"I'm having a little difficulty breathing," she'd said; the end had come, but Bill made Laura smile one last time in a Raptor. For the woman who'd rescued them all, Bill showed her the best view of the Earth they'd earned. Now his own breathing struggled and his lungs burned. Each labored breath he took brought him the teasing smell of Caprican roses. Lingering on his pillow when it should have long faded, her smell tormented him. He knew her presence could only be an illusion as his muscles ached from his too-humble burial he'd given the President of the Colonies.

Not only did he sense his lost love, but his beloved Galactica hummed with life around him. He heard his crew echoing in the corridors and smelled his books. A delusion of what he'd lost surrounded him. He shivered in the colder than Earth temperature, the familiar spaceship air, and burrowed in the blankets while content to linger in this dream. Bill listened to the quiet but strong murmur of Laura's voice in the distance only broken by the crackle of a voice on the comm. She was saying something about elections needing to be delayed. No longer faded, she sounded presidential and so, so real.

Then again everything prompted a memory of her: the red of a rising sun invoked images of a red dress and flaming hair. Maybe he'd gone insane after looking into the heart of Earth's sun so many times as it rose above the mountains, but it had reminded him of another now burned out star. But she felt so close now that if this was insanity, he welcomed it.

"Laura?" he croaked, hoping his delusion would come to him and let him touch her. The voices stopped, so he kept his eyes locked closed, refusing to let go of this dream. He moaned her name again and again, wanting to hear her again.

"I'm here, Bill." A hand pressed against his forehead. "Gods, you're burning up again. I'll be right back," Laura's voice murmured, and the hand against him started to slip away. With a speed he didn't realize his body still possessed, he grabbed the very real-feeling woman.

"Don't. Don't go. Not again," he sounded desperate, but it barely registered to his exhausted body and soul.

"It's alright. I'm not leaving. I just need to get you—"

"You did though!" he argued, feeling pained tears escape his tightly shut eyes. He wanted to avoid such displayed emotion, but it escaped through the cracks in his weakened armor. Waves of heat coursed through his blood but he shivered with cold, sweat tingling against his skin. Everything ached.

"Bill, open your eyes and look at me," his phantom ordered gently. "Come on. Trust me," she soothed as her hand gripped his back. She linked their fingers together while letting him dig his fingers into her warm flesh until he found the pulse in her veins. Opening his eyes, he found himself in his old rack and looking up into Laura's concerned face. A pained breath left him as he clutched the captured hand tighter, while his free hand reached up and touched the red curls falling around Laura as she bent over him. His fingers moved to trace her face.

"Can't be…"

"I'm right here. You're very sick right now and having trouble remembering."

He felt awful, drained of energy and strength, but he knew what he'd seen. "No, I remember. The cancer. You stopped treatments and I watched you..." his jaw clenched and he refused to say any more.

"Oh, Bill. You did, and I'm so, so sorry you endured that. If I thought the treatments would have truly worked, I'd have continued for you. I chose quality over quantity, and met death on my terms. We got time back though, remember? Picon? The park? Maybe the temple? Sometimes memories come back if you can focus on specific details," she said, and Bill's fevered mind tried to make sense of her words. His senses were flooded with Galactica and Laura, and he clung to both. Something prompted him to feel along her captured hand, and he found the ring on her finger. Pulling it into his line of vision, the yellow gold glinted in the light of his quarters.

"I put my ring on your finger in the Raptor," he frowned as he focused on the band. An image flashed in his mind of Laura showing it to him in a hotel room, the band in the palm of her hand. "Then you had it on Picon." Looking at their clasped hands, he noticed the different ring he wore with two lines intertwining with each other. 'Two lives lived. Two lives now intertwined.' His fever-addled mind knew the truth even if he couldn't quite recall the details. "You're my wife?"

"I am," she smiled. "You're sick right now and it's hard to remember things." She explained how they'd awoken seventeen years ago with memories of a future they'd experienced. It angered him to hear that despite their best efforts, the attacks happened anyway. He listened to her explain about the disease going through the Fleet, attacking the body along with the memory centers of the brain. His first reaction was to urge Laura to stay back, the instinct to protect her even present in his sick state. She shook her head and explained the nature of the disease and how it only infected men. He finally let go of her so she could get a cool washcloth for his head and some water while he tried to process what she'd told him. He had her back.

"So, the Valkyries are running the Fleet?" Bill asked, after she helped him take a drink.

"Seems a fitting image with Admiral Cain in charge of the military at the moment." He groaned at the thought of Admiral Cain's return, but didn't try to figure out why he knew he outranked her.

"Laura—" Bill looked at her with a surprising intensity in his state. "—no cancer right? No pale doctor on the day of the attacks?" When she hesitated, he tried to prepare his mind. All this has happened before, so why the frak shouldn't it happen again? He tried to ignore the way his chest clenched as he waited for her to speak.

"There is no cancer. You don't remember, but I had surgery years ago to prevent it, and you get pretty… intense about making sure I get checked regularly," he felt the tension seep from his muscles in relief. "But, there was a pale doctor, and he did discover something unexpected." Standing from how she'd been leaning on the rack, she stepped to the side and reached down. When she returned, there was a child cradled in her hands.

"This is our daughter, Evelyn. She's only two months old, but has you wrapped around her finger."

His pained heart thundered as his once-impossible dream materialized in front of him. They'd had a lifetime together. They'd lived his once heart-wrenchingly impossible vision of what a life might have been like if they'd only met sooner. For a brief moment, he saw a warm home and another child with Laura's eyes laughing with his brothers. He wept. His body trembled with the combined weight of joy and grief. If only he could remember it all.

...

Starbuck, ace pilot extraordinaire, bane of the Cylons' existence, Harbinger of Death to her enemies, and cocky she-devil to her friends, needed a damn hug. She signed up for combat, not command, but the line officers were knocked on their butts by a bug. After Admiral Adama became infected, his XO Major Kelly fell sick. The virus got to their CAG Lee Adama before he could take command. Gaeta led CIC for a day, which Kara later learned spooked the Admiral who thought he'd executed the mutineers. After Gaeta fell, Captain Kara Thrace assumed leadership of Galactica—a clear sign of the desperate and strained military ranks.

After her shift, she trudged toward the CO's quarters and upon arriving promptly collapsed on the couch. Their door remained open to her and she figured the latest crisis earned a few undignified private moments to wallow in indulgent self-pity.

Kara expected that the President, who sounded ready to beat someone over the head with a medkit during the last ship captains' meeting, would be home soon. Kara attended the meeting on behalf of Galactica and was treated to a display of whining. She respected the President's restraint when the captains weren't locked in a little cage until they could quit their infantile antics. Kara frowned—she shouldn't insult baby Evie by comparing their shenanigans to infant behavior. Evie behaved so much better.

Kara took a deep breath and counted to ten before letting herself into the CO's now unguarded quarters.

Throughout the Fleet, in thanks for their service, the Medical Corps' regulations for safety earned protests on several ships. After the crap she'd seen in two lifetimes now, Kara suspected humans secretly liked being provoked because it gave them something to complain about. Well, godsdammit, they should listen to her list of things to moan about. How she, Lee, the Admiral, and the President weren't in padded cells from extreme PTSD, she didn't know.

Neither of the infected Adamas could remember this new timeline. She and Laura swapped stories of their 'yeah, I'm not dead anymore' conversations. After talking with Lee, he clutched Kara so close that she almost needed a crowbar to pry him off before reporting for duty. Yet this morning, her fiancé pushed her away and demanded to know what the frak she was thinking by sleeping with him. Then he asked where his wife was.

The pillow and blanket beside the couch betrayed Laura's own troubled sleeping arrangement with a partner who couldn't remember being together. Sometimes Kara skipped in-depth explanations and just told Lee that Cottle ordered him to remain in bed to recover from a nasty bout of the flu. She suspected Laura did something similar. Sleep provided an escape from trying to reconcile two timelines crammed in their heads, fading memories, and their current reality. At the moment, the senior-most Adama snored and kept at it while the hatch opened and admitted the weary President home. Liam slipped in behind her, the teenager kept in his mother's protective shadow. He wore gloves like all the men in the Fleet now did, most of them sane enough to cover up much of their skin to prevent accidental skin-to-skin transmission of the disease.

"Kara!" Liam grinned while Laura nodded a tired greeting and walked to the desk to sort reports.

"Listen kid, I'm trying to be miserable here," Kara grumbled in response to Liam's sunny optimistic soul as he plopped down next to her.

"Awww. Hard day being Galactica's new imperious leader? Can't strike obedience and fear into CIC like Tigh used to?" he teased, and Kara smacked him with the nearby pillow. She thanked whatever luck graced Liam that kept him uninfected.

"Not enough people to scare," Kara retorted, smiling for a moment at Liam before her face fell again. "More pilots sick and not enough nuggets to train."

Liam seemed determined to lighten the mood and he leaned over conspiratorially. "Wanna give me a commission? You know I'd fly circles around the other recruits," he whispered quietly enough that his mother wouldn't hear. "Besides, the new nuggets are all women."

"That's a hard no, even if I see the appeal. But when you join you'd better be top of the class. I've been teaching you and indulging you in the sims since you were big enough to reach the controls." Kara whispered back, hoping their airlocking, trigger-happy President didn't catch wind of this conversation.

"Liam," a voice said and Kara cringed. Laura stood nearby with her hands on her hips, and she'd definitely heard. "Why don't you go study in your room for a bit, please?" Watching Liam nod and obey, after throwing the pillow back at her, Kara noted Roslin's ability to conceal orders in kind-sounding suggestions. Meanwhile, Laura sat down on the couch next to her, massaging the headache she undoubtedly acquired from another long day of trying to keep them alive. "I know the day is coming soon, but he's still so idealistic and naive. He can't understand why more people don't just work together."

"He's like Lee," Kara said. She knew she was acting like a cowering chicken afraid to go back home and deal with whatever situation she'd find there. Hiding felt preferable. Drinking would be good. As soon as she received permission, she stood, poured herself a generous drink, and downed it. She just wanted to fly her bird, not feel pulled down by a weight on her heart. "Starboard hangar bay is now a field hospital, but we might need a temporary morgue if this gets worse."

"Same across the Fleet."

"We lost Prosna and Crashdown today," Kara said and suddenly gave a bark of bitter laughter. "They lasted longer than they did in the last timeline. Too bad we only bought them a little more misery."

"That's not what's gonna happen to the Fleet. Or to you and Lee."

"Pegasus CAG died today too."

"I know. Cain is a heartbeat away from declaring martial law to keep people quarantined."

"Let her!" Kara snapped and paced in front of the couch where Laura sat. Let the Admiral make people listen and obey. She was sick of seeing her friends, her loved ones, die. She was so, so sick of it.

"Solve a problem today and create one for tomorrow?"

Kara snorted. "Guess we know where Liam gets his optimism. Every day new people are getting sick and now you're taking numbers off that board of yours, but you can still think about tomorrow!"

"Kara, I have to."

Their arguing had a dull exhaustion to it. They'd been over the same bitterness before. Kara found the sneer in her voice ebbing away like an evening tide.

"I know," she admitted and sat back down on the couch, holding her head in her hands.

They sat there like that, unsure of how much time passed but too exhausted to move until they heard a noise in the more private section of the Adama's quarters. The sound of shuffling feet and a groan notified them that the Admiral was now very much awake. Laura immediately moved to check on her husband, even though he no longer remembered being so. Kara swirled the liquor in her second glass, trying to find the energy to go to her own quarters and listened to Laura question what Bill was doing.

"I, uhmm, I thought of a book to bring during your next treatment."

"That sounds nice, Bill."

"Searider Falcon. It's my favorite. I think you'd like it."

Kara heard Laura's voice crack when she replied and decided it was time to go back to Lee, come what may.

"Mine too."

…

The disease made him feel weighed down and sluggish, but Bill Adama refused to be helpless. He again recited the facts he knew: one, he was very sick; two, they'd gone back in time; three, he had amnesia; and four, he'd married Laura Roslin. His mind handled these four facts, so he repeated them throughout the day. Despite feeling like he'd gone several rounds in the boxing ring with Chief Tyrol, he needed to move and he eased out of the rack. After noticing the date, Bill stood at the chest of drawers in his quarters where he kept personal items. It was his old anniversary, and he opened a drawer in search of a familiar photo.

His familiar wedding photo was gone, replaced by a stack of photos similar to those he'd discovered displayed around the cabin. Shuffling through the photos distracted him from the throbbing aches in his muscles, so he continued. He found shore leave photos from family trips to the Glittering Caves of Leonis, the Cloudshape Falls of Caprica, and Serenity Valley of Tauron—places he'd always wanted to see. He looked at a captured moment by a lake with him and the President—him and Laura—wearing water-soaked clothes with Zak and another boy laughing beside them. They all looked happy. He saw himself in many of these photos smiling widely, so unlike the family photos in his memory. His heart skipped a beat when he realized he'd learned to make time for the family he loved.

He stopped at a photo of Zak's high school graduation and studied the smiling young man. In the previous timeline, he'd been so removed from their lives that he lacked photos of his boys as teenagers, but these photos hinted at a better life. He found one of Lee's promotion to Captain, an event he'd once avoided. By then, they couldn't be in the same room without exploding, both pained and angry at Zak's death. Yet there stood Zak along with Laura and a young boy while Bill pinned the rank pips on Lee. For a moment, he thought he caught a memory flash of another promotion.

Shaking his head, he continued working through the stack of photos but found it strange that he'd lived a life he knew very little about. He lingered on an image of Laura in a hospital bed with a Bill Adama from his later viper jock days standing beside her, both focused on the newborn she held. His stomach flipped at knowing he fathered a child with Laura, but some visceral part of him hated seeing her connected to life sign monitors.

The discovery of an envelope hidden at the bottom of the photos left him intrigued. Laura's elegant handwriting filled the front and he read her message, "You know I love both a challenge and getting a rise out of you. Happy birthday, my love. Even though we are apart, know that I am thinking of you. Your Laura."

A huffing laugh turned into a series of coughs as he thought of the many times the woman provoked him. Trying to ignore the burning in his lungs, he thought about what remained constant. This Laura sounded like the woman in her bright red dress that he'd found on New Caprica, all teasing, playful, and affectionate. He still remembered the shared night under the stars and the tender words betraying his deepening emotions that he left unsaid though at the tip of his tongue. He traced a finger over the words, wishing he knew how they'd come together.

'We have certain responsibilities,' he told her and to him it only seemed like hours ago. He wondered how they managed to be effective leaders while being so close. Didn't it make them emotionally compromised? Wasn't he, even now? His curiosity too piqued to resist, he opened the envelope and pulled out the separate set of photos. He nearly dropped them.

Damn.

Despite the fevered cold in his body, he went completely still and stared at the photos in his hand. Flipping to the next, his throat ran dry and he realized he was a damn lucky bastard. He took in the set of intimate images of an undeniably beautiful and incredibly sensual Laura. He ran through his facts again, repeating number four. This is my wife, he marveled, stunned at the photos. Each one proved more erotic than the next. His eyes followed the curve of her body, partly bathed in shadows to tantalize the imagination—the photos didn't need to be explicit to be the most attractive and evocative sight he'd ever seen. Her long legs that had caught his attention during their first meeting were captured in their endless glory for his eyes only. His heart thundered in his chest as his gaze wandered over the chestnut hair falling down over pale shoulders, leaving only the outline of full breasts visible and deepening the cleft between them.

She was beautiful; as flawed as any human being, and he knew that, but Bill sensed he'd found perfection among humanity. These images took love and trust, but also hinted at how they'd overcome the separations within a military marriage. Under the images he saw the truth; this was a loving and kind-hearted woman committed to him and accepting of him. He'd never had that.

'I just don't think she ever loved you,' Lee told him, voicing a bitter truth about his ex-wife that Bill hadn't ever wanted to admit. Some jilted part of him must have known though. Not wanting to live through the hurt again, he didn't remember being with anyone since his ex-wife. Bill Adama, behind the Admiral's facade, was a sensual and passionate man whose first wife was only concerned with her own gratification and not at all interested in his. When they discovered she was pregnant, Bill convinced himself that her selfishness and mood swings would pass, and did what he considered the honorable thing and married her. He was a fool in love, but as their marriage wore on, they fought constantly and whatever intimacy existed between them evaporated. Carolanne finally made it clear she no longer wanted his touch and she displayed her faded interest in him by sleeping with their neighbor. Carolanne would never have given him such images, but the Laura in these pictures teased a different kind of marriage where his love and desires remained welcome. He lacked the specific memories, but some part of him instinctively knew Laura welcomed his touch. Feeling a bolt of anger shoot through him, he wanted to rip his faded memories back from the disease. Yet, they didn't seem close to a cure.

So lost in the images, he didn't notice the hatch open.

"You must be feeling a bit better," Laura said, sounding tired but pleased. Bill on the other hand fumbled to push the photos back in the envelope like a kid caught with his hand in the candy dish. Too slow, Laura caught sight of his discovery and blushed.

"I didn't go looking for these. I used to keep my wedding photo here," he said, and he noticed her blink tears out of her eyes so quickly he almost doubted they were there. "My old one. I know we're married," he added, knowing this couldn't be easy for her. A throbbing headache dulled his mind, and he blamed the disease for his lack of tact. Putting the photos away, he shoved the drawer closed and met Laura's patient gaze.

"I don't mind you looking at the photos. They were willingly given, and you… appreciated them."

"It feels like they belong to a different man," Bill replied, angry at his mind for keeping his memories from him. The whole world felt upside down. He breathed through his anger, cursing the pain in his lungs which reminded him of the disease taking him from her.

"They belong to my husband," Laura said sharply before wearily sinking into the nearby couch. Her tone became a gentle murmur. "They belong to you, and it'll come back to you. Until then, well, I've always known I'm not your first wife, and, I… I understand."

Feeling exhaustion creeping up on him, he moved to sit next to Laura on the couch, bone tired, frustrated, and somehow both hot and cold at the same time. He touched the necklace she wore, the obsidian warm against his finger from resting on her skin. "I never considered giving this symbol to Carolanne. But it feels right for you to wear it. It just seems like only hours ago Lee came to my quarters and we talked about my divorce and about her. There were things I never knew..." he trailed off, thinking about how his children deserved better. After a moment, Laura's gentle voice began painting a picture of their lives. Her quiet words, though tinged with sadness, told him about how they'd assumed custody of Lee and Zak, protecting them from an abusive mother while giving them a good childhood. He tried to picture the Bill she described who'd come home and was there for his family—it matched the photos he'd found but not who he saw in the mirror.

"You're a good father, Bill," she finished with a small smile, her assurance a balm to his battered soul. But that wasn't his only regret, and he suddenly needed to know more. It felt like his life was slipping away from him, and he wanted to ask a thousand questions. He settled for the most important.

"Have I been a good husband? Made you happy?"

Had he done the best he could have, he wanted to know, because he thought it likely time was running out for him. The question clearly surprised her, but she smiled, a genuine warmth suffusing the air around her. He watched another tear escape, but she looked him in the eye and replied with a heart-wrenching sincerity, "Yes. Very much."

He believed her.

"Can I ask another question?" he asked and Laura nodded. "What happens if I don't remember?"

"You will." Laura looked so sad, and he sensed she longed for her husband, the contradiction of having him there but not fully a hard reality in which to live. He understood, because he felt like a shell of who he should be.

"You've talked to me about miracles before and I didn't believe. But by some absurd event, I got a second chance, long enough to have a better life. And now I'm fading."

"Don't talk that way."

"Madame President— Laura, you need to face this," Bill pushed as he felt the disease already draining the waning energy he'd found to stand. She needed to have a plan, to think of the fleet and her responsibilities. Not him. This was the danger of the Admiral and the President becoming too close. "My life might be coming to an end soon enough. You've gotta think about who you'll trust with the fate of this Fleet."

"No one's going anywhere!"

Bill lowered his voice, steadied it. "Okay, I know you want to believe I'll get better, that I'll remember. You'd rather be wrong than face the truth—"

"You might know you're my husband, but get out of my head," she growled as her body visibly trembled.

"You're afraid to be alone. You—"

"Stop," Laura pleaded, her throat constricting too much to let out much sound. She stood up without warning, and took an unsteady breath. "I… I need to go see Maya and pick up Evie," she said, before practically bolting for the door as more tears shone in her eyes.

Too weary to stand as she left, Bill sat alone. His body ached and he couldn't seem to stop shaking, so he pulled the robe tight around him. Sleep crept closer as he tried to remember his facts, but could only think of how much he wanted to get better. Before he drifted to sleep he wondered if they'd ever talked about that night on New Caprica.

…

The sheen of tears dimmed her eyes although none escaped. She'd cried in front of her husband before; they'd wept together in both joy and sorrow more than a few times. Now she felt like weeping as she watched her husband slip away while she tried to keep the Fleet together, but while she didn't recoil from such an honest expression with her partner, she refused to do so in public. Instead, she decided to channel her raging emotions instead of breaking. Breaking wasn't an option.

Gods, Laura wanted to cry, wanted to press her body into his. If she did, her husband would sense her need, pull her even closer to him, and press comforting kisses along her forehead and against her temple. The man in their quarters wouldn't hold her like that. She choked back a sob from her throat, her sadness and desperation visceral and demanding. She would not cry, so instead a brutal, crushing drive to do something ignited in her. She gathered her strength, the iron determination she'd forged as her weapon of choice, and clung to the idea that there was something they could do, a cure to be found.

Laura blazed through the corridors of Galactica, a woman on a mission. Her heels clicked against the metal, announcing her presence as the sound of each click echoed against the wall. The more weighed down she felt by the latest crisis, the straighter she pulled her spine and the higher she held her chin. Death, mutinies, Cylons, Zarek, and half a million other things failed to tear the man she loved from her. This wouldn't either. She refused to entertain the idea that a bug had such power. Bill Adama, in her opinion, should be stronger than a microscopic enemy. He was Zeus incarnate. But if he epitomized Zeus, she was his Hera—a woman once felled by her body's betrayal.

At least her cancer had left her mind alone.

As she died in the other timeline, Laura pulled the memories of her loved ones close. It comforted her. Bill only recalled another woman and a sadder life. To see pieces of such a powerful man fade day by day gutted her to the core. Laura missed her husband. She longed to see the love in his eyes and feel the warmth of his embrace. By the gods, she hated seeing him in pain.

Whenever her family faced any danger, the fighter in her took hold and she felt like she could endure a thousand doloxan treatments, relive the jails of New Caprica, face Tom Zarek again. She imagined no price too high on bringing Bill back to her, to their newborn daughter, so she strode up to a hatch and pushed it open. A little thing like dealing with a slimy devil bothered Laura Roslin approximately not at all.

"Doctor Baltar," she said, and despite the deepening desperation pulling at her, she stood poised just inside the scientist's lab. Hands clasped in front of her, shoulders squared back, and eyes focused on her target, Laura struck an imposing image. "Is there anything you can do?"

Baltar fumbled at the unexpected intrusion. He knocked over several test tubes, sending them crashing to the floor, but the breaking glass didn't crack Laura's calm. "I've achieved some success in analyzing the nucleic molecule of the virus. Its not like any other infectious agent recorded in human history. The amnesia aspect alone is highly unusual—"

"People are dying. Are you close to a cure or not?" Laura interrupted Baltar's typical rambling response. She wanted the truth, not Baltar's attempts to use his intellect to blather on in an attempt to showcase his usefulness. There wasn't time.

Baltar bowed his head. "Not yet."

"You must have discovered something that can at least slow it down; you are a genius," she pushed in a low voice of deadly. Laura twisted her fingers further together and took a long pause to keep herself composed. Baltar shifted nervously, as if sensing the frayed thread by which the President maintained control. Laura noticed and decided that a healthy dose of fear in Baltar remained a good thing to maintain. While others also worked on a cure for the disease, even Laura dared not interrupt Cottle's work right now and taking a bite out of Baltar had its appeal.

"I'd tell you if there was, Madame President," he promised as his eyes flicked toward the corner of the room several times.

"Would you?" she asked.

"As you pointed out, I am a genius. Don't you think I am fully aware that if I so much as even breathe the wrong way I might as well walk myself to the nearest airlock and experience death by exposure?" Baltar paused, as if weighing how much he enjoyed the experience of breathing air. "Really, it's been a threat for so long and I've lived it in so many of my nightmares that it's practically become boring. Find some original material and leave me to work on saving the patients."

She tilted her chin up imperiously,"you sure you're a genius?"

"I saved your flipping life!"

Hiding her distress at the lack of any progress on a cure, Laura approached him, a cat stalking its prey. When she stood close enough to hear his breath quicken, she replied levelly, "Hera saved my life."

"Hera did save your life, but it was with my help and when no one else could. But it's obvious you'd rather leave that part out," Baltar replied. He froze and then dove for a piece of paper and scribbled some notes on it.

"You saved the Cylon's child. Saving me was a means to that end."

"It's my lot in life to be damned if I do and damned if I don't," Baltar said as he bent over his work.

Laura refused to dignify that with response. She studied him for a moment before she turned to leave with a shake of her head and a disgusted sigh.

"Chief and, uhm, Tigh… they're not, sick are they?" Baltar asked as she reached the hatch.

"No." Laura glanced over her shoulder as Baltar darted around the lab, grabbing petri dishes and eye droppers. His face flushed with excitement as he muttered half sentences about Cylons, infections, and blood. He looked up at Laura with a glint in his eyes.

"How's the Admiral?"

Her jaw clenched, but she refused to think of Bill's time being on a countdown. "He's stronger today."

"There's time. Sharon is still under house arrest with Helo. I need your authorization to get a sample of Hera's blood. And I want a sample from Chief and Tigh. And your husband. Yes, yes… Oh, I have experiments to run." He said and finally looked up from his calculations. "And yes, my well-honed sense of self-preservation would force me to hand over any possible cure immediately."

"Cure?" Laura turned from the hatch to face him.

"Hera's blood has restorative abilities. She is the key to a cure."

…

She took a deep, full breath and recycled air filled her lungs with its vaguely metallic smell and taste. She held it in, and her racing heart slowed to less frenzied pace. She embodied control better than most. Releasing the breath, she shoved the hatch open with one hand while her other juggled Evie and her bag.

Inside, Bill Adama remained on the couch, but he slept now. Smiling sadly at him, she turned her thoughts away from wondering how many memories he'd lose while unconscious. Dwelling on it wouldn't fix anything. Instead, she dropped her bag and went to Liam's makeshift room, still holding Evie.

Flopped down on his back, her youngest son stared at the ceiling with his dark brown hair a disheveled mess and his cheeks flushed red. Motherly concern flooded her mind, and Laura's hand shot out to feel his forehead checking for the tell-tale fever of someone infected.

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. I promise," he tiredly shook her hand off. "Haven't touched anyone who's sick, even with the gloves on," he said, reciting the rule she'd drilled into him and the rest of the Fleet. Some of her tension eased, and Laura watched his eyes focus on Evelyn. He sat up before reaching for his baby sister. She smiled. Liam liked not being the baby of the family anymore and he adored his sister. But as she handed Evelyn to him, Laura heard his muffled sniffle. Her heart went out to her son as she watched him snuggle Evie close.

She sat on the bed next to him. "Liam, sweetheart, what happened?" she asked, scooting closer and resting a comforting hand on his back. She felt him tremble; it seemed she wasn't the only one in need of a good cry.

"I miss dad." His despondent tone hit her like a sharp pain in her chest. If only she could take his worries away.

"He's gonna get better, don't worry," she assured.

"Yeah. But he still might not get his memories of us back," Liam said and he sniffed again. "Me or Evie."

Laura rubbed soothing circles on his back as he tucked in the blankets around Evie. She knew what it was like to watch a beloved parent get sicker and sicker after watching Judith Rolsin's cancer battle. She tried to remember if there was anything someone told her during that time that genuinely made her feel better, something she could offer her son. She racked her brain for anything to offer Liam.

"No one's ever really ready to watch something like this happen and not be able to do anything about it. Did you know, in the other timeline, I had cancer like your grandmother? Near what seemed like the end, I met with your father and promoted him to Admiral and we talked a bit." She quietly recounted the story with a wistful smile on her face. Liam listened, enrapt, as he learned more about the sometimes taboo subject of the other timeline and the beginning of his parent's relationship. "We agreed: 'never give up hope'. That day was our first kiss, and it turns out, the cure the doctor used back then is one that might help your father right now."

"So, never give up hope," Liam repeated, nodding slowly. "But, what if he gets better and he doesn't remember you either?" More platitudes and assurances of Bill's recovery rolled through her mind, but Laura remembered her mother being sick. She had needed the doctors to stop coddling her and tell her the damn truth.

"This is hard, isn't it?" she sighed. "For almost twenty years I've loved your father. I vowed to stand by him in sickness and health. For me, even if he doesn't remember, those vows still mean something and I'll do my best to honor them."

"It's like Dad's a different person. Just like Lee."

Laura sensed another layer to his hurt. "Did something happen with Lee?"

Liam sighed. "Zak and I went to see how Kara and Lee were doing, I wanted to see if I could do anything to help and Zak had a medical check-in with Lee. But I got to their quarters and..." Liam frowned. A tear finally escaped and his voice broke. "We could hear them in the corridor. Lee was yelling and yelling. He was so angry about being on Galactica because it's dad's ship. When we went inside, Lee had just started ranting about how it was dad's fault Zak died. I've never heard Lee sound so hateful. Kara ordered me to go."

Laura opted for honesty, not ever wanting to be caught in a lie with her son. "Zak died in a viper accident. After he died, Lee and your father went through a very rough patch. Loss does strange things to a person. But it also teaches us about what's important. This time we kept Zak safe. Your brother is fine. And your father and Lee took to heart what they learned. We all did."

Liam considered her words. "Can you tell me a story about the other timeline? One that does't suck?"

Laura felt exhausted and wrung out, but she could indulge her son. "Would you like to hear the story of when we all thought Ellen Tigh was a Cylon and then I thought your father might be a Cylon? Or when we ate food made from algae, which led to the biggest game of 'what food do you miss most from the colonies'? For the record, coffee made from algae tastes awful." She smiled when Liam grimaced, her son at least a little distracted and reassured there were some good times from their other life. "No. I know. You know how we have elections coming up? So, in the other timeline, your father let me use his quarters to prepare for debates. He told me about your grandfather Joseph's pencil-breaking habit."

"Break preconceptions," Liam knew from the few stories gleaned about his paternal grandfather.

"So I broke my pencil. And your father noted that I was pretty screwed if the moderator didn't have a backup. Out of nowhere, I started laughing. Harder than I had in years. All the way to the debate I had the giggles. I think it confused your father so much he started laughing as well. He stayed in the back of the wardroom during the debate, but every time I looked up and caught his eye, I nearly burst out laughing in the middle of the debate. He wasn't any better. There are some good times I don't want to forget."

There was hope. A flickering flame against the wind, but she guarded it against any cold wind that tried to extinguish it from her. Never give up hope, even if everything hurt like hell.

...

After Liam was soothed and asleep, after Bill was moved to his rack while asking about what she planned to do on New Caprica before he again drifted off, after Evelyn was fed and put in her cradle, and after Zak was finished checking in on his father, Laura sat alone and cried a silent river of tears. It didn't seem fair, the endless stream of trials they were made to suffer. And to think, after this crisis, humanity still needed saving, an orb still needed finding, and her family still needed time to recover.

So tonight Laura shed the tears she'd earned. Tomorrow, President Roslin planned on facing each challenge head on.

Collapsed on the couch, Laura knew she needed to rest. Sitting there, her eyes focused on a charred book her husband had pulled out. When Saul Tigh arrived later she hadn't moved. He explained that Zak had given him an update from his visit earlier that evening. Tigh handed her a sleeping pill and relayed Zak's doctorly orders for her to get some needed sleep before she collapsed. Laura finally looked up at Tigh and they shared sad, tired expressions. Looking at the pill, she hesitated. He then promised to watch over her, Bill, and Evie while she slept.

He could afford to be away for a few hours. He assured her that Prometheus remained in the good hands of his XO, a grease monkey from the engine room, and Tigh tried to joke about yet another opinionated woman giving him a headache like his Ellen. Besides, with the Fleet hiding from the Cylons in a nebula, there were fewer threats for the strained military to manage, though the corrosive gasses promised another set of problems for President Roslin to deal with in the future.

Tigh bustled about the quarters but tried to keep quiet, like a bull tiptoeing around a china shop. He pressed a glass of water into her hand and practically forced her to take the medication. As he promised long ago, if anything happened to Bill, Saul Tigh had come to help Laura and the children.

All her bones ached at once when she laid down, but sleep came quickly.

…

Soreness consumed Bill. His sheets were soaked with sweat and his skin felt clammy. Sharp pain laced through his head and he groaned as Tigh helped prop him up. Every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache, but he focused on the briefing Tigh gave to him.

There were truths he knew and recited: one, he was very sick; two, he was suffering amnesia; three, Roslin was… manipulative? A traitor? His own personal siren designed to torment him?

He grunted out a few questions about the situation in which he found himself. Tigh's heavily edited answers made the Fleet sound like it was in its usually perilously stable state, and Bill wondered what latest crisis threatened them. He accepted that Tigh omitted details so his dazed mind could understand. He labored for a breath and decided he was pissed at being sick.

Tigh moved to get a chair, wincing when it grated and scraped against the uncarpeted part of the floor. He shot a look to the couch and Bill followed Saul's concerned gaze. His insides clenched and his hands formed into fists.

Bill looked at Laura asleep on his couch, laying on her side and curled in a ball with dark red hair fanned over the pillow. The blanket that laid across her lower body didn't hide his old Vigilante Viper Squadron sweatshirt she wore to sleep. The intimate gesture jarred him.

"Why isn't she in the brig?!" he demanded in a rough voice. Even though he was sick, he could feel the edge in his words, the boiling anger ready to burst.

"Because she broke out and you decided not to put her back." Seemingly satisfied he hadn't woken her, Saul settled on the chair by Bill's side.

"Why the frak not? She's dangerous. A damn, out-of-control, religious fanatic!"

Bill glowered when Tigh looked like he might be trying not to laugh. "Yes, she is. We keep that in mind. Now what is the last thing you think you remember?"

He remembered the cell door closing in her face and how she refused to flinch. She'd twisted Kara and then Lee into doing her bidding and the people he cared about most turned against him. He'd started thinking of her as a friend even if he hadn't liked her at first. Her guts and tenacity impressed him and he started to believe her to be the President. He thought he knew her, or was coming to, and she pulled the mat right out from under him. In the end, it cost too much energy to rant, so he kept it simple. "She betrayed me. Broke her word."

"Trust me, Bill. That seems like a lifetime ago. There's a lot… a lot you're missing."

He tried to consider this, but his head felt heavy and he wanted to retreat into the wallowing blackness of sleep again. "I really feel awful," he complained and Tigh nodded.

"You're really sick. Bug's done a number on you."

"Why is she here?"

"She lives with you."

Bill frowned. There's another fact he needed to remember. He remembered her becoming a friend, but that wasn't the word for her. Several alternatives came to mind after her little stunt with Kara and the Raider, but instinct prompted him to look down at his finger and he saw an unrecognizable wedding band on his hand. The scratched surface caught bits of light and signified being well-worn. Wife.

In his tired opinion, the only idea more incomprehensible than marrying her was her having agreed to marry him. What's her angle? He guessed at a marriage of convenience, something to provide stability. Maybe marrying her was a reasonably painless prisoner exchange to make sure the Fleet remained united.

Another loveless marriage, he assumed. They probably led separate lives and slept far, far apart.

"But..." Bill began, then struggled for more words.

"You love that woman, Bill," Saul answered, as if sensing his racing thoughts. Bill pushed the blankets off of himself, gruffly ordering Tigh to help him stand. His best friend hesitated, but Adama gave him a look that could melt a Centurion. With help, he stood and shuffled over to her.

There were tears dried on her cheeks.

"She loves you."

Bill's brain seemed to swell with a surge of questions. Does she really love him? Did he love her? What is it like between them? Had he made love to her as he'd already fantasized about doing? How in the world did this happen? Bill couldn't form a coherent sentence, so he just stared at her as she woke.

"Bill?" Her groggy voice pronounced his name and it sounded familiar and foreign all at the same time. He swayed and felt a blackness coming over him, like a blanket snuffing out the light. The deck rushed up to meet him, and he heard the distant sound of his name again. His eyes felt heavier and heavier as he slipped into a dream-filled coma.

…

Author's note: I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter. I'd love to hear your reviews-positive encouragement or constructive criticism welcome!

Stay safe everyone.

*Crosses fingers on updating faster.*