Cain hated drama, and yet she found herself trapped in what seemed like a cheap, one-cubit paperback. Betrayals, sabotage, sex, love, and a deranged quest to find Earth. She rolled her eyes. They boasted all the plot points of a bad soap opera dedicated to Aphrodite. After their first trip to Galactica, Fisk, who reeked of moonshine, filled in his CO with more details. It seemed quite the epic, and over-the-top, tale of survival. To top it off, these clowns even claimed to have been bestowed a pair of mystical, larger-than-life leaders from the Pythian Prophecy. Well, Cain trusted her metaphorical brass balls over a pair of mythical anything any day.

One of the so-called promised leaders strode beside the imposing Admiral but struggled to keep up with Cain's energized pace. A grin cracked through her steely expression—high heels didn't belong on ships designed for battle. Cain slowed down. The Admiral had decided to give Ms. Roslin the tour herself, and in the process show the simpering schoolteacher a taste of what real power looked like. Cain thought it an appropriate response to the woman's oh-so presidential demand that she agree to meet and talk.

"So, what do you think?" Cain asked, as they entered her office.

"Impressive," Roslin admitted but offered no further praise or compliments. Cain pursed her lips but moved to pour them some water instead of flinging out indignations. Impressive? Cain huffed. Pegasus was a Mercury-class battlestar, designed to fight hard, smart, and long. Her ship and her crew represented the best the Colonial Fleet had to offer. In comparison, Adama's ship had the oomph of a child throwing rocks.

Cain handed Roslin a glass with a nod. "Water? You seem out of breath, but I understand. You're not used to anything this size. For all Galactica and her Admiral can boast, they don't really compare."

"Oh?" Roslin said softly as she sipped her water. Mirth danced in her eyes, and Cain felt like she was being silently laughed at. The Admiral noted the stubborn set of the other woman's jaw and knew her snub was received clearly by the too-polite-to-slap-her-down politician.

"Well, I admit Pegasus is my pride and joy. As is her crew," Cain said as she moved to her desk. She decided not to overthink why she wanted to provoke Roslin. At her desk, she pulled her trusted knife from her pocket and laid it down beside her stack of reports.

Roslin tilted her head and considered Cain. "I suppose every CO should be proud of their ship."

"I understand the appeal of Galactica. She's beautiful... antique. But that's not what we—"

"—we're here to discuss? No. I asked for this meeting to go over my requisition list for the civilian fleet—" Laura said, leaning against a bulkhead as if comfortable in the Admiral's office. Cain paused. No one claimed comfort in her utilitarian space, and anyone feeling comfortable in her space made Cain feel uneasy. She fiddled with her knife, and the cold metal nipped at her skin without piercing it. The sharpened blade calmed her as Roslin continued to speak. "—because Pegasus is somehow sitting on quite the stockpile of supplies, some of which are desperately needed by civilian ships in the Fleet.'

"I haven't had the chance to look it over," Cain replied and flipped open a report on her desk. Work needed to be done, and it showed that Cain barely agreed to grant Roslin an audience. Only her ship and her crew claimed her full attention.

"Soon, Admiral," Roslin ordered and Cain's hand fisted around the handle of her trusted knife. Cain looked up and stared down the politician. Roslin refused to flinch. For a moment, neither spoke. Raw energy cracked between the two women. Laura pushed off the bulkhead and drifted over to Cain's desk. "You don't like taking orders from me or Admiral Adama," Roslin murmured unexpectedly.

On the other side of the desk, Cain drew herself up to her full height, lean muscles tensing rock hard under her uniform as she looked down at Roslin. "No."

"Speak your mind. I'll let you do it off the record."

"There's a war to fight and my mission is to engage the enemy. I'm not interested in babysitting civilians." Angry sparks ignited between the two women and threatened to melt the very metal on which they stood.

"The war is over, and we lost," Laura said, her tone soft and bittersweet but with a note of absolute finality. Cain's gaze narrowed. An iron cold hardened her heart and she gripped her knife. It reminded her that she must do whatever it took to defeat the enemy.

"The war hasn't even begun yet. This Fleet has a full Battlestar group. We could fight back, we should fight back!" Cain felt like the mythical one now, spitting dragonfire from her mouth. The rage at the Cylons boiled deep in her and she spewed it out now as flame. Cain saw herself as an inferno that could reduce the enemy to ash if she but had the chance. "Unfortunately, humanity has an unqualified school teacher playing at being president and an old Admiral for Fleet Commander who should be retired. You know, I stepped over people like him to get where I am, so how the hell are you two supposed to lead us to victory over our mortal enemy while playing happy families?" she yelled.

Through Cain's rant, Roslin never stopped smiling; diplomacy and self-control were her armor and weapons of choice. "So we'd do better with you in charge? Or with people like you in charge?"

"Absolutely."

"Hmm. I'll admit, it's not what I've been thinking."

The conversation paused as Cain studied Roslin. She leaned forward. "And just what have you been thinking?"

"That I might need to evaluate your performance as Admiral."

Cain went still and her voice dropped to a deadly quiet. "Excuse me?"

"My office has been made aware of some disturbing rumors. Apparently, there was an incident with your XO and a situation with some civilian ships. I'm considering a thorough evaluation to see if I allow you to retain your command."

"How dare you!" Cain snarled. So, she'd made impossible choices in impossible situations, but as a result her crew survived. Her fury erupted. She flung her knife down and the force knocked over a stack of reports. Her lips curled as Roslin, who took a cautious step back. It would be easy to rip into her if she wanted. She paced behind her desk, clenching and unclenching her hand in a fist. If only the damn fool could slither back to Adama's bed in their too-cozy quarters and leave Cain to do what she did best: protect her people.

"I dare because I'm your Commander-in-Chief." Roslin's voice, while soft, came out strong. Cain hated it. She hated everything about this conversation. Rage boiled in her veins. A brief vision of grabbing the knife and throwing it at Roslin pushed into her mind, and it honestly wasn't the most unpleasant intrusive thought she'd ever had. Commander-in-Chief? Cain bristled.

"Yes, I was near the end of the succession line," Roslin continued. "Yes, I was, in fact, a schoolteacher. Yes, my husband was at the brink of forced retirement. And here at the edge of the human race being wiped out, we've kept the Fleet alive. Whether you like it or not, those are the facts. While I am President, and therefore your Commander-in-Chief by law, I will do what it takes to keep us alive, and if that means bruising your ego, so be it," Roslin said. Anger clouded Cain's mind as she stared at Roslin, who pissed her off by smelling of Caprican roses during a time of war and dared to talk about superfluous things like ego. She had certainly earned Cain's now undivided attention. The women stared each other down, Cain in her pressed blue uniform like a statue cut from ice and Roslin in her polished red suit blazing like a living flame.

"So, you want to stop fighting."

"No. And I'm not asking you to. Maybe you want to believe that you can make a last glorious stand against the Cylons with your impressive battlestar. You'd take a lot of them down with you in retribution, and there might be justice in that. There's certainly something admirable about continuing to fight when we've come to the edge of losing everything. But there's nothing to gain by letting our own anger hand victory over to the Cylons by engaging the enemy until we all die. So, if going down in a blaze of glory is all you want, I'll order your removal without hesitation." Roslin took a step forward, letting her words sink in. "Or, we accept this chapter of Colonial history is over and we start a new one. It's not a flashy victory, but while humanity survives, the Cylons never truly win."

"You have some fight in you," Cain allowed, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't misunderstand me, I am fighting till my dying breath for the Fleet's future, as I'm sure you want to for your crew's survival." It felt almost painful to admit, but Roslin's ideas intrigued Cain. She folded her arms.

"I'll do anything for my ship and crew," Cain growled.

"We have to live with what the Cylons have left us," Laura replied. She held up a hand stopping any further comments. "I think we've covered a lot in this meeting. There's a lot for us to think about, and there's a briefing aboard Galactica tomorrow. I think it might surprise you."

"Well, then I'll be there, Madame President."

...

"You know, she told me, 'I'm so very proud of you,'" Kara said, recounting a story about Cain from a long, long time ago. No matter how much time passed, Kara never forgot how every cell in her body had tingled like she'd experienced a cool onshore breeze that was pushing away a violent storm. Someone had proclaimed their faith in the viper jock, and she clung to that affirmation. "Cain sounded so sincere," Kara explained to her captive audience, Evelyn Adama, who lay in her incubator. She opened her eyes as Kara traced a finger down her pink arm.

"Not many people have told me they're proud of me," Kara continued. "People tend to assume hell-raisers don't need to hear it." Kara would admit that she blustered through Galactica's corridors as Adama's hotshot problem pilot. She self-identified as the belligerent badass of the Fleet, and so she hid behind an attitude bigger than a Cylon Basestar. Kara got away with it because she was that good in the cockpit, but she also knew if a knuckledragger tried a fraction of the shenanigans she pulled, they'd have been summarily dismissed from the service. How often did a person like that hear they were wanted?

"Your daddy always had a weak spot for me. You know, he always wanted a daughter. Now he's got you," Kara said, but not unkindly. She already loved her sister. A family member always stayed with the newborn baby and Kara stood her own watch in sickbay.

"Dad's got two," Lee said, causing Kara to jump as his voice reached her ear from behind. She listened as her fiancée meandered over to stand pressed against her back while his arms came and wrapped around her waist. Kara smiled. Their relationship was in a good place. It just took two lifetimes and some suffering to get to a healthy point. "You know, Zak and I were so excited to have a little brother, and we always loved Liam. But right before he was born, Zak asked if Laura would love her own baby more than her new stepkids. Even wondered if dad would love us all equally. In this timeline, Zak loved having a mom and dad who actually acted like good parents. They never stopped. No matter what, they kept on loving each of us."

"That was subtle, Lee," Kara sighed. "Gotta try and come fix things."

"Maybe. Just wanted to help. But, I can shut up and just hang out quietly if you'd prefer. I noticed that between Evelyn and Cain you seem thoughtful."

"I have a brain, Lee. Even been known to have a thought pass through it on occasion," Kara retorted.

"Yeah? Well, I just wanted to help in case it took a wrong turn with all those twists, turns, and cul-de-sacs that make up that brain of yours," Lee said, taking her sass in stride. Kara elbowed him hard, and Lee laughed, used to Kara's unique blend of amorous and violent attention. "I realize that there are a lot of memories we have to deal with, especially around people like Cain."

"You hated her."

"But you didn't."

"I did hate her, and I liked her. I looked up to her even knowing she was frakked up." Kara shook her head and tried to make sense of her jumbled thoughts and emotions. It felt like running through a constantly shifting maze. There wasn't one easy way out. No one path that symbolized a good, correct answer.

"My dad once told me he couldn't pass judgment on Cain, because he had people around that kept him from going down a similar path," Lee offered.

Kara gave a bitter laugh. Of course, there were no good, correct answers. "She's a frakkin' damaged, dangerous bitch, but you know what? So was I, Lee. I still am. But she's also a razor. Capable of setting aside fear, and hesitation, even revulsion. We need that when fighting for survival."

"You're right, we do need that," he admitted. Kara had listened to him chip away at the guilt eating at him over how he'd hesitated at shooting down the escort ship Agamemnon. As a result of his revulsion at shooting them down, the Fleet lost both the Cylon-controlled Agamemnon and the Battlestar Yashuman when they collided. "But we also have to be worthy of survival. We have to remember what we are surviving for," Lee said and leaned to whisper in her ear. "You're definitely dangerous, Kara Thrace. In fact, you could probably kill me with just a finger, but it's attractive. I know you, Kara. Your whole family loves you."

Kara let Evelyn's fist close around her finger and smiled. She privately admitted, Lee's sincere 'we love you' sounded better than Cain's 'I'm so very proud of you.'

"So what do we do? About Cain?"

"We stay focused on what matters and take it one day at a time," Lee said. "And we stop swearing so much around the baby," he teased, earning a strange snorted laugh from Kara.

"We should get going or we'll be late for the briefing," Kara noted.

…

Bill Adama worked at his desk surrounded by Admiral Cain's logbooks and his own records. His pride thoroughly appreciated not needing to hand his logs to a superior. His pen paused its scratching against the paper and he looked up. Normally his disciplined mind focused on his job without issue, but his subdued wife resting in their bed drew his gaze. Sadness tinged the air around her like the blurred edges of a picture and Bill's resulting concern tempered his concentration.

Earlier they'd visited their beautiful little Evelyn, or Evie as Kara had nicknamed her. In fact, mere minutes after waking, Laura had bolted from their quarters, pulled toward her baby. Laura glowed as mother and child interacted, her joy infectious to anyone who observed them. After they'd relished time with their daughter in sickbay, she forced herself to attend to the duties of being president. Their responsibilities never ended and while Laura gave each task the demanded attention, Bill knew how Laura longed for her child when they were apart.

As their visit concluded, Cottle lectured Laura on her need to rest and give her body time to recover. Bill grimaced, recalling the same conversation between himself and Laura from the night before. She'd come home tired and drained. To his surprise and displeasure, he learned she'd gone to Pegasus and met with Admiral Cain. Not only did his head-strong wife confront the Admiral but she'd done it alone. Was it too much to ask that Laura consider her safety? They'd argued about it. Their quarrel threatened to turn into one of their more heated verbal sparring matches.

The sheen of frustrated tears in her eyes caused him to back down. He didn't apologize for being concerned but recognized that her recovering body, missing Evie, and worrying about Cain strained her enough. Then there were her unending and useless dreams about the damn orb. So, a falling out between them, no matter how reasonable Bill knew his concerns to be, only promised further stress.

Bill shook his head; he married a determined force of nature with eyes wide open, and accepted all that entailed. Thinking of their argument, Bill tossed his pen on the table, forfeiting getting more work done. He pulled his glasses off and pondered how he found her ability to frustrate the hell out of him both endearing and infuriating. At least, she conceded to his concerns this morning by taking it easy and looking over reports in bed. He sighed. She reminded him of a storm at sea, gathering her strength, but the approaching briefing would tax her. He glanced at the antique clock on the wall and rose. At the moment, other ways of being useful appealed to him far more than his paperwork.

Bill walked over to lean against their rack. "Were you ever tempted to order my assassination?" Bill asked and a teasing smile softened his face. He chuckled when Laura stared at him over the frames of her glasses for a long moment, unimpressed.

"You seem pretty confident that there were no such arrangements made, especially with how insufferable you were when we first met."

"But you like a challenge."

She cracked and smiled a little, and Bill felt lighter. "Alright, there was no order. Was I ever really tempted?" She lifted her chin and met his teasing gaze with her own. His heart warmed at their verbal dance. He looked forward to these moments and treasured each one. She brought out this softer side of him and in this unforgiving fight for their lives, it provided the balance he needed. He waited for her response as she drew out the suspense.

"Once."

"When I threw you in the brig?" Laura shook her head with a throaty chuckle. He loved hearing her laugh but noticed her eyes still seemed sad. She leveled a quintessential Roslin stare at him.

"I could handle your temper tantrum. I knew that once you cooled off we would have worked out everything." He frowned.

"Temper tantrum?" He heard indignation like quiet thunder in his tone. She raised an eyebrow that dared him to object and he noted that under the surface both of them remained keyed up from the previous night's fight.

"You came close to having a hit ordered on you after the trial," Laura told him dryly and turned her attention back to her reports.

"You moved in with me instead."

"I'm a complicated woman."

"Gods help your husband," Bill muttered sardonically. Although he didn't crack jokes often, he wanted Laura giggling again. He felt pleased with himself when, after a stunned pause, giggles rolled out of her in growing fits and bursts. He grinned.

"So say we all," she laughed. She dropped her reports on her lap and reached for his hand, their gold rings catching the light. "How about we stay away from assassination plots? At least for the time being." Laura said. Her gentle tone softened the harsh truth to which she referred. The order to eliminate Cain remained burned in their minds.

"Agreed. You're scary when you get bloody-minded."

"Well, I only get bloody-minded when I'm scared," she admitted. He squeezed her hand, offering reassurance and support. She met his gaze. "Bill, I wanted to leave the world knowing my people were safe, knowing you were safe," Laura offered her explanation so earnest, and it pained Bill to know the desperation she must have once felt nearing the end of her life with so much weighing on her. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "And here we are again. I can hardly sleep wondering if we're safe: you, me, our children, and the Fleet."

"We are. For now."

"And if that changes?"

"Then I'll take care of it," he swore. She paused but then nodded, absolute trust in him shining in her green eyes. Her complete faith remained one of the greatest gifts she'd given him. He eased forward and kissed her forehead. A cloud of sadness still wrapped her in its fog, but she clearly appreciated the loving gesture. She relaxed, trusting in his unspoken promise of support and protection. He lingered against her skin until knowing their responsibilities tugged him back.

"We should head to the briefing."

…

"You're planning to attack the Cylon Fleet?" Cain asked in surprise. Bill noticed the fevered excitement in her widened brown eyes. A smile even threatened to crack her stony reserve.

"It's a good chance to hit the Cylons where it hurts," Bill confirmed. He noted how Cain exchanged an approving and possibly even mildly conciliatory nod with Laura. In Galactica's War Room, everyone studied the battle plans on the table as Sharon, Lee, and Kara briefed the crowd on their attack plans. The atmosphere became charged as the group anticipated the damage about to be inflicted on their enemy. The officers crammed in the briefing room eyed Cain and Sharon with equal if slightly different levels of apprehension. They shifted around, and the stirred air smelled like military soap and anxiety. The dimmed lights from the planning screens cast their faces in strange shadows, a play between darkness and light. Weren't they always suspended between the two, Bill wondered. His trio of brooding officers continued their briefing although more stone-faced than usual, but Cain's presence evoked many complicated memories.

Sharon displayed Cain's unfocused recon image of the Resurrection ship alongside her own rough sketches. She explained the ship's function and its weaknesses under the judging gazes of the gathered military personnel. Bill watched her shift around, strained under the weight of so much examination, and he saw a girl desperate to prove herself and terrified she'd fail. That was Sharon. He supposed it always had been. Kara and Lee stayed by her, providing the battle's strategic plans.

The officers finished their brief and answered some questions.

"They've been following you?" Cain asked, nodding toward the mapped out Fleet positions.

"Yes. So we're going to turn around and punch 'em. It'll give us some breathing room," Bill said.

"So say we all," Commander Ziegler replied.

Cain studied Sharon and slowly advanced on the Cylon from around the map table in the center of the room. The girl took a step back, and Bill figured Sharon had learned about Cain's infamous treatment of Cylons. He could have sworn she shivered when Cain's gaze narrowed at her. Bill tensed, ready to diffuse whatever bomb was about to go off.

"Why betray your kind?" Cain asked in a soft but dangerous whisper.

"Well, sir, the Cylons were in the wrong. Should someone follow along with orders when they know it's wrong? Besides, I'd never willingly betray my family," Sharon explained and, though her voice was steady, she averted her eyes from Cain's scorching gaze.

Good reply, Bill thought. He watched Cain's reaction to Sharon's answer. He shoulders tensed and her jaw clenched. Somewhere, Cain's conscience flinched at how Sharon's reply hit close to home. Bill found himself reminded of the manipulative abilities of Cylons. Although he remained ready to jump in, Cain kept her cool.

"Fair point. But how could a Cylon even hope to know or understand what family is?" Cain challenged, condescension oozing from her tone. Sharon swallowed nervously and glanced at Bill and then Starbuck before raising her chin with a defiant gleam in her eye.

"I was taught. I learn just like humans do. Experience, sir." Cain tilted her head to consider this. Meanwhile, Bill glanced at Tigh, Commander Tigh, Cylon Final Five Tigh, who held himself tall and proud. He'd arrived without sweating alcohol and instead conducted himself respectably. He'd come a long way after experience smacked him upside the head several times. Saul Tigh—his brother, silica pathways and DNA be damned. Bill trusted and believed in the man so much that an agreement between them existed: should anything happen to him, Saul would look after Laura and his children, just as he would Ellen.

His brow creased as he contemplated his reality. He hated the Cylons but accepted and even loved some of them: Saul, Sharon, Chief, and even Ellen. He remained an atheist who'd met with a god, a non-believer caught in a prophecy, and a realist who'd received miracles. He mentally laughed at himself, thinking of how he called Laura the contradictory one. He pulled himself back to reality, and decided to end the meeting before Cain could take a bite out of Sharon.

"The operation will begin at 0900 tomorrow," he said to a chorus of 'yes sir' and he noted that Cain's voice joined. The officers filed out of the briefing room, taking some time to share gossip and news. It was good to see that a camaraderie had formed between them.

"What do you hear Starbuck?" he asked quietly as Starbuck moved to pass him. She seemed pulled tighter than a drum, but gave her own quiet response.

"Nothin' but the rain."

"Even so, let's keep your gun holstered, at least for today," he said, and her eyes shot up to meet his own. Bill knew she'd received the message; there would be no assasination attempt, for now. She gave him a small smile and nodded.

"Wilco, Admiral."

…

Admiral Helena Cain felt like she'd broken through the surface of the Aegaean Sea after almost drowning in the freezing waters. Each breath came with greater ease and relief when Cain realized that neither she, nor her ship, nor her crew would be subsumed in the tides of a fruitless war. Instead, they celebrated their part in a glorious triumph over a Cylon Fleet, and Cain noted the return of most of her pilots and crew on the other side of the fight.

Two days after the battle, they continued to ride their wave of success. She and a detachment from Pegasus joined the arranged festivities aboard Cloud Nine in their dress uniforms, which had only gathered dust since the Fall. Her crew looked very pleased with themselves and strutted proudly across through the green grass and sweet-smelling flowers. Military personnel from each ship met and slapped each other's backs. The crowd welcomed her crew, a shared battle forging camaraderie between the new group and the old.

Under the blue imitation sky, viper pilots puffed out their chests like preening birds and regaled increasingly unimaginable flight maneuvers to anyone who listened long enough. Members of the Quorum in their embroidered sashes of office heaped praise on senior officers who had the grace to commend their crews. Cain took it all in, her head spun from the top of this pinnacle of success. It felt good. Cain smiled as she observed her appreciated crew. She listened as her aide Kendra Shaw laughed with civilians who peppered the girl with curious questions. She'd never heard Shaw laugh and it gave the unforgiving Admiral pause. Her crew deserved to laugh.

Maybe she'd forgotten the basic rule of surviving a rip tide trying to drag swimmers out to sea: don't try to outstrength a superior force. There's a time to fight and a time to evade. She mulled such thoughts around in her head as the crowds surged toward Cloud Nine's largest ballroom. The ceremonies were scheduled to begin soon.

Cain entered the grand room and walked toward the central dais. It displayed flags representing each of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol around the edge, along with those of each military ship. She judged it just the right amount of pomp and circumstance and joined the other military personnel on the raised platform. They still eyed her warily but greeted her warmly while arranging themselves in an orderly row. Cain stood with her crewmates, one step ahead of them like the other commanding officers. They snapped to attention when Admiral Adama and President Roslin arrived. Laura smiled at them before she approached the podium. Cain listened as she delivered a heartfelt-sounding welcome filled with hope for the future and praise for the men and women of the Fleet. She honored the fallen and commended the survivors. A spark of memory ignited in Cain—she remembered President Adar spouting drivel with a lot more hot air. Cain preferred this; at least Roslin came across as honest.

One by one, the President announced the promotions and commendations of the assembled military personnel. In turn, the commanding officers handed out the shiny new insignias and medals to their crews. The crowds cheered and the excitement seemed contagious. Cain puffed with pride as she presented the new ranks to her officers. She delighted in promoting Shaw to the rank of Major and surprising Marcia "Showboat" Case with a commendation for valor.

Next, she observed how thrilled Adama seemed when he promoted his son to Major and Kara Thrace to Captain. He imparted kind and wise words to each officer he promoted, and it reminded Cain of her father. With each promotion, he had something unique to say and clearly treated each individual much like he had his own son. He treated his crew like beloved sons, and in turn Cain got the feeling they would follow him into the pits of Tartarus. She watched as he came to the last person, a Galen Tyrol. She raised a surprised eyebrow when he received a rare battlefield commission and now ranked as a Captain. Adama shook his hand, and joked that he'd always be the 'Chief,' but now uppity pilots couldn't pull rank on him. After that, the ceremony seemed to come to a natural end, but Roslin asked for Adama to step forward. Everyone held their breath as they waited to see what would happen.

Cain noticed the curious look on Adama's face, and he seemed at a loss for what was going on. Yielding her position at the microphone to Vice President Wally Gray, Roslin walked over to her confused husband. Cain caught a snippet of the conversation.

"Rumor has it, that I still don't know much about military protocol. I did learn that there is more than one kind of Admiral," she said. There was a delighted sparkle in Laura's eyes as she reached into her pocket to retrieve the same style box that held new rank insignias.

"By unanimous vote of the Quorum, and under the authorization of both the Vice President and President, William Adama is hereby promoted to the rank of Fleet Admiral of the Colonial Forces," Vice President Gray announced, and the crowd exploded with excitement.

"Congratulations, Fleet Admiral Adama," Roslin smiled and giggled softly as she handed the highest ranking insignia pips in the Colonial Fleet to Adama who looked at her wide-eyed. Protocol dictated that they exchange salutes, but they shocked everyone (and even themselves it seemed) by exchanging a brief but sweet kiss. It prompted the energized throngs to yell even louder in excitement on behalf of their leaders who stood for hope and love in these dark times. Cain took it all in. Their people believed in their leaders, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be trusted and followed because she was loved.

…

Author's note: I really appreciated many of the kind words after the last chapter. Thank you :) After a bit of a needed step-back/break, I present you with the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it!