This will be a series of stand-alone stories which deal with the choices that the characters on Battlestar Galactica have made throughout the first half of the second season (I'll be posting in as much of the order of the season as I can). I want to explore what would have happened/changed if things had gone differently. Some of the stories will be angst, some will be shippy, some will be funny. There will be different pairings throughout. Don't feel like you have to check out each one to understand the others. All I ask is that if it intrigues you, then give it a try. Hope you enjoy reading the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them!

There are pivotal moments in one's life where if you take the wrong path everything may change. Those changes may be for the good or for the bad. The possibilities are endless.

Sam Anders sat at the mess tables in the heart of Galactica, looking around at all the pilots and crew. This place was nothing like Kara described to him back on Caprica. Things had sounded so dire out here in the middle of space, and yet the mess hall was filled with laughter. People seemed happy to be alive, and the concern that the Cylons might suddenly show up barely even registered.

When that Cylon Kara and Helo called Sharon insisted that they fit the whole resistance movement onto the Heavy Raider she had procured and another one she promised she could get, Anders did not want to go. He figured that the life his men were living on Caprica was probably a lot better than aimlessly wandering the skies in search for some distant planet that probably didn't even exist. At least on Caprica, there were goals to set and work towards.

Looking up from the plate of mush in front of him, he realized Kara had been right to insist he listen to Sharon, even if the Cylon never explained her reasoning to want them to leave. This place was the only safe haven left in the world.

Anders checked his watch quickly. He had a few appointments to keep with the doctor down in sickbay, the one that insisted upon smoking all the time. Even with all the annoying appointments and the general feeling of not belonging, this ailing ship was starting to feel more like home than anything he had ever had.

President Roslin had given him and his men access to one of Galactica's empty bunkrooms until they could find their place in the Fleet. She wanted them to get a feel for what the remnants of humanity did and told them they were free to stay on Galactica permanently if they saw fit. Gods know there's enough room. It appeared the Battlestar had been running on a skeleton crew when the Cylons attacked. It had neither the equipments nor the personnel to run at full steam. Anders figured that was why a few of his old teammates had begun talking about training to be pilots. It was the most exciting job left in the world after all.

A loud crash echoed through the bunkroom. Anders looked up to see his girlfriend and Galactica's CAG in the middle of a water fight. He watched in awe as Kara splashed a glass of water into Lee Adama's face, earning herself some choice words. She squealed and started running around the tables as Lee pursued her.

Anders glared. It was hard getting used to how Kara acted when she was on home turf. She wasn't the same broken woman he had fallen in love with on Caprica. Not to say he still didn't love her. Gods, if anything, he loved her more now that he's seen her truly happy. It was just there are aspects of her life he didn't expect to find.

Specifically Lee Adama.

"They have a history."

The quiet voice that came from down the table startled Anders. He looked up to see one of the CIC crew smiling at him. "So everyone keeps telling me," Anders muttered, pushing the food around on his plate.

After a moment, the petite woman picked up her tray and slid down into the seat next to him. "Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla, but you can call me Dee."

"Samuel Anders."

"I know," she said with a laugh. "You and your crew are the talk of the ship."

"Nice to know," Anders said shortly, returning to the task of forcing this inedible mush into his body.

"Mostly it's just you, though," Dee continued. "Everyone finds it so interesting that Starbuck managed to pick up a boyfriend on a war-torn planet, especially since everyone was so fraking sure she was already taken."

Anders' eyes darted up to look at Dee before shifting to watch his girlfriend pounding hard on the arms of Apollo as he dragged her towards the chow line. "What's the supposed to mean, Dee?" he asked, challenging Dee to say the words they both already knew.

"Nothing. There are just a lot of things about Starbuck that no one knows. She's not very free with information, you know?"

Anders nodded. He knew exactly what Dee was talking about. Being on Galactica had proved to him just how much he still didn't know about Kara. She had never mentioned the fact that the Commander of the Colonial Fleet was practically her father and that most of the pilots considered her some kind of goddess of the sky.

"I think you should do it."

Anders snapped back to attention. Dee was still talking to him. "I'm sorry. What should I do?"

"There's an empty gym on Deck 7. I thought maybe you and your men could fix up some sort of pyramid court for us. Everyone on Galactica has been dying to play ball, but it seems like no one has the time to remember the regulation measurements."

"And you think my crew has the time to do it?"

"I just figured it might be something to do while you figure out your place here," Dee said, shrugging her shoulders. Anders immediately felt bad. The Petty Officer had just been trying to make him feel comfortable, and he had snapped at her.

"I think it's a fraking great idea," Kara whispered as she came up behind Anders and sat down in his lap.

"Gods, Kara. You're fraking soaked!" Anders yelled.

"Sorry. Lee and I got into an argument about the CAP rotations."

"Do your disagreements usually end in water fights?"

"No, they usually end with one of them in sickbay," Dee snorted. She sobered up when Kara sent her a sharp look.

"So, I was thinking," Kara started, "my maintenance shift ends at 1500, and I have some free time after that…"

"I'll be around," Anders said with a smile.

Kara jumped to her feet. "Good." She turned to Dee. "Thanks for keeping him company, Dee. Sometimes I worry that if I leave him alone too long, the women of Galactica might start devouring the new meat."

Dee shook her head and laughed as Kara gave a final wave and walked away from the mess table. "She used to say the same thing about Apollo when he first got to the ship." Her eyes went wide as she realized what she had said. She turned to see Anders glaring at where the water-soaked CAG sat talking to his pilots. Dee stood up from the table and grabbed her tray. "I need to be getting back to the CIC."

Anders didn't respond. He just kept staring.

It hadn't been like this when they first came back to the Fleet. Apollo had been in jail along with the President, but it seemed everything was forgive and forget now that the prodigal daughter had come back. That return to normalcy for the Fleet killed the last bit of normalcy Anders' had in his own life. He knew it, and the Fleet knew it.

"Frak," Dee muttered under her breath, glancing at Anders one last time as she worked her way through the room. She had meant to make Anders feel a little more comfortable. She hadn't meant to point out how the whole ship thought he was Kara's temporary stand-in for Lee. "Frak."