Cally asked as she put her infant son down in his cot.

The temperature was dropping and the cold was beginning to seep through the canvas of their tent in spite of the fire Galen had made in their little stove. Cally covered Nicky with a blanket and then added another on top, but she knew she'd probably have to hold him through the night if it got any colder. "Galen?" she prompted, when he left her question unanswered.

"Hm?" he said, hardly glancing up from the stapled papers he held in his hand.

"I said, where's Roslin's baby gunna go after it's born?"

"I dunno, Cal," he mumbled.

He'd been the one to bring up Roslin in the first place. Now he was regretting it. As he'd watched the mother of his child lovingling getting their little one ready for bed he'd been moved to tell her the truth. When the time came he didn't want Cally believing that the Old Man's baby was stillborn. He'd kept it brief and only told her that they intended to hide the child and claim that he'd died, but now he wished he'd just kept quiet.

"You don't know or you wont tell me?" Cally pressed as she left the side of Nicky's cot and moved closer to where her husband sat pretending to read.

"I don't know and I wouldn't tell you if I did," he told her as she stopped to stand near his chair.

"Why not?" she complained. "I'm your wife."

Tyrol sighed and put the documents to his lap as he looked up at her.

"As far as you're concerned he'll be dead, understand?" he reaffirmed, hating that the harshness of his statement caused her to flinch.

"Cally, I don't know for a reason. Okay? It's dangerous to know. Information is dangerous. You don't want to know. You don't want any reason why a skinjob would want to take you into detention and

torture you for info. Got it?" he explained, trying not to get overly frustrated with her.

Cally did what she could to help the resistance and the market merchants who had once been part of the worker's union. She fixed generators and repaired small machinery when she could. She'd even helped Sam and Galen build an explosive or two, but what she could do was limited. Nicky was her priority and though she loved him and wanted to be close to protect him there were times she was frustrated that she wasn't a bigger part of the resistance movement. Her military training was hard to kick and she wanted to take action when she could, wanted to fight back, but with Galen already on the front lines of the battle against their enemies Nicky needed her.

"Is that what they're doing to the Colonel?" she winced before he even answered.

There had been rumors of torture and starvation in the denention center for weeks but they'd all felt reassured that so far most of their members who'd been imprisoned and returned had come out relatively unharmed. Even Tigh and Roslin had never reported any abuse beyond being held against their will, but Cally could tell things had probably changed. Every aspect of their lives seemed to be getting worse.

"We think so," Galen admitted. "Least the last couple times."

"Frakkin' toaster scum bags," Cally swore.

Aboard Galactica the XO had been a curmudgeonly drunk most of the time but on New Caprica he and his wife had been so good to them. Ellen never hesitated to babysit Nicky and although he tried to hide it Cally knew the Colonel liked it when the baby was there. More than a few times he'd shown his affections for the child, breaking his hardened exterior to drop off a teddy bear or a rattle that he'd traded for just because he thought Nicky would like it. Cally hated to think of him being hurt by the cylons.

"What have they done to him?" she asked, unsure she really wanted to know the answer.

"I don't really know. He didn't really say. It was just obvious he'd been through something. It's all the more reason why you need to keep your ears shut and just worry about Nick. You can't give them any information you don't have. Understand?"

Cally bit her lip and then turned to take a seat on their bed. Galen returned to reading his papers and for a while they sat quietly waiting for the stove to warm their little tent.

"If she's not having the baby at the medical tent then where?" she eventually asked, breaking the silence.

"Frak, Cally," Galen groaned, rolling his eyes.

She couldn't help her curiosity. She understood what he was saying, but being kept in the dark while everyone around her seemed to know what was going on just made her anxieties surge.

"Is she gunna do it at the Tighs?" she tested.

"What?" Galen scowled.

"Is she?" Cally pushed back.

He sighed and shook his head, knowing full well that she wouldn't stop until he answered. She had a talent for pestering him until she got what she wanted.

"Sort of," he relented. She'd already guessed anyway more or less. "Below ground. The bunkers underneath. Damn it, Cally. How'd you know?"

"I can see, for one thing," she wryly replied. " The last few times I dropped Nicky off with Ellen I noticed weird stuff in their tent. Stacks of old towels and rags, extra pots and buckets. For a while there was a whole extra mattress there propped up on its side. Looked like they were getting ready for something."

Galen let out a breath and folded his papers.

"Cottle's been sending things over there. Ellen's been setting it up with Sam and Tory's help."

"Gods, that's so scary," Cally grimaced, thinking of the conditions they'd be in for delivery. "Should she really be doing it outside of the clinic?"

Galen shrugged.

"You did," he reminded her. "You had Nick right over there," he said, gesturing to the very bed she was sitting upon.

She'd had a very standard and healthy pregnancy and so Cottle had put her in the care of a midwife to take the load off of the med tent and free them of non-emergency cases as supplies and beds dwindled.

"I know and it was so hard. Frak, I still don't know how I did it," Cally recalled. "She's a bit older to be going through all this. Comes with some more risks I think."

Galen looked down at his papers and began fiddling with the edges.

"My mom had my youngest brother around her age," he recounted.

"And she was fine?"

"I mean, I guess," he said with a shrug. " I was already out of the house. Already enlisted. And to tell you the truth when I found out I was frakking pissed. Ya know, she was a Temple Oracle. Took an oath to leave it to the Goddesses and allow only the frakking phases of the moons of Gemenon to control her cycle and conception," he said, shaking his head in disapproval. "My parents wound up with six frakking kids that way. Like they needed six mouths to feed." Galen looked toward his son's cot, fixing his gaze where the little one slumbered through their chattering. "I didn't check in much while she was expecting him. I know that sounds bad. I was just so glad to be out of that house. I was a jerk I guess, I don't know. I remember hearing from my dad. He'd call the barracks every few weeks. I think he was worried about her. Was hard to tell with him. As a priest he always put everything in the hands of the Gods, but I think maybe he felt guilty he hadn't convinced her that they should stop sooner," he continued as he rubbed at his beard. "But the Gods came before all in the Tyrol household. Anyways, I don't know exactly what happened, but it turned out fine. Baby was fine. I remember going to see him for the first time. He was cute. Big like Nick so Mom named him Eryx after the boxing fighting son of Poseidon and Aphrodite. Gods, he'd be like ten years old at this point."

Cally watched him as he seemed to become lost in thought. They rarely spoke of their families that had been lost in the attacks of the colonies. Neither of them had been left with any relatives to speak of until they'd started their own little family with Nicky.

"Sorry," she told him, feeling as though she'd lead him into unexpected grief.

He shook his head in dismissal and regained his focus, pushing away the memories of his past.

"Anyways, Roslin is a strong lady," he contended. "She'll be okay. Doc is gunna be there. He didn't even come when Nicky was born."

"He said I didn't need him," she said, recalling the night in question; their little tent feeling so crowded with just the midwife and her assistant there to help them. It was unbearably hot as she labored and she could remember how slick with sweat her skin had been. Now as she sat there with layers and layers on and her fingers tingling from the cold she could hardly believe it was even the same place.

"Well, it's all set up," Galen went on. "There's not much more Doc could do for her inside the clinic anyway. If she needs to be transferred there, we take her, fast as we can. We pray like hell it goes unnoticed and try to hide the baby after. Sam's got diversions planned."

Cally chewed on her lip in thought. How could anyone threaten an innocent baby? It was all so sickening.

"I've been thinking, Galen," she began again. "What if they want Nick?"

Tyrol got up from his seat and shoved his papers in his coat pocket.

"They don't," he told her as he made his way over toward his side of the bed.

Cally followed him with her eyes as he sat on their mattress and began to remove his boots. She couldn't understand his lack of concern.

"They threatened Roslin because she's a resistance leader," she said to his back as he undid his laces. "You're resistance too. They could take Nicky for information just like they want to take Roslin's baby."

"Colonel says don't worry," he told her, as if he were reading it from a script.

He'd been prepared for this conversation. He'd known it was coming and though he didn't blame her for being worried he didn't want to give her any more reason to be.

"Frak that, I can't help it," she said, raising her voice a bit, causing the baby to stir in his cot.

Galen kicked off his boots and began to dig through the basket of clothes he kept by his bedside looking for a second pair of socks to add to his feet.

"He and Ellen love Nicky. If he was worried for him he'd tell me," he assured her but Cally was unconvinced.

"What if they take him to punish you?"

Galen turned to put his feet up on the mattress. He reached out for her, tugging at shoulder so she'd face him. When she did he took her hand in his.

"Cally, listen to me," he instructed, looking her right in the eyes, "they want the president's baby because she's high profile. As recognizable as it gets. On top of that it's Adama's son. It's leverage. They don't want Nick. We're not important enough. He'll be okay."

Cally looked back at him for a few moments before dropping her shoulders and letting out a long breath. At least for the time being it seemed as though she'd accepted his reassurances.

"I still can't believe the Old Man knocked up the president," she remarked as she rested back on the lumpy old mattress.

Galen followed her down and scooped her to his chest, hugging her close.

"Yeah, well he did. Old Man's still shooting live rounds."

"Wonder what he'll think," Cally posed.

"I don't know, but Colonel says he's gunna shit a brick when he comes back and finds out."

Cally let out a quiet chuckle over the XO's choice of words.

"I hope he's out of detention soon. Ya know, I went to ask Ellen to take Nicky earlier and she wasn't there," she said with a yawn.

Tyrol frowned. The last time the Colonel was gone Ellen had run off, but Sam had spoken to her since then and she'd given her word that she'd stay put if and when it happened again.

"Did you check a few tents down? The family that makes that bitter Aeralon ale. She hangs out there a lot," he suggested.

"I checked everywhere," Cally shrugged. "I really needed her to take him. The machine the butcher uses to sharpen his knives wont start. He wanted me to take a look at it. I couldn't go without someone to watch Nicky. I couldn't find her. I asked around but no one had seen her. I even checked back a couple of hours later."

As his wife spoke Galen's concern grew.

"What time was all this, Cally?"

"Umm, I'm not sure, why?" she asked, nuzzling her face into the fabric of his coat.

"Chief? Chief!" a muffled voice called from outside the opening of their tent. "Chief?!"

"Yeah, hold on!" he shouted loud enough so they could hear and unfortunately loud enough that it woke the baby.

"Damn it!" Cally grouced as he began to cry.

They each left the bed in a huff; Cally heading to pick up the startled infant and Galen heading to unfasten their tent flap.

Tyrol opened the tent opening to find an out of breath Charlie Connor waiting outside.

"It's after curfew, Connor. What's with the shouting?" the Chief warned, in place of a greeting.

"Colonel's been released," Connor answered.

The Chief's brow rose at the news.

"He's out!?" Cally asked from behind, over Nicky's wailing.

"Hold on, Cal," he told her over his shoulder.

"Sorry, baby's fussy," he said, returning his focus to the man at his door.

Connor frowned as the baby's cries continued inside the tent and the Chief could tell the poor man was thinking of his dead son. "So is the Colonel at home?"

"No," Connor shook his head. "Cottle."