From his rack, Bill listened to the hatch close after Liam tiptoed out. He'd tried to be quiet enough to let his parents continue sleeping, but battlestar hatch doors were unfailingly squeaky. The scraping metal betrayed Liam's escape, but Bill already knew to where his son was running off - an early morning sparring session with his brothers and Kara.

Finding himself roused from sleep earlier than usual, it seemed pragmatic to get a head start on the pile of reports waiting for him. It was tedious work, but at least there would be an update on the first class of nuggets being trained. Good news. Bill moved to get out of his rack, but a gentle hand tugged him back down. Soft lips found his neck, and he closed his eyes at the sweet sensation.

"What are you doing, Laura?"

"It hasn't been that long, Bill." His wife's voice was scratchy from sleep but had a teasing lilt. He felt her grinning against his skin.

"I have some reports…" his weak protest died as her hand caught his side perfectly. He yelped and laughed as her fingers probed the sensitive spot despite his attempt to squirm away. Laura's sleepy giggles filled the air, and he made a halfhearted attempt to glare at her and grabbed her wrists pinning them above her head.

"Did you just tickle me?" he asked, his tone was incredulous. He kept her trouble seeking hand firmly in his grip. He tried to keep frowning, but the unique mix of laughter, teasing, and mischief dancing in her eyes was so refreshing that his attempt at severity was halfhearted at best.

"According to you, big strong military soldiers aren't ticklish."

He harrumphed then growled in warning when she tried escaping to attack him again. When had she become completely immune to that tone? She was intent on reaching for one of the several spots she'd discovered over the years that would provoke him. She laughed when he held her fast. Despite everything, he smiled. This was playful Laura, and his heart couldn't help but be warmed at the spark it brought into his life.

"Kissing you didn't seem to get a reaction," she explained with an unapologetic shrug at his raised eyebrow.

"You're in a mood this morning," he said.

"I told you a few nights ago, I missed you. Can I have these few moments with the man I love? No emergencies. No fighting. Just you and me?"

Despite the lightness of the moment, there was an intensity beneath Laura's words. Bill heard the unspoken plea – please, please, let us have a few moments to forget everything but each other.

The transition after the apocalypse had been rough on both of them. Knowing what crazy hell being the President and Admiral of the Fleet could and would put them through left them feeling like they were constantly walking on a tightrope with no net to catch them should either fall. It would only take one wrong step. Both of them had been trying desperately hard to use their skill, talent, and 20/20 knowledge of what happened in the other timeline to give the fleet every advantage this time. Their mission had them stressed and spread thin. Even prepared, there was nothing ideal about their situation. Failure loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon, and it carried a steep threat – Dee, Billy, Cally, and others dying too soon, fleet ships lost, and humanity's hope for the future fading.

Then there was the baby to think about. A simple life they'd successfully built to mourn and miss.

Aside from all that, Laura also had every right to be irritated with how distant her husband had been. Bill had been pulling away from her not because she'd done anything wrong, but because his own feelings scared him. The future and its potential failures and losses haunted his dreams. Everything that had happened left him feeling raw, even vulnerable. His natural inclination was to wholeheartedly shove those feelings away.

Yes, his wife had reason to be cross, but this morning found her full of affection. She was playful, sweet, and a little needy, but she trusted him so completely that revealing this side of her was natural. She came giving and seeking the love which she'd chosen to share with him and only him.

He was suddenly kissing her fiercely. Reconnecting with her suddenly seemed as vital as his next breath. She'd slept at his side every night, but Laura was right - they'd been missing and needing each other. His palm slid over the bare skin of her thigh. She whimpered into the skin of his neck, encouraging him.

Bill pulled back and looked at Laura. She was breathing heavily and looking at him with dark eyes. He felt her test the grip holding her wrists - it was iron tight. A smirk graced her lips, and it was then his turn to chuckle. He'd long ago discovered that without cancer to weaken her body, Laura had a hunger, energy, and willingness to experiment which combined with her generosity made her a wonderful lover. This fun-loving Laura was a particularly thoughtful and enjoyable partner.

The building tension both had been struggling with was given a release, leaving a contented husband and wife. They felt relaxed and... safe. Free even. Entwined together in afterglow, it took very little gentle prodding for a quiet conversation to flow between them. They shared their mutual struggle in the wake of the attacks. They talked about their fears at making the same mistakes in this timeline, knowing their triumphs and mistakes would determine who lived and who died. They both admitted how much they yearned for that normal life they'd built together.

Laura stretched with an almost feline grace. "You were saying something about reports?" she teased, glancing at the clock and knowing they needed to get their day started.

"Gave the President a briefing instead," Bill smiled, and Laura's laugh filled the cabin. She wouldn't ever describe him as a funny man, but he had his rare moments. "You do need to have a briefing about the meeting we have on the Prometheus," he sighed, turning serious.

"We should get up."

"It's going to be another long day." His was the voice of a man reluctant to leave his lover's embrace.

"I know we keep dreading what the future may bring for us. There's such a big difference between this time and the last though."

"Yea?"

"Our family. You have all of us. We have you. You and I have this marriage. Everything seems just a bit brighter and more hopeful every time I think of that," she said. They shared one last lingering kiss filled with promise and reassurance before slipping from the rack to get ready for the day.

...

"This seems like a bad idea," Billy muttered, folding his arms.

"Noted," Laura said, not looking up from the report detailing the new Fleet Security Force she'd been reviewing. She noted with relief that the new police force created peace and stability in the fleet. So far, Fleet Security maintained law and order and kept supplies evenly distributed. They wouldn't descend into a survival of the fittest social experiment this time. The strong would not dominate the weak. For now.

"Are you sure about this?" Billy asked, shifting around and glancing at the door.

"Yes."

"We both have seen that having knowledge isn't always better," he warned.

Laura looked up at Billy. Her smile was tinged with sadness. "You seem so much older sometimes, Billy."

"Life. Death. Life," her aide said by way of explanation and shrugged. Experience was a good teacher but not always a kind one. He just happened to have a rather unique set of experiences. He glanced at the door to the Presidential office again. "What does the Admiral have to say about this?"

"Billy," Laura growled with a low undercurrent of warning in her voice.

Billy looked sheepish and decided not to press his luck. He had to admit, Laura Roslin had changed in the time since he'd been her aide once before, but a universal constant seemed to be the certain look she got on her face when her mind was set on something controversial. Whenever he caught sight of that expression, it sent Billy's nerves into a sparking panic that felt as if he'd shoved a hand into an electric socket. He'd been jumpy all morning since catching that expression on her face when he came into work. Then he found out with whom she'd be meeting and had worked himself into quite a state. Billy knew mentioning her husband had been a last-ditch effort in dissuading Roslin from her chosen path.

"She should be here any moment," he grumbled, accepting the inevitable and checking his watch before pacing around the office some more.

"Some of us are trying to get work done in the meantime," Laura said, finding it hard to ignore her aide's pacing and muttering. She sighed. "Billy, Leoben quoted a line from the scriptures. We're caught up in something again - much as I hate to admit it. I don't like talking about the later part of our journey, but trust that I know to be careful with scriptures and the prophecies. Far more careful than I once was. The thing is, I can't ignore something that may have answers for this whole mess we find ourselves in."

"It divided the Fleet once."

"It did divide the Fleet."

"Why aren't you telling Admiral Adama about the meeting?"

"'A Dying Leader will guide the Caravan of Heaven but will suffer a wasting disease and not live to enter the promised land,'" Laura quoted, feeling a lump form in her throat as she choked out the words permanently carved on her heart. She very carefully and deliberately set her pen down after signing the report, folding her hands over top of it. Her pose exuded control as she looked at Billy. "A lot of your memories are from a time when the Admiral and I were at odds. I know you are worried about what another disagreement or coup d'état between us would do to the Fleet. Now, I've told the press I'm not going to talk about my marriage, but I'll tell you this once. I trust and love my husband completely. I know he feels the same for me. As a rule, I try not to keep things from either the Admiral or Bill," she said, watching Billy try and process her words and the intensity in her voice. He still didn't seem to realize in a practical sense how radically things had shifted and evolved from the adversaries turned almost friends he'd witnessed. Could he even hope to understand the absolute devotion between his leaders now? Laura continued. "So, will I remind him of a prophecy that ended with him covering my dead body in dirt? Not until I have met with Elosha to see what it says this time. Then we'll talk." She watched Billy shift uncomfortably.

"You think it's different now?"

"It is. And it's time for answers," Laura said, looking over to where Tory walked into the room with Elosha trailing in behind her. Billy's eyes narrowed at Tory. Laura had revealed who each of the Cylons were including the identities of the Final Five to her senior aide. The poor boy had needed a solid ten minutes before he could form a coherent sentence again. He'd finally squeaked out a series of strangled disbelief sounds before promptly announcing that he'd never liked Tory. Still, he saw the benefit of Laura's plan to keep her Cylon aide close. Keep them all close and loyal - that was the idea. He kept eyeing Tory while Laura greeted Elosha warmly after rising from her desk. She showed the priestess into the private room behind her office.

...

Elosha, this real-life flesh and blood woman who'd been summoned to Colonial One, was as graceful and serene as the phantom guide in Laura's visions. The resemblance between the two was so precise that Laura half expected this woman before her to start whispering the names of gods and mortals. Zeus - Bill, Hera - Laura, Poseidon - Saul, Ares - Jack, Hermes - Billy, Apollo - Kara, Athena - Sharon, and now Hephaestus as Leoben. Demeter, Aphrodite, Artemis, and Dionysus's mortal counterparts were still unknown. For a moment, Laura thought back to the dream she'd had after throwing Leoben out an airlock. 'They're all awakening now,' her guide had assured and warned. Apparently, sharing more precise knowledge of who was awake was not allowed.

The priestess sat in the proffered chair in the President's private room, a mostly bare and unassuming place. As such, Elosha practically glowed in the space as the light caught the gold threads, glass beads, and small gems in her priestess's outfit. Elosha arranged her colorful cerulean robes around her, keeping her bearing dignified but guarded. One never knew what to expect when politicians summoned religious figures, but it was always a cause for wariness in Elosha's opinion.

Laura sat across from her, keeping her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. She was elegant and composed. It helped her feel in control when she was about to take a proverbial jump off the deep end of a pool.

She and Elosha exchanged pleasant greetings, but the priestess eyed Laura with a hint of wariness. It wasn't every day the President summoned one to a meeting.

"I'm sure you heard about the Cylon prisoner we had," Laura began. Elosha nodded. "His words, they sounded...familiar," Laura explained, choosing her words carefully. "He spoke about a Caravan of Heaven and two leaders."

Elosha's lips pursed and she studied the President with intense eyes.

"Are you having me on?" she asked. Her calm voice had and edge that suggested she'd be quite angry if that was the case. The ancient faith of hundreds of millions of Colonial citizens was not something to be mocked or taken lightly. She practically scoffed at the President who sat in front of her. "You've read the Pythian Prophecy and decided that we're living it out," she accused.

Laura swallowed hard at the mention of Pythia.

"What does it say?" Laura asked in a breathy whisper.

"You don't know?"

"I don't think so."

Elosha stayed silent for a moment, regarding the President. Her eyes tried to pierce Roslin's façade, judging her sincerity. She weighed what had been said, analyzing the tone used. The President sounded sincere and curious but almost afraid. Elosha was intrigued. She'd met people who thought they were the living incarnations of scriptural promises before – prophets and teachers alike. Too many of them had egos the size of Gemenon and pockets lined with gold.

None of them had sounded afraid.

Elosha reflected on her own faith. She'd been about to leave the clergy, close the book on her faith and find something firmer to build her life on. Even so, she couldn't help but already see elements of the Pythian Prophecy at work.

"The Cylon did quote scripture. Part of the Pythian Prophecy. 'And the Lords anointed two leaders to guide the Caravan of the Heavens to their new homeland. And unto the leaders they gave a gift of new life, a daughter as a sign of things to come. The impossible child would be born during their journey, and she would be the symbol of the Lords' promise that life would continue."

"Pythia wrote that?" Laura asked in a reverent hush. Her hands had moved to her midsection subconsciously. Her stomach was firm under her palms, just starting to bulge.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Elosha asked, in a disbelieving murmur. She looked at how Laura touched her belly. It couldn't be…

"I learned about the baby on the day of the attacks," Laura said in a quiet whisper. "Confused the hell out of the doctors when a post-menopausal woman was pregnant. All the tests confirmed it though."

"Oh my Lords," Elosha breathed, slumping back into her seat. "You and your husband, you're the two leaders the Lords have chosen to lead us to salvation."

"Elosha that's...I mean...I don't know!" Laura hung her head, red hair falling to curtain her face.

Elosha noticed how Laura's body shook, and heard the President take a few noisy deep breaths to try and calm herself. Crossing over to the troubled woman, Elosha reached out to take her hands. They were cold. The priestess realized she herself was also shaking. After all, she'd just found the prophesied leaders of humanity. Looking down at their clasped hands, Elosha felt as if she'd stepped from a dark cave and into the sunlight. A deep and profound joy was pulling her up from the ashes of her doubts and disbelief. A refreshing awe and humbleness settled into her spirit.

"What are you afraid of?" Elosha asked.

"Have the scriptures ever mentioned a dying leader or an orb?"

...

Laura and Bill were incredibly discreet with showing affection while in public. They were professionals at work, keeping their personal life away from prying eyes and bored gossip. They referred to each other by formal title while working as did Zak, Lee, and Kara. It was strange to Liam's ears to hear his brothers call their mother 'Madame President' and listen to them constantly use 'sir' to address both their father and mother. They all understood that their family had to be careful and be as professional and above reproach as possible. Dangerous words like mutiny and revolution were not far from the Adamas' minds.

The two leaders sat side by side on a raptor taking them over to the Battlestar Prometheus. Laura had shoved Elosha's revelations to the side for now. Instead, she reflected on Lee's words from a lifetime ago. During Baltar's trial when he was on the witness stand, Lee called the surviving band of humanity a gang. He threw that word out like Laura didn't already know exactly what they were. She was a realist for frak's sake. She was a realist with a solid grasp on history while having also spent time in the inner-city school districts teaching. Naive little schoolteacher? Please. She knew what the struggle for survival mixing with an unforgiving environment could look like.

Gone were the ideal choices and better leaders. The Fleet was left with their President and Admiral trying to make the best choices possible when the only options were morally gray but strategically sound versus the right choice but a disaster for survival. What were any of them expecting when living in their own dystopian disaster? A happy, idealistic frolic across the stars until they miraculously found the perfect, pretty planet? Deep in her reflections, Laura knew that once again humanity could not afford for her to be squeamish about the hard choices that they needed her to make. The hard choices she found herself making again, like a perverse game of 'would you rather' her students used to play. Would you rather throw Baltar out an airlock, or use his intellect to (hopefully) help the people?

She kept her head high. It was her job to remain strong and to keep a semblance of structure in place. The price for weakness would be too high.

Her husband shifted so his side was pressed against hers in the raptor. He was warm and solid - someone she could lean on both figuratively and physically. She was grateful they'd opened up to each other earlier. The return of her supportive husband, with his discreet, loving touches, banished her darker musings. She leaned over to whisper in a low voice.

"Whose idea was full presidential honors when we get to Commander Dagon's ship?"

"He's one who likes pomp and ceremony. He jumped at a chance to show off," Bill said in a disapproving tone.

"So, I guess he's not trying to make me feel like the President?" Laura asked, giving Bill a small grin. He raised a questioning eyebrow, and she explained, "Lee told me that's what you were doing when I came to Galactica the first time officially as the President." Laura chuckled at the memories. "You see, originally, I thought you were just another military commander sounding his trumpets and maybe enjoying how much a fish out of water I must have seemed," she said. Laura still cringed at how bad her first salute must have looked, but her darling husband shown her how to snap off a proper salute. She smiled at the memory of how gentle he'd been as he corrected her.

"You really didn't think highly of me, did you?" he asked.

"Yes and no. And don't try and tell me that feeling wasn't mutual."

In the privacy of the raptor, Adama smiled. "You're right. I thought you'd be easier to handle if you felt more comfortable as the President. What politician doesn't like a bit of ceremony to make them feel at home?" Laura teasingly elbowed his side. "At least, you don't need anyone helping you feel presidential this time."

She was pretty sure he went on to mutter something about 'bullheaded determination' under his breath, but there was a ghost of a smile that lingered at the corner of his mouth. He had a point. Her journal had helped. In it were all the lists of what she needed to do there, all the things that could have been better, and she'd been implementing each item on her list with an almost terrifying determination.

A strangled groan filled the room, and both of them looked over at the other raptor passenger. Doctor Baltar was sitting with his head thrown back and his hands knotted in the fabric of his pants. Neither of them could see Six sitting on his lap. This time Baltar's crazy blonde temptress had chosen to simply sit on her prey's lap. She had already talked herself out about God for the past half an hour as Baltar gathered his research and joined the Fleet's leaders in their raptor.

Those leaders had decided to ignore the man. He was lost in his own world anyway.

"ETA one minute, Admiral, Madame President," Racetrack reported from the cockpit.

Galactica didn't have a traditional Battlestar Group. As a result, Bill Adama hadn't before led a group of commanders and colonels who each held command of a Battlestar or escort ship in their own right. It was hitting him how daunting of a task that was. That's good, he thought. A good leader feels his responsibility and doesn't take the job lightly. As the raptor came into the hangar bay, he felt the weight of this command settle on him as he caught a glimpse of the personnel rushing into formation on the deck through the windows. The Prometheus's XO was yelling loudly enough that they could hear it inside the raptor, ordering the deck into formation.

"President of the Colonies, Admiral of the Colonial Fleet, arriving."

Somewhere in Adama's mind it clicked - this wasn't just an honor guard for their President's first arrival on their ship, but a gesture for their Admiral's visit as well. In fact, they would always render some sort of honor for his arrival due to his rank if they continued using standard military protocols. Bill let out a quiet sigh. He really hated pomp. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laura now had her polite politician's smile on, but Bill could tell she was ready to go throw all the ceremonial crap, the gloves, the cords, and the silly fake rifles, out the nearest airlock. He suppressed a chuckle at the thought.

Stepping off the raptor, there was the usual exchange of salutes. He was pleased that Laura had taken his lessons to heart. Symbols meant something. He might hate pomp, but saluting helped reinforce respect and hierarchy. Respect and discipline lead to efficiency.

He listened to Laura say a few respectful words to the gathered crew. They were polite and political, but he could tell they were sincere. He noted the crew seemed to sense this as well. He said a few words after Laura finished. Neither of them flinched under the intense scrutiny of the crew. Who were these leaders? Can we trust them? Thousands of eyes demanded tried to find the answer.

After what seemed like an eternity, but really wasn't much time at all, the Commanders, the Admiral, and the President made their way to the War Room of the Prometheus. Dagon's battlestar was the most state-of-the-art warship in the Fleet. It was the biggest too. It was why this meeting was being held on the Prometheus. It didn't hurt that Dagon had also needed a visit from the leaders of the Fleet before he got too big for his uniform.

The personnel assembled around the War Room's map table. Commander Dagon stood at the head, pulling up the briefing package he'd been sent. He looked like he'd stepped out of a fleet recruitment poster. He had buzz cut salt and pepper hair, sharp grey eyes, height, and a well-toned body. No wings were pinned to his chest. Instead there were two crisscrossed rifles denoting his past as a Fleet Marine. Few marines ended up commanding battlestars. Most marines were enlisted, and their officers knew their way around a rifle blindfolded but less about commanding warships. Dagon had risen through the ranks though, having a natural leadership ability or at least the ability to intimidate the people around him into doing his bidding.

Adama felt sharply reminded that Galactica was supposed to be his punishment from the Fleet after the stealth mission debacle. The military gave their pretty, sparkly, new toys to good boys like Lawrence Dagon.

Prometheus was clearly a pretty, sparkly toy. Large screens with interactive touch interfaces were scattered around the War Room. In the center was a large map table. Galactica's table required printed overlays to be placed on the table. Prometheus boasted a high-tech touchscreen table. Dagon had it now displaying an orange moon with a Cylon base positioned on the surface.

Laura began the briefing, bringing everyone up to date on the dwindling Tylium stores. Food, water, and oxygen remained stable, but with how large the Fleet was, they burned through fuel. Without more fuel they'd be forced to decide what ships would be left behind.

"The Cylons are sitting on the only sources of fuel within our reach," Adama said, taking over his section of the briefing. He gestured to the moon displayed on the map table. "This one has enough Tylium to last us years."

"Staking out every watering hole in the Galaxy, knowing we need fuel as much as they do," Commander Pertinax said.

"Enough firepower to keep it," the usually quiet Commander of the Valkyrie said.

"Cylons will be guarding every Tylium source with firepower. There's no guarantee we can send the raptors out far enough in order to find a source they haven't reached yet," Dagon spoke up, already sensing the oncoming battle.

"We are going to take the Tylium from the Cylons," Adama said.

"Hardly the time to attack a superior force!" Valkyrie's commander exclaimed. "A superior force we can't even detect on sensors."

"It's exactly the time, Commander," Adama countered. "They don't know we've overcome their stealth technology. Doctor Baltar?"

Everyone's gaze shifted to the scientist. The man took a hard swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing clearly with his discomfort at the scrutiny of too many military personnel. He disliked being confronted with a group of people who weren't going to fall for his charms.

Calmly, he laid out his research. He did his best to ignore Six, trying not to give reason for the military to lock him up and throw away the key due to insanity. He explained that with the information provided by Leoben he'd found a way around the Cylon's stealth technology. Baltar presented new DRADIS protocols that would allow Cylons to no longer remain hidden.

Excitement pulsed through the room.

"If we do this right, there will not be any Cylon survivors. The Tylium will be ours," Adama said.

"If we fail?" Dagon challenged.

"Disaster. So we don't fail." Laura said.

Adama laid out the plan Kara Thrace had come up with in the last timeline. She'd tweaked the plan they'd once used to take the Tylium, adding in the extra manpower they had from Valkyrie, Daedalus, and Prometheus. The target flashed onto the map table, and the officers analyzed the image. Continuing the briefing, Adama pulled up the coordinates to where Valkyrie, Prometheus, and Galactica would jump followed by the decoy's positions. The Commander's looked excited but unsure. Adama was reminded of how very little combat the Fleet had seen in years. These people had no experience attacking the Cylons like this. He could tell Laura noted their expressions as well.

"We need to destroy their military facility, without harming the Tylium under the surface," Pertinax said, leaning on the table and looking at the surveillance images of the base.

"Radiation would render the ore inert and unusable. But a conventional warhead targeted, here," Baltar said, tapping the map, "will generate a sufficient explosion to destroy the base and leave the ore." The man got a strange look on his face. 'How do I know that?' He asked himself.

'Seems familiar doesn't it?' Invisible Six asked, stretching out over the table and running her hand along the map. 'God speaking to you from a distant dream, guiding your hand…' Gaius glared at the space above the table where only he could see Six.

"That is your target," Baltar said, trying to ignore grinning Six.

'So forceful, so decisive, delivered with such elan. God speaking to you and you listening.'

'Is the fate of humanity depending on what might be just my wild guess?' Baltar thought to himself. Yet, part of him knew it wasn't a wild guess.

'God doesn't always speak in words, Gaius,' Six said, moving away from the table to circle the room. She took a particular interest in Dagon.

"How many ships do we expect to lose?" Dagon asked.

"It'll cost us. But if we succeed, they'll think twice before attacking us again," Adama replied.

"The plan's been approved; civilians are already being relocated off the decoy ships. Good hunting," Laura said.

"Operation will begin in forty-eight hours."

...

Lee stared at his viper, his ship was now covered in a crisscross of dings and scratches. Its hull told the story of too many close calls and near misses. Zak and Lee were quietly sitting near him. Zak had plopped down on some storage crates, content to play solitaire with some cards. Liam was up in the viper's cockpit looking at the controls and occasionally asking a question. Kara was not there - she was holding court in the officer's mess. There was no knee injury putting her out of commission for the mission this time. She'd be flying along, and everyone seemed grateful that their top gun would be leading them to victory.

"Kara says fear can get you killed when flying," Liam said. Lee felt a rush of irritation at even his own little brother quoting Kara on the eve of the mission that he was the one theoretically leading. Liam poked his head over the side of the cockpit and looked down at him with big curious eyes. "What do you think though? Are you afraid of tomorrow?"

"Yea. A bit. I won't lie. People are going to die tomorrow. The second I get in the plane though, well, I don't have time to be afraid anymore. There's a job to do."

"Sometimes you get so busy you forget that you even should or could be scared," Zak told Liam, looking up from his cards. He'd be joining the search-and-rescue raptor teams tomorrow as one of the Fleet's few qualified field medics. Liam looked between his two brothers and nodded slowly thinking of what they said.

"Can't sleep?" A deep voice asked. The boys turned and regarded their father who stepped down the ladder to join his boys by Lee's viper. Lee gave his dad a halfhearted smile and shook his head.

"I couldn't either before a big op." The Adama boys relaxed when it was clear their father was there as their father and not the Admiral. They listened as he talked a bit about flying his own missions and how he felt during the time spent waiting for a mission to begin. The boys hung on his every word, but Lee stared at the viper in front of him.

"Got something for you," Bill said, pulling something out of his pocket. Lee felt his shoulders slump at the idea that his father needed to give him a good luck charm again. He covered his feelings. No one knew he had memories of the other timeline yet. How could his father know that he remembered the last time he was given the ol' family lucky charm. "It belonged to your grandfather. My mom bought it for him when he was in law school." Bill placed the lighter in Lee's hand.

Lee traced his grandfather's name etched onto the metal, wondering if Joseph Adama would have been proud of him. His grandfather had defended the Tauron Mob in court, but what would he have said to his grandson defending a man who accidentally helped commit genocide.

They stood in silence for a moment. 'He's a better father than I was,' Lee remembered his father once saying after handing him the lighter. The words didn't come this time, Lee noted. Bill Adama had been a better father in this timeline, Lee could admit that. And yet, there were still the memories of an uncaring father who was never there clogging his mind. Was it only what happened in this second chance that mattered? He wondered.

"Dad used to carry that into court cases. Claimed he never lost unless he left it behind."

"It feels like this whole ship only thinks this mission will succeed because Starbuck planned it and Starbuck is leading it. I love her but..." Lee shook his head.

"She's not leading this mission. You are, Apollo. She's a better pilot than you and me, sure. But you're a better commanding officer," Bill said. Lee looked at his father.

Bill nodded up toward Liam, and whispered to Lee, "I want your brother taking after you as a pilot. You are someone who can remain calm and collected in danger and think a situation through."

"Really?" Lee asked, stunned at the admission.

"Yea," Bill dropped his voice so only Lee could hear. "You're his hero, Lee. He looks up to you. Both your brothers do. They always have. I couldn't ask for a better role-model."

"You sure?"

"Always have been. You're my son." He looked at all his boys. "You're all my sons, and I'm proud of the men you are turning out to be." He said.

"Dad..."

"Get some sleep," the Admiral ordered. Enough emotion had been expressed for one night.

...

Author's note: It probably could do with another proof-read, but I am running off to a work trip soon. May the grammar gods forgive my indiscretions.

I think I'm coming out of the writer's block phase. Adama and Roslin reminded me that this is mostly their story, so they got some fluffy time.

I could use some lovely words of encouragement if you have a few. 3