Bill Adama woke suddenly, unmistakably not aboard the Galactica or in his roughly made home on Earth. Sheets tangled around him, but they were softer than anything he'd felt in years. Sunlight streamed across his face, and fresh air breezed in from an open window.
Where the frak am I—
—Laura!
His heart hammered in his chest as he reached out to find her. Momentarily frantic, he needed to know that he hadn't simply imagined wish-filled dreams of getting her back. What if he was actually on Earth, being blinded by its sun as he slowly fell prey to the delusions of a sad, old man who wanted his love back.
Bill touched her sleeping body, so close to his but easily obfuscated in the tangle of sheets, and she felt real. She burrowed closer, seeking his touch or sensing his flare of panic. Through the sheets, her skin brushed against his, soft and life-warm; he needed more. He pulled her closer, one hand splaying against her back to press her to him, closer and closer until he could bury his face into her hair and so catch his breath again.
"You okay?" Laura asked sleepily, settling her head on his shoulder, unfazed by his tight embrace. She placed her hand over his racing heart.
He let out a ragged breath of relief. "Yeah."
In truth, he hadn't been okay in a long time. Relaxing his hold, Bill's hands roamed Laura's softness—a catharsis against the nightmare of losses he'd endured. Touching her was reassuring; every caress further assurance of this reality.
Not a dream. Not a delusion.
He'd actually awoken beside a healthy Laura and in a real bed no less.
Laura held still, understanding his need to feel her, and she gladly allowed him that. Besides, she'd discovered that her taciturn Admiral was secretly a tactile man; he relished physical connection. It saddened her to think about how long he might have been alone in the other timeline. She focused on how her skin tingled everywhere Bill touched, and she sighed in both comfort and pleasure. What a joy it was to be together again. What a relief.
Slowly, Bill's adrenaline receded. Cracking his eyes open, Bill winced at the bright light. But when he looked down, the most magnificent sight greeted him; light from the rising sun streamed into the hotel room and caught in Laura's hair, igniting hues of fiery color. He saw strands of auburn and some almost chestnut brown along with burnished coppers and golds. Like fire, Laura sparked with vibrancy and life.
"You're really here?" he asked.
"Right here," she said, her voice full of affection and understanding. She raised her head, pushing her tangled hair back to look at him. Tears welled in her eyes. "And so are you."
"It's like a dream."
"But we're awake." The smile she bestowed on him was sweet and warm. "You know, I'm not sure that I ever told you how much I liked waking up with you. After being confined to sickbay, I never thought I'd experience this again. But here we are."
"How?"
"Sensible as ever, Admiral Atheist, even in the face of the unexplainable. All I know is that we're both here." He heard the wonder in Laura's voice while noticing how her fingers clenched onto him, anchoring him there. He moved a hand to cover hers.
"You were pretty pragmatic yourself, Madame President."
"President. Admiral. I guess we aren't those people anymore."
"But still Bill and Laura," Bill said, and he felt her smile against his skin at the truth he spoke; endings, beginnings, they were still themselves, and she was his, and he was hers. He kissed her, a long, sweet kiss that conveyed his love, his hope, and even his lingering fear. Yes, we're here—together . They just needed to figure out what this renewed existence meant for Bill and Laura in the days, months, years ahead. The future stretched before them.
They made love with a great deal of tenderness, savoring the feeling of being with each other. Neither of them were sure how much real sleep they got the night before, but it had been more important to be together. There was a pleasant ache in their muscles, and they lay together feeling peaceful, sated, and content.
He watched her roll over and sit up; the sheets fell to her waist to expose pale skin that was smoother than he remembered. He couldn't resist reaching over to trace up the knobs of her spine—he couldn't keep his hands off her at all. Standing, she donned a nearby robe of fine silk that flowed around her figure and then walked to the window. He felt the change, how the air got heavier around them as she gazed at restored Picon with narrowed eyes; it seemed Laura was having similar thoughts.
Reality weighed on them with their knowledge of what awaited the future of this world and the eleven others like it. How were they supposed to pick up the threads of their old lives with feelings and reactions ambushing them at any moment? At this moment, Bill didn't like the distance between them. It was like she'd taken his equilibrium with her.
He stood and closed the space between them, joining her at the window. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back against his chest and felt the equanimity her touch provided return. How did I survive without her?
"You sure you're okay?" she asked.
"Getting there."
She nodded in understanding because they'd both been through a lot. At least they had time to rest with the attacks many, many years away. They had time to think, plan, and breathe.
"I also wish we knew what was happening to us," Laura said as she looked out over Picon. "I wish we had proof of what we lived through— what we are being asked to live through again."
He scoffed. "Wouldn't that be nice?"
Laura smiled at his gruff reply because he sounded so Bill-like, and she found it wonderful. She leaned back against him, resting her hands over his. "I am so, so glad you remember, even though it seems… selfish. Remembering is such a double-edged sword. Since the moment I found myself back, I have missed you. I feared finding you and discovering that you didn't remember."
"Because we built something special," Bill said, finishing her thought. Laura nodded. Although he'd experienced it himself, he hated the thought of her struggling with waking in this time and feeling confused, angry, and alone. Hadn't they been through enough? "I'm glad we remember, and if it's selfish, then so be it. I won't be sorry that I got you back." Bill took a deep breath, soothed by the gentle scent of the woman in his arm. He smiled. "In fact, I'm rather glad I don't have to figure out how to seduce a smart-ass politician who probably wouldn't look twice at a Viper jock."
Giggles burst from Laura at the unexpected image he painted. Their first meeting had been less than auspicious, but younger versions of themselves meeting, less tempered by age? She didn't imagine most of those interactions going well. Bill grinned, appreciating his ability to inject a bit of levity into the atmosphere.
"I missed hearing you laugh like that," he admitted softly.
"Think you can get used to it again?" Laura teased.
"Yes." After all, they had the time. What do we do with that time? There was an entire apocalypse to try to prevent. He hoped her cancer could be avoided too. He found himself clutching her slight frame in his hands, her softness against him healing his heart in the way only she could.
He reflected on the unspoken agreement that they were in this together and that they were together. But both were starting to anticipate what they might do to affect the future and what the consequences of their reunion were. What are they now? That wasn't a question they'd ever needed to answer. Bill let his finger trace the band he noticed on her finger. He suspected its origin but hadn't the heart to ask about it yet. It was the right shape and size.
"I was wearing it when I woke up," Laura said as if sensing his questions. "It's yours, isn't it?"
His throat choked up at the confirmation that this indeed was his ring, and she had deliberately not taken it off. He felt a shudder go through his body as he remembered taking her limp hand and slipping the ring on her lifeless finger.
"It was."
"Then it's the only thing I've found from the future. Proof that the timeline did happen because you put it on my finger, didn't you? After I died?"
Bill looked down at the ring. He had wanted to give her one last gift, a symbol of his love and devotion. Reliving the memory felt like reopening an old wound, and for a moment, his throat closed up from the pain. He finally spoke in an even more gravel-filled voice than usual, "It seemed right to put it on you. You were my partner in every way that mattered."
She shook her head with a small sigh. "We didn't have much time together, did we?"
"No," he said. But we're both here, we have a moment to breathe, and Laura is my partner. She always will be. "When I put my ring on your finger, I hoped that if there was that Shore of yours where I'd find you, and we'd never be parted again." He knew his words were clumsy, but he wasn't used to expressing what he felt in his heart. He showed people, and Laura had always accepted that about him. He continued, "I wanted to marry you."
"I'd have liked to have been your wife," Laura said wistfully. She turned in his arms to look him in the eye, hands resting on his chest. "Neither of us asked, but there was hardly the time, was there?"
"No," he said before taking a deep breath while trying to find the words he wanted to say.
"Yes," Laura said, and Bill looked confused for a moment. "I'll say yes, Bill," she clarified, laughter in her tone, and he realized that she knew what he was going to ask. She always seemed to know things before he did.
"I want to marry you, Laura Roslin," he said in the present tense. "Will you marry me?"
"You know, there are a lot of challenges we'll face, and we have no idea how it will change us or drive us apart and together."
"I know I want a life with you, whatever happens," Bill said. "Besides, you're already wearing my ring and already said yes."
"Of course, I'll marry you." There was no going back, only forward. Their forward was together, and they both knew it.
"I love you, Laura."
"About time," she teased him. She smiled mischievously until they both burst into laughter, their joy so uncontainable. In a rare display of exuberance, he picked her up and swung her in his arms, kissing her. When he set her down, she looked breathless and happier than he'd ever seen.
"I could have asked yo—" She touched his lips to silence him.
"I don't regret our time together," she said. "It gave us now."
Both of them knew that the friendship between them had been wonderful and precious. With disasters riddling both of their previous relationships, both had been hesitant to risk losing such a vital friendship. They also remembered the enormity of the responsibility they carried and the people to whom they were accountable who wouldn't have hesitated to accuse them of collusion, fraternization, favoritism.
"I do have a request," Laura said.
"Anything."
"We do this today. This can be the first big change we make to the timeline, proof that we can change history," Laura said, looking at Bill so earnestly. "I have a life again, and I want to spend it with you. And I don't want anyone to have the right to suggest that we not be together."
Bill's eyes focused on her, utterly captivated by this strong-willed, feisty, and determined woman with whom he'd fallen in love. Her cancer had tempered some of her fire, but Laura was blazing again, and she wanted him. He'd never felt so completely loved and accepted, and she'd seen him at his lowest, his worst. Now that the idea was voiced, it seemed utterly unacceptable to spend another moment not calling her his wife.
"We'd better get ready then," Bill said. He pulled her toward the shower, and she laughed with delight the whole way.
...
Bill had heard a few stories of impromptu weddings and Colonial Fleeters on Picon from his earlier days in the Fleet, so he knew where to go. Spur-of-the-moment weddings were popular enough during the First Cylon War, and most Battlestars had that one hot-shot jock who'd married their partner on Picon before reporting for duty. It's back to being just "the Cylon War" now, Bill thought as he led Laura by the hand down the streets. She kept her palm clasped tightly against his while taking in their surroundings. Bill hadn't seen her laugh or smile so much since that day on New Caprica, and he knew no one had ever witnessed him grinning like a fool this much.
A wariness lingered; they were two people who'd seen too much and now asked to believe in the impossible, which was strangely mundane with street lights, the smell of car engines, and busy people bumping into them—not many people had collided into the President and Admiral.
Of course, he'd dreamed private and rare thoughts of what life back on the Colonies might have been like with Laura. He'd known them to be impossible fantasies, and maybe that was why everything seemed surreal. Yet every time Bill looked at her out of the corner of his eye, she smiled that radiant smile he hadn't seen since New Caprica, but Laura's face was younger than he'd ever seen. Even his wildest dreams hadn't dared imagine them like this.
People should live the lives they want to live, she'd told him so on New Caprica, so he turned them onto a street, one over from the famous Picon boardwalk, with a temple nestled amid the other buildings. Gray clouds gathered off in the distance, rising above the temple with its facade of carved gods. A breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees lining the sidewalk, a few of them touched with yellow. Summer would soon bleed into fall.
"Winds of change," Laura said approvingly.
"Are you ready?" Bill asked.
She gave his hand an affirming squeeze. "Yes."
The ajar doors of the temple let the passersby step in for a few moments of peace and reflection. Although not many took up the temple's offer, scattered people meditated and prayed in the dodecagon-shaped worship space. At the center rose a shrine to the Lords of Kobol with small statues of each figure interspersed with candles. The entire area glowed with light from either candle or stained glass.
An acolyte kept an eye on the space and greeted new arrivals at the door. He welcomed Bill and Laura into the room but stopped mid-sentence when Bill abruptly told him they'd come to get married. With a raised eyebrow, he took in the two of them, Bill's blue fleet uniform getting special attention, and then motioned for them to follow.
Fresh realization rose like butterflies in Bill's stomach when he glanced to Laura beside him, whose grip on his hand increased: they were doing this. Caught up in their rush of emotions, neither of them had noticed the man who'd tailed them since they left the hotel. They moved to follow the acolyte. Meanwhile, the man behind them slipped into the temple and over to a prayer alcove, where he bent his head in pretend supplication, but kept observing everything.
The acolyte brought them to a priestess who ambled around the temple with a silver basin holding smoking incense. She set the dish down on a windowsill when she noticed them coming, letting the curls of smoke continue to rise and spread a smoky, woody scent.
"Welcome," she said, spreading her arms in greeting.
"They wish to get married today," the acolyte explained to the more senior cleric who looked them over critically.
She warned them, "This bond is not made lightly. It is a sacred promise made in the sight of the Gods; it is meant to be for eternity."
"We know," Bill said, and Laura nodded beside him. Maybe something in their eyes told her that they were as committed as two people could be because she didn't ask more questions. She inclined her head in acknowledgment and sent the acolyte scurrying for what they'd need. She then led through one of the small arches spaced around the room that led to a small chapel.
"I'd be happy to perform the marriage," she said in a smooth tone. The acolyte returned with a clipboard and some papers, which he handed to them. Legal papers, the priestess explained, forms that needed to be filled.
"Do you have rings you wish to use?" she aked.
"No," Laura said even as she ran her thumb across the gold band she'd worn since awaking in this time. Bill noticed her fidgeting with the ring, giving her a look that told her she could use it if she wanted. The priestess watched the unspoken exchange before stepping away to give them privacy to fill out the forms.
"I woke up with it on my right finger and every moment its there, it proves the life we led happened. I'd like it to stay there."
Bill nodded his understanding. He and Laura looked down at what they'd been given. Raising a hand to her mouth, Laura tried to stifle the nervous giggles threatening to overtake her.
"Do you remember when Kara got married at the river?" Laura asked, and Bill smiled at the memory. "No paperwork. She just grabbed a priest who may or may not have even been ordained." Laura might have been trying not to giggle, but Bill knew it was hitting her again like it was him: the mundanity, the ordinariness. She filled out her section before letting Bill take the papers out of her shaking hands.
"Bill?" she asked.
"Yeah?"
She pressed her lips together in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Finally, she asked in a low voice, "You are… divorced by this point, right? It's been a long time and—"
"I am," he said, looking down to fill out the forms. He noted the part that had undoubtedly prompted her question. "Coulda been awkward," he joked, which caused Laura to let out an undignified snort of laughter that had him grinning in turn. The priestess looked less than impressed when he handed the forms back to her, but she promised to return when they were processed.
Bill noticed Laura running a hand over her dress, straightening out the fabric again and again. She looked pretty in a green sundress, a color he'd never seen her in.
"You look lovely, Laura," he said sincerely, taking her hand in his again. "I didn't know your middle name was Judith."
There were no more suppressed giggles as Laura's tone turned sad. "It was my mother's name. You know, she used to talk about seeing me get married one day, especially near the end. I think she wanted to be reassured that I'd be happy."
"You deserve to be happy," Bill said, acutely aware of the fact that he'd not been a good husband during his first marriage. He was a fine officer, but he hadn't made Carolanne happy. Now he stood next to this unbelievable woman, and he worried about history repeating itself.
All this has happened before. All this will happen again.
"So do you," Laura said. She then spoke as if she'd heard his thoughts aloud. "Sometimes we can deliberately choose to break cycles. We'll do our best to stop the attacks, and we'll do our best to be happy together. You're a good man, Bill. I think… I think my family would be rather pleased if they saw us today."
She'd stunned him into silence, and, with a satisfied curve of her lips, she leaned against him to wait for the priestess. Her words were the highest compliment, and how much she loved and trusted him after everything astonished him. He kissed her hair, her temple, and paused, his nose in her hair, just breathing in her scent. Still real.
"We didn't have to do this in a temple," Laura said. "A courthouse would—"
"Yes we do," Bill said. He couldn't quite explain that while he was not religious, he knew the myths. Marriage before the gods was supposed to be unbreakable, and that would suit him just fine.
Before Laura could ask after his abrupt answer, footsteps echoed against the stone, and they turned to see the priestess walking toward them.
"Follow me," she said, ushering them to the front of the chapel. Ahead of them rose a statue of Zeus and Hera, cut from white marble in stunning detail. The supreme couple of the gods looked down on those who came before them, Zeus's one arm around Hera and his other raised in blessing while Hera held a shelf that served as an altar with little candles lit on it.
The priestess stood before the altar and faced them. "The words I'm about to speak are the most powerful in all the universe. They seal a union between this man and this woman, which is not only for now but for all the eternities,"* she said solemnly, pausing to pierce them with her intense gaze. Bill shared a smile with Laura as the priestess's words reflected what he'd said. His thumb caressed the back of her knuckles in a loving and comforting gesture as the two of them remained unshakable in their desire to be married.
When the priestess was sure that the oath's gravitas wasn't lost on the bride or groom, she continued. She turned to face Laura.
"Laura Judith Roslin, will you have this man to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, in good times as well as in bad, and forsake all others, to be faithful to him with every fiber of your being?"
She smiled widely, and Bill lost the ability to breathe, move, and even blink.
"With every fiber of my being," she replied without hesitation.
"William Joseph Adama, will you have this woman to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health in good times as well as in bad and forsake all others, to be faithful to her with every fiber of your being?"
"With every fiber of my being," he said, his heart soaring.
"As of this moment, I declare you husband and wife in the sight of the gods. May Hera bless this union, may Athena grant you wisdom, may Apollo grant you prosperity, may Aphrodite grant you children, and may those united before Zeus never be divided," she paused and took a deep breath. "So say we all."
"So say we all," the couple echoed on autopilot; Bill had only caught bits of what she'd said, too consumed with the thought that he was Laura's. And she was his. He gently pressed his lips to hers to seal their union, with a kiss tender and sweet. For a moment, their universe was each other.
They were married. This was the first significant change to the timeline.
The priestess offered the couple her congratulations, and Bill thanked her while Laura wiped away the tears escaping her eyes. The priestess attempted a few minutes of small talk, but the couple was too enamored with each other and out of practice in chatting. She handed them their marriage certificate and said goodbye. As the priestess walked away, Laura's hands threaded through his hair to pull him down into another kiss. He couldn't help his sigh as he held her tightly to him.
"We should take this back to the hotel," he said in a husky rumble when they finally broke apart. A pretty blush appeared on Laura's face, and she nodded in agreement.
They walked into the main chamber and headed toward the temple entrance. Beside him, Bill felt Laura tense.
"Bill," she hissed, pressing closer to him. "Look to your right. Carefully."
"What—" he said, glancing in the direction that caused Laura alarm. He peered into the shadows where a man in a horribly bright suit prayed.
"Is that him?"
"Doral," he growled, turning toward the entrance. Concern tightened in his chest while the cooling sensation of the human fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. Protect your wife, get to safety, help the Colonies. "I can't be sure, and I don't want to tip our hand. Keep walking. Don't stare. Don't draw attention."
They kept walking, only losing their pace a bit from the shock of seeing a potential Cylon on the Colonies. Having trusted him with military decisions for a long time now, Laura trusted him now.
…
Doral exited the temple turning the opposite direction from where his target had headed. At the side of the building, waited Doral. He'd not entered the temple upon seeing his brother inside already, calculating the attention identical beings brought.
"I did not know more than one Five was assigned to Laura Roslin," he said.
"I am assigned to the human William Adama. I too encountered another Five. He was assigned to one named Saul Tigh."
The Doral cocked his head to the side, but the imitation of curiosity reeked of artificial scripting. They hadn't assimilated enough human mannerisms yet.
"Why does One deem these targets important?"
"Unknown."
The Dorals paused for a moment, processing. He told his brother, "The human noticed me following them."
"Then termination is the next step. Return to One and make your report."
…
After the last few months on Galactica, Bill Adama had grown used to looking over his shoulder. He assumed that he would need to break himself of the habit with them back on the Colonies, but here he was glancing behind them. The military commander in him methodically checked his surroundings until they got to his motel room where he locked the door.
His motel was closer, and he needed to gather his things because they would naturally be spending the rest of their time on Picon together. Laura's hotel was steps above this hole in the wall, and it didn't even need to be voiced that they'd stay in her room, a fact that a corner of his mind dwelled on. Consciously, he was more concerned with Laura stepping over to the window and looking outside.
She held the curtain back just enough to see outside, and the hand holding the fabric shook. He carefully placed his hand against the small of her back while also looking outside. I'm here.
"Nothing," he said, wondering if he expected to see anything. Odd smells from the motel and a nearby cafe mingled, and the regular sounds of traffic surrounded them. Neither saw a single sign of any Cylon.
"Is there a limit?" Laura asked in a small whisper as she stood rooted to where she observed the outside world.
"A limit?" Bill asked.
She let go of the curtain and turned to face him. "To how much two people can take?"
"Probably," he said, having wondered that more than once over the past four years. "But whatever is happening, I got you back, so I'm not there yet."
As long as he had her, he'd never be there.
"Are we sure it was him?" she asked. "Or are we seeing enemies anywhere?"
"There are billions of people on the Colony, and some of them look alike. Hell, even in the fleet, we had people reporting seeing Cylons, but they turned out to be regular humans who happened to be too blonde or—"
"Or be dressed in a suit too gaudy," Laura finished his thought for him. "They aren't even supposed to be on the Colonies this early."
"And, right now, there's no police or military report we can file."
"The only thing we'll do is get ourselves thrown in a psych ward. Gods, I wish I had an airlock," Laura said with a huff. The huff turned into a chuckle that sounded more like an escape of air than anything else. She started laughing at their situation, heaving gulps of air as tears escaped. Without warning, they turned into mournful cries, and she sobbed with tears now streaming down her cheeks, and Bill pulled her into his arms.
"Let it out," he murmured, holding her tight enough that he felt her heart beating against him. He'd known something like this was coming but just hadn't been sure when. "Let it out."
He held her body as sobs wracked through her, guttural sounds of someone who'd endured more than most people could imagine. Her heart-wrenching cries prompted his own tears to escape. They fell into the scars of his face even this younger body carried, but he didn't wipe them away. He kept ahold of Laura, who clung to him as her body trembled with the onslaught of emotions.
Laughter and tears, Bill remembered from his time in the military, were common outlets for trauma. They needed to feel and process the full shock to their systems the past seventy-two hours had been, the whiplash between good and bad. She'd accepted death and found peace, but now she lived and found fear. Both were old and tired, but in bodies that no longer reflected that history. She muttered and railed against this as being a cosmic joke of cruel gods, and he let her vent while soothing as best he could. They stayed wrapped together until so emotionally spent that there were no more tears to cry.
"I've cried all over you."
"What are husbands for?" he asked lightly.
"Oh my gods. We got married!"
"Yes," Bill said. "And then in all likelihood let our paranoia get the better of us."
"Probably because something always happens when we find a bit of happiness," Laura muttered darkly, and although Bill wanted to argue he realized she made a fair observation. He cataloged the situations in his mind; they found Earth, and it turned out to be a wasteland; the day after he surrendered to his feelings, Gaeta and Zarek mutinied; he started to consider settling on New Caprica, and the Cylons came back; they found a new home for their people, but the love of his life died before it could be her home too.
Did they get married only to be immediately confronted with danger?
"We're in this together," he said because it was the most comforting thought he could offer.
Feeling tired, Bill sagged down into the only chair the room contained. He pulled his wife down onto his lap, the physical contact relished and needed by both of them right now. He'd never sat with her like this, and it felt cozily intimate. It comforted him to know they had more moments like this in their future, especially with how easy Laura adjusted to be comfortable together against him. They fit well together.
"What are we supposed to do, Bill?" she asked, her voice hoarse from all the spent emotion. "What are just the two of us supposed to do?"
Bill sighed, frustration burning his insides so hot he might as well have swallowed fire. He could only offer, "We'll make a plan."
"One that does not involve people questioning our sanity, which is already going to happen when we come back from Picon married."
Bill looked around the dingy motel room remembering days that had once been long past. He wasn't proud of these years and looked back on this time with no fondness, just guilt. A sinking feeling pervaded his being as parts of an idea formed in his head when he realized the person he'd have to become again. The absent husband. The vanishing father.
"The Fleet," he said. "I can do some good there, make changes. The right connections and deals could make all the difference. Or I'll just do what I need to do to work my way up the damn ranks and force change. Keep them ready."
Laura nodded. "A politician for a wife might help there. But you're going to hate doing it, playing fleet politics yourself, aren't you?"
"I'll hate being gone more," he said instead of answering her question. "But if this can help keep my family safe—"
She kissed him gently, letting him know he didn't have to explain what her life as a Fleet wife would be like. Lithe, soothing hands ran through his hair not unlike had when the nights they'd laid together in his rack on Galactica. It thrilled him to think he had a lifetime of her touch to look forward to. He hated knowing the nights they'd spend apart. When she pulled back, she looked him straight in the eye as she spoke, "You're a wiser man now, Bill. We'll learn to balance it all. Yes, we have a duty to the future, but we also chose to have responsibilities to each other. Knowing I have this chance with you is one of the only things keeping me sane. I know it won't be a perfect life, Bill."
He turned and looked at a stain on the floor, staring at it as he spoke. "I don't want to disappoint you or—"
"Or your boys."
"I need to protect them this time," he said more darkly than he intended. Laura picked up on it.
"What's going on, Bill?" she asked. Bill closed his eyes and thought back to that horrible day when an adult Lee admitted to him that their mother, the woman he'd trusted to love and raise his sons, had failed. Shame burned his cheeks at the thought of admitting to Laura just how deeply he'd failed in the previous timeline. Refusing to look away from the stain on the rug and denying himself any of the compassion and understanding Laura would have, he told her about Carolanne and how she abused Zak and Lee and how he'd only learned about it when it was too late. The drinking, the screaming, the outbursts; he laid it all out as Lee had described it.
Laura listened until he grew quiet. "I can help with that," she offered finally, almost hesitant to overstep. "I know the systems and what to do. If you remember, children are my specialty, and you aren't the first parent I've known in this boat," she said, and relief coursed through him as a weight lifted that he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying. He'd very little idea about how to help his boys other than trying to be there more. "I will admit, it is strange to realize that I'm Lee's stepmother now. I suppose the first thing to do is meet both him and Zak."