Laura didn't want to dream. What she saw couldn't be considered a nightmare; her blood didn't run cold, and there was no urge to flee. Her dreamscape surroundings might not qualify as a chamber full of horrors, but Laura didn't welcome what she saw at night. Her unconscious mind might provide insight into this timeline but not the distance the Adama family craved from prophecy and destiny.

The smell of chalk surrounded her. A layer of powdered white residue coated her hands. For a moment, she remembered the days of being Ms. Roslin and driving her passion through a piece of chalk and onto the blackboard of her classroom while teaching her students the wonders of the worlds. Now the blackboard was blank save for a list of names:

Zeus - Bill Adama

Hera - Laura Roslin

Poseidon - Saul Tigh

Demeter -

Ares - Jack Cottle

Aphrodite -

Hephaestus -

Athena - Sharon "Boomer" Valerii

Artemis -

Apollo - Kara "Starbuck" Thrace

Hermès -

Dionysus -

Seeing it all spelled out made something snap inside Laura. Rage boiled in her stomach and the molten anger pulsed through her veins. She marched away from the blackboard, sat behind her desk, and glared at the names. The rage wasn't tempered by the time Elosha walked through the door to her old classroom.

"No one new remembers. There won't be any new names for a while, Laura," Elosha informed her when she noted Laura looking at the list.

"The Gods are sick if they want to drag a child into this," Laura growled.

"He won't be a child forever, Laura," Elosha pronounced as if it were sage wisdom. Laura stood slowly up from behind her desk and planted her hands firmly on the wooden surface.

"My son is not going to be dragged into whatever mess this is," she hissed while gesturing angrily toward the board.

"We choose our destiny as much as our destiny chooses us."

"The oracles in the tent called my son the child of the 'dying leader.' He came home asking if I was dying! Do you know what that was like? I've had surgery. I go to the doctor. I am not, absolutely not, going to be the dying leader again. I won't. I don't choose that!" Laura exclaimed and pushed away from her desk to face away from the classroom. Her breathing was ragged from her anger. She'd devoted her life to her people. She'd devoted her death to an ancient prophecy and a mythical planet. They'd mattered a great deal to her once, and she knew that her people still mattered a great deal to her still. She cared for others; she didn't become Secretary of Education because it was fun, but because she was driven to make a difference. But she loved her family, and for anyone to ask so much of her again?

"You were the dying leader. You can't change that."

"I won't choose it again. I won't, I can't do that to Bill. Ever. He doesn't deserve to watch me die again. He..." Laura had to swallow as her throat constricted against the emotion she felt. Raw love for a man who meant more than anything ripped through her, catching her breath. "I won't be the cause of his suffering. He's a good man."

"Love. I remember telling you to just love somebody. You chose your partner well when deciding with whom to walk the paths of destiny," Elosha assured, walking toward the desk. Her warm voice reached out for Laura as if offering an embrace.

"Are you saying it's my fault Bill and Liam are caught up in this?" Laura whirled around to face Elosha, a horrified expression on her face.

"Choices have consequences."

"I know that, but this? This is…" Laura shook her head and crossed her arms. She could not, would not, consider a life where her husband was forced to watch her suffer a wasting disease that dragged her from him. Just as horrifying to Laura was the threat of Liam, of any of their children, being snagged in prophecy's cruel clutch.

Despite Laura's anger, Elosha stayed calm and serene. Her concern was genuine, and she gave her old friend a soft smile as she stepped toward her. The dim light of the classroom caught the gold embroidery on her robes and the little beads sparkled. She made the perfect image of Priestess of the Lords of Kobol. She didn't wither under Laura's fierce gaze, but met it with a soft look.

"I still remember administering the oath of office to you. And I could see that you were so terribly frightened. I found comfort in that. Because you were frightened and you were moving forward, just as you are now. You might be worried and angry now, but I see the same hope in your eyes again. Hope and fire..."

"Stop!"

Laura's eyes sprang open and her heart pounded. The endless darkness of her room pressed in around her, and she could smell sweet and felt how her nightgown clung to her. The conversation with Elosha replayed itself in her mind until morning light crept into their bedroom.

...

A coffin gleamed in the early morning light which streamed through the trees which surrounded the outskirts of the graveyard. There were no special adornments on the box. No gilded handles. No carvings. There was only a polished sheen on the wood. These houses for the dead were crafted to soothe the living; the departed were no longer around to care.

Socrata Thrace was dead, and Kara would not wrap her mother in something of beauty that conveyed a different reality than what had been. Socrata had been a good officer, and the simple casket surrounded by an honor guard denoted that. But she hadn't been a good mother, her surviving daughter wouldn't pretend otherwise. This is all she would offer her.

"Mourn the passing of a life well lived. Celebrate the times you smiled together…" Kara snorted as the military chaplain's homily droned on for the two people in attendance. A comforting arm wrapped around her.

"I don't know if she ever smiled," Kara muttered leaning against the other woman. "Why does her death hurt?" she asked looking over at Laura with furrowed brows. To Kara, the ache in her heart made no sense. She had a father's love, and she had a mother's love from the woman beside her. And yet part of her had always wanted her birth mother's love, for her to hear that the woman who bore her held affection for her instead of just the desire to see her daughter turned into a fierce warrior.

"She was your mother, and loss is loss. You forgave her in the end and didn't wish ill on her," Laura offered.

"If I forgave her, shouldn't I have visited her more in this timeline? Reached out?"

"No. Forgiveness does not mean you had to allow her in your life. Forgiveness does not mean a relationship is fixed. She hurt you, Kara, but you chose to set yourself free of that, not to forget it," Laura replied, thinking of Baltar and how she'd forgiven him and even tended to his injuries on the Basestar, but she never trusted him. She would never trust him. Whatever this peace with the Cylons was, she didn't trust it.

The funeral dragged on. Briefly, Kara wondered what her own funeral on Galactica had looked like, but that was too morbid, even for her. Kara declined saying a few words in memory of her mother. Instead, she leaned over and whispered a few words to Laura.

"I think she might have loved me. I found stuff she kept from my childhood. Awards. Art projects…" Kara sighed. "Too bad my old art doesn't go well with scars and broken bones."

"And while you might forgive her, and even miss her, it does not erase that past."

"Thank you for being here," Kara murmured, before snapping off a salute with the honor guard. A few paces away a rifleman raised his gun and fired off a final tribute to the dead Colonial warrior. It echoed around the graves and trees, a final goodbye.

They walked away from the graveyard in silence.

"Coffee," Kara decided and she motioned for Laura to follow her. The two women set off into Delphi City, scattering a flock of pigeons as they moved down the sidewalk. Kara filled Laura in on antics from Galactica: sergeant Hadrian's boots being frozen right before she went on duty, switching the name tags on Gaeta's and Dualla's lockers, and someone switching Tigh's ambrosia with apple juice. Laughter burst out of Laura when Kara insisted she was responsible for exactly one of the incidents and no more. As Kara spoke, they passed a run-down pawn shop, a liquor store, and a tiny market. Standing in front of a shady looking cafe, Kara proclaimed they'd arrived at the best coffee shop on the Colonies.

"So, I hear Adar's trying to get us all killed again," Kara began plopping down in a seat on the other side of the table from where Laura was perched, two steaming cups of coffee between them. The buzz of other patrons droning on meant that Kara's words were easily lost in the crowd, although no one seemed to care who they were.

"And Baltar's handing him the gun," Laura added and rolled her eyes. She brought her mug to her lips and took a tentative sip of coffee. It was amazing, and her expression must have revealed her surprise.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," Kara tittered, nodding to their dingy surroundings and enjoying the brief role reversal.

"Yes, ma'am," Laura huffed, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. Kara nearly choked on her coffee at the older woman's response after inhaling the bitter beverage when she laughed.

With a deep breath, Kara grew serious. She hadn't just been sent back to Caprica to attend her mother's funeral. The Admiral had sent his officer back to see what Sharon had to say about the Cylon's offer. Her hand cradled her mug as she recalled seeing Boomer again and the storm of emotions that had wrought. Anger. Hope. Confusion. Hate. Friendship. Sympathy. If there was a correct emotion to feel, Kara couldn't pick which was the one.

"I meet Boomer. She's more like the nervous rook I remember meeting than whatever Cavil helped turn her into. Desperate to do the right thing. Hoping we can accept her. The kid I knew and cared about. She says she doesn't know if the Cylon's offer of peace is genuine," Kara said, staring down into the black liquid and swirling it around while she spoke.

"So no new insight there. Do you think we should trust her?"

"What do things like trust, forgiveness, friendship, and family even mean when we've experienced a whole lifetime that's now gone? I remember a Sharon Valerii who never would have shot the Old Man. I trusted her. She was family."

"Bill thinks she missed deliberately," Laura admitted.

"She was a good shot. Could have put a bullet in his head, especially at point blank range. I always thought it was a miracle he survived, but if she was fighting her programming…" Kara mused and drank some of her coffee while thinking it over. Sharon had destroyed their water supply and then found water. She and Racetrack had obliterated an entire Cylon baseship. The Cylon had even tried to commit suicide, and that final fact resonated with Kara - the desire to protect family, even if the price was your life. Kara looked up at Laura.

"I fly by instinct, you know? It's not memorized mechanics and flight patterns to me. I feel what I need to do in my gut, and I do it. That feeling I get is telling me to trust Boomer but not this peace," Kara explained. They sat in silence for a moment while the noise of other conversations continued.

"Then we're all on the same page," Laura replied, finishing the last bit of her coffee.

"We learned that peace can exist. But, this doesn't feel earned, and it doesn't feel genuine. Boomer feels genuine. She's reached out."

For a brief moment, Laura thought back to her dreams. Elosha said Boomer's name appearing next to the goddess of wisdom. Wisdom was earned, and Boomer had earned hers.

"We will never forget, but with people like Boomer we can try to move past what happened."

"Like you and the Old Man did after Kobol?"

"And like you and I have."

…..

Laura smiled as she watched Bill place another log into their fireplace and begin to light it. It was easily the feature he loved best about their house, and many good memories had been made on the soft rug in front of it. She chuckled when she remembered how adamant he'd been about getting said rug; it was one of the first things he'd added to her house in order to make it their home. It had confused her at first. At first. After that, she had trusted him with whatever he wanted in the house.

His favorite naval ship decorated the mantel along with pictures of their family. A few feet away stood a leather recliner - 'his' spot. He'd spent hours reading there while a fire blazed beside him. Liam used to climb up on his father's lap often dragging a children's book with him. They would relax into the soft leather together while Bill's voice spun fairytales and myths into life. Happy memories.

Once finished with his task, Bill joined his wife where she sat on the rug. He carefully kept one hand out of sight and behind his back. His other hand reached up to caress her neck before pulling her forward for a lazily kiss.

"Are you trying to distract me from whatever it is you're hiding?" Laura hummed with a teasing note in her voice. Bill chuckled and pulled out a bottle.

"Caught. Picked this up on Aerelon," Bill explained handing it to her.

"Bill, this is Baconian wine! What's the occasion?"

"We're celebrating. I thought about saving it for a better time after you told me about the peace, but why put off embracing the good things in life?" He asked, taking the bottle back. He began peeling the foil away from the neck and cork while Laura looked at him curiously.

"You have a point, but what are we celebrating?" Laura asked, tilting her head to the side. She watched as he reached over to his chair and plucked a folder off it along with his glasses, a necessary item for both of them once again. Out of the folder her pulled a paper, and handed it to her. It was a report on the state of education in the Twelve Colonies.

"End of another academic year for you and according to that," Bill said gesturing at the report, "it says the schools have never been better. Quote, 'the Secretary of Education should be praised for her ideas and innovation.' That, Laura, is worthy of celebration," he explained. Laura felt a rush of warm affection pulse through her, as if her soul was humming in contentment. This is what the end of the world gave her, and there were still times she couldn't believe how well they fit together

"Bill… this is really sweet of you," Laura breathed.

She remembered a time when he wasn't impressed with her at all. He had seen her as a simple schoolteacher who wouldn't be able to rise to the demands of the Presidency. With misty eyes, she watched him uncork the wine, pull two glasses out, and fill them. One was passed to Laura, but the other he held up.

"To my best friend and wife. The woman who helps create a better future," he toasted proudly.

"Thank you," Laura sniffed, but she couldn't take a sip of wine before she was fighting back the fresh wave of tears prickling in her eyes. At Bill's concerned gaze she reached out and took his hand. "I never thought I'd find this, find someone who truly cared about me and cared enough to notice my work and here you are making me feel loved and appreciated. You're a good husband, Bill."

Bill felt his own heart constrict at her words. She meant it but hearing what he made her feel always brought a reassuring thrill to him. It had been one of his greatest fears in this new life; to lose Laura if he failed her as a partner. She was a strong person but had a vulnerable side that wanted to feel safe and loved, and here sat assuring him that he'd done well and given her what she needed. There was a pressure in his hand, and he realized she was squeezing it while giving him a happy smile. His words finally returned to him.

"You know, one of my marines knew you, knew of you. He told me about a program you'd created that helped keep in school. Wouldn't have been in the Fleet without it," he told her after they clinked their wine glasses and took a few heavenly sips.

"Private Samson. I remember him. He's one of the men that helped break me out of Galactica's brig," Laura replied with a smirk and remembered the two men who helped lead her from the brig to the hangar deck during her Galactica jailbreak. She watched Bill's eyes narrow calculatingly.

"Wanna tell me who else was involved?"

"What if I need to escape again?" Laura asked in a deadpanned tone and sipped her wine while trying to smother her grin. She couldn't stop the giggle when she heard his growl.

"Then I'll help you," he replied flatly. Laura laughed.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she admitted with a grin before positioning herself so she leaned back against his chest in front of the fire. Warmth surrounded her from the blaze and from the man behind her. They sipped at their wine and enjoyed the dancing flames while Laura told him about the various work she'd been doing that had earned her such high praise in the report.

While he listened and asked questions, Bill's hands traced up her arm, across her belly, and under her breasts in loving caresses. He couldn't see them, but under his fingers were faded scars from her surgery years ago. Little silver lines that proved she was fighting to stay with him. Bill traced where they were with his finger, grateful for the long future they symbolized. Nothing could take away the memory of the pain they'd endured, pain the Cylons had caused. Watching Laura fade had ripped out his heart. A slow death for a strong woman. It was torture to both endure and witness; the revelation that she'd never return to Colonial One, realizing they'd never sleep side by side again, looking down and seeing a hospital gown and knowing it was the last outfit Laura would wear, and the constant ache at leaving half a soul behind when death claimed her. The past few weeks had brought much of that pain to the forefront of their minds along with their fear of the apocalypse.

Laura tilted her head to look back into his blue eyes after he'd grown quiet. She felt where his fingers lingered and placed her hand over his. Thoughts of another life slipped into her mind.

"I had a dream, and it made me think about taking the oath of office that first time. I remember being terrified. I could barely say the words. When I first woke up with my memories, I had a horrible feeling that the attacks would happen again. I'd end up there again. I'm getting that feeling back; its like I know they'll happen and it scares me." She laced her fingers with his over the silver scars. "Even if they happen. I'm staying with you as long as I can." She promised.

"Promise?" He asked, and she noted the shine his eyes had taken.

"I promise."

"Tell me about the university visits you've been doing?" he asked, bringing them back to their celebration

"Ok," she replied with a smile.

…

Author's note: Reviews are welcomed and encouraged! I love reading what people think. Suggestions, comments, theories, praise, criticism - it's all good!