You're being paranoid, Laura admonished herself as she sat through another joint session of the Quorum and Council of Ships' Captains. Sitting on her left, at an overly-polished table in a too-opulent room on Cloud Nine, Baltar fiddled with the Vice President's gavel. He inclined his head every so often and nodded, but it didn't line up with any points made by the delegate who spoke. Laura wondered if Baltar was seeing his invisible friend; she really needed to find the right moment to ask him about her. His answer could confirm her vision from weeks ago contained truth. However, Baltar, acting odd as ever, wasn't her primary concern. Wally was.
Caprican Delegate Wallace Grey earned her suspicion by behaving in what could only be described as an agreeable manner. Her friend–turned–political rival stood, having been given the floor, and spoke on the current topic: the Cylons' political place in the Fleet. A contentious topic that provoked vicious debate, Laura expected Wally to throw more tylium onto the fire as he addressed the assembly. He didn't.
Having been invited to this governing session, Caprica Six placed her Cylon people's status on the table to discuss. Although given asylum, in essence, the rebel Cylons maintained their own separate Cylon Nation within the rag-tag-fugitive-fleet of human survivors. While the government used the precedent of individuals seeking asylum after defecting from one colony to another, the Cylons were an entire nation that now existed within the remainder of the Twelve Colonies rather than an individual subsumed into a colony. It made for a strange situation in an already weird political landscape. Caprica Six noted this and pushed for her people to be officially recognized and represented in the government.
It wasn't a popular request. The resulting disquietude of the government permeated the room with each snarled protest and angry whisper. When Wally had asked for the floor amongst this disquietude, Laura had feared the worst, but she listened to him speak.
"...still balk at the idea that Cylons are part of our Fleet. A permanent alliance between this government and the Rebel Cylons? Well, we already answered that question. We answered it when we voted to grant them asylum. We decided that the danger they presented didn't outweigh the benefit they offered. Instead of belaboring on about how uncomfortable the Cylons make us or debating the validity of their existence in the Fleet, the Six is right, we need to discuss their political place. Are they subject to our laws? Our governance? Our President? Will they be expected to obey an order from the Admiral?" Wally asked, inclining his head toward Admiral Adama, who sat stiff-backed in his chair and watched Wally warily.
Wally sounded suspiciously reasonable. He articulated his point well and had both the delegates and captains nodding at the right moments as he spoke. Baltar continued to nod at all the wrong moments. Laura shifted in her chair, eyes trained on Wally while trying to puzzle out the hidden agenda she might not be seeing. It seemed too easy, too clean, like the overly used lemon scent in the air that covered the filtered air smell.
She missed Colonial One.
Wally continued, "The Cylons want to know where they stand with the Fleet, if we will protect them if the other Cylons attack again. Well, I want to know what we can expect from them, and if they will help protect us. If they were represented in our government, a seat on the Quorum, we know what to expect from each other. The lines become less blurred. Surely my fellow delegates could do with one less thing to worry about nowadays."
What are you playing at, Wally? Laura was dying to demand. His words had the small hairs on the back of her neck standing up while a wary tingle traveled down her spine and through each of her nerve endings. She analyzed his body language, watching for any sign of duplicity. He never openly supported any position she took, he didn't like the Rebel Cylons, and he hated that she was President. Now he was the voice of unity? Life wasn't that nice.
Maybe she needed to stop looking for problems. As Wally sat down, Laura glanced at Bill, who sat on her right.
"You buying this?" he seemed to ask her silently.
She raised an eyebrow, just barely. "Not for a second."
"Me neither." The muscles in Bill's jaw tensed, something only she would notice.
"Wally must have another agenda."
"You'll figure it out."
"Maybe we're just paranoid nutcases," Laura said silently, holding his gaze for what was only the briefest of moments.
She felt his fingers give her knee a gentle squeeze under the table. "Probably. But we've earned that right."
Laura folded her hands on top of the too-polished table, her posture straight and poised as ever, revealing none of her misgivings. She took a deep breath of the too-lemony air in the moment of stunned silence in the wake of Wally's speech, and then the delegate from Canceron raised his hand.
"The chair recognizes the delegate from Canceron," she said, officially allowing them to speak. She had no idea what they'd say because they'd been elected and sworn in after the emergency elections held over the past few weeks to replace the three Quorum delegates killed during the Cylon ambush. Two had been on Colonial One.
"While Delegate Grey makes a fair point, the fact remains that the Cylons, your people," they said, glaring at Caprica Six who sat on the other side of the corner from Baltar, "participated in the attacks on our homeworlds. My constituents will never support a thirteenth seat on the Quorum for the Cylons. We are the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and Twelve Colonies we should remain," the new Quorum delegate argued.
"Perhaps they can have a seat on the Council of Ships' Captains?"
"Now, wait a minute," Captain Moff said.
Two comments out of turn turned into twenty-two comments out of turn. Within the span of a deep breath, the delegates and captains were all shouting over one another. Laura wondered if they could actually understand anything anyone else was saying. Probably not. The marble floor and hardwood paneling exacerbated the situation by allowing their voices to echo and bounce around until it was a mess of irritating sound.
Laura rubbed her forehead, praying she'd be spared a headache, but suspected that the gods weren't that merciful. She waited for Baltar to stop fiddling with his gavel and bang it against the table and call for order. He remained oblivious.
Inclining her head, she spoke to Baltar in a voice that was somehow still polite, "Mr. Vice President, would you kindly take a break from talking to your invisible friend and call for order? Please."
"My what?!" Baltar squeaked, his attention now riveted on her. He looked at her with wide, wary eyes. Baltar never hid being surprised very well.
"Well, something is clearly distracting you from the meeting," Laura said, keeping her voice low with only a faint sardonic lilt. "My guess is an invisible friend. Someone tall and blonde maybe? Looks like Caprica?"
The stricken look on Baltar's face gave her pause. So there might be an invisible friend. My vision was right.
He gave her a wide-eyed look while his mouth hung open for a moment. With a look of determination, he carefully arranged his expression into something more neutral.
"You see… you seem to have quite an imagination, Madame President. You haven't been taking Chamalla again by any chance? Either way, flights of fancy will have to wait for now," Baltar said before slamming the gavel onto the table. A resounding crack split through the air. For good measure, Baltar knocked the table several more times while calling for order. He kept at it until every last person stopped talking and sat calmly in their seats.
Bill caught Laura's eye as calm descended on the room again.
" How do you deal with this crap?"
Ever so subtly, Laura rolled her eyes. "I compare them to the toddlers I used to teach."
Laura stood to address the assembly, the lingering voices faded. She gave her black jacket a tug, soothing out the material; she'd dressed in a refined black suit perfectly tailored to her body that made her look a touch intimidating. She meant business.
She did note, to her own private amusement, that Bill appeared to be trying to keep his eyes off her and on the table. Every so often his gaze flicked to her rear, a sight that he could take advantage of from where he sat and he really liked this skirt—a fact she'd known when packing. He would quickly look away, and she had to suppress a smile at how he was far too gentlemanly to leer in public.
Her piercing green eyes pinned the Quorum and Council of Ships' Captains into place as she spoke.
"Thank you to Caprica Six for addressing the joint session of the Government today. Your appeal to join our government with a seat on the Quorum is not without its merits and its drawbacks. Before we can even consider the question of Cylon membership, I would ask Six to return to her people and discuss some of the issues Delegate Grey and others have raised. Will Cylons readily submit to both the privileges and limitations that come with Quorum membership?"
Caprica Six looked ready to answer right away, but Laura's warning glance kept her silent. The timing wasn't right. If she demanded a vote on membership now, it wouldn't go well. For a moment, Baltar seemed aware of what was going on; he shook his head at Six, also agreeing to table the issue. Between Six and the disgruntled delegates, an unhappy mood pervaded the room. So Laura did what she did best and guided her people, speaking to them gently but firmly.
"This is a question all of our Colonies faced when we decided to unify after years of interplanetary conflict. There was a time when no one from Virgon and Leonis would have sat at a table together, and a time when a Tauron and Caprican married would have been unheard of. Look at us now," Laura said, smiling at Bill and thinking of how far they'd come even if they'd once called the other adversary and then unlikely ally. Their respective Tauron and Caprican heritages had been the least of their problems. "We adapted. We learned that we were stronger together and better able to face the challenges ahead when unified. That principle guides us still today. We'll table the conversation now, but it will be addressed."
Some of her government looked willing to take what she said to heart and some didn't. She expected as much. Wally gave her a nod of acknowledgment and a small "hear, hear" of agreement.
Maybe he's declaring peace, Laura thought as a few other delegates followed suit with small hums of agreement. She still felt suspicious of him. She inclined her head towards Wally, silently thanking him for his support.
Yes, I see you, Wallace Grey.
After postponing the decision to grant Cylons a seat on the Quorum, Laura maneuvered them onto their final topic.
"As per our custom since the attacks, Admiral Adama joins us once a month to brief the joint session on military status," Laura said, explaining the procedure to the newly elected Quorum members.
A new delegate looked surprised and, lacking the grace to keep his mouth shut, blurted out, "Really? I heard military briefed the President in private only." Although the innuendo wasn't lost on the crowd, the rest of the assembly didn't look amused. Laura took it as a positive sign that she and Bill, while imperfect leaders, had earned a decent amount of respect and loyalty.
Bill wasn't looking on the bright side; he looked pissed. Muscles coiled with tension, and even though his face remained expressionless, his eyes blazed with the fury of an erupting volcano at the subtle accusation of unprofessionalism by him and his wife. Before he could set the record straight, Wally beat him to the punch.
"The Admiral is gracious enough to brief us himself even though I'm sure he'd rather stick with the standard regular briefings with which the military presented the President. It was quite rare to see the military brief the entire government before the Fall. I thank the Admiral and President for choosing to include the Quorum and Council in regular briefings," Wally said. He gave the new delegate a look down his nose. "Don't listen to all the salacious things the press prints, Delegate Jones. You'll be in the gossip pages yourself soon enough."
The young delegate looked thoroughly chastised and stared steadfastly down at his notes.
Let it go , Laura told her still-tense husband silently. He tolerated no insult to her lightly, but Laura noticed that he was less concerned with Delegate Jones and more preoccupied with Wally. His eyes narrowed at her political rival, assessing Wally like he would a tactical map. Laura recalled that look had been rather effective at getting their children to think twice when he caught them in the midst of mischief.
Admiral Adama stood, clasping his hands loosely in front of himself with his silver glasses dangling loosely from his fingers. Laura hoped the briefing would go well. He wasn't known for his diplomacy, and the Cylons' request had caused enough tension in one meeting.
"First, let's take a moment of silence in honor of the brave men and women who gave their lives on behalf of this Fleet in the recent battle. Every day, they accepted the risks of the uniform, but sometimes the uniform demands the ultimate price," Bill began, bringing a sad note to a meeting that already felt heavy. The Quorum and Council sat in silence, contemplating sacrifice and the price of survival. Of those present, one or two glared at the Six, although she didn't notice with her eyes lowered respectfully. "They honored the uniform, and so we honor them. So say we all."
"So say we all," the assembly quietly echoed dutifully. Laura appreciated the importance of such symbolic moments and that her husband couldn't pass up the opportunity to give a thought-provoking speech. He knew how to kill the mood with a few words better than anyone she'd ever met.
With the moment of silence complete, Bill launched into his report, "Commander Ariadne Libera reports that the Mobile Spacedock Icarus has completed repairs on the Valkyrie. All military ships are now repaired, though we could all still use some TLC in drydock." No one even cracked a small smile at Bill's thin attempt at humor; his words from earlier kept them all subdued. Only Laura looked mildly amused, and Bill thought it more due to his fumbled attempt at levity. She didn't marry me for my sense of humor , he thought before continuing. "Icarus can now turn her attention to providing maintenance to the civilian fleet. Commander Libera will await the repair schedule."
Laura stood and addressed the ships' captains, "Requests for repairs should be sent to Mr. Keikeya," Laura said, nodding to where her chief aide sat in the corner of the room. He diligently took minutes on the meeting but looked up at hearing his name and gave his boss a nod of acceptance. Repair and maintenance schedules were more important tasks the executive office oversaw. "We'll distribute the schedule based on urgency, with critical systems getting priority. Like it or not, getting air to breath takes priority over flickering lights."
People laughed at her joke. Bill watched a shadow cross Laura's face and knew she thought of Colonial One. Her ship's lights hadn't ever managed to get repaired before its destruction, and it stung to be reminded of the loss. Despite official protocol, they hadn't changed any other ship's callsign to Colonial One when Laura boarded.
Laura sat back down, allowing Bill's briefing to continue.
"No Cylon presence has been detected since the Battle for the Hub…" A few members of the Quorum interrupted by openly scoffing. Bill was tempted to call them on it but he decided against coming home to a wife whose Quorum he'd provoke. And she accused him of lacking diplomatic finesse.
He continued. "There have been some personnel changes. Most of the Pegasus's crew have now been assigned to the Battlestar Bellerophon under the command of Commander Fisk. They report the Battlestar as combat-ready." The Bellerophon had been in rough shape from being used as the get-away vehicle of Sam Anders and his resistance. Civilians had no idea how to treat a real lady that was a Battlestar. "We have brought back the Colonial Reserves. Commander Rachel Garret and Jim Pertinax will be overseeing the start of reserve training. If any of your constituents, or if any of you , feel like doing some good in the Fleet, feel free to sign-up."
Bill continued to brief them on other minor changes in the military before sitting. In particular, the ships' captains asked him a few questions, focusing mostly on the reservist program in which they suspected a few people on their ships would be interested. Bill pleasantly noted its quick support.
"Admiral Adama, can you comment on whether or not the military will be planning another attack on the Hub?" Delegate Reza Chronides asked.
"We are not. The Basestar sustained damage to their navigation systems. It makes it impossible for them to track the Hub."
"Cavil knew where to hit us," Six added.
Delegate Jones raised his hand next.
"Admiral Adama," the delegate began, his voice wavering a bit when the Admiral pinned him in place with his intense stare. The delegate swallowed the lump in his throat. "Can you comment on the rumors of a Cylon prisoner aboard Galactica?"
Bill's ire rose and he gave his standard reply in a crisp, clipped tone, "I don't comment on rumors."
The new delegate waited as if hoping he might be given information anyway, despite the rigid reply from Adama. He found himself disappointed and opened his mouth to protest the lack of information. Laura was quicker.
"Thank you all for your time today. This session is now adjourned."
Baltar, who started to pay attention sometime near the end, hit the gavel on the table in front of them. The meeting was officially over.
The Delegates gathered their things and began to leave. Wally stood and approached Adama and Roslin, who remained at the table with Baltar and Caprica Six.
"You were very… well-spoken today, Delegate Grey," Laura said.
"Wally, Laura. I think it's time we buried the hatchet."
Laura tilted her head, watching him as he gave her an almost shy smile. She nodded. "I'd like that."
"I'm one of the good guys, at least I've always tried to be. I hope you remember that. It was just… hard knowing that you knew… what you knew," Wally said, throwing a look over to Baltar and Six.
"It seems knowledge of the future is not all it's cracked up to be," Baltar said. "It's rather a bit of a headache."
"They know too?" Wally asked, looking between Laura and the Six.
"It's why our models voted against the attacks," Six said. "Why a Leoben model allowed you to get your hands on the stealth technology we adapted so that you could study it. Why we helped the people trapped on the Colonies—"
"Our worlds are still gone," Wally said. He sighed and dropped his shoulders, appearing not to want a fight. He addressed Laura. "Just… let me know if there is anything you need, Laura. We were friends once."
"Thank you… Wally."
We still have our eyes on you.
They shook hands before Wally walked out. Outside the door, he joined up with Tory, who'd waited for him outside the meeting room.
"I need you to do something for me," he said.
…
While waiting for her contact, Kara enjoyed the atmosphere of a bar, even though she was intoxicated more on atmosphere than spirits nowadays. Joe's Bar was crowded with crew drinking away another hard day's gritty work while laughing with each other. The heat from the bodies combined with the smokey smell of whatever Joe distilled behind the bar lulled Kara into a sense of comfort. She sat alone with one hand wrapped around a glass of clear liquid with her feet propped up on a nearby chair. She reclined in her chair, her posture portraying casual confidence.
Leoben slid into the seat across from her, flashing her what he probably hoped was a charming smile. Kara found herself eyeing a nearby bottle of ambrosia longingly.
"I once hoped you'd look at me like that," Leoben teased. Kara turned her unimpressed gaze toward him, raising an eyebrow at the Cylon's choice of opening.
"You'd better have a better reason for asking to meet with me than testing out campy lines that make me want to pull your tongue out."
Having given in to the relaxing vibe of Joe's, Kara didn't want to deal with Leoben at all. At the moment, she lacked the patience necessary to deal with his antics—or anyone's. Crankiness had consumed much of her day, and she chalked it up to the nightmares plaguing her sleep. Every night, she dreamed of New Caprica, the dollhouse inside of which she'd been trapped, and the little girl Leoben brought her. She tossed and turned, remembering Kacey and reliving the moment her mother pulled the girl out of Kara's arms.
In fact, Leoben was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Lee's face popped into her head, and Kara decided that his presence would be the only one welcome; in fact, sharing a table at Joe's with Lee sounded nice.
"I'll behave," Leboen promised, giving her a surprisingly sincere look.
"You'd regret it otherwise," Kara said.
"You're just… glowing with a radiance that I can't explain. It's similar to when I found you on the Demetrius, but—"
"That stream you yammer on about hasn't told you why I'm putting on a light show?" The mocking note in her tone taunted Leoben, who did not rise to the bait. He was tough to provoke, something that irked Kara.
"That's not really how it works," Leoben said. "It's more like traveling down the same river so many times that you know the currents and the patterns. I can see those. Something… new is happening with you, I think. Something that's never happened before. It's making you radia—"
"—and you're done!" Kara said, cutting him off because the last thing she wanted to talk to Leoben about was the state in which she found herself. She never wanted to be the focal topic in any conversation with Leoben. She took a long drink of water, gathering her now wandering thoughts.
Not for the first time, she wanted to talk with Lee about everything on her mind. She wanted to tell him everything. In the next moment, her throat constricted and her palms felt sweaty. Telling Lee meant facing reality and dealing with a Battlestar's full payload worth of fear she'd done a good job ignoring. She needed to finish chipping away at her issues before pulling Lee into the black hole that was her thoughts. She shook her head, giving a huge mental shove to all those thoughts.
"Wanna get to the reason you asked to meet with me?"
"I might have an idea," Leoben began, "and I wanted your input."
"Could it possibly get you killed?"
"Well, yes…"
Kara leaned in close enough to Leoben that they could speak quietly. She propped her head on her hand. "I'm listening."
"The animosity toward the Cylons is still almost palpable; there are moments it seems to ebb away, but then it returns like a wave. Ill will persists toward my people despite our attempts at goodwill and cooperation. When Six told me about the Quorum's meeting held today," Leoben launched into a summary of the controversy around letting Cylons have a seat on the Quorum.
"I'm not surprised," Kara said with an exaggerated eye-roll as if to ask what he expected.
"Neither am I. Not really. If we'd destroyed the Hub, an eye for an eye would have been given. We failed and can't try again." Leoben looked into Kara's eyes. "Cylons need to make another gesture until we prove whose side we are on."
"That may never happen. Some will never accept your people. For them it's hard enough having Cylons in the Fleet at all."
"And for you?"
"My family survived, and it's still hard to accept that this is what survival has come to."
Leoben's face fell. When he spoke again, his voice sounded subdued. "The beacon."
"Come again?"
"The beacon from the Lion's Head Nebula," Leoben explained. Luckily, the music Joe piped out of the iffy speakers and the hum of conversation pulsed loud enough to keep private conversations like this one private. "We can use it to create a weapon to protect your people. All of our people… unless your in-laws simply turn it on all Cylons and get rid of their problem that is my people. It would re-secure their positions."
Kara looked excited. "I completely forgot about it; I wasn't in a good headspace thanks to you, actually." Kara's mind flashed to Kacey and the girl being taken out of her arms. She forced herself to focus. "It's an interesting idea; we could go get the beacon and use it to make a weapon."
Leoben narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm hoping we find a way to inoculate the nice Cylons first."
"You're right. This might help change a few opinions about you, if you present a biological weapon you develop, and it's harmless to humans and deadly to Cylons. Might scare a few people that you're playing with bio-warfare."
"The President can order us to stop after we present the weapon. We'll make a show of destroying the research."
"Keep talk of politics to the Prez. I hate that cloak and dagger shit."
"You want a clear target and a gun."
Kara laughed. "Damn straight."
She tossed back the rest of her water and missed the figure of Lee marching out of the bar. Having arrived in search of Kara after flying CAP, he'd watched the increasingly cozy-looking interaction between the two until he felt sick to his stomach.
…
Lee marched down Galactica's grey corridors, trying not to assume the worst. He tended to do that. At least he'd come to realize that unsavory fact about himself and kept his mouth shut after seeing Kara looking cozy with Leoben; too often in the past he'd alienated those closest to him when angry or afraid. Or when they fell from the lofty pedestal he'd placed them on.
Zak did not belong on that plane. Face it—you killed him.
Lee had finally learned an important lesson: it was better to walk away and get a level head. Everyone was human and prone to fumble.
Oh wait, everyone isn't human, and my wife is hanging out with skin jobs and keeping me at arm's length. His internal voice sounded very sarcastic as he walked through the bowels of the Galactica.
As he trudged along, tiredness weighed his limbs down; the familiar ache of a fourteen-hour patrol twinged in his muscles. Between the g-forces and strength necessary to engage the pedals of a Viper, pilots could get a workout. Lee kept moving, away from Joe's, his quarters, and Kara. He was too tired to rein in his tendency to lash out and too exasperated to handle a wife who could verbally eviscerate him in under a minute.
He passed a blinking panel that gave off a fritzing buzz during his meanderings. He thumped by it again later, still ruminating on what had him fed up: Kara's distance. She traded fewer jokes with him, went to bed huddled up on her side, and, although preoccupied, she never confided in him. It bothered him because he thought they'd come to a point where they shared that which weighed on them.
Did she doubt that he would be there for her?
His fingers twitched in agitation as he thought back on watching Kara with Sam. He'd given her space, worried that pressure could push her away, and the thought of losing his wife twisted his insides into a hard knot. To see her with Leoben, so easily talking with that particular Cylon, while she eschewed his company threatened to push him over the edge. And why had it seemed so easy for her to talk to Sam?
Maybe she was starting to regret marrying him.
Knock. It. Off. Lee.
He found himself standing outside his father's quarters, knowing his father and stepmother wouldn't turn away their oldest son. With their mutual intolerance for bullshit, Laura's job in politics notwithstanding, they might even end up helping him get his head on straight. Or his dad would invite him to spar and send him to the mat, which might also clear his head.
He stepped past the marines posted outside their quarters; the guards were never something the Admiral did away with in this timeline because his president and wife lived there with him. However, the guards thought nothing of letting the Admiral's son pass, even when he turned down their request to comm for entry.
"I don't want to wake Evelyn," he explained. They chuckled, having witnessed how precocious Evelyn could be when cranky.
Noticing the dimmed light inside, Lee tiptoed over the threshold into the Admiral's quarters. His question was answered after he looked around and spotted two figures asleep in his father's rack. He must have been wandering through Galactica for longer than he realized if even the President and Old Man had turned in for the night.
Lee's body froze in place, like an intruder who'd stumbled upon something valuable at the sight of Bill and Laura sleeping so intertwined. His father's arm draped over Laura, rising and falling with each of her gentle breaths, and his face nestled into her neck. There remained no trace of the tightly-controlled Admiral or the stern father he'd once known.
He beat a hasty retreat to the sitting area and left them to their rest, suspecting it was a miracle he hadn't woken up his overprotective father. Lee sat on the couch, knowing he'd be welcome to hide out there, and relaxed into the supple leather.
He grabbed a nearby blanket that looked familiar and smelled of Caprican roses—Laura's scent. Pulling the blanket around him transported Lee back to a house on Caprica where his stepmother would sit next to him and talk about anything and everything. They'd talked about the proper way to ask a girl out, why they agreed that Adar sending the marine troops into Aerelon was a mistake, and about his fear of disappointing his father.
At first, he'd been unsure about this stepmother person now married to his dad, but she'd always been there when he needed. Now he realized this was something he'd severely lacked in the other timeline he remembered. The time gave him a self-obsessed mother; at least he came by that particular character trait honestly.
Wrapped in the Caprican rose smelling blanket, it was easy to imagine what his stepmother would say if she sat down next to him.
"So what's got you hiding out in my quarters?" his imaginary stepmother asked, sitting next to him after handing him a mug of tea. His father would have given him whiskey, but Laura's go-to beverage of deep contemplative moments was tea.
"I think I'm being an idiot," Lee said. He accepted the mug she pressed into his hands. He had to admit, the warmth seeping into his fingers felt good.
Imaginary Laura giggled because that was just what real Laura did as she spoke, "It's an Adama family trait, along with the stubbornness. Then again, we all have our moments. So, what did you do this time?"
"Kara has been acting funny," Lee said. It was easier to be open in an imaginary conversation. "She's at Joe's hanging out with Leoben of all people and seems to want nothing to do with me."
Laura did that thing where she raised an eyebrow and made him feel about three inches tall. "And you are assuming the worst?"
"No," he instantly denied. "Yes… I don't know." He took a fortifying sip of tea, which he imagined would burn his tongue. "How would dad have reacted if he saw you having a friendly drink with Wally?"
"He probably would have marched over there with one of his barely contained glares to make sure I was alright." His imaginary stepmother took a sip of her mug of tea.
Seeing Kara interact with her ex-husband recently had been hard enough. Is he her ex? They never technically divorced. How does marriage work with the undead? The dizzying merry-go-round of thoughts only further warped everything. He supposed that they had been separated by death, and he felt like a jerk for following that trail of logic.
" And there are people like your father and me who, if there is an afterlife, hope to spend eternity together on the Shore." With whom did Kara want to spend eternity? With her spending time with persons not him, with the likes of Leoben no less, it didn't feel like she wanted to spend time with the husband she kept at arm's length.
"You're lucky you and dad trust each other. You're both so… secure," Lee said and noticed that even imaginary Laura wore her ever-present onyx pendant that his father had given her over a decade ago. The filigree symbol for "soulmate" shone in gold on the front. As far as he knew, his father never considered giving such a gift to his biological mother, but there was such a surety in the relationship between his father and Laura.
"Lee," Laura's voice drifted over to him from where she sat on the couch, "You need to stop letting your own fears of living alone get the better of you."
Lee's imagination was making him feel pretty lousy. He looked away, pausing the pretend conversation with the person giving him the head-straightening that he needed and hated all at once. Distracting himself, he looked around his father's quarters, the dim reading light letting him see the warm reds and browns of the room. It really was quite cozy.
He leaned farther back into the couch, resting his head backward. He noticed a small stack of books placed there on the ledge behind the couch as if trying to be inconspicuous. His curiosity got the better of him and he reached over to pick them up. The sweet, musty smell of old book wafted up to him, complimenting the scent of Caprican roses.
A note fell out of the top book in a scrawling, elegant script: " I thought you might find these helpful—Elosha."
Flicking through the book, he noticed one was on meditation and mindfulness. He wondered if Laura was using that to help manage her PTSD; it appeared she was doing a good job. An outsider would never guess the state of her mind.
Then he saw the book underneath: a leather-bound book, old and worn, with the embossed symbol of Apollo. It seemed like something Elosha might have found among the Gemenese. The inside cover bore a single word: Visio . Flicking through the pages, he read part of a passage: "From my early childhood, I have seen the gods' visions. I do not hear them with my outward ears, nor do I see them with my outward eyes. They are in my mind alone, day and night…" As he fumbled to put the books back, the bottom one fell, opening as it landed.
"My vision was right. Baltar sees an imaginary Six. I wonder how much trouble that woman has caused us…"
Lee swallowed. It was Laura's journal and he was perversely curious with learning what she'd written.
"I have tried meditating but saw nothing. Do I sit there for longer, trying to force a vision to come to me? Is that even what I want? I admit that I stopped when Bill came home. I know that I can trust him with anything and gods, I love him for that. I couldn't have a better man at my side. I just don't want him to worry about me.
I'm watching him play with Evelyn right now; he takes such good care of her—of all of us really. What did I do to deserve him? Every day, I'm so glad we married and that we have each to come home to. I'm frustrated with these damn visions, fed up with the Quorum, irritated with the Cylons, but here at home, where my husband quickly took me in his arms and held me because he saw I needed his touch, brings me more peace than I ever thought possible.
The thought of losing Bill or any of my children is such a frightening thought. Maybe if I can figure out how to control these visions, I can do more. Gods, I'm so tired."
Lee felt hot with shame at reading the innermost thoughts of another person. He slammed the book closed, wondering what in the name of sanity his stepmother was up to.
"You haven't told dad?" Lee asked imaginary Laura.
"All of us have our secrets, Leeland."
"Leave her alone," his father's deep voice grumbled, the growl piercing through the silence of the cabin. Lee heard rustling from the sleeping area. Cringing, he held still to keep from making a sound, hoping that he had not been the cause of this. "Don't touch her."
"Bill?" Laura spoke in a sleep-roughened voice. Lee heard his dad repeat something indistinguishable. "Bill, sweetheart, you're having a nightmare."
"Where is she?" Lee rarely, if ever, heard his father sound terrified. Sleep stripped away his armor, leaving just the man who still feared losing his wife.
"I'm right here. Bill. Feel me. I'm right here." Lee barely heard the rest of their hushed murmurings as they drifted off back to sleep. He wondered how regular an occurrence this must be for them. All of them had enough fuel for nightmares. He leaned around the corner to see if they'd gone back to sleep and saw his father's fingers tangled in Laura's hair and his hand against her back, pulling her to him as if trying to weld themselves together.
"Don't go."
"I'm not going anywhere," Laura soothed.
"Sometimes we all need to hear that our loved ones aren't going anywhere, no matter what we fear," imaginary Laura said to Lee.