Lee had avoided Colonial One since the Fall, since remembering. Galactica already triggered an unending landslide of memories that constantly tried to bury him under kilotons of emotional weight. Stepping foot on Colonial One would be like trying to walk across an entire field of emotional land mines. On the ship, there were reminders everywhere.

'Captain Apollo has such a nice ring to it,' Laura once told him that right there in that cockpit right after she'd openly defied his father. She'd bestowed a nickname on him and had seen him as his own person and as not just the son of the great Adama. Those were the early days, when he was a bright-eyed viper jock who wanted to feel important. He'd felt powerful at the right hand of the newly sworn in president—valued apart and even above his father for the first time in his life. But then he and Laura fell from their pedestals, broken statues that had been raised too high and perched too precariously by the people around them… and by each other.

Walking through Colonial One, Lee felt crowded. These ceilings were low and the seats close together compared to the large corridors of a Colonial warship. The carpet muffled his footsteps, not the usual metal under his shoes, as he passed deeper into Colonial One. He heard her voice, the usual inviting cadence of his stepmother's voice had transformed into a sharp weapon. She ripped into someone with tightly controlled and well placed shots as she defended Boomer's place in the Fleet.

"She's caused less damage than you have, Mr. Zarek," Laura said, her words slicing like a well-oiled sword. Zarek. Lee pushed the curtain aside and stepped into her office, thankful to see she wasn't alone with that man. He saw Laura bracing herself on her desk, eyes blazing and hair aflame as she squared off against her nemesis. She looked powerful and absolutely in control. Her presence dominated the space. Lee knew his dad would kill Zarek if he saw how the man faced off against Laura over her desk, his body shaking with barely-controlled rage as he clenched his hands into fists. Hell, Lee was tempted to take him down right now and damn the consequences, but her Vice President was at her side, keeping a wary eye on Zarek—not that it looked like Laura needed help. Reza Chronides stood at Zarek's side, looking between the delegate and the President like one might watch one of Virgon's old soap operas.

"She's got a point, Tom," Reza smirked, and Lee could picture the look of murderous rage that would have flashed in Zarek's eyes.

"We're not finished," Zarek hissed, pushing away from the desk and turning sharply to leave, a wounded animal going to lick his wounds and wait for a better moment to strike. The second he turned and Lee saw his face, a cold shiver ran up his spine. Bile, thick and acidic, burned his throat when Zarek's eyes met his own. Lee forced himself to keep still as Zarek passed.

"He'll huff and puff, but you've proven you can handle a good storm," Reza said, watching Zarek leave before turning back to Roslin. "My ship and many others were saved by the Cylon. It's not something we'll forget."

"It's divisive, Laura. I think I understand why you and the Admiral decided to pardon her, but it's a powder keg. Next time, consult me maybe?" Wally sighed. "I'm going to work on a press release," he said, guiding Reza out of the room with him, leaving just Laura and Lee.

Slowly, Laura dragged her gaze to Lee's. The look that passed between them left no doubt that Laura had been told Lee remembered. Lee stood up straight, swallowing hard as if he could push all emotions down as well.

"Madame President, I'm looking for Lt. Thrace. Flight records show she took her bird here," he said, clasping his hands behind him so that he stood at what might be described as parade rest. His tone was polite. Too polite. It was like he wanted to believe that walking or talking softly over the land mines would cause them to stay inactive. He watched the hurt flash in Laura's eyes and the green fire Zarek sparked dim to an almost grey ash as she took him in.

"Kara wanted some space. She's trying, actually trying, to keep her cool right now."

"I need to talk to her, I want to explain and fix things," Lee said, like Kara has a cut he can press a band-aid to. No. Kara was drowning her sorrows in Chief's moonshine just in the other room, and the only thing that putting a smile on her face was teaching Billy how to down bad hooch without gagging to death. Billy was more than happy to listen to the cutting remarks about Lee Adama and his 'stupid inability to just be gods-damn-frakking-honest!'

"Lee, you wouldn't have something to fix if you hadn't broken it," Laura reminded him, deciding she would keep to Kara's wishes and deny Lee entry. Maybe if he'd come with apologies instead of excuses.

"So, we've established, once again, that I can't make a mistake without people hating me for it."

"Your one man pity-party won't help you see Kara. She deserved to know and you knew the missing memories bothered her. But keep feeling sorry for yourself when all of us suffered in the other timeline."

"We all suffered, but I died alone!" Lee raged, breaking out of his parade stance to pace. He ran a shaking hand through his hair as the memories assaulted him. "I never saw my dad again after he flew off with you. You dragged him along. I saw how much it hurt him though, but he still left."

"I never, never made your father do anything," Laura whispered, falling back against the cool leather of her chair. Is that how it looked, she wondered. Letting Bill watch her suffer, it had broken her heart. Heat gathered behind her eyes, but she refused to let the tears come. Part of her understood: Lee was so similar to his father—afraid of being alone. Absent father. Abusive biological mother. Kara vanishing. Zak dying. She tried to talk to him softly. "What happened to my stepson? What did I do?"

"You manipulated all of us. Playing mom to the hot-shot pilots. Letting my father fall in love with you. We get a little of what we think we need and you get to try and control us. You've even got Kara right now."

"I have loved you, Lee."

"Until I frak up. Then you'll all fly away again. But I'm not going to lose Kara, or dad, or Zak again. Do you know what it's like to lose your whole family?!"

Laura didn't reply. She couldn't. Her eyes looked past him, as her mind remembered. The nightmare that once plagued her almost every night for months flared to life in her mind there on Colonial One. She pictured the moment the other driver hit the car carrying her father and sisters. It was sickening—the harsh squeal of tires as one car swerved to avoid the spreader. It wasn't enough. They smashed together, and one car ended up rolling.

A phantom pain filled Laura's body as the nightmare played out in her mind. She knew the injuries her beloved family must have sustained before dying would have been extensive. She imagined the crack of bones, the air slammed out of their bodies, glass burrowing into the skin, and finally coppery blood pooling in the mouth as the car stopped upside down and the life slipped from them. She'd had that dream for years. She still had it from time to time. Sometimes it was Bill, Kara, Zak, and Liam in the car, embodying her fear that she'd be separated from her family again.

Silence filled Colonial One.

No. Oh Gods. No.

"Get. Out." Billy ordered in a snarl, having come into the office. Kara stood next to him, glaring daggers at Lee who looked horrified at what had come out of his mouth. He hadn't thought. He'd forgotten her loss. He'd forgotten his stepmother's frequent reminders to drive carefully every single time he left the house with his car keys in hand. For a moment, he'd forgotten the story he'd been told when he got his license.

He turned and fled.

…

The Fleet had three wireless channels and just one for TV. Regular programming emerged as they hit the fifty day mark of their journey. A few musicians plucked away at the last instruments left in humanity each evening. Infamous reporter Playa Palacious had a morning briefing for the Fleet everyday. Sometimes, it was just static filling the airwaves with not enough people or equipment to fill the void.

Every so often the static cleared and a broadcast would begin from Colonial One. Zarek and Dagon sat in the Commander's quarters aboard the Battlestar Prometheus, listening to their President's honeyed tones brief the Fleet about the Cylon aboard Galactica. Zarek shook his head, folding his arms as he listened. Giving the information to the Fleet on her terms was a smart choice, Zarek realized, knowing she'd learned several lessons in the delicate balance of secrecy and honesty from the previous timelines. He'd learned his own lessons in patience, power, and alliances.

Taking a drink of the proffered ambrosia, Zarek considered the fellow Sagittaron across from him as Roslin's broadcast ended—fortune had smiled on him by giving him a fellow patriot to ally with. A natural alliance had formed between the two of them. This wasn't Zarek's first visit to Dagon's quarters for a venting session about their vaunted leaders. Another sip of ambrosia left Zarek's throat burning. He hated the stuff but wasn't going to turn down the offer for a drink with Adama's rival.

The muscled soldier frowned and flipped the channel off.

"During the first Cylon War, the enemy would leave wounded humans behind. The men and women would cry out to the gods, begging and pleading for rescue or for an end to the pain. Ever hear a man screaming in fear and pain?" Dagon asked, and Zarek nodded. "Makes even the most seasoned soldier shake like a leaf in the wind. Rescue would rush in, bleeding hearts unable to take the sound of a fellow human in pain. Too often Cylons came out of hiding and gunned down the rescue teams," Dagon took a long drink of his ambrosia, slamming the glass back down as he drained it of every last drop. "I can hear the screams of my own platoon as we came under fire trying to rescue one of my buddies. Good man. Smart-ass. Cylons used him as bait to try and kill more of us. Cunning bastards. No tactic is too low for them."

"And now a Cylon lives on Galactica, welcomed with open arms by Adama and Roslin," Zarek said. A feral growl came from the back of Dagon's throat at that. They'd just heard it confirmed over the wireless. Zarek nodded and continued. "The power couple does what they want despite the inevitable disaster."

"Can't the Quorum do something?" Dagon asked, and Zarek scoffed. He explained that Roslin had the whole Quorum eating out of the palm of her hand. The delegates wanted to believe. They wanted to trust her.

"Adama and Roslin will run things between them and damn anyone else's opinion," Zarek said, putting every bit of conviction he felt behind his fateful promise. The military and civilian government were meant to balance each other out, but with the leader of the military married to the President, Adama could do practically whatever he wanted. Like securing a pardon for his little Cylon, he thought. With a shudder, Zarek saw how horribly close the Fleet was coming to a monarchy.

"I've always been a by-the-book man, Mr. Zarek. When in doubt, I follow procedure. When my officers deviate, they'd better have a damn good reason."

"What happens when they have a damn good reason?"

"I'll hear them out, usually. If they're full of bullshit I'll throw them off the ship."

"The apocalypse makes that an interesting threat."

"Ensures my officers wait for a damn good reason before breaking any rules."

"A damn good reason? What about being led to our own destruction?"

Dagon swirled the ambrosia around in his glass, breathing in the fragrance that only years in an oak barrel can create. The military commander stared at the photos on his walls, platoon photos and memorabilia, as he raised the amber liquid to his chapped lips. He closed his eyes and drank deeply, savoring the flavor and letting his mind come to a conclusion.

"Endangering the lives of the men and women of the Fleet. That's a problem. Is it a good enough reason to break a rule or two?"

"Your duty is to keep the men and women under your command safe. There is something threatening that. What do you do?"

"You know how serious this is, right?"

Zarek laughed as he thought of the firing squad which had once killed him. Yea, Zarek thought, he knew how serious what they were insinuating could be. He took a drink of the booze, letting the alcohol turn down the volume on his thoughts. For a moment, Zarek was back on Galactica in an airlock about to be shot by Laura's Admiral. Letting the ambrosia burn his throat and dull the memory steadied him and gave him the resolve to go on.

"I'm committed to the Fleet," Zarek said simply, thinking it sounded like something Roslin would say. She'd always been able to inspire misplaced loyalty. There were a few tricks he could use from her.

"I won't be led to my end by a power-mad schoolteacher and a washed-up old Admiral. I won't follow anyone who risks their lives protecting a Cylon."

"Good. Because, I have a plan," Zarek said. He would ensure the well-being of the fleet, but this time he wouldn't meet his end in front of Adama's firing squad. If he acted quickly enough, Zarek was confident he could prevent the tyranny of the Adama family.

…

The wise priest had become her confidant once more. A certain inevitability brought them together. Elsoha was the de-facto religious leader of the Fleet after the other members of the priesthood perished on the Colonies. The President and priest often found themselves working against a creeping tide of despair as the Fleet fled from the Cylons. When Elsoha's warm voice wasn't assuring the masses that the gods hadn't abandoned them to death and despair, she was offering her President spiritual advice and council. Elosha had found purpose and faith at her prophesied leader's side, despite Laura's reluctance to accept the truth, and she was drawn to her leader's side that day.

Without warning, their meeting came to a crashing halt. Condition One alarms sliced through the air on Colonial One. Civilian gazes, including Laura's, snapped to the viewports. Against the black of space it was impossible to assess the situation by naked eye. Pilots would be jumping in their Vipers. Bill would be giving orders to his crew, his tactician's mind running on overdrive.

Every time, it felt as if the alarms slammed into her body like a physical blow. Like her husband, who unfailingly led his people in CIC, Laura stayed outwardly calm despite knowing that the next hour would either become their last moments or just another blip in the course of their lives. Elosha trembled beside her, her beaded earrings swinging wildly while Billy tensed at this desk like he was trying to curl into a ball while seated upright.

Laura, used to being on Colonial One running the government when the Cylons came calling, flipped the radio on her desk to the frequency used by CIC and the pilots. Adama had long ago supplied it for her. She couldn't disturb CIC asking for a sitrep every time alarms sounded in the Fleet. They had their work. Her husband and his officers needed to focus on saving humanity. They listened as Dualla's voice informed the Viper pilots of the incoming Cylon DRADIS contacts and the Colonial Air Patrol moving to intercept. Elosha's lips moved in prayer, as she clutched the sacred scrolls. Seeing the scrolls, Laura felt a wave of dizzying dread. Before she knew it, her own prayer fell before the gods' feet, begging them to bring her family back to her safely.

Every time, every damn time Laura heard the alarms and listened to the Cylons closing in on what remained of humanity her heart jumped to her throat. There were never any delusions of security in her mind. They teetered on the edge, danced on the point of a knife, where any wrong move could result in the complete and total destruction of humanity. She met Billy's gaze. It never got any easier—worrying about their family and friends aboard Galactica.

"Prepare to execute jumps on my mark," Dualla ordered, pausing, letting the Fleet captains prepare. "Mark."

There was always a certain order for the ships to execute their jumps. Two escort ships jumped first, providing an advanced guard for the Fleet. They had the manpower to keep their ships protected at all times. Protected, but not invulnerable. They couldn't stay and make a stand against the Cylons. There was always a missile that could get through, or a lucky raider that could land a devastating hit on a vulnerable civvie ship. Most of the Fleet lacked armor or weapons to keep their people safe. Running in their case was the better part of valor. Run. Live. Run. Live.

"Astral Queen still reporting FTL problems."

"Cylon raiders making a run on the Adriatic."

"Kat, take your wing and intercept."

"Bogey on your tail, Apollo."

"There's so many of them."

In the speakers above them, Captain Russo's voice sounded over Colonial One's internal comm. "We are jumping in five, four, three, two, one…"

Jumping made Laura feel horribly sick, and she braced a hand on her stomach. She was small for thirteen weeks. They'd planned on telling the Fleet today. Her daughter was a sign that life could and would continue.

They flashed into existence on the other side of the jump. Laura heard the heavy exhale from Elosha and her faint chuckle at surviving yet again. She felt no relief of her own yet, and she wouldn't until the phone rang and Bill's voice assured her that the latest threat was over. Until then, there were always things to take care of after every jump. The Monarch reported some minor damage to one of their engines. Laura dispatched a repair team. Cloud Nine reported water rationing riots. Billy noted that Fleet security had been dispatched.

These were long minutes. The tension grew in Laura as each tick of the clock sounded in her ears and the telephone refused to ring. She stood and paced but never strayed far from the phone. The anticipation of the ring, her smile of relief, and her first easy breath of air—it tantalized her. Any moment. Her stomach heaved, but the new meds from Cottle kept a lid on it. Enough time had passed, there should be a ring any second.

Laura's heart beat unnaturally fast as her feet paced over the carpet of her ship. Light from the solar system's star streamed into Colonial One's windows. Laura could see the whole Fleet; their ships were illuminated as rays of the red sun reflected off hull plating. In a few steps, Laura stood at a viewport, marveling at the sight it revealed. It made her feel wonder. Dread. It made her feel a tingle that started at the base of her spine and worked its way up past each vertebra until her whole body was thrumming and shaking as she gazed upon the planet below.

"Laura, what is it?" Elosha asked.

Laura could only shake her head.

"Tell me," the priest urged.

"Kobol," Laura whispered, looking at the planet beneath what remained of humanity. The universe had drawn them back to the pretty little planet once more. It hung in the heavens. Water and dirt. Clouds and mountains. Skeletons and graves. "The planet, it's Kobol."

"Kobol?" Elosha breathed, her eyes wide.

"I know it is. I know it."

"Alright," Elosha said eventually. "But Zeus warned the leaders that any return to Kobol would exact with it a cost in blood," she cautioned.

"There's always a cost in blood. People will keep dying if we don't replace water. People will die if we go to the surface of that planet. There are no good answers and no good solutions," Laura said, turning away from the view. The ticking clock continued to drag them forward.

"The inevitable confrontation at the home of the gods," Elosha said.

Laura thought of the last confrontation she'd witnessed on mythic Kobol. Bill had been different before this planet, back when they couldn't have understood how fully and deeply they belonged to each other. They hadn't liked each other. They hadn't wanted to deal with each other. Laura remembered a harsh man. She chuckled at the memory of the Adama scowl he often gave her—pursed lips and cold detachment in his eyes. She knew that he could barely tolerate her, an authoritative, bossy woman thrust into his life. Most of all, she can remember the look on his face when he silently marched her into Galactica's brig. It was the last time they saw each other before everything changed.

He'd been shot in the chest. He'd nearly died, and he probably should have. But William Adama wasn't an ordinary man. The stubborn commander, still recovering from being shot, came after them. After her. She remembered seeing him again, standing in the woods with a rifle in hand, ready to take on all of Kobol to bring back his wayward president and son. She'd been numb with exhaustion, but seeing him had nearly caused her heart to burst. It felt right to be together.

Where are you, Bill, she thought. It felt awful to be apart, and Laura turned back to the window, waiting for the Battlestars to jump in. This battle they were in, it seemed to be taking longer than usual. She jumped a little when the anticipated bright flashes take her by surprise.

Laura watched as the Battlestars jumped in, rejoining the Fleet. There was the Prometheus and Valkyrie. Some smaller flashes marked the arrival of the escort class ships. Laura looked through the sea of stars. Galactica? Had she missed it? A frown started to tug at her lips, and a weight pressed on her shoulders. Laura turned to the phone and waited.

She was still staring at the phone when the people in the office heard heavy footsteps approaching. There was a ringing in Laura's ears. Where was that beloved, deep, and gravelly voice? She turned in time to see two marines push into her office. Commander Dagon followed them in, Tom Zarek behind him. They came like dark clouds gathering on a horizon.

"Madame President," Dagon began, and there was a note of sorrow in his voice. Laura felt the world falling out from underneath her. Another dark prophecy had come to pass. Another foreboding feeling had ended with her life being ripped apart. Laura shook her head, as if begging Dagon to stop. As if leaving the words unsaid would make them less true. But Dagon's explanations filled in the missing pieces. "Galactica has been destroyed, ma'am."

The wrongness of it all overwhelmed her mind, impacting every fiber of her being. Had Bill felt like this when she'd died and he'd buried her? Had he lived with this pain while laying out the cabin that should have been theirs to live in together? She couldn't think straight. Her mind whirled like a mental tornado uprooting and shredding her dreams of a cabin by a lake where she lived with her husband. It was always theirs, not just hers or his. Bitter regret swirled in her mind as the promised birdsong and trickle of a stream faded away in her mind, leaving her wondering how she could possibly rebuild her life after the greatest loss she'd ever known. There would never be relief from this pain, Laura knew, and in that moment, she didn't care.

A gasping sob was torn from her throat. It was an anguished sound that can only come from a bereaved wife and mother. Another sob escaped her, and she tried to swallow the sound, unwilling to share her grief with these bastards.

"It would have been instantaneous," Dagon explained as if giving the horrified president a small kindness. Laura folded her arms, hiding her shaky limbs. Elosha hovered close by, ready to support her friend whose heart and soul had shattered.

No. No. No. Laura's mind screamed. She remembered the last time she'd been told that Bill Adama had been killed. This had to be another one of Zarek's tricks.

"You should be proud. They died in the line of duty," Dagon supplied. Laura thought of her son, her precious Liam who she'd just hugged and kissed that morning. Her arms ached to hold him again. She thought of Lee and their angry last words to each other. If only he could have known he'd never stopped being her Captain Apollo. She longed to see Zak and hear him laughing at his own jokes one more time. Just one more time. Once more. Bill. Oh gods, she screamed in her mind. Bill.

"No… They can't be dead," Laura said, glaring at Dagon and Zarek, daring them to contradict her. There was confidence in her voice and pure venom in her look and the marines gripped their rifles tighter. Laura's secret service guards moved their hands to their own weapons.

Elosha touched Laura's arm as the first tear trailed out of her eyes. Soon enough, there was no stopping them. She'd never felt such pain in her life. Dying of cancer, the months of pain, were nothing compared to this. This was a living hell.

"We're here to take you to Prometheus," Dagon explained. Laura looked away to wipe the tears from her face. She looked to the viewport as if another flash would deliver Galactica to her and the Fleet. Bill, Lee, Zak, Liam, her family. Each one of them held a piece of her that was now lost. She could barely function past taking painful breath after painful breath.

"There will be a funeral, befitting the Admiral of the Fleet and the crew of Galactica. Until then, we'll tell the people that you are 'resting comfortably aboard Prometheus' while mourning the death of your family," Zarek said. "It's done, Laura." She looked into Zarek's eyes, and saw the smug satisfaction of a man who'd finally won.