"Please... stop," a murmured voice begged, breaking through the haze of sleep in which Bill drifted. He woke to an almost complete darkness. Disoriented, he grunted and frowned while his eyes strained to focus on the disturbance. "Please… no, no!" Laura's frantic words were whispered close to his ear. She was pressed so close that he felt each puff of her agitated breath. At his wife's further distressed sounds, his mind slammed fully back into the waking world as concern and the familiar rush of his memories flooded through him. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at the troubled but still slumbering woman next to him.

"You're alright," he promised in the husky, gravelly voice of someone still sleepy. "You're alright," he repeated and hoped to soothe her dreams and let her keep resting. She'd worked tirelessly throughout the whole ordeal, but even her impressive energy reserves reached its limits. Laura's body had drooped in exhaustion before she'd conceded to sleep.

As he had for seventeen years, Bill held her close as they went to bed, overjoyed at both how new and routine it felt. Laura had kept up a strong facade. But once they'd lain down she'd pressed suffocatingly close in her visceral need to feel him near. He understood and certainty didn't mind. Nightmares troubled his nights over the years, especially in the early days of this second timeline before he became fully convinced it was real.

He kept talking to her as she settled down. Ever since waking up from the coma, all his memories—both good and bad—rushed back and made his experiences feel immediate and new, but also familiar and old. While the many awakened memories made every moment of happiness resonate with fresh wonder, it also ripped open old scars and poured salt over the wounds. Sometimes, he couldn't help but compare the timelines. As Bill offered comfort to Laura while her nightmare eased, it occurred to him that he'd never truly enjoyed sleeping side-by-side with his ex-wife. He remembered how long deployments acclimated Carolanne and him to sleeping better apart, yet now Bill slept better when Laura lay beside him despite the nightmares.

Laura whimpered something unintelligible against his neck as her fingernails bit into his shoulder blades from her unconscious desire to draw him closer. He allowed her painful grip to continue while he breathed reassurances against her ear. Hearing her whisper his name, he wondered what troubled her. Able to recall the extensive list of traumatic events they'd endured, he realized there were too many terrible memories that could be the cause of her pain. There were still moments lost in a fog, but he recalled the confusion, anger, love, hope, and loss. She stirred against him.

"Bill?" she asked, and he looked down into her opened eyes where the sheen of unfallen tears caught the light from the screens in his quarters. She looked down. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's alright," he assured her, but he knew she regretted disturbing him. He felt how she forced her grip to relax, her nails releasing him. She disentangled her body from his, and although it gave him room to move again, Bill didn't need her to disguise what she felt or needed. He reached out and pulled her back against him, letting her face burrow back into the crook of his neck. He placed a hand on her head and gently stroked her hair as if he could erase her nightmares with a loving touch. He would if he could, but then he'd always been protective of her. After a moment, he let out a deep breath as their limbs entwined back together and she accepted his comfort. He didn't need her strong facade, he just needed her.

He remembered being released to his quarters after he was cured. His duty as Admiral of the Fleet ingrained in him, he'd insisted on receiving every report missed along with a briefing from Admiral Cain. Despite the returned deluge of troubled memories dealing with infamous Cain, she assured him that the military hadn't actually disintegrated under her reign. Bill recalled how, after concluding Fleet business, he'd devoted time to Evelyn and Liam, at once both horrified at forgetting them but elated at having children by Laura. Laura herself had observed their interactions closely as she worked, as if she'd either needed reassurances that he'd fully returned or she feared he might slip away again.

He murmured words of love and comfort and felt her relax as she gave her own sniffled replies. Letting his fingers run through her locks and caress her back, he considered himself thoroughly rewarded when Laura snuggled further into him as her breathing deepened and evened out. Bill contemplated the strong, stubborn, independent woman who accepted the love, warmth, and protection he wanted to give. Checking on his daughter sleeping in her crib by the rack, Bill went back to sleep remembering how he was a lucky man.

…

"I didn't realize Galactica had an archive," Laura admitted as she examined the section of Galactica she'd never before visited. Bill guided them through narrow aisles between shelves of tightly-packed boxes and paraphernalia. She thought it was nice to know there were still new things to discover aboard the place she thought of as home. She wondered how such a place escaped her notice in both rounds of preparation to turn Galactica into a museum.

"Every Battlestar has one," Liam spoke up from where he trailed behind them. "It preserves the records of a Battlestar and its Battlestar Group. The documents and mementos are kept to show the history and accomplishments that happened onboard."

Bill looked over his shoulder at Liam and grinned with pride. Even though Liam neared adulthood, Laura noticed how he still reveled in his father's approval, especially after impressing him with his military knowledge. Lee had mentioned joining her political world, Zak made his own path in the medical field, but Liam seemed the one destined to follow in his father's footsteps. Laura recalled their conversations where Bill contemplated each son's choice, and her own laughter at his baffled surprise when the son he'd never, ever pushed to join the Fleet and become a pilot like him turned out the most eager to pick up the flag. Laura realized that Liam possessed traits from both of them that promised he'd be fit for command one day, but she counted the days he still had left to be young and foolish. In the end, both parents were proud of each child. Still, Laura hoped it wasn't wrong to pray that Evie became a schoolteacher like her—or at least chose something nice and safe.

Dust collected everywhere on the records, and only small amounts of light filtered into the shelves. They heard the creak and hum of Galactica's nearby engines deep in the underbelly of the ship. They passed row after row of ceiling-high stacked containers, arranged in chronological order; it really was the complete, compressed history of Galactica.

"Battlestars keep the original copies of most documents onboard. Something they started during the First Cylon War when networks weren't used—because only crazy people want to network ships," Bill provoked and gave her a teasing look. She looked at him over the rim of her glasses but didn't reply. He frowned, disappointed that she hadn't been baited into a verbal sparring match. "It means the data I downloaded during Operation Raptor Talon should be here. Unless it was a coma-induced vision," he added.

She sighed and hoped they weren't on another gods-forsaken wild goose chase. After the coma, she'd listened to him recount the uncovered memory he'd experienced, once forgotten as a result of the Hybrid and captured humans dominating the experience in his mind. It seemed ironic that he now chased after the orb with her dragged along behind him.

"Laura?" her attention returned to her husband who tilted his head and tried to look her in the eye. She could hear his question as if he'd spoken it aloud, are you okay?

"Sorry. I'm a little distracted," she deflected and turned her attention to Liam, who she realized had darted off. She heard the sound of him walking through the shelves and occasionally exclaiming at something he discovered. Knowing she remained under Bill's scrutiny, Laura summoned a tired smile and nodded toward the sounds Liam made. "He's happy to have you back."

"It must have been confusing for him," Bill offered carefully as he thought back on some of the things he said while sick. He cringed when he remembered the more biting remarks he delivered, especially about Hera, elections, prophesies, and a relationship with her. "Tough on both of you."

Laura sensed Bill holding the door open if she wanted to talk about what happened, the loving husband now restored. "We're fine now," Laura assured him.

She stepped forward and they continued through the archives while she distracted him with questions about his early days in the Fleet and listened to his answers. Being six years younger than him, she'd lived a very different version of the First Cylon War and so appreciated his stories. She enjoyed listening to him, and it also relieved Laura that she didn't have to say much while Bill shared his Fleet tales. The large quantity of coffee she drank earlier didn't shake off the sluggish fog in which she drifted as a result from a lack of sleep. She'd only pretended to go back to sleep the previous night so Bill didn't worry. He carried enough burdens and she refused to add to his load. Laura barricaded her feelings behind a tall wall to keep him from realizing just how worried and hurt she'd been from the amnesia. He was back and everything was fine, she told herself.

Bill stopped and pulled at a box on the shelf and she noticed the date inscribed on it. Laura's breath caught in her throat as she watched him balance the box against the shelves and lift the lid. This was it. The possibility of answers piqued her curiosity. Holding her breath, she watched him shuffle through the box for a moment before he plucked out a folder.

"After-action report and hopefully the hard copy of the data I downloaded," he said and handed the folder to her. Many documents inside the archive contained sensitive information, and Bill had needed to use his clearance as Galactica's CO to get inside. The folder he handed her was marked as confidential, but at least theoretically, as Commander-in-Chief she held the highest clearance in the Fleet. Even so, she wasn't actually naive enough to believe the Fleet always let the President in on all their secrets; they were too habitually ingrained with restricting tactical details to only those who needed to know. She undid the tie that held the folder closed without waiting and flipped it open to scan through the papers.

"Here it is," she said, holding up the data chip. The disk itself needed to be decrypted before they could access its data, but the written report contained the familiar scrawled writing she associated with Bill. So, not a fevered coma delusion but a real memory, it seemed. "You might never have remembered this if not for the coma."

After replacing the box, Bill turned to her. She felt his eyes on her as he took a step closer, erasing the physical distance between them. "I can't imagine what the disease put you through."

"Yes, you can," Laura replied in a calm almost dispassionate voice and shook her head as she remembered the nights he'd suffered his own horrible dreams from which he woke in fear, mouth dry, heart pounding, and pulling her to him like a lifeline. He knew. Well-concealed behind the stoic soldier was a man with a great depth of feeling, and even he never found the words that described his agony at watching her fade and succumb to cancer.

"Ok. It's similar to the cancer," he admitted while his sharpened gaze assessed her, ever the tactician, as if checking for damage. "But your mind and memories didn't fade. Even when we met back on Picon I saw the recognition in your eyes. That was never taken from me. I saw how worried you were when I came out of the coma."

"I'm sorry."

"Laura talk to me. I know it bothered you," he said when she offered nothing else. He took hold of her slumped shoulders, anchoring her in place and forcing her to keep facing him. Laura berated herself; he was still recovering and reclaiming his leadership role, he didn't need to worry about her.

She tried to summon her reassuring smile. "I'm just tired."

"Is that all?" His blue eyes bored into her as if he could see right through her.

"Please, drop it." She sensed her self-control hanging by a silken thread.

"Don't pull back from me."

"Bill, it hurt. Of course it did. We've overcome so much and then a virus managed to erase me." Her mind caught up with the words and she stopped. Her stomach tightened and the heat of tears pushed against her eyes. She turned her face away, afraid that this cry wouldn't simply be a few tears that escaped once started.

"Let it out," Bill said. He slid his hands over her shoulders and she felt his arms circling around her back until he could pull her to him gently and she forced herself to relax. It felt so natural for him to take care of her like this once more. Even so, she felt exposed and guilty with her lingering fears and anger, but he tightened his grip, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other across her shoulders. "I'm your husband and I've told you I want to be there for you even if that means you cry all over me."

Her fists gripped his uniform and she wondered why it was so hard to let him see her tears once more. She recognized her partner's desire, need even, to support and love her.

"I know it wasn't your fault but suddenly you weren't the man I've known for twenty years. It was my worst nightmare, seeing the man I chose to share my life with vanish. The amnesia turned you back into the military hardass who couldn't understand why he married someone he saw as a manipulative politician. And I was scared you wouldn't come back. You looked for photos of another woman, someone whom I remember pushing me down the stairs and causing me to go into premature labor with our son! A son I watched you slowly forget along with our daughter." Her throat constricted and she stopped speaking and forced herself to breathe. "But it's over."

There was now a crack in the dam, but Bill didn't get a chance to exploit the opening. Approaching footsteps prompted them to break apart and the distinctive click of high heels alerted them that their family was no longer alone in archives. "Madame President?" Tory called out and Laura sighed.

"There's always something," Laura muttered. She wiped at her face to erase any tears that threatened to escape and hoped she didn't look too messy. "I'll be right back."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, and she looked up at him with a small smile. He caught her hand before she began to move away. "I'll never willingly leave you."

Understanding flashed in her eyes and she nodded. He watched her slip away and saw the weight of the worlds on her shoulders. They'd learned to share their burdens together, and he wanted to take back his share. He realized the amnesia rattled her more than she wanted to let on. Sighing, he went off in search of his son Liam who enjoyed this trip down memory lane.

One row over, his son had found a box from the time when his father joined the Fleet. Liam fished a photograph from a box and cocked his head at it before looking up at his approaching father.

"You graduated top of the viper squadron and Commander Nash made you start out as a bus driver?" Liam said, showing him the photo of young Husker and the rest of the Raptor pilots who served aboard Galactica during that time. It wasn't long after the photo that he'd been transferred to flying Vipers, but it remained a meaningful time to Bill and he took the photo. Bill frowned when he realized that he and Coker were the only surviving members of the group. Shoving the depressing thoughts to the side, he leaned against the shelves by Liam.

"I showed up ready to take on the whole Cylon fleet in my viper. Thing is, every good CO needs to know when to knock the hot-shot rookie pilot down a peg or two. Making me swallow my pride and start out as a Raptor pilot probably saved my life," he said. Liam nodded and Bill watched him tuck that nugget of information away for later use one day.

"Dad, can I ask you something?" Liam asked as he put away the photo and replaced the lid on the box.

"Sure." Bill braced himself when there was a moment of hesitation from Liam.

"Promise to tell me the truth?" Liam added. Bill could recognize the last few days troubled Liam as well. He knew Liam had watched his father become a completely different person. He noted the intensity in Liam's gaze when he looked over at his father, and Bill recognized the start of an uncomfortable conversation. Still, Bill tried to be honest with each of his children, so he nodded. "Do you ever regret remembering the other timeline?"

In his heart, he played back the things he said while sick and confused. He remembered once again believing himself incapable of having and loving a family. He recalled rage, too much self-condemnation, and being a vehement judge of his shortcomings. But he also remembered a journey, and he smiled at his son. "No. I'm the person I am today because of those memories, the good and the bad. I made the decisions I did with the knowledge and information I had at the time. A man lives with the choices he makes—right or wrong. Luckily for me those choices, those memories, led me to your siblings, you, and your mother."

"So what would you have done if you gained your memories earlier? Like a year earlier? You'd have still been…"

"Been married to my ex?" Bill asked as Liam trailed off. It sounded strange for Liam to mention Carolann, even if not by name. She existed more like a phantom on the outskirts of his reality, someone he logically knew existed but for whom he spared little thought.

They walked down the aisle toward the exit, Liam now looking at the dull grey floor. "It's just that Mom said something when you were sick about wedding vows. It got me thinking."

Bill sighed and heard the unspoken questions in his son's probing. Liam wondered if those first vows would have prompted Bill to stay in his first marriage if possible. Could Bill have chosen to abandon Laura and therefore not have Liam. He tried to find the words to reassure his son, but he'd never been as good with words as with actions. "I should tell you a story," he realized and told Liam about the time Laura went aboard a Basestar and it disappeared. Liam listened as his father wove the story about searching for the missing Basestar but only finding the remains of a battle. Liam raised an eyebrow when Bill told him how he refused to believe the President's missing Basestar was destroyed. They paused in their walking when Bill told Liam how he decided to remain at the rendezvous coordinates and wait for the wayward President.

"That's crazy, dad."

He put a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Maybe. But I was willing to give up everything to find a woman who I knew was dying. When Lee asked why, I told him it was because I couldn't live without her. That hasn't changed. So, it wouldn't have mattered when the memories came back. I'd have found her." He noticed Laura had rounded the corner and had stopped to listen to them. "Sine qua non," he said, meeting her eyes. She brushed a falling tear away.

"We need to go to the brig," Laura said in a choked and half-whispered voice. "There's been an incident. A civilian discovered the second pregnant Sharon in sickbay after she helped with the cure. She transmitted some photos before being captured."

…

Laura imagined a storm on the Caprican horizon with grey clouds that promised to deliver punishing winds and drowning rains. She longed to feel the rain against her skin and smell the crisp, cold air left after a storm died. A real storm promised to rage for a time until it pressed on and left the world refreshed. Instead, Laura passed by plain grey metal walls that never changed, and they seemed caught in one continuous storm that desired nothing so much as capsizing their ships.

Laura frowned and supposed it really didn't matter if spaceships went belly up since their crews stuck to the artificial gravity plated decks. Shaking herself, she listened to Billy running her through what they'd agreed to tell the press. Despite being a finicky group who delighted in making her job difficult, they'd rallied behind her after the Zarek and Dagon debacle. As before the apocalypse, they remained a self-serving lot to be sure and none of them quite dared to be the one to topple their President off the pedestal on which the Pythian Prophecy plopped her. Laura supposed being married to the man with all the military might helped; the reporters sensed Adama would like nothing better than to round them all up onto an unpleasant garbage scow and then launch them off in the opposite direction of wherever the Fleet was going.

Laura knew the reporters were less than pleased with only receiving scraps of information leaked about the second Sharon Valerii on Galactica and anticipated cracking open a can of worms for their viewers. So she summoned her brave facade, knowing the people expected to see whatever they needed at the moment from her: president, prophet, or cat-herder. The media remained a powerful tool for keeping the Fleet united, so she commanded them the way Bill commanded his ship.

She stepped into the room used for press briefings when they were held on Galactica and noticed her Admiral standing near the podium. He scowled but it didn't appear that he'd spoken to any reporters. Small mercies, thought Laura. When needed, he addressed reporters with an easy confidence of someone unintimidated, but her straightforward husband never mastered the nuances necessary in talking to the press. Admittedly, she found him entertaining when he was confronted with people he couldn't order around. He's back, she assured herself, meeting his compassionate gaze. She tried to remember that at the end of the day she was once more able to go home and simply be Laura the woman no matter what the Fleet demanded or the media horde put her through.

The press fell silent as she walked up to the podum, knowing they'd get answers faster if they allowed her the breathing room to give her prepared statement and then badgered her. She adjusted her glasses, held herself tall, and nodded in acknowledgment of the assembled reporters.

"Good morning, and thank you for coming today. I have a short statement before I open the floor to questions. I'm sure word of a second Cylon's presence has spread to the entire Fleet. In consultation with Fleet Admiral Adama I have decided to confirm with you the presence of this Cylon in our Fleet. It is another copy of the model we know as Sharon Valerrii and it has been in custody aboard Galactica. She has been safeguarded while she continues to provide information about the Cylons that benefits the Fleet. We can confirm her participation in synthesizing a cure for the recent disease in the Fleet. Know that I cannot divulge confidential information needed to preserve the safety of this Fleet, but I will take your questions at this time." After a second passed during which the press let out their obligatory surprised gasps, they started shouting questions. Laura raised her hands to signal them to settle down but they persisted in yelling over each other. She gave them a look that clearly demonstrated her impatience as they settled down so she could call on a single reporter.

"Is it true that because of the cure Admiral Adama has Cylon blood in him?!" Laura froze and dropped her hands on the podium. Talk about starting with the big questions. She remembered dodging similar questions in the other timeline and knew the press wouldn't be satisfied with any answer she gave.

"The exact nature of the cure is still…"

"What about side effects from the cure? How can the people be sure their leaders are still fit for leadership!" Her face hardened and Laura smoothed her hands down the red silk skirt she wore and clasped them calmly behind her. She'd deliberately worn the color of fire and blood, channeling her power and strength into a visible display. A politician's trick she'd learned.

Another reporter jumped in. "Does this mean you support the Demand Peace movement?"

"Not necessarily. However, I will be discussing important issues any groups raise with members of the Quorum to ensure…"

Another younger reporter butted in with, "Madame President, how long do you have to live?'

Laura frowned. She couldn't have heard that right. "Can you repeat that?"

"How long has the Cylon been in the Fleet?"

Despite her lapse in concentration, Laura kept her face neutral and replied, "Several months."

"How can we be sure it doesn't pose a security risk?"

Bill stepped forward. "If I felt she posed a threat to the Fleet, to my wife and my children, I'd pull the trigger on the Cylon myself," he swore and at the sudden quiet that fell over the room, Laura knew they believed him. She believed him.

"Thank you for your time," Laura said, stepping away from the podium. Really, how could she top his response? Best to let the press stew on Adama's words for a while, she hoped.

...

Striding from the press room, she kept her head held high. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a familiar figure approach and allowed herself to smile.

"Wally!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to see you well again."

He returned her smile tightly. "Thank you, Madame President," he said formally and nodded toward the press reporters scampering back to their ships to turn the latest news into juicy gossip. "Interesting press release. It made me realize we need to talk, Laura. You see, I need to tell you something about the upcoming elections and…" he sighed and shook his head. "And we need to talk about a secret Richard shared with me before the attacks."

…

Author's note: Thank you to my commentators! I love reading each and every one. If anyone has requests of something they'd like to see in an upcoming chapter, let me know. So, those elections coming up...