Every fiber of his being screamed at him to stay, to remain in the arms of the woman who clung to him and arched underneath his body. They were formal and controlled in public, but beneath their professional masks and their responsibilities, they had always been incredibly sensual people. Their marriage had long ago obliterated any lingering need to hide their desires from the other. So that night, when there was something almost feral within Bill when he took his wife to bed, he didn't hide or suppress it. Need tore through his body like fire, and he felt desperate for as much of Laura as she could give.

He was required to report back to his Battlestar the next day. He didn't want to go. His duty tugging him away from his beloved wife, and his unusual but deep unease at his coming departure, only made him a more fervent lover in the moment. Laura gave herself to him completely, sensing her husband's need, and eagerly reciprocating his passion.

Her gasps and whimpers filled the air, and Bill dropped his head onto her shoulder, whispering words of love in her ear. They were lost in the other. When they were both finally spent, he kept his arms wrapped around Laura, pulling her possessively close. The sense of dark foreboding started to sneak back into Bill's mind, but Laura, sighing happily and resting on his chest, pushed the feeling away. He focused on his wife, listening to her heavy breathing and how she trembled as his fingers traced patterns over her skin. Finally, sated and exhausted, they drifted off to sleep.

No, he didn't want to leave her. His heart, mind, and soul urged him to stay. Something was coming.

…

War College dormitories were designed to imitate the crew quarters on Battlestars. Old cigar smoke hung in the air, and the faint smell of cheap whiskey, spilled by a drunk nugget, tainted the air. It was a fine example of military efficiency; get the cadets acclimated to what military life was going to be like without delay. Plenty of recruits dropped out because they couldn't stand living in a bunk or being crammed in a room with eight other people.

Kara sat, dangling her feet from a top bunk while a figure gestured angrily and paced around the table in the center of the small room.

"They lied for years, or they're frakkin' crazy," Lee Adama raged, remembering the conversation his parents recently forced him to endure. They had told him a wild story about how they met, the apocalypse, and the future. After angrily jogging around campus while replaying the talk with his father and stepmother, he'd marched to where he knew Kara's room was. He'd spent a lot of time stewing while back at War College and felt like he'd explode unless he talked to someone. Kara. Lee had begun counting her as one of his good friends after meeting her at his parent's house. They'd run into each other on campus a handful of times. Each time he enjoyed her snark and sass, always throwing it back at her, but she excused herself before they could spend too much time together.

"Lee, stop being such a little bitch about this," Kara growled. "They're not crazy, and you know that. They just waited until you were ready for their story."

"And you…you apparently remember this other timeline as well." His tone was harsh, and he stopped and stood in front of her, craning his neck up to meet her gaze. He saw her clench her teeth and swallow hard.

"Yea. I remember. Got something to say about that? Or, maybe you can explain why you always need to go through an 'angry at dad' phase whenever life isn't all pretty and peachy. Gods. You never seem to realize how frakkin' lucky you are; you have parents who love you and only wanted the best for you. Not all of us get to be so lucky," Kara huffed. She flicked her finished cigar into the trash before laying down on her bunk; she was ready to ignore Lee and his whining.

"So, you're going to get mad at me for crap I haven't even done, and I don't remember?" Lee challenged. His pacing became even more jerky and erratic. He had the urge to hurl the triad cards lying on the table off in every direction.

"I'm going to get mad because you have no idea the shit we went through, but you want to act high and mighty simply because your dad didn't want to tell his sons some crazy, depressing story. Did it occur to you that it might be hard to talk about?"

"Did it occur to him that he doesn't have the right to just try and change the future as he wants?" Lee retorted with a crisp about face away from Kara.

"So, he should just let things happen because… fate? Hmmm? Live his life the same way? Let me, you, and your brother make the same stupid choices?" Kara was starting to feel her blood boil. The last thing she was going to do was willingly live the exact same life. No one should expect that from them.

"Maybe?" Lee shrugged. "It's our lives…" Kara sat back up and hopped off the bunk before he could even finish speaking. She shoved into his space and into his face in a flash.

"Do we just let genocide happen, Lee? Frak that! What about Zak? I don't want to see Zak die again. I can't. Neither can the Old Man. What about Laura? Should she die of cancer again? Maybe you'd rather Liam have never been born? It all happened before, so it should all happen again or not happen at all? Well, that's a frakkin' stupid idea!" she yelled. The dim light of the dorm didn't show Lee the flush of anger spreading over her, or the dangerous glint in her eye.

"Zak? Liam? Laura?" Lee frowned, and Kara chuckled humorlessly.

"Yea. Zak died in a freak viper accident only a few years from now. Liam was never born because your parents weren't together until…too late. Laura died of cancer. Oh. I die too. I'll throw that in. Another viper accident…or something." Kara shrugged. "Shall we all die on schedule in honor of what is 'supposed' to happen?"

"I'm sorry, Kara. I…"

"Got self-righteous and didn't think things through?" Kara folded her arms and watched as Lee sank down into one of the chairs at the table. His hands rested on the cool metal surface, and his fingers stretched out as if bracing himself against the horrible reality Kara was throwing in his face.

"Is it a habit of mine?" he finally quipped and tried to smile.

"As a matter of fact," Kara snapped, frowning and looking at him as one might a petulant child. "Luckily enough you have a few...a few decent personality points, so no one ever threw you out an airlock in the other timeline. It really is amazing Laura never did. Hell, its amazing neither of us ended up on the wrong side of a spaceship," she grinned. They shared the room in silence for a moment.

"You know. I assumed my father was having an affair with Laura, and that must have been why he married her so quickly after the divorce. It's what my mother claimed. Part of me was always really angry at dad for that, even though Carolanne…"

"Like my own mom, our birth mothers weren't cut out to be parents. Imagine if you'd had to stay with her. You told me details once; it wasn't pretty."

"It bothers me that I don't remember too. That my parents, the doc, and you all have memories of me that I don't. That decisions have been made that affected my life based on this timeline, but I didn't have a say," he finally admitted.

"I get it. But, maybe trust that they, your dad and Laura, just want a happy future. For you and everyone else," Kara said.

"Where do you really fit into all this, Kara?" Lee asked, watching her fold her arms.

"As a complicated mess. I was… best friends with your brother and then friends with you. Your dad has always been like a father to me. Laura and I…" she said, trailing off. "Yea, complicated mess."

"Did you and I ever go out on a date?" Lee asked, raising an eyebrow. She knew him so well, and he felt a strange connection to her; it seemed logical to Lee. Kara hooted with laughter.

"Nope. Technically, we never did," she said, catching her breath. Post-apocalyptic societies offered few dating possibilities. Besides, they were complicated. Rolling her eyes, she climbed back into her bunk. She didn't want to keep looking Lee in the eye while she blushed while remembering their...relationship? "You did see me in a dress once," Kara offered as Lee headed for the door intending to hit the showers and clear his head. He opened his mouth to probe for information, but when he saw her slight smirk, he decided not to give her the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

Kara remained in her bunk, propping a book open against her bent legs. The ring of the dorm phone hanging by the door broke through the silence. Groaning, Kara dropped from her rack to the floor and moved over to it.

"Cadet Thrace," she answered crisply. As the person on the other end of the phone spoke Kara felt the blood drain from her face. Hanging up the phone after a minute, she chased after Lee.

…

Bill Adama moved through the metal corridors of his Battlestar. Conversation tapered off when the commanding officer walked by the crewmen talking in the hallway. Polite and deferential greetings were offered by passing personnel, and he nodded his own greeting in return. Entering CIC, he suppressed a grin when the charming and dulcet tones of an angry Saul Tigh were the first things to reach his ears. The man was barking into a headset.

"…can't perform basic flight maneuvers then you'll be off the ship!" He was pacing beside the CIC table, but he snapped to attention when his senior officer approached. Bill greeted him, and Tigh relaxed. Meanwhile all CIC personnel kept their heads down and their hands busy. Everyone who served on a Battlestar knew to stay out of the XO's line of fire. The best way to stay out of 'Tight-Ass Tigh's' line of fire? Keep your shirt tucked in, your eyes on your station, and pray to your Gods.

"You're having a good morning," Bill Adama quipped to his friend who glowered from across the Tactical Table.

"You'd think the phrase 'experienced pilots' would mean that these people could complete basic drills," Tigh growled. Several crewmen grimaced at the steel in the XO's voice, thanking their Gods that Adama was in CIC. He wouldn't let Saul Tigh be too mean…right?

"Anything to report?" Adama asked, glancing up at the DRADIS screen.

"Nothing from the watch. Headquarters sent over the applicants for the deck chief position."

"Anyone promising?"

"I don't know, I never really trust a deck chief until I see them putting birds in the air." Tigh handed Adama a packet of personnel paperwork, and Bill flipped through the pages until he paused at a familiar face. Distantly, he heard Saul snapping into his headset again.

"Do you enjoy being mean?" Adama asked, giving him a wry grin.

"What do you think? Besides, it makes you look good in comparison." His friend smirked back.

"I always look good in comparison."

"Keep telling…"

"Sir." Tigh glared at the comm officer who interrupted them. The boy shrank down in his seat, but he continued speaking. "There's a priority call coming in for the Commander." Adama nodded at him and picked up the receiver connected to the table in front of him.

"Adama," he replied into the phone. Second by second he felt his world crashing down around him as he listened to the other end of the line.

…

Bill rushed home as fast as possible. Raw, hot agony filled him, burning his nerve endings and searing through his mind. A small flicker of hope burnt like a dying ember within him. Maybe someone had made a mistake. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Bill held onto his little flicker of hope; then he saw the police stationed outside his home. I should never have left, he thought, not when I knew something ugly was coming.

The investigators let him enter and move around the house after he furiously demanded to be allowed to do so. His eyes widened, horrified at the destruction within. This couldn't be happening, he thought. He shuffled past the furniture in disarray. He stepped over broken bits of picture frames, a flower vase, and trinkets scattered on the floor. A shuddering breath escaped from him when his eyes found the blood splattered in the living room. A body bag surrounded one of the security guards Laura had hired.

His heart thundered in his chest as he moved deeper within the house. Forcing himself to look at the red drops, his gut clenched at the trail it created for him to follow. He tasted bile at the back of his throat. A dark part of him knew whose blood lead him all the way into the bedroom. Most of the investigators were gathered there. He froze and stared at the crimson stains throughout the room. It was a lot. Too much. His legs felt weak. The blood stood out harshly against the blue walls and pale comforter on the bed. A fresh wave of agony gripped his heart as images of an injured wife tortured his mind. No. No. No.

"Laura…" he whispered, but she was gone. He sagged down beside the bed where he'd so recently clung to her, wishing never to leave. One of his hands gripped the blanket near a cluster of red strands, and Bill couldn't stop thinking of what might have happened to Laura. He clenched his teeth hard, hard enough that it felt as if they might crack from being pressed so hard, but it kept him from screaming in fear and anger.

He didn't know how long he stayed there. His desperation, fear, and helplessness overwhelmed him in a tidal wave of emotion, pressing in on him and flooding every part of his being. He was aware of one of the investigators taking his arm and leading him away. Other officers continued working around the house. Pictures were snapped. Samples were taken.

"What happened?" he growled to the officer standing next to him.

"We don't know yet, sir."

"Then tell me what you do know!" he commanded, and the officer jumped. His eyes scanned the crowd until he saw his captain and motioned for him to come over.

"Commander Adama, I'm Chief inspector Sloan. I'm leading the investigation. I know this is going to be upsetting. It appears your wife, Laura, was abducted, taken most likely from the bedroom. The evidence shows that she struggled - hard, considering the DNA evidence and the state of the house. We are still piecing together exactly what happened…" he reported as dispassionately as possible. It helped.

"The blood…will she…is she?" Bill asked. Is my wife going to be alive when we find her? He needed to know but couldn't voice the question.

"There's not enough blood for us to assume fatality. She is definitely injured."

"Liam. Zak. My sons…where are my sons?!"