Death wasn't kind. William Adama knew that. He'd watched death snatch away who it could, when it could. All too often, it grabbed people who were far too young, far too good, and far too… needed. Loved. Death didn't care about any of that.

These dark thoughts invaded Adama's mind as he moved into the head desperate to shave, to do something to feel a little less miserable. In the wake of the destruction of the Colonies, the shadow of death loomed over the Fleet. An entire Battlestar gone. Commander Yar was dead. She'd been a good woman, a great leader. Even in the face of the Apocalypse, Yar refused to let the Cylons break her dauntless spirit. She'd carried on with a fierce determination, cracking jokes in the face of danger. One moment she and the thousands aboard Yashuman were alive and in the next they were gone. He dragged the razor across his face, running on autopilot while lost in thought. Why did one of their greatest assets to survive have to be one of the first to fall? And so senselessly? She and her crew should have gone out in a blaze of defiant glory against the enemy.

He looked in the mirror and saw a man who appeared weighed down. The tension felt like concrete in his veins, heavy and stiff; they hadn't averted the apocalypse and he couldn't keep safe those people they had saved. Twisting the faucet, he threw ice-cold water on his face. Keep it together, he ordered himself. He patted the towel over his face, the vague musk invading his nose. His thoughts turned to the woman waiting for him in his quarters. For her sake if nothing else, keep it together.

Feeling marginally better, he trudged out to the main cabin.

"Laura?" he called, looking around. The lamps were still on and gave the cabin a warm glow, but he didn't see his wife. Rubbing his tired, gritty eyes he looked around again. Then he saw her. "Laura!"

His heart clenched. Her crumpled form was sprawled out on the floor like a discarded rag-doll. In a single heartbeat, he was at her side and dropping to his knees. He snatched up her limp hand in his and searched desperately for a pulse. For a gut wrenching moment he found nothing. Her hand was like ice. Not again, Bill thought. Holding his breath, he moved his fingers along her wrist, searching again. He let out a sigh of relief when he found a thready pulse. She's alive.

He heard himself shouting for a marine and ordering them to get Cottle. The cold of the metal floor seeped into his body, but he was rooted to the spot beside her. He brushed the hair away from her face. She was so pale. His mind flashed back, remembering dirt slowly covered her ashen face in another time when he'd been forced to say goodbye. For a moment he could feel the weight of the rocks he'd carried and laid over her in a poor monument. He drew a ragged breath. It couldn't all happen again. She'd had surgery! Bill swallowed, remembering that she'd missed a few doctor's appointments. A sickening sense of familiarity creeped into the atmosphere. Dammit, Laura. Wake up and tell me I'm overreacting.

His pulse jumped when he saw her eyelids fluttering.

"Bill?" she asked in a hoarse voice. She groaned and peered up at him. "What happened?"

"You must have passed out on the floor," Bill said, noting how dazed and confused she looked. Banishing the images, he pulled his emotions back under his control. Respond don't react.

"I felt dizzy," she remembered, letting him carefully pull her up so she was resting her back against the couch. A second later, Cottle burst into the Admiral's quarters, immediately rushing to where they sat on the floor.

"Madame President?" Cottle asked, dropping his bag down on the table.

Bill explained finding her unconscious on the floor before Laura could pretend that she felt fine. When Doc Cottle mentioned dragging Laura down to sickbay for tests, the dam of restraint burst around Laura.

"Stop!" she croaked, shocking the two men into silence. "Just, stop." She exhaled heavily. "Jack, my medical folder is in the briefcase over there," she said, nodding at the black bag she'd deposited on the table earlier. "You should…you should have a look. Now, please." Laura's voice was quiet and resigned. "I...I need to speak with my husband for a minute."

She wore an expression on her face that made Bill feel as if someone was reaching into his chest and trying to yank his heart out. He looked at the woman he loved most in the world, waiting for her to pull his world out from underneath him.

"You said you were fine," Bill said.

"I…" Laura began. Unconsciously, she licked her lips nervously and squeezed his hands. "I am fine. I am. Bill… I'm pregnant."

His thoughts stuttered for a moment as the news stunned him into complete silence. His gaze flicked down to her stomach and then back up to her nervous eyes. She nodded as if to say he'd heard her right. A tear escaped and trailed down her cheek, and a scared smile tugged at her lips.

"Pregnant," she repeated. "No cancer. I'm OK."

"You are most certainly not 'OK'!" Cottle exclaimed, marching back over with a blue medical folder open in his hands. "I see what your doctor back on Caprica told you, young lady."

"Pregnant?" Bill asked, glancing between Cottle and Laura. He noticed his wife trying not to tremble under his intense gaze. "What's going on, Laura?"

"There are some… risks," she explained softly, breaking their eye contact and looking down at her hands clasped in his. Bill turned to Doc Cottle, demanding answers with a single commanding look. He got the answers he needed. Cottle explained the dangers and complications Laura was facing, while she recoiled further into the couch. He gruffly mentioned that post-menopausal women shouldn't even be pregnant to begin with and suggested following her Caprican doctor's advice. The knot in Bill's stomach was heavy as he turned back to Laura, whose face was awash with tears.

"I'm keeping the baby."

"There are significant dangers, Madame President. You and Bill need to think very carefully about this," Cottle said with as much gentle kindness as he could muster.

Bill watched Laura shake her head and knew any words of caution and warning would fall on deaf ears. There was a look of steely resolve in her eyes alongside the fear.

"I'm going to carry this child as long as I can, and I'm going to do everything I can to see to it that she's born," was all Laura offered.

Cottle shook his head. He demanded to see her tomorrow, no ifs, ands, or buts. At the knowledge she was pregnant, it was fairly certain she'd fainted from standing too quickly and not getting enough food or sleep. Bill realized that it was a miracle she'd held onto the baby during the past few days of running from the Cylons.

In a daze, he stood up and saw the doctor out. At the threshold of the door, Bill grasped Cottle's arm. The medic could see the unasked question in his commanding officer's eyes. How risky? How dangerous? Cottle frowned and shrugged. High risk. Not impossible. Bill nodded and shut the hatch, resting his forehead against the cool metal.

"So, when were you going to tell me?" His voice was a low rumble, soft but powerful enough to feel like a storm. Turning to face her, he was shocked at what he saw. She had pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. He'd never seen her curled into a ball like this. Tears were fresh on her cheeks and there were dark circles under her eyes.

"I don't know. The timing on this…Gods. I know how bad the timing on this is. We're supposed to be retiring. Instead, we're leading a fleet of rag-tag doomsday survivors." She sniffed and wiped the tears off her cheeks only to have more take their place.

"I shouldn't have to learn about your health because I find you lying unconscious on the floor."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Laura, have you really thought about the risks?" he asked, thinking back to Cottle's warnings. He'd made it clear that she very well could die if she tried to carry the baby to term. Heartache threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of the danger she was in, but he kept the panic from showing on his face.

"I am fully aware that the chances of the baby coming to term are slim to none. And…" Laura looked up into his blue eyes. "I know there's a chance I could die," she admitted. "I know I could save myself but I'm not willing to pay that price. So, how the hell was I supposed to tell you all this as the Cylons are trying to kill us? How the hell was I supposed to tell the man who watched me die once already that I'm risking my life by taking this chance?"

"What if I'm not prepared to take the risks?" he asked, rubbing a hand over his face and sucking in a ragged breath. He'd never be free of how the memories of her death haunted him. They were like a glass shard he couldn't let go of even though it continued to cut him.

"Bill. This is our child. Our daughter. I've dreamed about her for years."

"I'm sick of visions and prophecy!" he erupted.

"Me too!" Laura yelled as more tears slipped down her cheeks.

The dying leader. What if she can't escape that destiny? he thought. His insides clenched at that. Shaking his head, he sank down on the couch beside his wife. They were tired, scared, and overwhelmed.

Bill saw the pleading expression still on Laura's face. He knew what she was asking: please try to understand, please support me, and please don't be mad. Sighing, he shifted closer and pulled her into his arms. He felt her clutching him to her. He was angry at her for keeping this from him; at least, he wanted to be angry at her for not telling him sooner. Instead, for a rare moment, he simply felt overwhelmed.

"Hold onto me," he finally ordered gently, and slipped his arms under her trembling form. He carried her over to the rack, laying her down gently. He turned down the lights in their quarters, taking the moments to keep locking down his raging emotions. She needs you, he told himself slipping into bed beside her.

Bill studied his wife. Her skin was flushed from crying, and her eyes glittered in the dim light with a resolute determination. He could see the vulnerability in Laura alongside her iron will and determination to fight whatever battles she is forced to fight. He loved her. He just didn't want her to suffer again. He remembered the terrible days when she could barely muster enough strength to sit upright as her own body failed her.

"I know what you're thinking Bill," Laura whispered. "I have to take the risk. I want our daughter."

"I want her too," he admitted, and Laura gave a relieved sob. Bill sighed and pulled her into his arms. He wished he could take all the risks and dangers away. He wished they weren't on the run for their lives. He remembered Dagon's overt distaste for their new President. He remembered beginning the search for her Secret Service. He remembered her lying in sickbay getting weaker by the day.

"I just can't lose you," he whispered, letting his own tears fall now that they were in the dark.

"Then I'll fight to stay."

...

The meadow was a sea of green over the hillock, flecked with the white of daisies. Tall grass waved in the summer breeze. Flattened grass and tracks ran here and there; it looked like children had been playing. Laura followed one of the trodden paths, until she was at the edge of the forest bordering the meadow. There against the tree sat a man, his hair mostly grey and his brows furrowed in concentration. A young girl stood before him, and he was wiping her tears and picking grass and twigs out of her flaming red hair. Laura could hear the faint echo of the soothing words he whispered in a raspy voice to his daughter as her little arms came to wrap around his neck.

My little girl, Laura thought. She's real now. Gasping in tearful delight, Laura felt powerful surge of determination swell in her. Soon, she thought, I'll meet you soon. Then the morning alarm dragged her back to the land of wakefulness.

…

Marines dressed in all black escorted Gaius Baltar through the metal labyrinth of Galactica. There were two in front of him and two behind him, giving Baltar no illusion that he would be able to waltz away. He tugged at his jacket nervously, twitching every time he caught sight of the blonde woman beside him dressed in red. Instead of looking where she was going, she smirked at him.

'Don't worry Gaius, God's watching over you,' his imaginary lover crooned at him. Gaius gulped, eyeing the rifles the marines grasped in their hands. His confidence that God could stop one of the lumbering grunts from putting a bullet in his head if so commanded, well, it was nonexistent. Head Six laughed as if she could sense his dark musings. He glared at her. I'm probably the smartest person left alive, he thought, hoping that fact afforded him a measure of safety. His talents would be in demand.

The guards opened a hatch that read 'Wardroom' and motioned him inside. Gaius noted that the tables were set up in a U formation. He was marched into the center of the room. He recognized Adama and Roslin, but not the young aide at Roslin's side. Blatar stood and endured their scrutiny, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Six held her head high and sashayed forward to perch on the center table right in between Adama and Roslin. Gaius's mouth went dry at the expanse of leg Six crossed in front of him. Despite the tantalizing sight of the beautiful blonde, Gaius couldn't help but also glance at the redhead beside her. Something radiated from within Roslin that rendered her irresistible to him in an instant. She had warm chestnut hair and pastel white skin which made her pink lips stand out. It was her eyes that he lingered on: orbs of the brightest green fire he'd ever seen, threatening to set him ablaze.

'You'll never have her, Gaius,' Six scoffed, noting his preoccupation with Laura. Despite her words, Baltar couldn't look away. He stared at Laura like she was a shot of single malt.

'Hmm. She married Adama,' the buxom blonde observed. 'And the Admiral doesn't like how you are staring at his wife.'

Baltar's eyes snapped to Adama. He caught a cold hard look on the Admiral's face that he made no attempt to hide. Baltar shifted nervously; there was something deep, dark, and very dangerous just under the surface of his calm facade. With a sinking feeling, Baltar realized Adama had been speaking to him and he had no idea what the man had said. Gaius blinked a couple of times, trying to focus on his words. Six uncrossed and recrossed her legs, deliberately trying to distract the jumpy scientist. It was clear she loved her games, but Baltar was too preoccupied by the flinty look in Adama's gaze to look away.

"Yes, well, umm. I wasn't responsible..." Gauis began to squeak out. In his peripheral vision, Six reclined on the table, looking far too much like the goddess Aphrodite brought to life. He swallowed hard. "I wasn't responsible for the incident aboard the starliner."

'Always a source of entertainment, aren't you, Gaius?' Six asked and grinned as she remembered maneuvering Baltar into the scuffle on the civilian ship. She needed to get him off the small cruiser—he was meant for greater things.

Baltar felt a deep chill spreading up from the base of his spine at the merciless stares Adama and Roslin were giving him. He felt like a mortal standing before two Titans.

"You were with a Cylon on Caprica," Roslin stated.

'They're afraid of you, Gaius,' Six warned, sitting up. 'They won't hesitate to throw you out an airlock if provoked. What are you going to do?'

"I was fooled by the Cylons like the rest of the Colonies. Who doesn't want peace?" Gaius asked calmly. Internally, he felt ready to jump out of his skin. Well, I'm already out of my mind, he thought, eyeing Six.

Baltar listened as he was told that he'd be staying aboard Galactica for the foreseeable future. "For everyone's safety," Roslin said in a dangerously low whisper. They handed down his fate. He'd be put to work in a lab under guard. The fleet needed a way to detect incoming Cylons on DRADIS, and his 'supposed genius level intellect' could prove useful. Adama didn't sound particularly convinced.

'Cylon detection.' Six noted, and she began laughing. Baltar frowned, watching as his imaginary woman's chest rose and fell with each peal of laughter. He didn't understand what was so funny to her, but it wasn't the most confusing of things she'd done.

"Of course, I'll do what I can," Gaius promised. He closed his eyes, hoping that Six would be gone when he opened them. Nope. She was still there. He was crazy after all, he realized. At least he'd be allowed to work without the hindrance of a straight jacket. Adama nodded at the marines and he was escorted out.

…

Adama watched as the marines escorted the deranged scientist out of the room. He would always have a fundamental distrust of Gaius Baltar. Hatred even. It didn't matter that this Baltar hadn't contributed to New Caprica. He was the same frakweasel. Just the sight of the man made Adama's fingers itch to grab the man and throw him out an airlock, and he knew Laura felt the same way.

That morning, Laura had shown him the report of Gaius Baltar's survival and ensuing participation in a riot on one of the civilian ships. He'd agreed with her that the slimy bastard needed to be dragged over to Galactica ASAP. What he'd been a little less sure about was using him to help overcome the Cylon's stealth technology. Desperate times, Laura reminded him. She did suggest not giving him a thermonuclear bomb.

"You're heading over to Colonial One?" Bill asked watching Laura pack up her papers.

"Yes. There's too much to do. And the press is beginning to reassemble. I need to address them," Laura explained and paused. "I'm going to tell them we're married. It's better we appear upfront and transparent. I don't know how they are going to react."

"Take care of yourself," he said, gently touching the small of her back and letting his gaze flick to her stomach. They'd gone to Cottle just that morning and seen the first glimpse of their child. He kept tamed the urge to keep her safe. His instinct to protect her was on overdrive thanks to the knowledge of their unborn child. She smiled softly at him and nodded before leaving with Billy.

…

Their prison cells were a hollow cubes of crisscrossed metal bars. None of them were sure how many days had passed. Given enough time a person could start to forget their own name on the Astral Queen.

"Hey, you hear about our new President?" he overheard one of the prisoners, probably Mason, ask.

"Some bitch name Roslin," grunted his friend Meier.

"Laura Roslin," Zarek whispered the familiar name as he leaned back against the cold bars of his cell, folding his arms against his chest to help keep a little warmth inside.

"Hey Wilkens, what can you tell us about the broad?" Mason called up to the control booth where the prison barge's captain had his feet propped up on a ledge.

"She was Secretary of Education. Frakkin' hussy is married to that Admiral what's-his-face," Wilkens said, having been the only one close enough to the talk-wireless speaker for the earlier broadcast.

"Adama," Zarek snarled. So, she actually did love the man. He curled his lip at that. He'd wanted her once, he could admit that. He never rid himself of that cloying lust mixed with hatred and appreciation.

"Yea, that's the bastard's name. Two of them control the whole damn fleet together." Zarek shook his head. Of course they do, he thought. If he closed his eyes he could see her perfectly once again. A surge of fire filled his being. He would get out of this cell. Then he would get his men out of this prison. Tom Zarek knew he was more like their new leaders than Roslin or Adama would ever admit. Laura especially. She shared with him a willingness to do what needed to be done in the name of what was right.

…

Author's note: The reveal! Merry Christmas! Let me know what you think!