Author's note: Apologies for the delay. Note: this chapter has been planned since I started the fic and is based on an original series episode. Enjoy!

Nestled in the safe haven of her mother's arms, Evelyn Adama settled after a fit full of little kicks and small sniffles. Her scrunched face relaxed and she looked up at her mother with wide, sapphire eyes. 'My eyes,' Bill puffed up with pride, 'and her mother's hair.' Bill grinned and wholeheartedly accepted how another redhead had him wrapped around her little finger. He tried to focus on the information the nurse relayed while Laura and Evie were lost in their own world. Out of the corner of his eye, Bill watched as tiny fingers curled around Laura's pinky. He drank in the golden moment they were told Evie was strong enough to come home, letting it warm his heart. The happy moment was like the god's ambrosia and it would sustain them when things inevitably turned dark again.

Nurse Layne Ishay finished talking and declared Evie released to the full care of her parents. He wrapped an arm around Laura's waist, every inch the proud, protective father holding his family close. Despite already being exhausted after standing a double watch in CIC and anticipating the little sleep Evie would allow them, Bill couldn't stop grinning. For the rest of the evening, Evelyn and Laura were his.

Bill hoped for quiet. Instead, two crewmen burst into sickbay their tangled limbs inches away from colliding with Laura and the baby. Instinctively, he yanked Laura back. The panicked eyes of Racetrack forced Bill to swallow the reprimanding bark telling them to pay attention. The raptor pilot stumbled as she supported the weight of her sweat-soaked ECO and searched for an open bed. As Ishay rushed in to help, Bill frowned. His adrenaline junkie crew almost always had a few knuckleheads in sickbay, but having all beds occupied seemed extreme. Most patients slept and drew little attention.

Cottle trudged out after examining a patient. Concerned, Bill guided Laura to a quiet corner of sickbay. Silently asking her to wait out of the way, she nodded and cradled her infant closer. Nearby crewmen tried to sneak a look at Evie and offered weak but heartfelt congratulations.

Bill marched over to Cottle who examined the readings he'd taken from the patient. "What's going on, Doc?" The responding huff of frustration sounded like a tired old lion's roar to him. Looking around the crowded sickbay, Cottle motioned Bill back to where Laura waited and they moved to join her. Huddled in together in the corner, Bill noted the deepened frown lines on the doctor's perpetually grouchy face. Cottle rubbed a weary hand over his face, but it smoothed away none of his concerned frown.

"Now look, you two: if I knew what was going on, you'd have a report. But I don't so you don't," Cottle snapped. He automatically pulled out his packet of cigarettes, but after glancing at Evelyn, shoved them back in his pocket with a frown. At the idea that something was wrong with his crew, concern prickled up in Bill's mind like a spreading winter frost. He wanted to demand answers.

"We understand. Is there any information you have?" Laura soothed and Bill noticed how the calm, warm cadence of her voice acted like a wind of fresh air on Cottle. He sighed and visibly forced his shoulders to drop and his jaw to unclench. He took a second to unwind.

"It might be a new strand of the flu, but the funny thing is only men are getting sick. It's spread through skin contact. Now, baby Adama here is strong enough to go home, and it'll be one less patient for me. Besides, Ms. Miracle is like a goldfish in a bowl. I have to keep dragging these curious cats away," Cottle explained.

"The Fleet?" Laura asked; the welfare of her people weighed constantly on her heart and mind.

"We're checking in with the medics throughout the Fleet. When we have an idea of what's going on, I'll send Zak along with a report. It could be nothing, though. Okay?"

"A report as soon as you know the details, doctor," Bill ordered. He wanted to know what was happening aboard his ship and worried over his people's health and safety. He realized they needed to get out of the frazzled old lion's hair and let him do his job, so Bill excused them.

The route to the CO's quarters contained officers who attempted to be inconspicuous as they hoped for their glimpse of the child. The warning look on the Old Man's face kept the curious horde at bay, but they dragged Bill's irritation with the Pythian Prophecy to the forefront of his mind. It was a feeling that always lingered in him. He appreciated the support from his crew, but hated feeling his newborn daughter was a sideshow attraction courtesy of a millennia-old prophecy.

He suppressed the groan of irritation when he caught sight of Elosha waiting for them outside their quarters. Hands clasped in front of her, she appeared the serene priestess as her purple robes sparkled with each move she made. The holy woman clashed against Galactica's military corridors like a discordant note that threw off the whole melody. While Laura smiled at her friend, Bill and Elosha eyed each other with calculated glances. It wasn't that Bill didn't like her, he just lacked any confidence in religious leaders.

"I heard the baby was released—I was already aboard and wanted to offer my congratulations in person while dropping these off," Elosha said and showed Laura the old books in the bag slung over her shoulder. Laura nodded and motioned for Elosha to step through the hatch a guard opened.

Inside their quarters, Bill watched Elosha step close and peer down at Evelyn. Laura allowed her friend and confidant close but did not offer to let Elosha hold her. Tucked so close to Laura's chest, the steady beat of her mother's heart had lulled Evie to sleep.

"She's a beauty. You chose a good name," Elosha said. "When are you planning on holding her dedication ceremony?" she asked. Bill went rigid, the change in him from proud, protective father to staunch, obstinate atheist hit him like a flash flood. He set his jaw.

"We aren't."

"But… I don't… she's a gift from the gods to the promised leaders… to you. She represents their promise of hope and life. Surely you mean to offer thanks to the gods for giving you a daughter?" Elosha exclaimed. Her confused eyes fixed on him. She tilted her head like a baffled bird at Bill's flat refusal. Bill realized he must be an equation that didn't quite compute to Elosha: the atheist married to a woman who embodied faith and who fathered a miracle child.

"No." Bill clenched his jaw, biting back his further retort that it was Laura, in fact, who bestowed them with a daughter—with a bit of help from him. Divine intervention remained unproven, even though Evie should have been impossible. Bill remembered the dark shadow in Laura's eye when her doctor told her it was too late to conceive another child after years of trying.

Elosha considered how to convince him. "Everyone deserves to be blessed. Besides, the people expect a ceremony."

"She's our daughter. Not the people's. We'll decide what she needs."

"Because you lack faith?"

"I lack patience with so-called powerful beings who seem to lack any real usefulness," he countered. To himself, he admitted that his experience on Kobol in the Tomb of Athena still unnerved him. If he dwelled on it enough, anger coagulated inside him, thick and choking. A being who, in his mind, flaunted their power and demanded they help fix a mess none of them created could make anyone angry.

Elosha reared back as if readying herself to drag an errant sheep back to her flock. "Eve—"

"What books did you find?" Laura jumped in first. Her wide eyes showed her shock at the negative edge on which the conversation danced.

Elosha shot Bill one last look before turning her full attention to Laura. "These are old religious texts outside of the sacred scrolls. I marked the interesting passages," she explained as she settled the books on the table. There were three heavy tomes with yellowed pages bound in cracked leather. They smelled of old libraries and dust. Despite being religious in nature, the books looked at home amongst Adama's own book collection.

Laura stared at the books, transfixed by the potential answers contained in the words scrawled out by ancient scribes. Bill read the interested expression on her face. She looked at him and her eyes flashed between terror and excited curiosity that her hoped-for information might be here. Bill admitted that clouded answers and shadowed truths remained Laura's sphere of expertise.

He gently lifted Evelyn from her arms, freeing Laura to flip through the weathered pages Elosha presented her. The baby squirmed and scrunched her face at being disturbed, but he shushed her with gentle words and settled her in the crook of his arm. He'd give them space.

Seeking the familiar, Bill paced over to his heavy oak desk with its scattered papers and flipped on the nearby comm unit. He tuned it into the pilots' comms to monitor their training exercises while swaying with the baby. Thus began the reality of juggling his responsibilities as both Admiral and father. He happily held Evie close, his battered heart lightened by her. Together, they listened to Starbuck's comm-garbled voice drill life-saving information into the nuggets. Bill liked observing the training when able, hands-on in watching out over his flock.

He continued to soothe Evie with the deep timbre of his voice and quietly explained everything. "That's just your big sister teaching those nuggets how to fly. See, they're learning how to deal with a missile lock. Now, you gotta keep maneuvering to evade a lock without crashing into any buddies or bogies. Bogies are what we call the bad guys. You can try and jam the targeting systems while dodging a locked on missile. It's a lot of twisting and turning because missiles slow down if they have to adjust their course which is what Kara's teaching 'em," he told the lightly dozing child. He droned on about flying with ease and his voice kept Evie settled. "Your Old Man once tricked a missile into flying into the same Cylon it came from after I let it chase me around and right back into the raider. Got a little singed in the explosion but…" He trailed off when he felt someone watching him. Looking up, Bill caught sight of Laura perched against his desk with her lips quirked up in a bemused smile.

"Already filling her head with tales of Husker, legendary hero of the First Cylon War?" Laura asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

"She should know her parents' legacy," Bill said and noted that Elosha was gone but her books covered the table. "Might help her cope if she's gonna be a little legend herself." Under his words, a bitter coldness festered, not hidden well enough from Laura's perception. She tilted her head to the ceiling, as if asking her gods for patience, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Subtlety, thy name is Adama," she muttered and, dropping her head, she pinned him in place with a determined look. "What was that little tête-à-tête with Elosha, Bill? Everyone knows you aren't a religious man, but couldn't you be diplomatic?"

"I wanted a quiet night home with you and Evie without getting dragged into any religious crap," he explained, feeling more than justified in his reaction. The way Laura leaned against the edge of his desk and stared over the rim of her glasses mimicked the scolding stance of a school principal, an echo of her teaching past. She commanded enough intimidation to reduce soldiers to sullen students, but Bill Adama just smiled. Afterall, he had just regaled his daughter with tales of a brave but hot-headed Husker.

Laura wasn't impressed. "Bill—"

Still the risk-taking viper jock, he pressed his lips to hers, and it stopped her irritated retorts. He already knew what she'd say, so with Evie cradled in the space between them, he kissed his wife gently but thoroughly. Satisfied that he'd melted away the irritation he'd earned, he pulled back. He nodded toward the table with the opened books. "Wanna to show me what you found?" he asked, knowing that would placate Laura. He could be diplomatic when he wanted. Sure enough, she lit up and pushed off the desk.

"Since Kobol, Elosha's been helping me track down any mention of an orb matching Athena's description in religious texts," Laura explained as they walked to the table. "She's had to barter throughout the Fleet even to find these. Now, most of this isn't helpful, but there is this," Laura said and pulled a book toward them. His throat itched as he swallowed back his discomfort and looked at the pages.

An illustration covered both pages, sketched by a talented hand. Bill examined the detailed rendering of Pythia herself. Surrounded by billowing mist rising from cracks in the ground, the woman raised her hands to the sky. She appeared possessed by a power greater than her mortal form as her blue robes rippled in the wind. The artist portrayed a beautiful woman with lines that showed sensual curves and wild hair. The whole image resonated with an eerie similarity to how Laura appeared on Kobol and the realization weighed like iron in his stomach. What captured Laura's interest was the orb around Pythia's neck. Radiating lines and a glowing aura illustrated the power contained within the artifact. Laura pointed to it.

"See? Pythia had it on Kobol. There's no clear record of what happened to it, but the text mentions how Pythia's relics were taken to the Colonies. It's a similar story with other sacred objects like the Arrow of Apollo. I never found any mention of it in my museums or in any temples," she summarized.

"It's a damn fool's quest," he growled.

"But we know it exists. Look at the page!" she demanded as her finger tapped on the sketch. "Think of the orb that has been in my dreams for years. Sharon confirmed that Cavil used an orb to reset time. Whatever it was in the Tomb of Athena told us to find this thing. Now, the fact is that if we don't find whatever this artifact is, someone or something else will. Imagine what could happen. Think of what could be taken from us if we fail," Laura urged. His heart pounded harder and harder until it ached as she drove her point into him. He looked between Evelyn and Laura and thought of Zak, Liam, Lee, and Kara. He had a lot to lose.

"I don't wanna think about it," he deflected and watched Laura roll her eyes.

"Bill you've gotta face the truth. I know you hate any mention of the Pythian Prophecy. 'The Dying Leader—' you're haunted by those words. It's easier to be angry at a prophecy than blame who really was responsible for my death," she forced him to listen. He wanted to stop her. He didn't want to listen, not to this. But her voice dropped to a deep whisper and pushed the unpleasant truth on him. "Me, Bill. Me. I didn't go to the doctor for years when I should have. If I had, there would have been no need for Hera's cure and no Cavil experiments to undo it. But, I was broken after my whole family died. By the time I had a reason to live again, someone who made me want to embrace life, I was dying. The scriptures didn't kill me. I know it is painful to think about. I do. But this visceral reaction every time you see the scriptures or Elosha or we talk about the orb…" she shook her head. "You know things are different now. I chose life. I chose you. I'm searching through this 'crap' because I'm not going to let something jeopardize everything we have. I want answers."

It was hard to hear, but Laura was right and he knew it. Besides, he ultimately couldn't refuse any weapon that might defend them, even archaic information. In the end, his protectiveness of Laura outweighed dislike of prophecy. He'd help find the orb.

Uncurling one arm from around Evie, Bill reached for his wife and she came to him willingly and without hesitation. Her head fell on his shoulder, her movements filled with a surety and affection that had only ever grown stronger through the years. It comforted him to hold his women close.

"I love you," Laura murmured. "My stubborn Admiral Atheist."

…

Aboard Colonial One the next day, Laura stared at the whiteboard always displayed in her office. It usually displayed the Fleet's current population count but one little member's number remained absent. Carried against her chest in a wrap, Evie remained quietly content. While not the most presidential look she'd ever sported, Laura preferred keeping Evie close and she dared anyone to complain.

She reached for the marker by the board, finally confident enough to add Evie to the count. Born so premature, Laura had feared for her daughter's survival. She'd spent hours wrapped in guilt, no matter how undeserved, while watching her baby lie in an incubator instead of her womb. Maybe if she hadn't worked so hard… But, Evie lived, and, assured at her daughter's release, Laura added her to their count.

"Madame President, here are the names you requested. All of them are reliable. All can be trusted," Tory said from behind her, and Laura heard a file drop onto her desk. She turned in time to catch how Tory scowled. Laura sensed the woman's continued hurt over their earlier confrontation. Tory had tried to pick up Evie without asking and before any rational thought tempered her reaction, Laura pulled her child away and demanded to know what the hell Tory was thinking. She felt a little bad, but no matter how polite, professional, and friendly they acted, Laura remembered how Tory turned on her in the other timeline.

Laura approached her desk and flipped through the file of vetted people who applied to help her with Evelyn. An unpleasant necessity if she planned to remain president. Besides, she wouldn't inflict the headache-inducing Quorum on Evie (although she remained unperturbed at the notion of inflicting Evie on the Quorum—the baby would at least encourage the use of their indoor voices). She flipped over another page and stared. A choking lump formed in her throat as she picked out a familiar name. Forcing the tears back, Laura managed to clear her throat and whisper.

"Maya. Maya will be perfect, Tory. Job's hers if she wants it."

"Quick," Tory replied flatly, probably wondering why she'd thoroughly vetted so many people. "I'll make the arrangements."

Laura settled behind her desk as Tory marched out of the office, the aide's irritation only thinly veiled. Billy dodged out of her trajectory before she crashed into him. Too sweet to do more than shake his head at Tory, he approached Laura with matters that needed attention, such as her upcoming meeting with Vice President Wally Grey. Billy handed Laura the suggested agenda for the upcoming Quorum meeting, so she and Wally could argue over the upcoming topics.

"Can't believe she replaced me."

"No one ever replaced you. And this time no one will ever even need to try." Laura said and watched the tips of Billy's ears redden at her compliment.

"Not if you have anything to say about it," Billy teased, and now Laura blushed as she remembered her slight overreaction the other week. Upon arriving on Colonial One in the morning, she hadn't been able to find Billy anywhere. His last known location had been on Cloud Nine the afternoon before, so thinking of the horrible fate her Chief of Staff once met on that ship, Laura panicked and sent two of her best guards to find him. They'd returned, trying not to smirk, and Billy trailed in behind them with his hair sticking out in every direction. He listened to Laura's pent up 'don't you scare me like this' rant, until the pieces fell into place and she stopped mid-sentence. A missing tie, an embarrassed but satisfied grin on Billy's face, smudged red on his neck—Laura realized why he hadn't come home. She motioned for Billy to get cleaned up, wondering if later Bill would be telling her about how Dualla showed up late for duty.

"Thank the gods for you, Billy," Laura chuckled and looked down at what he'd given her. The usual—topics that needed to be addressed in order to keep the civilian fleet from devolving into a pack of wild dogs playing survival of the fittest. Her trusted aide provided his own notes and ideas on the subjects, and while they didn't always agree, Billy was clearly coming into his own.

"Just doing my best," he said sheepishly. Laura watched his eyes dart down to Evie, who squirmed in her wrap.

"Would you like to take her for a bit?" She liked that he treated Evelyn like the baby she was instead of trying to show off the so-called beacon of hope.

After handing off a bundled up Evie, Laura checked her watch and grabbed a crime report from Fleet Security while waiting for Wally to arrive. She decided they needed to do something about the developing dark underbelly of the Fleet. The last thing the Fleet needed was an emerging criminal world. Frowning, she skipped over the press request on her desk asking for photos of Evelyn. She had accepted the shroud of prophecy and knew it meant she would have to endure such requests, but she'd keep the hungry media horde away from Evie as long as possible.

Muffled footprints against Colonial One's carpet signaled someone's approach. Laura expected to see Wally walking into her office, but found someone else.

"Zak!" she exclaimed, dropping her pen and notes to her desk. Surprised at his presence, she smiled warmly at him, never bothered by a visit from one of the sons she shared with Bill. Down to the same ticks when stressed, Zak physically resembled his father in many ways—a family resemblance Liam grew more into everyday. Zak looked weighed down, like his father did when shouldering too many problems.

"Hey, mom. Can we talk?"

"Of course. Wally might interrupt; he should—"

"Wally's sick. I just came from his ship."

"Oh." Laura frowned and watched Zak; she had a nasty hunch that something was wrong. She remembered seeing the full Galactica sickbay. "Zak, are you here to talk to your mother or the President?"

He sighed and dropped into a chair, the sound of leather creaking under him. He seemed to melt into the chair, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "The President," he admitted, rarely calling the woman who'd raised him since he was eight by her title even when on duty. She didn't ever mind. "We've got a problem, mom."

"It's serious, isn't it?" she asked and noted Billy paying close attention. Despite his exhaustion, Zak clearly presented the facts detailing how the first cases of some new illness had appeared only last night, but now the medical corps was battling breakouts on several ships. It spread quickly, and patients reported sweating, fevers, and muscle aches. Spread through touch, it only infected men, Zak told her, noting that he'd never seen anything quite like it in school.

"Worse still, patients develop what seems to be a progressive amnesia. People are confused as they lose their memory, and we don't have a cure. We're not even close to one. I came to report as soon as I could. There are procedures Cottle and the rest of the medical corps want put in place," Zak sighed.

"I'll put together a press release," Laura said.

"Sure, start there. But Fleet Security is gonna need to enforce quarantines and these safety procedures. We need to shut down inter-fleet traffic… set up triage centers..."

"People will panic, Zak. Do you realize the push-back this could have?"

"Mom!" Laura jumped when Zak slammed a fist down on the armrest. Wide-eyed, she stared at her usually mild-tempered stepson. "This is serious. Now, you've always said our survival is more important than comfort or convenience. I'm telling you, this is necessary. Right now!"

People hated having their freedoms restricted, and they already lived more restricted lives since the attacks. Sill, Laura prided herself on her ability to choose what she believed to be the right choice over the popular choice. What guided her decisions, the star she set her course by, would always be that which gave humanity the best chance of survival. Further, she trusted Cottle and Zak, neither of whom she'd ever known to overreact. In her opinion, Cottle, when not deprived of his cigarettes, might be the most level-headed of them all. So, at her bequest, Zak detailed the suggestions from the Fleet's medics.

"Guess it's time to make an executive decision," Laura said, deciding to bypass a Quorum who would only bicker over each precaution. She gave Zak a reassuring smile before turning her attention to Billy, motioning for him to hand Evie back to her. "Get the head of Fleet Security and Admiral Adama on the line, they need to be caught up first. Notify ship captains to expect a conference call in half an hour, and tell the press to be ready in an hour," she ordered her Chief of Staff who sprang into action.

...

Laura returned to Galactica that evening so tired and exasperated that the next person who complained risked a trip out an airlock. She understood the scared reaction her press release caused in the population. People tended to panic, but for the love of all that remained good and holy, did everyone find it absolutely necessary to resist attempts to save them? Laura wondered if people believed she enjoyed issuing executive orders and the inevitable nails-against-a-chalkboard-like complaining that followed.

She wrapped her arms around the baby tucked in the sling against her, her baby's whimpering little cries demanding food. Evie rubbed against her mother's chest, but Laura's surgery years ago made it a fruitless search. Laura murmured that they were almost home, and she anticipated collapsing into her understanding husband's arms. She wouldn't even need to explain anything to him—thank the gods for small mercies—because she felt too tired to recount how this latest crisis upended her day. He'd probably even feed irritated Evie. Laura trudged through the corridors of Galactica, finding the normally lively corridors eerily empty.

Relief flooded through her the moment she stepped through the hatch and into their quarters. She dropped the Presidency and her shoes right inside the door, needing a few sweet hours as just Laura. She needed no mask here. She rested against the metal bulkhead, her body fatigued and head pounding. Spotting her husband asleep on the couch with reports scattered around him, she smiled as love flowed through her veins. She was bombarded with challenges in their struggle for survival and yet just the sight of him steadied and calmed her.

She sat down on the couch next to him, and carefully gathered reports. She frowned at the waves of heat radiating off of Bill and the sweat she noticed glistening on his brow. Even with his uniform unbuttoned, he seemed like an oven and Laura felt a chill of dread come over her. No, no, no—not him, Laura prayed, reaching up and feeling his fevered forehead.

"Bill?" she asked, gently shaking him awake. He groaned and moved as if every muscle in his body ached. Panic gripped Laura. "Bill!"

"Laura?" he asked, opening drowsy eyes. He frowned and rubbed his head. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you on Caprica?" he asked. He peered curiously at the increasingly restless infant Laura held. "And, who is this?