Dreams had never tormented him like they plagued his wife, but he now found himself stuck in one. Bill walked through a field, the long grass grazing the tips of his fingers. The dream reflected how he'd pictured the field Laura described when she'd recounted her vision of their daughter. But here the color had been drained away, like a once vibrant watercolor painting upon which someone had carelessly thrown a glass of water. More sepia toned than colorful. More nightmare than dream. A heavy mist hung around Bill as he walked forward, so thick he could hold his hand in front of himself and see his fingers fading into the cloud. A voice cracked like a whip through the mist.

"You'll frak it up like you always do, and then she'll be gone!" Carolanne's prediction reverberated through the swirling mists of Bill's nightmare. The woman had thrown every bit of her bile and hatred behind those words after he told her he'd remarried. Her old taunts echoed around him in the fog. "Unable to love." "Failure as a husband and father." "Oh Bill, you blew it!" In his dream, the dark cloud consumed him.

In the morning when he woke, the sun had already broken over the horizon. Laura still slept, but in her sleep, she had shifted toward the far side of the bed instead of gravitating to him and nestling in his arms as she always did. He reached out and brushed tangled red curls away from her face - she was so far away he could barely reach her. One of his biggest goals in this timeline was to be a good husband to her, and last night wasn't one of his finer moments. His touch caused her to frown. Slowly, her eyes opened. His stomach clenched when he saw the sadness dulling the usual sparkle in her green eyes. She pulled away and slipped out of bed, escaping to the bathroom.

…

Laura stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over her body. Their argument from last night played in her mind like a busted record that refused to stop spinning. She tilted her head into the spray and let the water mix with the tears slipping down her cheeks. Today was their last day of vacation, and they were supposed to be enjoying a final day together as a family.

Trust. Safety. Respect. Love. Honor. In good times as well as bad times. That was their vow, and her husband had outright lied to her. Cavil was back. The Cylon knew where her son played. Her dreams were foretastes of the future. Truths ripped through her mind until Laura sank to the floor of the shower as her body shook with sobs. There she stayed until her tears ran dry, and the hot water turned cold.

Once upon a time, they'd fought like feral cats, but that was at the end of the world. In their married life they still squabbled and argued, but a roaring fight hadn't erupted between them in years. What would they come to blows over? They never needed to fight over money. Tragically, there were no in-laws to cause tension. They'd nearly fought over parenting, but a frank discussion had prevented war. They were both still proud, stubborn, and willful, but experiencing Laura's death had softened them both.

Slipping into her robe, she found her body still stiff and achy. When she left the bathroom, she noticed Bill sitting on the edge of their bed with his head in his hands. She'd told him that she understood why he acted the way he had, and she did. His overprotective side was something she'd accepted and tolerated, but it had gone too far last night. She touched his shoulder.

"Get a shower and clear your head," she ordered, but her voice remained gentle. "I'll be downstairs."

…

The boys were awake; Laura heard their voices from the back yard. The sliding glass doors afforded her a good view of their shenanigans from inside the house. She found them partaking in a favorite Adama family pastime - boxing. Well, Liam was swinging wildly at Zak who dodged the blows and encouraged his brother to aim. When a small gloved fist finally connected, Zak fell dramatically and pretended to be unconscious as Liam cheered. Laura couldn't help but smile. She'd witnessed plenty of family boxing matches in the backyard. Some of her favorite memories were of watching Bill teach his sons how to spar and seeing them laugh as they danced around each other. A sadness tugged at her heart; her father would have loved seeing his grandsons like this. Edward Roslin, the avid fight fan; he'd probably have joined them.

She wished her father was still alive so she could talk to him; she wanted someone to whom she could vent her frustrations about her overly protective and testosterone fueled husband. She tilted her head and thought of what her father would say about Bill; actually, Edward Roslin would probably go find her husband and shake his hand for protecting her.

She was still irritated. A fragile civilian, that's what he implied she was. Part of her wondered if that was how he saw her now and the thought made her taste bile in the back of her throat. Squaring her shoulders, Laura moved to her purse and pulled out her phone. She didn't hear Bill coming downstairs as she pulled up a familiar number and made the call.

…

"Richard?" he heard her ask into the phone, and he felt the usual irrational rush of emotions at the name. He was too far away to even hope to hear the reply from the phone. "Yea. Virgon was great," she said. He waited, his ears alert for more information, but the person on the other end of the phone must have been speaking based on the lapse between her words. "Look…something happened, and I could use your help." Bill's heart thundered in his chest, and his mouth ran dry. His wife was turning to Richard, her ex-lover, for help. Hurt and rage filled his heart. He knew she had the moral high ground after last night, so he went back upstairs to cool his heels and shave. Shaving always seemed to clear his head. He didn't hear the rest of the conversation.

….

Laura spoke on the phone for another couple of minutes before wrapping up.

"Someone from your security detail? I was just hoping they knew someone I could hire…. Ok, Richard, thank you." She hung up the phone. The cool granite counter-top felt good against the heat of her skin. The flush of shame left her skin warm and red. She hated asking Richard Adar for help, even though she knew the other man was plenty willing to play hero for her. She might not be the soldier in her marriage, but she was a politician. Politicians knew how to call in favors and play the cards they were dealt. She'd do anything to protect her children, even if she had to ask Richard for assistance. She'd always been a pragmatist.

….

They needed to talk. Biting the bullet, Bill went back downstairs and this time he wouldn't turn back. Calculated risk. Cornering Laura Roslin was always a calculated risk; she was fiery and fierce. Trying to handle her was like trying to handle real fire – it was likely to get someone burnt. He hoped she was in the mood to talk.

He found her staring out at their children who were sparring in the backyard. She turned when she felt his presence.

"Can we talk?" Bill asked, his heart thundering in his chest as he watched Laura turn to face him.

"Alright, but come help me make breakfast while we do," she said, moving into the kitchen. The boys would be starving once they got bored with boxing. Surprised, Bill followed her and listened as she continued to speak. "I arranged for some security at home. Most of my colleagues have a detail. I called Richard to see if he might have a lead," Laura explained as she opened the fridge to pull out some eggs and bacon. She turned and handed the bacon to her husband, who looked like he was walking on eggshells himself. She raised an eyebrow. "I heard you on the stairs, Bill. You left when I mentioned Adar's name. He's offered to send someone he trusts," she said, and gestured for him to start working at the stove.

Bill hadn't fully pictured how this conversation would go, but this wasn't how he imagined it. The scene was too calm and domestic. Trust Laura to pull the rug out from under his feet, the damn woman was irritatingly good at being unpredictable when she wanted.

"I'm sorry, Laura. About the letter," he said, pulling out a pan.

"One of these days you'll accept that you can't control everything," Laura sighed in a low frustrated voice, moving behind Bill to grab a bowl from the cupboard.

"I can't change who I am," he growled, pausing to look at her. She set the bowl on the counter with a loud thump and met his gaze.

"I've never asked you to," she pointed out. Bill's heart skipped a beat, and he frowned while meeting her gaze. She shook her head at his confusion. "Don't you remember the mutiny? We stood in that airlock years ago, and I knew you would stay on Galactica instead of coming with me to safety. I didn't try to talk you out of it. I knew what you had to do, and I accepted it."

"I remember," he said and saw the mix of emotions in her eyes; hurt, sadness, and love. They turned back to their tasks as an understanding passed between them.

"I'd have let you go meet Cavil, and I'd have stayed home. I understand when there's something you need to do. But the secrecy, Bill?" she asked, cracking some eggs with perhaps a bit more force than necessary.

"What can I do, Laura?" he pleaded.

"You have a dangerous job. I know that. I hate watching you go. I hate knowing you might not come back. I hate knowing that the world can change in seconds. But, don't you ever deny me the chance to say goodbye and tell you how much I love you again," she growled, and Bill felt shame creep up his neck at hearing his wife's need and how he hadn't even considered that.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," she said, working on cooking the eggs. "You only ever have the best intentions, and I really do get why you are so protective of me. But, I want you to look me in the eye right now and promise me that you'll never keep a secret like this again. I might be your wife and the mother of your children, but I am not helpless, and I'm not going to be kept in the dark," she growled, turning to him and putting her hands on her hips. She needed him to remember that the tough and fierce woman she'd been as president was still in her. She was his equal.

"I made a bad call," he admitted. He snuck an arm around her back, even as she kept her hands on her hips, and pulled her to him. He looked down into her narrowed eyes, letting her see his honesty. "You are incredible, strong, fierce, smart, and I shouldn't have insulted you by keeping the letter a secret."

"That'll do, Adama. Now, let me go or the bacon will burn," she smiled slightly. They grabbed some plates and put the finishing bits of breakfast together in companionable silence. "Oh, and, Bill?" Laura suddenly asked lightly, and he turned to look at her but took a step back at both the fire in her gaze and the fork she was wielding. "You're a mean drunk, and I've told you what the rules are on drinking in this house."

"Yes ma'am," he said, almost tempted to salute her. She gave him a sharp nod and turned on her heels to carry the plates to the table. Bill let out a shaky breath.

"It's been a peaceful life these last few years. Like a dream. But we both knew the Cylons weren't gone for good," she sighed. "I hate even the idea of this, but it's time to tell Zak and Lee the truth."

"Are you sure?" Bill asked, helping to take breakfast to the table.

"With the Cylons back, they need to know," she said. He nodded and brushed a kiss on her forehead. She caught his hand as he began to move away to get the boys. "There's a storm coming Bill, we can't let each other go," she murmured, thinking of her dreams and troubled by all that she had seen in them.

….

"You're awful. I mean…I remember how you shot at me at close range and missed. I thought it might be Providence. Turns out, you just can't hit the target. Ever," Starbuck needled at Laura as she casually leaned against the wall behind her. Kara was enjoying the fact that Laura was no longer the President; it meant she didn't have to leave as much of her snark unvoiced.

"Well, if you ever hand me a gun again and tell me to shoot you – I don't want to miss. So, care to share some pointers?" Laura snapped back. Kara pushed off the wall and moved to the older woman.

"Let's fix your grip first," Kara sighed. Then she smirked. "This had better not actually come back to shoot me in the ass."

"I can't believe that is turning into a running joke between us."

"What else are you going to do with the most depressing moments in our lives? Crack jokes and drink booze."

"Tell you what, if you help me hit the target then the first round is on me," Laura promised, reloading the gun as Starbuck had shown her. Her hands didn't shake as badly as they had the first time she'd reloaded. What progress, Laura thought sarcastically.

"Top shelf?" Kara felt like pushing her luck.

"You know what…that sounds like a deal." She'd feel like celebrating if she managed to hit the target at all.

"Frak yea! But you are coming out with me. You need to talk to someone, and while I'm not into having girly talky time, I'm not teaching you how to shoot and then having the Ol' Man turn up dead," Kara pushed. The young woman reached over and further adjusted Laura's grip and stance.

"You and me going out for a drink?"

"I'm an agreeable person after hitting the shooting range," Kara promised.

….

The darkened room was crammed with people. Nervous whispers floated around in the back of the room, but the further forward one moved the quieter it got. Front and center stood a television, which held people spellbound; their rapt attention focused on the reporter. Right in front of the screen, Richard Adar fidgeted. On one side his candidate for Vice President stood with his mouth pressed into a thin line. On the other side stood Laura Roslin who calmly sipped from a glass of wine. The plush carpet muffled the pacing of so many people in one room, and Laura didn't hear a man sneak up behind her.

"How can you be so calm?" Wally whispered.

"I know Richard's going to win," she shrugged. Laura was the only person who wasn't fidgeting anxiously or pacing furiously. "Just wait until the votes from Picon come in." Richard glanced over at her and raised a skeptical eyebrow. At the moment, he was losing the election.

"You sure?" he whispered to her. Laura just hummed teasingly and smiled. She remembered this night well.

"Picon, Richard. Picon will put you ahead," she assured him. Her confidence left many people wide eyed and shaking their heads. Picon was always a toss-up in elections. Richard's gaze lingered on her partly amused, partly anxious, and partly lustful. Laura resisted rolling her eyes; he still hadn't gotten a clue he'd never get lucky with her.

"The votes from Picon are coming in!" someone yelped. They all watched as Richard Adar overtake his opponent.

"The votes are in. Richard Adar has been elected President of the Twelve Colonies!"

Everyone cheered except Laura. She took a deep breath and sipped at her wine. Years of waiting. Years of planning. Years of anticipation. Richard Adar was now the President Elect of the Twelve Colonies, and it was time him to know the truth.

…

Author's note: If anyone has anything they'd like to see in an upcoming chapter let me know! Characters they'd like more focus on?