Kara sat immobile on the couch, her arms hugged around her middle, and her eyes puffy with unshed tears. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. Six weeks she'd been in this cell. Six weeks of Leobon professing his love. Six weeks of killing him over and over again. Six weeks of pure mental agony. And here she was waiting for him to return so they could go through it once more.

How many times had she killed him? She'd lost count, fifteen times, twenty? Lately he was staying away for longer and longer periods after a download, this time it had been five days. Hunger was beginning to take hold of her, preying on her mind and distracting her. She glanced towards the window, shadows falling across the outer bars telling her that it was near sundown. Her stomach growled. When was he coming back?

Her mind sluggishly focused on the Leobon problem. How many more deaths would it take before the Cylons finally ran out of his spare bodies? Maybe they never would. Maybe they were building more of him all the time, a regular assembly line of Leobons for her to kill. Or maybe that smug little bastard Doral would kill her just to save Leobon from himself. He'd hinted at it once, when he'd arrived with a couple of the toasters to help clean up the mess she'd made with a broken piece of glass across Leobon's throat. Without Leobon there to protect her, she had no illusions that the others would allow her to continue to live. He was her captor and her savior all rolled into one.

She sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face. Thoughts like that were getting her nowhere. "Stay alert, Kara," she told herself again, focusing her exhausted mind to the sounds around her again. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, listening to the sound of the climate control system inside the building, its steady hum teasing her mercilessly. She'd already expended too much time searching for vents, possible access points to make her escape through, but all for naught. Not a single vent had been big enough for her to as much as squeeze inside.

There had to be something she'd missed, some simple way out. She was just too tired and hungry to find it. Sleep was a luxury she grabbed in small, restless amounts, usually during the times that Leobon disappeared during the afternoons on the days in between downloads. Occasionally she managed to grab a few hours then too, but it was rarely restful and never enough. He haunted her waking hours and her own mind terrorized her when she slept.

She eased her head around in a slow circle, stretching the muscles in her neck and hoping to ease the tension in her shoulders. Memories filled her mind of the only other time she'd ever even come close to feeling this tired. It had been back at the beginning of it all. Not when the Cylons had first attacked, but after they'd discovered the fleet following their desperate jump away from Ragnar Station.

It'd been rough, 33 hours of non-stop battle stations and being ready to launch at a moments notice. The funny part was, those hours of flying hadn't bothered her. No, the flying hadn't been bad at all next to coming down from the high of all those artificial 'stims' the old man had ordered his pilots to take. Stims frakked with a pilots worse than a lack of sleep did, that bitch Kat was living proof of that.

Flying. Funny how, in all these months of living on this rock, she'd never had the time to miss it. And now, she could clearly picture every last detail of hurtling through the openness of space, completely free. She'd worked her ass off to become a pilot, and she'd just chucked it all away. And for what?

She'd told herself that she'd wanted a new beginning for her new life with Sam. That life on a battlestar was no way to start a marriage. She'd even convinced herself that Sam would never be happy standing in the shadows and playing house-husband to a Viper jockey. They were all reasonable excuses, but that's all they were, excuses. Truth be told, she'd been running away, pure and simple.

But dwelling on those memories didn't help her any either, if anything they would cloud her mind even more. She'd need a clear head to survive, and if she survived, there'd be plenty of time for memories, and the inevitable regrets they brought, later.

She heard the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening and footsteps springing lightly down the steps. She didn't have to look to know he was back.

"Kara, honey," he called out. "I've brought dinner. You must be starving," he said with a smile, depositing two plates onto the table. "Come, join me," he added, holding out a hand to her.

Ignoring his hand, Kara rose to her feet and slowly approached the table, like she had on countless other nights. He was right, she was hungry, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing it. As she sat down she saw steamed vegetables and a juicy looking steak on the plates. Even as her mouth began to water at the sight, she started making plans.

He sat down across from her, pulling a folding knife from his pocket and flicking the blade open, cutting into his own steak and sighing with pleasure when he took the first bite. It was a moment or two before he noticed she wasn't doing the same. "Is there something wrong with the food?"

"I need a knife," she said softly, "for the steak."

He looked at her for a moment, considering, before rising to his feet and coming around the table to stand beside her. She warily kept her eyes focused on the knife wondering if he would really relinquish it to her. For a moment they made eye contact and he smiled slightly as he raised the knife. Almost imperceptively, Kara felt herself tense. Then he surprised her by reaching out with the hand closest to her and grasping her fork and proceeded to cut the steak up for her.

"Thank you," she said when he slid back into his seat once more, meeting his gaze and giving him a small smile. In a fraction of a heartbeat, as soon as he returned her smile, she attacked. Sliding a piece of chair frame from beneath her seat cushion she lunged at him, and thrust its pointed end into his neck. A spurt of warm blood spilled over her hand as she pulled it free and rammed it home once more.

Leobon's hands grasped at her arms, surprisingly strong for someone who was losing blood so quickly. "I love you Kara," he choked out, infuriating her.

"Stop. Saying. That," she ground out, stabbing him over and over again in a crazed frenzy before finally regaining control of herself. Falling away from his body, she listened to the final death rattles.

"See…you….soon," he rasped.

Kara couldn't stop herself from moving forward until she was crouching over his body, listening intently for any sign that he wasn't dead. But then she mentally slapped herself for her foolishness. Of course he wasn't dead. He was a machine, and he'd be back soon, just like he promised.

She started to climb to her feet, but paused, reaching a tentative hand out and patting down his pockets until she felt what she was looking for. After a little maneuvering she managed to slide the knife free. Palming it, she debated what to do next, her mind filled with a sense of déjà vu.

"Kara Thrace, this is your life," she said to herself, wiping the blood from her hands. Fighting off the urge to cry, she returned to the table, taking a bite of the steak instead. Leobon would be home soon, and her day was just about to begin again.

"We've decided to release Laura Roslin," Doral announced. "Your job will be to follow her and report who she talks to."

Jammer sent a silent prayer to the Gods that the conflicted thoughts in his mind weren't reflected on his face. Spying on his fellow humans wasn't what he'd bargained for when he agreed to join the New Caprica police force. He'd taken Doral at his word that the police force was created to help maintain a peaceful coexistence between their two races, but so far he just felt like a hired bully. Worse yet, now that he was in, it was impossible to get back out.

"James?"

"You want me to follow President Roslin?"

"Former President," Doral chided, enjoying the discomfort on Jammer's face at being corrected.

"Right….former President Roslin. You want me to spy on her?"

"We believe she'll make contact with other Resistance leaders. We want you to follow her and report back the names of anyone she makes contact with….no matter how inconsequential it may seem."

Jammer was silent, he couldn't think straight with Doral looking at him so expectantly, and that Brother Cavil sitting silently behind him. The Doral models were a thinking model, cold and heartless to be sure, but they always affected that air of being nothing but a bored politician creating the laws and instigating the battles that others would have to die for.

The Cavils were much worse. They looked like an older, wiser fatherly figure, kind of a Cylon equivalent to the Admiral, but they acted ruthlessly. Although he'd never actually been beyond the offices of the detention center, Jammer had heard rumors about the brutalities the Cavils inflicted upon the prisoners. It ate at his mind, the idea of humans suffering like that at Cylon hands. How many of them had he helped to bring in?

"You're an officer of the New Caprica Police Force, James. It's your duty to follow orders," Doral prodded.

"Perhaps he'd rather join some of our other guests in the detention cells," Cavil cut in cheerfully. "I'm sure they would welcome him with open arms….especially once they know who and what he is."

"When will she be released?" Jammer asked quickly, trying to keep the fear he was feeling out of his voice. He knew how his fellow humans felt about those that crossed the line and joined the New Caprica police. Just like most of the others who'd joined up, he'd allowed his dreams for peace to overshadow his better judgment. Now he was trapped between the Cylons and a constant fear of discovery by his own people. Maybe there was no future for humanity.

"That's more like it. She'll be out-processed within the hour, so I would suggest you take the time to get out of that uniform and into something a little more...civilian. We'll expect daily reports. Like I said, I want to know where she goes and who she talks to," Cavil commanded. "Is that clear?"

Jammer nodded, rising to his feet. "Can I...can I go now?" he asked quietly, not meeting Cavil's eyes.

"Go."

Apollo jolted awake, a single word bursting forth from his mouth as he sat up fast looking around at his surroundings blindly while he struggled to separate reality from his dream. "Frak," he muttered, pushing his hand roughly through his sweat soaked hair, as he finally made it back to reality. Beside him the mattress dipped as someone hastily climbed from the bed. Not just somebody, her. He bit back another oath as the events of the previous night came crashing back into focus.

"Kara. You said Kara, just now."

"I was dreaming," he mumbled.

"About her."

"It was just a dream, it didn't mean anything." His words sounded false, even to his own ears. He'd been dreaming about Kara more and more often lately, and almost always it ended in her death at the hands of the Cylons right before his very eyes. Close enough to witness her death, but too far away to prevent it.

"What's so frakking special about her?" her voice bit out coldly. The sound of rustling clothing punctuated her words as she struggled to dress herself as quickly as possible.

"Nothing...we're friends...we were friends..."

"Bullshit! This isn't the first time it's happened, Lee." She dropped back onto the bed and hastily began shoving her foot into her boots tying them. Anger showed in her every movement, her whole body fairly radiating with it. Her words took him by surprise, confusing him. Huge mistake that it was, this was the only time they'd been together like this since jumping away from the planet, and the dreams had only started recently.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It was just a stupid dream, we've all had them," he muttered quietly.

"Gods….I just wish that for once you'd be honest with me. What makes Kara Thrace so damn important Lee?"

For the last time, it was just a dream. She's just….I mean, we're only……" He almost tripped over the words in his haste to downplay the integral role Kara had to his life. There weren't any words to describe it, leastwise, none that he was ready to accept.

"You're in love with her aren't you?"

"No!" he retorted much more forcefully than he'd intended, giving her all the answer she needed.

"If you really mean that, then I feel sorry you, because you're not just lying to me, you're lying to yourself about how you feel. And in the meantime you're giving up your own happiness by refusing to move on with your life. You're holding onto memories and feelings for a woman who may be dead for all we know."

"She's not dead."

"We don't know if any of them are still alive….."

"She's not dead."

"Maybe, but even if she's not, she's married for fraks sake! If the Admiral somehow manages to make contact with our people on the planet, if we're able to rescue them, she's still going to be married to someone else Lee. What then?"

"We go on as we always have, as friends."

She looked at him, right into his eyes for so long and hard he had to fight the urge to fidget uncomfortably before her. It felt like she was looking right through him and into his soul, seeing all of his deepest, darkest, most tightly help secrets. At last she broke off eye contact as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She whirled about and headed towards the door swinging it open and disappearing into the passageway without another word, the only sound was his voice calling out after her.

"Dee!"

Lee collapsed back against the pillows, his head beginning to pound. He should be on the bridge right now, throwing out orders and getting this bucket ready to fight. Memories of Dee's words and the death of the dream Kara kept pushing those practical thoughts from his mind though, making it difficult to focus.

"Frak!" he cried out, slamming a balled up fist into the empty mattress at his side.

Footsteps echoed down as Leobon hurried down them calling out, "Kara, honey! I'm home." Before she knew it he was suddenly standing there before her, smiling as though nothing had happened.

She looked up at him without saying a word. He'd never reappeared after a download this quickly, not alone anyway. Questions flooded her mind. What made this download different? How could he walk past his own dead body as though it wasn't even there? And how could he be so cheerful as he did it?

"What's the matter honey? You look like hell, almost like you've seen a ghost," he said mockingly. "Now, as for me, it's been a helluva day. I think I'm ready for a good nights of sleep. After you hand over that knife you took."

"I don't…"

"Don't play dumb, Kara, it doesn't suit you. Give me the knife like a good girl, and we'll just call it a night." He face turned serious, all playfulness wiped away in an instant. "Now."

Grudgingly, feeling like a child who'd been caught stealing, she reached behind her, shoving her thumb and forefinger into a small, almost unnoticeable slit in the sofa cushion and extracted the folded pocketknife. His face was still devoid of emotion as he watched her intently, almost as though he knew she was weighing her options of whether or not to attack. At last she settled for hurling the knife at his face.

Smiling once more, he caught it single-handedly. "That's my girl."

Turning, he moved away from her making his way towards a doorway off from the main room. It wasn't until he was halfway to the bedroom that Kara finally seemed to find her voice and halted him.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I told you, I'm going to bed. Did you want to join me?" he asked, gracing her with a leering grin.

"No! What about that?" she asked, jabbing a finger towards his corpse on the floor.

"Oh yeah, him." He strode back over and looked down at his own body before meeting Kara's eyes with a sly smile. "Well," he drawled out slowly, as though contemplating the situation, "it looks like you'll be sleeping with me tonight after all, one way or another. You either spend the night with a living, breathing me, or something that looks like a yesterday's leftover dinner me. It's your choice. Goodnight, Kara."

Without another word he disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door open in invitation behind him. Kara stared at the doorway long after he'd disappeared through it. She could either share a bed with him, or a night on the couch beside his bloody corpse. No contest there, the bloody corpse would win any day.