Leoben stood as if holding a private vigil beside the Hybrid. She was lying in her basin deep in the heart of a Cylon ship. He only spared a brief glance for the intruder who interrupted what had been a private audience between himself and the Hybrid. He suppressed a groan when he saw that it was Cavil. The Hybrid on the other hand didn't notice their newcomer; she was too trapped in her own world of Cylon Baseships, stars, streams, and a million realities. Her murmurings echoed around the room, reverberating off the metal walls in soft waves. Leoben's head tilted to the side, and a small frown formed on his face while he listened completely enthralled to the jumble or words that poured from her mouth. A dark shadow fell over her as Cavil moved to the other side of the basin and stared down at the Hybrid sneering. He didn't speak, instead he listened like Leoben.

"... a field variance in the inertial stabilizers, compensating. The cycle of time loops around again. Birds of darkness fly into a field not their own and fall, turning into balls of fire. Raider production down 5%..." the Hybrid spoke in her serene monotone voice which never failed to make those who heard her words shiver. She kept speaking, barely needing to take a breath. "...The dying leader gives way to the promised leaders, and she will guide them on their final journey. Adjust power flow to data processing..." she reported as her eyes stared unblinking into the space around her like she was staring into a void where there was nothing to focus on. Or, maybe she saw beyond the walls that trapped her.

The hairs on the back of Leoben's neck prickled. He stared into the Hybrid's ice blue eyes, but she didn't notice him. She never did. Her words made little sense to either Cylon, but Leoben listened anyway. His gut told him what she said was important, and he'd spent hours in the Hybrid's chamber, hanging on to her every utterance. His heart longed for truth like a bird longed to fly, and he knew there were truths she spoke which were hidden under the layers of computer processing and gibberish.

"...I listen to the echoes of the ageless starry void. The echoes. The echoes..." she gasped suddenly. "...The Orb of Time lost to the Lords has been found by those lost amongst the heavens..." she uttered. "...temperature fluctuations in starboard decks, adjusting..."

Leoben paced around the room, circling the basin. He'd stood still for so long that he needed to move, and his footsteps clicked along the grey metal of the floor.

"You think orbiting her will cause her to make more sense?" Cavil taunted Leoben. His trademark sarcasm dripped from every word that passed his lips. He folded his arms and raised a judging eyebrow at the second Cylon model and the Hybrid.

"She sees things we can only imagine, her dreams are touched by God," Leoben argued with wonder and awe in his voice.

"And I hear the whisper of the stream as it flows," the Hybrid added, as if she had heard what the Cylons around her were saying. Both men's attention snapped to the pale woman with wires and tubes embracing her in the liquid of the basin. It was almost unheard of for a Hybrid to interact with their surroundings or the Cylons present. They waited to see if she would respond anymore to them.

"Unlived lives with lives to live... Thus it came to pass, the dying leader learned the truth of the Opera House... Back in the stream that feeds the ocean that feeds the stream...twelve will know, twelve will know." She fell silent, her mouth hanging open slightly as if there was more she had to say, but even she could not put what she saw in her mind into words.

"Do you feel enlightened yet Leoben?" Cavil asked, smirking at his brother. Leoben glared at the One model and folded his arms. Cavil wore no color, just plain black clothes. He held himself tall; his spine straight, and his chin held high. Superiority oozed from the old looking Cylon. For a few moments silence seemed to rip through the chamber, a void where there should have been a soft gentle voice.

"Win by playing in the face of defeat, end of line...raiders returning to hangar bay..." the Hybrid's voice returned to her, breaking the silence. Cavil continued to smirk at the other Cylon model. He found Leoben laughable most times, with his incessant devotion to the One True God, and his endless vigils at the Hybrid's side.

Biting back his snide remarks, knowing that whatever he said would just be fuel for Cavil's witty retorts, Leoben left. He'd been irritated enough for the time being.

One knew how to get under his brother's skin. In fact, it was laughably easy. Cavil chuckled and watched Leoben stalk off, leaving him and the Hybrid alone. He knelt down by the basin once he was sure his brother was truly gone.

"Tell me about the orb," Cavil ordered. He remembered what his brother, the Cavil who claimed to know the future, had said before being boxed. He'd spoken of an orb. The Hybrid suddenly stopped muttering about the ship and stayed silent for a moment before answering.

"All this has happened before. You know what you need to do, as you have done before..." her gaze snapped to him and even Cavil jumped back in shock. His eyes narrowed, and they stared at one another. "A glimpse into a life already lived, but not yet lived," she uttered while staring at Cavil. Then the moment passed, and her gaze returned to the nothingness around her. She began babbling once more as if nothing had happened.

Cavil felt his heart thundering in his chest; he knew what he needed to do.

The Cylon moved through the Baseship with a determined stride. Unlike his brothers and sisters, he didn't project to fill his surroundings with fake images and delusions. He was comfortable being encased in dull grey walls and red pulsing lights.

A few turns later and he stepped into the room he needed. It was deserted. Good. With a determined stride, he moved to one of the control panels that accessed a particular mainframe and shoved his hand in the interface liquid. Files flashed in his mind, and he searched through them until he touched the boxed memories of his counterpart.

Walls, firewalls like they were made of concrete laced with barbed wire, stood around the memories. He growled in irritation. Flexing his fingers in the liquid, he forced his way through, grasping at what information he could. Bits of knowledge slipped through the gaps he created, nowhere near enough to fill in the blanks he had, but enough to give him something. As he worked his unending irritation with the Final Five caused his Cylon blood to boil; they believed in quaint ideas like privacy and individuality. They'd created these firewalls as a measure to protect the distinct memories of each Cylon strand.

The walls were strong and unbreakable, but they weren't perfect. He yanked information through the small gaps and saw pieces of a puzzle come together. There was a warship called Galactica, along with her sister ship called the Pegasus. There was a Colonial Heavy-liner, and a red headed woman. Ragnar station. A child. He saw his brother accessing the Colonial Defense Mainframe and shutting it down. He saw the memories of his brother walking through a nuclear wasteland. A few more memories filtered out to him, until he could drag no more through the walls.

Cavil grinned. He might not have access to the majority of the memories boxed away with the Future One model's consciousness, but he'd accessed enough. Now he knew what to do. He had Cylons to put in position, and the Final Five to maneuver in such a way so that they could survive only to watch humanity crumble.

…

Bill's arms wrapped around Laura as he held her tight against him. She was his lifeline. The unspoken promise that always existed between them was clear in that moment; I am here, you don't have to worry if you fall apart; I'll hold the pieces.

"I've been relieved of duty," Bill murmured again, dropping his head onto Laura's shoulder. There was a hollowness he felt in his chest, and his body felt heavy. Bill was tired, very tired.

For a moment, Laura stayed quiet and held her husband, knowing that his world had been yanked out from underneath his feet, leaving him spinning and stumbling. She knew her Admiral to be fearless, proud, stoic, and unyielding. But, in spite of all his strength and power, he remained human. He wasn't invincible or invulnerable. He was the mortal Zeus; and, she was his Hera.

"What happened?" she finally asked. Her mind was on overdrive, playing through scenarios as she wondered what lead to the Fleet relieving him of duty. Her wide eyes darted around his face, taking him in while she ran her hands over him. His body felt whole and uninjured, but his eyes were troubled, and his face was tense. She bit her lip to keep her barrage of questions at bay.

"I aborted the mission," he confessed in a low rumble. She kept calm and nodded slowly.

"Ok... so you just...what?" she pushed gently. Experience taught her that demanding answers and trying to drag them out of Bill often resulted in an argument between them instead of a talk. A fight was the last thing either of them needed, so she swallowed her impatience. He looked almost defeated with his slumped shoulders and hair sticking out in different directions from how often he'd run his hands through it.

Words wouldn't come to the tired and drained Admiral. In his mind the events on board the Valkyrie played out over and over, and he relived the moment he aborted the mission. If he had the energy, he'd be angry with himself for the uncharacteristic navel gazing his mind was dragging him through. He tried to push the words out to explain, but he remained silent. Finally, Bill sank back down on the couch, pulling Laura down with him. She opened her mouth, ready to plead for him to answer her questions, but another voice joined them and broke the silence first, causing them both to jump.

"Dad! You're home!" Liam exclaimed. Their son came bounding into the living room and hugged his father. However, sooner than usual Liam was pulling back and folding his arms. He gave his father a stern look, and it seemed like the ten-year-old was trying to act cross by copying his mother's mannerisms.

"Where have you been? Mom's been worried!" He glared at his father.

"Liam!" Laura's voice held a note of warning in it for her son. She felt a guilty blush spread over her skin at the fact that she hadn't hidden her worry well enough.

"What? You've been waiting for Dad to call," he stated matter-of-factly to his mother. The fifth grader pinned his father to the couch with his intense green eyes. "You had mom upset," Liam scowled, clearly wanting to protect his mother even though he was quite small and quite young. Before Laura could offer any explanation, Bill spoke first.

"I know, buddy, I didn't mean to. I'll make it up to her," Bill promised, resting a hand on Laura's knee.

"Liam, you shouldn't talk to your father like that. He was doing his job," Laura cautioned. She felt Bill tense slightly against her when she mentioned his job.

"How come you didn't even call?" Liam asked, tilting his head to the side. The accusation in his young son's eyes gutted Bill. The boy clearly loved his mother fiercely, just as his brothers did, and he didn't bother hiding his displeasure that something had upset her.

"I would have called if I could. You know that, Liam," Bill told him. "There was a communication blackout. No one could call anyone," he explained, running another hand through his hair. He felt one of Laura's hands came to rest on his back while the other gripped his forearm. He looked at Liam who accepted his father's explanation. "Son, can I finish talking to Mom?" he asked.

"You need to get ready for school anyways, Liam," Laura said.

"But, mom..."

"William Joseph..." She didn't need to say more than her son's full name, before he slunk away.

"I'm sorry Laura," Bill murmured, watching Liam go upstairs. Laura shook her head.

"Liam and I understand. He's just feeling precocious this morning," Laura soothed. "But usually you don't come home relieved of duty, and I'd like to know what happened," she pressed. He sighed, readying himself to explain everything.

"We got to the Armistice line. The pilots were ready to go. Stealth ships were a go. Everything was ready," he said and took a deep breath. "And I ordered them to stand down."

"Just like that?"

"Saul was ready to fight me on it. He was so… filled with bloodlust. He wanted a fight. I knew in my gut what we were doing was wrong." He pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he only used when he was troubled. "Then, I remembered what you said years ago on Colonial One. You wondered if the admiralty wanted to provoke a war, and then I remembered talking about humanity being worthy of survival. Violating a treaty and possibly looking for a fight?" he explained and found himself relieved that there was someone he could talk to about all of this. Saul hadn't wanted to talk or listen after the mission was aborted.

"It was a line you wouldn't cross," Laura stated.

"And now I'm relieved of duty," he grumbled.

"Bill, don't second guess yourself now. You did what you thought was right," Laura assured him. He was an honorable man, and it was one of the traits that had first drawn her to him.

"You're the one who says the right thing isn't always the smart thing," he accused, and she nodded. It was a delicate dance the two of them had played several times; weighing the pragmatic options against the moral options and hoping that luck favored whatever they ultimately chose to do.

"You've always said you don't navel-gaze or catalog your mistakes. You make choices and stand by them," she countered.

"Then I started reliving my life," he pointed out, and she chuckled at the absurdity of their situation.

"What's done is done," she said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "So, relieved of duty? What does that mean? Where do we go from here?"

"After I aborted the mission, I contacted Admiral Corman and told him I wouldn't violate the treaty. He ordered us to hold our position until someone came and relieved me. A raptor took me back to Picon where I got my ass chewed out. Corman told me I was relieved of duty and to go home until someone figures out what to do with me," he explained.

"What can they do?" Laura asked. She might have been married to him for years now, but she still didn't know a lot of military procedures and protocols. Besides, this was an entirely new situation; Bill had never been relieved of duty before.

"Court-martial and a possible dishonorable discharge or reassignment. That's usually what happens in cases like this," Bill told her. He slouched back into the couch further and frowned. It felt like his world had been turned upside down.

"Court-martial? Dishonorable discharge?" Laura blurted out. She did know enough about military protocol to realize how serious such possibilities were.

"Possibly. Corman made it clear he wanted me out of the service," Bill sighed. "I've been in his position myself, Laura, remember? When Tyrol and the others went on strike? It's insubordination. I threatened to shoot Cally over not following orders, and the truth is I would have. It's dangerous when military personnel refuse to obey. What happens when they do that in the middle of combat?"

"Even if the order is wrong?" Laura asked thinking of Cain.

"I had the option of turning down the mission in Corman's office. Instead, I disobeyed an order in front of my entire crew. It has consequences," Adama stated, and a large part of him understood why Corman wanted him out of the service. "In fact, I have to report to Secretary Hector tomorrow."

"We'll get through this," Laura promised him. He barely reacted. Instead, his shoulders slumped further. "Bill, when was the last time you slept?" Laura prodded gently, and he shrugged. "You need rest. Go lay down, I'll get Liam to the bus stop and then join you," she directed standing up, and extending a hand to help him.

"Don't you have to work today?" he asked as his hand closed around hers.

"I'll call out," she told him with a shrug and pulled him to his feet.

"I'm not much company right now," he grumbled. Laura gave him a reassuring smile.

"Even on your worst days your company is infinitely better than Adar's and the rest of the crazy politicians who run this government," she said and, for brief moment, a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"Better than Adar's huh?"

"Without a doubt," she said giving him a gentle kiss. "Bill, I want to be with you right now. Let me get our son to the bus, and I'll be right back," she soothed. "In the meantime...bed," she ordered, pointing to the stairs.

"Yes ma'am," he quipped, causing her to giggle. She pushed him gently toward the stairs, and he obediently began climbing up. Halfway up, he paused and turned to watch her. She'd moved to the dining room table and was packing up Liam's school bag. Bill's eyes softened as he watched her for a moment. His world might have been knocked of its usual axis, but, as long as she was alive, it hadn't shattered around him again. He turned and finished climbing the stairs.

Before heading to his room, he stopped by Liam's. He knocked on the door and slipped inside. Liam was fighting with the zipper of his sweater when Bill walked in. Noticing his father's presence, Liam looked curiously up at him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't call," Bill said. Liam nodded.

"I know," Liam said. "It's just...mom really wanted you to call last night. I think my homework upset her," he explained, biting his lip. His hands continued fidgeting with his zipper, and Bill moved over to help him with it.

"It's OK to be protective of your mom. I said similar things to my dad about my own mom actually," he pulled the zipper up Liam's sweater and smiled reassuringly at his son. "Can you tell me what she was upset about?"

"The Pythian Prophesy. I had to do a report on it," Liam said, moving to find his shoes.

"What?" Bill frowned, a sudden sick feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah," Liam said, oblivious to his father's discomfort as he moved around his room, looking for his other shoe. "She wouldn't read it."

"I'll make sure she's OK," Bill promised. Liam looked up at him and smiled.

"Dad? I'm glad you're home. I'm sorry I was upset," he said, and his green eyes looked nervously up at his father. Bill pulled him into a hug.

"I'm glad I'm home too. You do need to watch your tone mister," he warned gently as he hugged his son. They both heard Laura calling up to Liam, warning him to hurry up. "Sounds like you better finish getting ready for school, buddy," Bill said ruffling Liam's hair.

...

Bill felt the bed dip slightly as Laura tried to quietly join him without disturbing his rest. However, despite his exhaustion, he had only been able to toss and turn beneath the covers. So, he was still very much awake to feel Laura try and carefully shift closer to him.

"You gonna keep tiptoeing around or get over here?" Bill asked in a gravely, sleepy voice. He heard Laura giggle, and he lifted his arm. She quickly shifted into her spot with her head resting on his chest.

"I thought I told you to rest," she chided.

"I will soon, but I spoke with Liam and he told me something interesting I've been thinking about," Bill said, wrapping his arm around his wife.

"Oh?"

"His homework on the Pythian Prophesy."

"Oh."

"Seems like I'm not the only one having a rough time. Wanna tell me about it?" Bill asked.

"No," Laura said firmly.

"Laura. I want to..." he growled, ready to push for answers.

"The Prophesy is different," she cut him off when it was clear Bill wasn't going to let it drop. Under his hand he felt her body tense. His eyes snapped open and he looked at his wife.

"Different how?" he demanded, he felt his heart beat faster in his chest, and his arm tightened around Laura. He dreaded hearing the title 'dying leader' ever fall from her lips again. She'd had preventative surgery, he reminded himself. She couldn't be the dying leader again.

"I don't know. I didn't read it, and I'm not going to," she stated flatly.

"Why not?"

"Because we decided when we married that this life would be different. We were defining this life by our responsibilities as husband and wife and as parents instead of being controlled by destiny and prophesy or rules and regulations," she said, looking up into his open eyes. "That's all I want," she promised passionately. "I don't want to read whatever it says, because it shouldn't matter to us. It's bad enough I can't control the visions when I dream," she explained. She didn't mean to sound as angry and fierce as she did, but it burst from her. She never wanted to hear the title 'dying leader' ever again. She'd accepted that fate once; her life was her own this time. She had to believe that.

"That's all I want too," he assured her kissing her forehead gently. "You haven't had any more visions, have you?"

"Just the one about Athena being awake. And the girl, but I think she's a dream instead of a vision now," Laura admitted with a sad smile.

"Life is rough right now isn't it?" Bill asked with a cynical chuckle. When he didn't hear anything from Laura, not even a typical giggle, he knew what to ask. "What else is on your mind?" He heard her resigned sigh and felt her shift against him. It took a moment for her to answer.

"I received the final proposal for the Cylon War Museum," she explained in a quiet, controlled voice. "It's official. Galactica will become a museum when she's decommissioned in a few years. It's...disconcerting watching events play out how I remember. I hate wondering if we are heading for the apocalypse again no matter what."

...

Author's note: Cavil is up to no good! The Pythian Prophesy is floating around out there. Galactica will be a museum.

Who's ready to know what happens to Adama?

Reviews are loved and encouraged. It keeps me motivated and puts a little spring in my step.