In his palm rested two shiny Admiral's pips. They gleamed in the light from their newness, but Adama - now Admiral Adama - scowled at them. Letters of congratulations littered the dining room table from the rest of the Admiralty; it was the custom. Traditionally, all Flag Officers sent their welcome and well wishes to the newest members of their elite ranks. The notes he'd received talked of respect and admiration. The words wove together and formed the image of a dutiful and honorable man. Adama knew he was well regarded and respected throughout the Fleet, as he had been in the other timeline as well. However, the admiralty of the other timeline had passed him over several times for promotion.

He remembered the day Laura handed him his admiral's stars. It was one of the most bittersweet memories he possessed. At the time, he'd been overwhelmed by her gesture of trust. All through the night, he'd fiddled with the rank bars back in his cabin and choked back tears. He had known she'd also been saying goodbye and giving him one final gift. His mind could picture her perfectly on that day, even though over a decade had passed; she'd been so weak, needing help to even stand as she faded from life. In those few days Bill had mourned his president and friend. Part of his heart had also felt bereft at losing something else, something that he hadn't yet been able to put a name to. He remembered their first, perfect, brief, and tender kiss. She'd smiled; the most sincere and sweet smile he'd ever seen.

A soft touch moved across his hand. He watched as Laura's fingers carefully pried his clenched fist open, coaxing each finger to uncurl with only her loving touch. He hadn't even heard her come into the room. She remained silent but let her eyes observe the stubborn man as she opened his hand. Wordlessly, she took each pin and fixed them to his collar. His body was rigid, neither helping nor hindering her movements.

"I've always said you're the best man I've ever known," she murmured finally breaking the silence while adjusting the pips. "I knew that back when I handed you these on Colonial One. Years later and that hasn't changed. The only difference is that I get to be a proud wife instead of the Dying Leader when you make admiral," she reminded him gently and smiled.

"That's a good change," he said, the gravely cadence of his voice was quieter than usual. "We've made some good changes," he said as if trying to also assure himself of that. Laura nodded in agreement and rested her palms on his chest while looking into his stormy blue eyes.

"You don't have to go," Laura whispered, knowing the mission weighed heavily on him.

"I do. We need to know what's out there. You know that; you've always said you're a pragmatist," he argued. This was the unexpected truth of who they were; Bill was the soldier, but it was Laura who usually needed to be held back from going one step too far. Was violating a treaty and risking war, but gaining invaluable intelligence the right step or a step to far?

"You're right," she said, feeling the heartbeat under her palms.

"They struck first," he pointed out, resting his hands on her hips.

"Cavil did. And I don't want to be the excuse anyone uses to break the peace further," Laura said sharply.

"Either way, this is a military decision," he quipped, evoking memories of arguments long past. Laura raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled.

"Alright, it's military," Laura allowed, changing subjects slightly. "Remember your speech at the decommissioning ceremony?" she asked. "You said it's not enough to survive, but we must be worthy of survival."

"I'm surprise you remember it."

"I never forgot it," she admitted and reached up to lay her hand on his cheek, tracing his rough skin with her thumb tenderly. She took a deep breath. "Whatever happens, come back to me. Body, heart, and soul. Come back," she pleaded, looking into his eyes.

...

On the Valkyrie, Bill woke up five minutes before the alarm went off and already wanted the day to be over. By night watch the stealth mission would be complete. He could stop weighing the pros and cons of this path in his mind and finally stop torturing his mind with the 'what if' game. Once it was done it was done. He didn't navel gaze.

It took a moment to wake up; age was catching up to him again and he felt each of his fifty-four years as he stretched. He also hadn't slept or eaten well since meeting with Admiral Corman. He choked down what food he could, until his mind flashed to Bulldog, Laura's abduction, stealth ships, and the nuclear holocaust. Nights of little sleep and too much thought left a perpetual gritty feeling in his eyes.

He'd agreed to the mission though, and Adama would carry out his orders. He was a soldier; a good soldier. Besides, he hadn't gone soft; he could still make the hard choices, roll the hard six, and pull success out of a failure.

After he showered and dressed in his uniform, he sat at the table in his cabin. The usual warm glow of his lamps lit the space, and distantly he realized he needed to straighten up his cabin soon. Too many books were pulled out and in piles around the room. The chaos didn't bother him. He didn't notice it just as he didn't notice the heat or the taste of the coffee a private had delivered to him as he drank the bitter liquid.

He did notice the fire in Saul Tigh's eyes when he dropped off the morning reports. The man was itching for action and ready to do something, to really do something. Bill nodded curtly and dismissed him after taking the reports. There it was in writing; the stealth mission was a go. The deck chief reported all stealth ships ready. Colonel Tigh reported all pilots were itching to saddle-up. Engineering reported the Valkyrie was at top shape. He slowly rose to his feet, pulling himself up to his full height. His heart pounded in his chest.

He strode out of his cabin with purpose. He held his chin high as he marched to CIC. His crew nodded and saluted their respect. Many greeted Adama with an extra emphasis on his new rank and a smile in congratulations. He nodded back but didn't smile. His stoic persona was tightly wrapped around him that day on his Battlestar. At home he could be Bill, but here he was the Admiral.

He was the Admiral, and he didn't do doubt.

"Admiral on deck," the Officer of the Watch called out when he entered CIC. Men and women snapped to attention, and he bid them to be as they were. He came up to the tactical table where Colonel Tigh waited. The two brothers regarded each other beneath DRADIS screens, its green light shining on both of their faces. CIC's lights were dim, to help crewmen see their screens, but the anticipation could be read on everyone's features. As Saul and Bill looked to each other, they could tell each felt the weight of the future resting on their shoulders.

"Are you with me Saul?"

"Always have been Bill. Always will be," Tigh replied without hesitation. "Gotta have some constants in life," he shrugged. That was all that needed to be said between the two men. It seemed in any life they would have each other's back and cover each other's asses.

Bill gave him a slight grin and a sharp nod in reply.

"Sitrep?"

"Thirty minutes until we reach the Armistice line," the XO relayed. "All hands report ready." The fire was back in Saul's eyes as he looked up at DRADIS. "Ready to get some answers, sir."

"So say we all," Adama muttered.

"We won't be caught with our pants down again," Saul reminded him, and Bill knew that was the most important part of their mission. Protecting the Colonies was their job. But in order to do that effectively, they needed information.

"Continue DRADIS scans as we approach the line. Set condition two throughout the ship," Adama ordered in a sure, deep, but quiet voice. Only Tigh needed to hear him to carry out the order.

"Yes, sir!" Tigh pulled the handset off the console and spoke into it with his gruff XO's voice. "Action stations, action stations. Set condition two. Repeat, set condition two!" His voice boomed over speakers and crew snapped into action. They didn't run, that was reserved for condition one. Pilots suited up, prepared to jump into their cockpits. Gun battery crews reported to their posts. Knuckledraggers ran pre-flight checklists on all ships. Adama's crew was professional. They were ready.

The Battlestar Valkyrie flew closer and closer to the line.

Everyone held their collective breath. Most of the crew had no idea where they were. Only the hand-picked officers of CIC knew they were playing with fire right beside the Armistice line. The rest didn't need to know; they only knew there was something big happening.

"Pilots are reporting to stealth ships," an officer reported. A few moments ticked by, but it felt like time was slowing down to Adama. There was a tightened feeling in his chest, and he frowned.

"All stations report ready," Tigh reported with a grin and a nod. Bill looked into his friend's eye and saw something that shook him. This was a man who needed a target, but it didn't look like he cared what the target was. It was bloodlust. People think rage and bloodlust look like a frenzied display, but they forget it could also be cold and calculated. Both were equally lethal. Both resulted in an explosions of purpose, splendor, and glory. But that explosion of bloodlust could get innocent people hurt. The bloodlust for the Cylons in Saul Tigh's eyes (and the irony that Saul was a Cylon wasn't lost on either man), was like a cold bucket of ice being thrown on Adama.

Bill Adama was a soldier. He hadn't gone soft, but he was an honorable man. Those truths played through Adama's mind as he opened his mouth to give his next order.

"Abort the mission."

"Come again?" Saul asked, wondering if he'd heard his commanding officer correctly.

"Abort the mission," Bill articulated again, annunciating each word. He narrowed his eyes, daring anyone to argue.

"We know the Cylons are out there! We need this strategic information!" Saul argued, in a roaring whisper.

" We can't be the aggressors," Bill countered. Humanity needs to be worthy of survival, he thought.

"We aren't the aggressors. They already struck, remember? They took your wife!" Tigh snapped in a low voice so only Adama could hear. Bill's eyes narrowed at his friend's mention of Laura. His thoughts moved to her. It was Laura, he realized, who'd known he might not be able to complete the mission. She hadn't told him whether or not to go, and she hadn't passed judgement when he left.

"That's enough Saul," Brill growled, fury coiling in the man at his implication that he was unaffected by the kidnapping. It weighed on Bill heavily, as did the possible repercussions of crossing the Armistice line. "Give my order," he commanded in a growl.

Tigh glared at Adama, and the men faced off over the tactical table. His nostril's flared and his eyes were cold and hard. The man had spoken true though; he stood with Adama no matter what. Saul yanked the phone off the console and snarled into it.

"Stand down. Mission in a no-go. Mission," Tigh took a deep breath, still glaring at Adama, "Mission is a no-go. Return to Condition Three."

"Take us away from the line," Adama ordered, and the Valkyrie set a course to return deeper into Colonial space.

Adama took a deep breath, smelling the oil and metal of the Battlestar. He felt lost in the woods. His head had told him to go on the mission, and pragmatically it made sense. The payoff could have been great, but in his gut, it felt wrong. The Colonies had made a treaty, and it wasn't right to violate it. Part of being a soldier was following orders, but they needed to know when to trust their instinct. Adama had started to question his own military sense but realized he hadn't lost his edge.

He took another deep breath. The admiralty needed to be informed of the aborted mission. Bill Adama wondered what this meant for the future.

...

Liam had reached double digits and was Laura's pride and joy. This was his last year in elementary school; he was growing up and starting to leave boyhood behind. Zak and Lee were both adults now, and only Liam lived at home; although, Zak, Lee, and Kara, their adult children, were known to drop by for dinner and a decent place to sleep.

It was quieter with Bill's boys grown and flown but never unbearably so. Once Laura's life had truly been quiet, and she never wanted that again. She had lived alone. There were few friends in her life and no real partner. She had been a quiet and unassuming person. She'd existed, but on the day the world ended she'd been forced to come alive.

Now her life was filled with energy. There were her charismatic children, who were balls of mischief, mayhem, and delight. She had a devoted husband, and their marriage filled both of their lives with sparks of love and passion. At work she was no longer the demure wallflower of years long past, she was a force of her own. She was alive.

She emerged from her office and smiled while watching her son work at the table on his homework. She'd needed a break from the stack of work still waiting to be done. The committee working on the Cylon War museum had officially revised their proposal and were requesting to decommission a Battlestar to house the project. She'd read their proposal several times until her insides tingled and her ears buzzed. Sometimes the future seemed so inevitable to Laura, but her son was proof that things were different.

"Mom?" His voice jarred her out of her thoughts.

"Yes?" She came to stand beside him as he looked pleadingly up at her. She rested her hand on his shoulder; he was starting to get taller, almost to her shoulder now.

"I have to do a chapter report, but the one my teacher assigned me is weird. It gives me the creeps. I don't like it," he said and frowned at the offending book in front of him. Liam, thank the Gods, liked school well enough. Reading assignments were usually a breeze to him since his parents read to him so much as a child. His unusual reticence gave Laura pause.

"Oh? Let's see," she suggested pulling Liam's book, an anthology of Colonial writings, closer to her and flipping it open. "Which chapter?" she asked.

"Twelve," he muttered irritably. Laura flipped through the pages until she suddenly dropped the book as if it had scalded her hand. Her whole body shook violently and completely without her control. Her gaze darted around the room, refusing to look at the book lying open on chapter twelve. Liam stared up at his mother in wide-eyed shock. She pressed one hand to her mouth, stifling whatever sounds were threatening to erupt from her.

"Mommy are you OK?" His sweet voice asked as he watched his mother recoil from the book.

"Uhmm. It's..." she struggled. No words would come to Laura. She stared at the title of the chapter; the Pythian Prophesy.

"Mom?"

"Sorry honey. It's nothing," she murmured trying to will herself to reach out and touch the book.

"Have you read it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"A long, long time ago," she whispered as her eyes finally settled on the book.

"Do you remember what it said?" Laura thought for a moment. She remembered the times she'd poured over the pages of the sacred scrolls. There were too many memories of her reading their words about a dying leader and a promised land. She remembered burning the book. She also remembered telling Elosha in her dream that she never wanted to read the Pythian Prophesy ever again. This time her fate was her own, she'd sworn.

"Some of it, yes," she finally admitted.

"I don't know what to write about for the report. There's so much. There's the flood. Demons and a battle. The death and rebirth of humanity."

"The dying leader..." Laura murmured, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"I don't remember reading that. It talks about two leaders who help find the promised land though."

"Two leaders?"

"Yea..."

"I don't remember that," Laura frowned. She slowly reached for the open book. There was nothing written about two leaders in the Pythian Prophesy she'd owned. Nothing. Could the Pythian Prophesy be different now? She wondered as her stomach back-flipped.

"It was hard to read and follow," Liam explained. "It's confusing and scary. I don't like thinking about the world ending."

Laura's hand hovered over the open book. Suddenly, she pulled back, holding her arm close to her body. The weight of the future pressed down on her, making her limbs feel heavy. She wasn't going to be the dying leader again. She was done with prophesy, and it didn't matter that the sacred scrolls had possibly changed. Right?

"I'm sorry, Liam. I can't help...not this time," she stammered. "Just try your best and talk to your teacher if you need to." She stood up and kissed his forehead before moving to start dinner, busying her hands as she pushed her thoughts to the side.

...

That night she looked at the phone every so often. She longed to hear Bill's deep gravely tones and thoughtful comments. She wanted to hear him tell her that he loved her that everything was going to be OK. The appearance of the Pythian Prophesy at her table from Liam had shaken her, and she wanted her husband. Only he could understand what she was going through.

He had promised to call when the mission was complete. Laura knew the operation was scheduled to have finished already. She wasn't new to this; to waiting. Bill Adama had run enough black ops missions over the years they'd been married, and she knew there were numerous and varied reasons why his calls could be delayed. However, it had been well over a week now since he was due to have contacted her. She was worried.

She pushed her hair back and kept her head upright by holding her chin in her hand. Focusing on the current crisis facing her as Secretary of Education, she settled down to fix it. She couldn't spend all her time waiting for him to call; he would when he could, and she knew that. It didn't mean she stopped glancing at the phone on her desk every so often hoping that it would ring.

...

The next morning, she woke up tired and bleary eyed. She'd spent another night having trouble sleeping because her mind whispered lines of the Pythian Prophesy to her. Every worst possible scenario danced in her mind as the night wore on. When no call had come, Laura had pulled on Bill's old Picon Panther's t-shirt to sleep in, smelling his lingering scent in it. It had helped a bit. In the morning a pair of leggings were added, and she made her way downstairs to make some very necessary coffee. She gasped when she glanced into the living room. Bill was sitting on the couch, staring out the window lost in thought.

"Bill!" Laura exclaimed. She dropped the coffee bag and made her way to him.

Bill looked up and saw Laura weaving her way around the furniture. Her eyes were wide any joyful. He pulled himself to his feet just in time to haul Laura into his arms the second she got close enough. He clutched her close, weaving one hand into her thick chestnut hair while his other was splayed across her back, bracing her against him. Her own hands were gripping his uniform.

"What's going on Bill? I've been worried!" she asked from their tight embrace. Bill sighed.

"I've been relieved of duty."

...

Author's note: I hope at least one person was surprised by some of these plot twists. Thoughts? Theories? Reviews (I love those).