He'd walked these halls enough times to know that the capitol building of the Twelve Colonies shouldn't have so many gun wielders prowling through her corridors. Marines stationed at hallway intersections grasped their rifles, and agents with dark suits, earpieces, and sidearms roamed the building. They looked prepared and wary. Bill frowned, eyeing each of them as he made his way through the building to his wife's office, showing his ID pass when prompted.

The security relaxed around the Halls of Education, and the atmosphere brightened. Laughter reached his ears the closer he came to her office. There was often laughter around Laura Roslin back on the Colonies. It wasn't full belly laughs, but it was the gentle roll of chuckles and waves of giggles from camaraderie, friendship, people put at ease, and inside jokes. Bill watched a group of teachers leaving Laura's office all bantering easily among themselves while smiling and nodding their goodbyes to their well-liked leader.

Mirth dancing in her eyes was the first thing Adama noticed when he saw Laura. Her own meeting had obviously gone better than his. Her unworried and calm facade made him wonder if she'd noticed the major increase in security.

Seeing her husband, her gaze softened in concern as he shut the door. She dropped the folders she carried onto her desk. Crossing the room, Laura tugged him away from the door and onto the couch in her office. Her mind had constantly drifted to him and his meeting to imagine what was happening. Now she wanted to know.

"What did they say?"

"Reassignment. Bet you'll never guess which ship," Adama quipped.

"The Pegasus?" Laura guessed sarcastically, adding a bit of humor. Rolling his eyes, Bill gave a dry chuckle.

"Funny," he snorted, glad he hadn't been given command of that beast. "Galactica."

"So, you weren't demoted, court-martialed, or discharged," Laura affirmed.

"They wanted a quiet solution. Something the media wouldn't notice since I'm married to a certain government official. Apparently, the court-martial of an Admiral married to the Secretary of Education might make some headlines, especially, when the orders he disobeyed weren't on the books," Adama said, and told her about their conversation. He fought his rising irritation as he explained what happened, but knew he'd be hitting the gym later. Hard.

Laura tilted her head and imagined him going toe to toe with Hector and Adar.

"They need a dose of humility," Laura sighed. The two of them needed to be taken down a peg or two, and it was satisfying to think of Bill being the one to do it.

"What's going on today in the capitol? There's all kinds of marines and security," he asked, unable to stop thinking of the rifles and agents. The knot of concern had been growing in his stomach.

"Not sure. I didn't notice," she admitted, frowning. "The Cabinet is supposed to meet in Adar's office in a bit, but my aide didn't write down what for. Is there really that much security?" she asked, racking her brain to remember what was going on. It felt like she should remember something, but nothing was coming to her. She sighed, shrugged, and changed the subject before it started to bother her. "So, will you be happy to see Galactica again?" she asked, wondering if it would be too bittersweet.

"It'll be strange standing on her decks again. Although, we won't be reporting to Galactica right away. She's in dry dock," he explained.

"Ahhh. I might have had something to do with that," Laura mentioned. Her lips formed a particularly sassy smirk, and she felt a little thrill go through her at her husband's curious gaze.

"Oh?"

"Well, she is to be a museum. So, as Secretary of Education, I thought it prudent to order a structural survey to make sure she has no potential issues. I told the inspection team to be thorough. Apparently, they discovered quite a few problems. In fact, there were enough concerns raised that now more Battlestars are getting surveyed. Secretary Hector isn't particularly happy with me now. It wrecked his budget," Laura explained with a soft giggle. She eagerly watched as understanding dawned on Bill, and a smile formed on his face. He looked like a kid on Saturnalia morning.

"You remembered Galactica's structural problems?!" Adama exclaimed. He felt lighthearted and maybe even a little giddy.

"Surprise. She's being fixed up like new," Laura promised, looking pleased with herself and relaxing into the couch. "Your women have to watch out for each other, Bill," she teased.

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, If I'm trying to avoid dying of cancer too early, it seemed right to let Galactica get some care too."

"You're more important to me than the ship, Laura," he growled. "And you'd better be keeping your own upcoming appointments with the doctor." The familiar neurosis he still struggled with at her death tugged at his mind.

"So bossy," she scoffed but softened when she saw the look he gave her and decided to placate him. "I know. I know. I'll go. And I had to do this. If those attacks happen, we need to be ready. Adar and Hector, they seem to want a war. They are acting like this will be a full-frontal assault. They think they can throw some Battlestars at them and that will be enough."

"At least the networking issue was solved," Bill muttered, shaking his head and pursing his lips. The report they'd given Adar on the day they'd told him about the attacks had detailed exactly how their defenses were circumvented.

"Bill, there still has to be some things we can do," she said, they'd worked with Kara and Cottle to stockpile supplies. Laura had played her part with Adar. What else could they do? It felt like old times, the two of them planning and hoping. A storm was coming, and she didn't feel ready. She wondered if they'd ever feel confident that they weren't facing another apocalypse, a fate she desperately wanted her sons to be spared.

"The people I have kept up contact with through the Fleet, they know to regroup at Ragnar if the Cylons come," Adama shrugged. "There's not much more we can do ourselves."

"There is nothing worse than regret at missed opportunities," Laura said. She glanced at the clock in her office and jumped to her feet. "I'm going to be late if I don't get going. Walk me?"

"Of course," Bill said and extended his elbow which Laura slipped her arm around.

Together they walked through hallways, and Laura took in the extra security Bill mentioned. She frowned. She'd never seen such a military presence in the Capitol. Suddenly, bile rose in her throat as they neared Adar's office. She froze and took a couple deep breaths. Heat raced through her body while a ringing sound filled her ears.

"I remember," she whispered, and every muscle in her body tensed. In front of them, security blocked their path.

"What's going on?" Bill asked Laura, placing a hand over where his wife gripped his arm. He squeezed it reassuringly but felt alarmed at the icy glint he found in her gaze. Gone was the laughing Laura Roslin of earlier. This was President Roslin, and the sight of her caused Bill's heart to clench and his stomach to knot. He looked toward where she was staring and after a moment understood.

A heavily armed detail escorted a prisoner, the red jumpsuit giving away his status, down the hallway. His dark hair was disheveled, but his eyes defiantly stared down anyone who would meet his gaze. Adama and Roslin watched as their old nemesis, Tom Zarek, was paraded by.

"The last thing he ever told me was that he'd executed you. Do you know why?" Laura asked in a low tone, pacing over to the wall and leaned against it for support. Her legs felt like jelly.

"Laura…"

"To break me," she cut him off. "He knew I loved you and deliberately used it as a weapon. He knew your death would kill me faster than my cancer ever could. He wanted it to be the final thing to send me over the edge; he'd never have to worry about me after that," she spoke but her usual warm voice was now hard like steel. Eyes closed, she leaned her head against the wall. "Kiss me," she suddenly asked, clearly not caring that they were in public. She wanted to feel him.

He observed her down-turned features, and the way she fiddled with the onyx pendant almost always at her throat. Without hesitation he kissed her so well that she forgot every terrible moment that had happened in their lives. Instead, they felt that powerful thing which had always been between them; a love which was not to be questioned or frakked with in any way. The people who'd tried, idiots like Zarek and Adar, only made fools of themselves. When they broke apart Laura's face had relaxed. Bill brought her left hand to his lips and kissed where her wedding band rested on her finger, and she was able to give him a genuine smile. Their connection was as powerful as ever, strengthening them both.

"Secretary Roslin?" Adar called, noticing her in the hallway. His party, with plenty of secret service agents, was following Zarek to where his parole would be offered. He'd paused when he'd noticed Laura.

"Go," Bill encouraged when he heard her sigh. "I'll see you at home soon." Laura nodded and moved to join her boss's party. Bill watched her walk away. She strode with purpose, not breaking a step even when she turned to look over her shoulder and mouth 'I love you' to him. He chuckled and grinned. 'Me too' he replied silently, delighting in the grin that he saw spreading on her face. She turned back to Adar's group and joined it. Whether or not the President was right, whether he deserved Laura Roslin or not, she was as utterly devoted to him as he was to her.

Adar matched his pace with Laura. He wanted to speak with his favorite secretary. His body radiated the tension he felt, even though he tried to cover it with a dose of bravado. This man was no Kara Thrace though, and his swagger looked as forced as it was.

"He's going to accept," Adar assured her. He tried to sound confident and only sounded loud. Laura rolled her eyes. Her throat and stomach felt like she'd swallowed something unpleasant as they made their way through the building. She remembered the defiant and smug look Zarek often wore, and her fists clenched.

"No, he's not."

"I've spent too much time working up every possible argument and counter argument. I've got a speech vetted by over a dozen people to help convince him to accept the pardon."

"Richard, I know it's a strange concept, but there are people who will say no to you. He's not going to accept. He thinks he's right and has nothing to lose. Men like that are dangerous," she hissed, trying to force her body to relax.

But Adar had invested too much time and energy into this offer. He was risking his political neck by extending this olive branch to Zarek. His mind refused to believe that the terrorist could refuse his offer. Why would the man willingly go back to prison?

"Your future isn't already written," Adar snapped. Laura shrugged and tried not to let the situation with Zarek get to her. She pondered Adar's words for a moment and relished the idea that the future held a million possibilities.

"I hope things work," Laura said. The philosophers say the past cannot be changed, and it's only the future which we have any power over. Laura reflected on that position. What happens when you've seen the future and live in the past? There was no rule book for her to follow, and, as a former teacher, she had an appreciation for rules.

She didn't know if the future was written or not. Either way, Tom Zarek did not accept his parole that day.

…..

Over a month later, two women studied a display case. The opening of the contemporary art exhibit at the Delphi Museum was the talk of Caprica City. When Kara had mentioned that she liked the artists who'd be on display, Laura had taken the young viper pilot as her plus one. It was one of the many continual peace offerings still being exchanged between the women. Throngs gathered around the new pieces being presented, but Laura and Kara were drawn to a much older case holding a much older artifact.

"I have to admit, it's impressive how often your powers of persuasion got me into trouble, and I still haven't learned my lesson," Kara muttered and fidgeted with her dress. Her acerbic tone was only slightly placated by the devil-may-care grin on her face.

"You enjoy trouble," Laura countered. The Secretary of Education usually felt alive and peaceful in museums. She enjoyed the merging of past and present museums presented, and how they bore witness to humanity's powers of creation. However, this display she stood in front of instantly made her feel uneasy.

"I enjoy fun," Kara countered. "Are all these people usually so pretentious?" Kara asked while eyeing the crowds filled with businessmen, politicians, and socialites. "Because, I once thought you were bad. Now I wanna know how you survived being around these people and can still be nice," Kara said. Her sarcasm was as biting as ever.

"One of my favorite things about you Kara has to be your candidness," Laura replied now unfazed by Kara's sass. She suspected Kara enjoyed trying to get a rise out of her, and it was equally satisfying to deny her that pleasure.

"Not how gullible I am?"

"Second favorite trait."

"Well, if you try and send me back for this thing," Kara gestured toward the Arrow of Apollo they stood in front of, "I'm helping them throw you in the brig."

"I was planning on asking you to retrieve the Hammer of Hephaestus this time," Laura replied in a dry tone, and Kara snorted out a laugh.

"I get it! I'm your personal Hercules! These are the crazy-ass trials I have to complete!"

"Being elevated to Demi-God status is the last thing you need," Laura muttered.

"Says the Prophesied ex-leader of all humanity," Kara snipped. They were in danger of letting their playful banter turn serious and scathing. Their tentative relationship was not quite rock-solid yet, and it wasn't hard for them to accidentally insult the other.

"Not this time. Too stressful. The pressure tends to work one into an early grave," Laura joked, but her humor fell flat. Kara's expression was suddenly serious. The banter had gone too far.

"It really was too stressful. Why did the Gods have to choose us? I wouldn't have chosen us. We aren't the greatest choices out there." Kara frowned and folded her arms.

"I don't know," Laura sighed. "I didn't ever have any aspirations for that kind of power or responsibility."

"Me neither."

"It's just an arrow right now," Laura noted and nodded at the display case, "It looks so...mundane almost. The gold is worn. The jewels are dull. It's…. It's just an arrow," she said.

"And we are just people now," Kara muttered. "Right?" Kara saw Laura shift uncomfortably. "You're having visions again." Kara's heart raced at the realization, and she felt like someone had ripped the rug out from underneath her. Her wide eyes watched Laura continue to twitch uncomfortably under her gaze.

"They never really stopped," Laura admitted quietly.

"Are the attacks going to happen?" Kara demanded. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. She frowned and crossed her arms while waiting for Laura to reply.

"Kara…" this was the last thing Laura wanted to discuss. She hated how crazy and out of control her visions made her feel. Every vision, every glimpse, and every foretaste of knowledge felt like pouring salt in an open wound which reminded her of the destiny she'd died to fulfill.

"You've seen the attacks. Haven't you?" Kara was perceptive. It was something which made her one of the best viper pilots in the Fleet. Laura's downcast expression was all the reply Kara needed. "Have you told the Old Man?"

"I was going to once I was sure it was a vision and not a dream or nightmare," Laura sighed. "We told President Adar how to avoid the attacks. It should be impossible for them to happen. But with Bill back on Galactica, and my dreams," she didn't continue. What could she say that Kara hadn't already thought? Besides, did she see visions or nightmares?

"Same ripples, different pebbles," Kara muttered.

"The prophecy is different," Laura relayed. "The Pythian Prophecy. I'm not sure what that means. Liam had a project on it, but I haven't read it. I don't want to. Maybe everything is changing."

"Even if it is changing, I don't want to follow visions or prophesy again. I don't want to play a role the Gods pick out for me," Kara said. It wasn't hard to understand why Laura didn't want to know what Pythia said. She didn't either.

Giving the display case one last dirty look, the two women decided to move away. They wanted to be free to live their own lives, so they ignored the Arrow of Apollo for the rest of the night.

…...

The last time he'd seen her, when he flew the last viper out of her once great hangars, she'd looked mutilated beyond recognition. Scorch marks scarred her hull. Armor plating twisted, deforming her into not even a shadow of her former self. The name Galactica didn't even shine proudly from her sides when he flew his viper past. The letters were scorched and broken. She'd sacrificed even proudly bearing her name to keep the people inside her safe. His heart had ached at the sight, and it felt perverse to let his eyes roam over all the wounds his ship had sustained in her life. With a painful lump in his throat, he'd turned his viper away and said goodbye, somehow making it down to the ground to only say goodbye again.

Now Galactica shone majestically before his eyes. He felt his heart throb and eyes mist, but he kept his hands steady on the controls of the raptor he piloted.

"We could almost pretend nothing happened looking at her now," Adama remarked to Tigh. Forget the Cylons. Forget the future. Forget every condition one. Forget every bullet. But the two old friends couldn't forget any of it. They sat in a cloud of melancholy while Adama guided the raptor toward one of Galactica's flight pods. Neither man could tear their eyes away from the grand old ship.

"That's some wishful thinking," Saul muttered, pulling out a flask. He growled at the burn of the liquid and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Adama glared at him, and Tigh put the flask away. He just needed a little liquid courage to face being back on Galactica. Tigh's heart was ready to burst from his chest in joy, but his mind reminded him of the many nightmares he'd seen within her hull.

"Why us Bill? Out of the billions of people on the Colonies, why we were the ones stuck saving humanity, and then those memories of saving humanity, so we could possibly do it all again?" His tone was cynical, but he barked out a strange laugh at his question.

"I don't know," Adama muttered, as he brought the raptor in for a smooth landing. The weight of the future was a burden, but he wouldn't have Laura without having experienced the future, and Zak would have been lost in a viper accident. They waited for the raptor to be towed into the hangar deck. Adama ran through their post-flight checklists. He glanced up every second; the Admiral wanted to see his old ship, but he didn't always recognize what he saw. It was too shiny.

"I'm an asshole. I'm a drunk. I've got issues. I come from a frakked-up family," he snorted at the allusion to his Cylon heritage, "I'm a prick, and I know it. There should have been someone better trying to save humanity in that timeline. There should be someone better trying to help prevent the apocalypse now," Saul grumbled, but his words made Bill grin. People could say what they wanted about Saul, but the man had a better sense of self-awareness than any other person Bill Adama had ever met. The door to the raptor opened, and they heard the familiar sounds of working deck crews.

"I'm a washed-up old Admiral now," Bill muttered so that only Saul could hear as they moved toward the raptor door. "I've made my share of mistakes. Why us indeed."

"Admiral on deck," the two old friends heard someone call out. The resounding thud of an entire deck snapping to attention echoed around them.

"Permission to come aboard?" Tigh asked, addressing the senior most officer present.

"Permission granted sirs. Welcome aboard Admiral, Colonel," the officer greeted.

"It's good to be here. At ease," Adama commanded the deck.

They were escorted by the Officer of the Watch, the man stationed to Galactica before Gaeta, through the hallway toward CIC where Adama would take command.

"Yea. Seems inevitable doesn't it? We have to end up there," Saul growled and resigned himself to facing the future again. His hand twitched with the desire to reach for his flask.

"You made that sound like a death sentence," Bill said while looking over to his friend.

"Isn't it?"

"Nothing is certain," Bill argued.

"We could run. Take Ellen, Laura, and your kids and run. Live on New Caprica or Kobol," Saul offered wistfully as they drew closer to CIC.

"Could we live with ourselves if we did that?" Bill asked even if he found the idea tempting on some level. He wasn't willing to admit that weakness out loud.

"Probably not. Still tempting," Saul said, but they kept moving forward.

Every step through the corridors toward CIC reminded Adama of different memories, and one by one they slipped through his mind. He'd seen Starbuck jogging down these now clean corridors. He'd seen Apollo encouraging the pilots beside that freshly painted door. He was pretty sure Baltar had slammed himself into that fully functional wall panel. Photos, hundreds of photos, had adorned those now clear walls. Bill wondered if he'd ever seen Galactica so fresh looking, or if this was his wife's doing because of the overhaul. Maybe he just couldn't forget the last time he'd seen Galactica in their other life when she'd been a ghost of her former self.

The two men entered CIC. Both their old hearts skipped a beat at the familiar stations, displays, and atmosphere. Adama's heart beat wildly in his chest, but outwardly he schooled his features into their usual stoic passivity. Saul looked around wide-eyed. He noted several crewmen eyeing him as well, assessing if the rumors about 'tight-ass Tigh' were true or not. He scowled at them.

"We're home, Bill," Saul marveled in a whisper to his friend as they approached their posts.

"No," Bill said. Saul frowned at him incredulously, as if Bill had just announced that he had also secretly been a skin-job all along. Bill rested his hands on the tactical table, feeling the familiar surface under his rough hands.

"She's seen plenty in her time but will fly true. Galactica is the best ship in the Fleet. She'll protect her crew and let us rest our heads at night, but in the end, your home is with Ellen. My home is with Laura," Bill explained to Saul in a low voice, looking at the clean metal walls and innocent faced crew.

As he took in his present surroundings, his mind flashed back to something Laura said, "You know, sometimes I wonder what 'home' is. Is it an actual place? Or is it some kind of longing for something, some kind of connection? You know, I spent my whole life on Caprica; I was born in one house, and then I moved to another. And then…this. And then now. I don't think I've ever felt truly at home until these last few months, here with you." Her gaze, both sad and intense, had pierced through to his heart, leaving him speechless; he was her home. That floored him. They'd talked more as Laura, confronted with her mortality, spoke of her never-to-be cabin in the mountains and its glass-like clear streams; remembering the dream they'd created under the sun and stars of New Caprica. He understood, she could think of it as home because he was there. Now, Galactica wasn't his home anymore.

…..

She walked toward the house she knew Roslin and Adama lived in. She was terrified but forced herself to keep going. This was the right choice, she told herself.

….

Author's note: I think I'm recovering from being sick. Maybe. So, this chapter is brought to you by cold medicine! Blame the germs if this chapter isn't the best.

Reviews are appreciated! Let me know if there's something you want to see, what might be better, or what you loved!

Special thanks to my reviewers: Skyandclouds, AllonsySpaceman (amazing username), Kleam, Diane, Anastasia1224, Adama-roslininlove, Saitofan, Chamalladreamer, mullalygurl, Elena Kats, and Just a Crazy-Man.