Stepping out into the fenced in courtyard of the detention center Saul worried for a moment that it might all be a dream and he was going to wake up in his dark cell again. Then he caught sight of the warm sunlight shining down just beyond the covered walkway he'd exited the building onto, real sunlight, not those damnable lights that they'd blasted 24 hours a day for weeks on end. But those hadn't been so bad, not in retrospect, not compared to those long days of total darkness that followed.

'Filthy skin job bastards,' he thought. He wouldn't let the memories of what they'd done to him ruin this day.

He stepped out into that glorious sunlight, feeling it wash over his face. Its brightness brought tears to his remaining eye and he blinked rapidly, trying to force the moisture away. It wouldn't do for anyone to see the Colonel looking like he was crying. Beneath the gauze pad one of the skin jobs had taped over the empty eye socket he could still feel the lids moving, uselessly trying to keep the light away from an eye that wasn't there.

'What will Ellen think when she sees me?'

A moment of uncertainty swept over him at that thought, pushing aside his petty concerns about a few tears. Ellen. Things had finally seemed to be going good for them again, really good. It hadn't been like that since right after they'd married. Those blessed months they'd enjoyed just after the first Cylon war had ended, before her flirtations and lies had fueled his jealousy and rage. Before they both turned to alcohol to solve their problems.

When he'd finally agreed that it was time to resign his commission and join the other colonists settling New Caprica she'd been like the giddily happy girl he'd fallen in love with. And then the Cylons had come, leaving them prisoners on a planet that had once filled them with hope.

'Can she still love a one eyed man? Am I still the man she knew?' he asked himself. Deep down inside, he knew this captivity had changed something inside of him, made him harder, full of hatred. Was he even capable of loving her anymore?

"Saul!"

He looked up, the sound of her voice calling his name catching him by surprise. She stood just outside the fence watching his slow progress across the courtyard. Her face was completely neutral, giving away nothing of her thoughts.

"Saul!" she called out again, waving her arm slightly as though uncertain that he could see her.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside of the fence and she was hurling herself into his arms, tears that hadn't been there a moment before now flowing unchecked down her cheeks. As his arms tightened around her it hit him. She'd thrown herself at him like a starving man offered a meal.

'Had she seen the eye patch? Did she have any idea what lay beneath?' he wondered.

She pulled back slightly from his embrace, her hands skimming up and over his face with the softest of touches.

"Oh Saul, what did they do to you?" she breathed out softly. But there was no revulsion on her face, no pity in her voice, just the barest note of regret. Regret that he'd suffered. He pulled her in close for another embrace.

It wasn't at all the reception he'd anticipated, but he was in no way disappointed by it. Instead, it gave him hope. Maybe things would be okay in the long run, when the old man came back to rescue them.

"Let's go home, Saul," she whispered, clutching his arm to her side and drawing him away from the fence.

'Home,' he thought wistfully. That was anywhere but here.

Ellen looked nervously over her shoulder, trying not to make the motion obvious to Saul, oblivious to the fact that she was on his newly blinded side and he couldn't readily see her anyway. She half expected one of the NCP officers or Brother Cavil himself to suddenly materialize and tip him off to just how often she'd been a visitor to the detention center over the course of his imprisonment there.

It wasn't one of her prouder moments, trading sex for Saul's freedom, but what other choice was there? The Cylons took what they wanted, you bargained with them on their terms. The trick was letting them think that what they were getting what they really wanted.

As they made their way through the settlement, Ellen's eyes were drawn to where Colonial One sat off in the distance and for a moment she felt a pang of regret. She hadn't planned for any of this to happen when she'd started pleading with Saul to retire. In her mind, all she'd seen were the glorious possibilities.

It had become obvious to her that Baltar wasn't up for the task of rebuilding man-kind, rumors of his overindulgences in alcohol and women had swept through the fleet almost as soon as the first settlers had arrived on the planet. And after Saul had agreed to move to the planet, she'd questioned everyone she came in contact with who'd been to the settlement and witnessed first hand the deteriorating, ineffectual government. It was only a matter of time before the colonists revolted, looking for real leadership.

And who better to lead the colony after Baltar's failure then a military man? She'd imagined the colony turning to Saul when elections rolled around, if they'd even wait that long. All of her dreams seemed to be on the verge of becoming reality.

But like it had so often happened in her life, nothing had worked out the way she'd dreamed. Baltar was still in power, even if he was little more than a puppet for the Cylons. And Saul had lost an eye to their captors, while she'd resorted to becoming their whore.

What would happen if he learned the truth about his release? Would he ever believe she'd done it out of love?

It'd all started out so right night before. They'd had dinner in the Admiral's quarters where the conversation had started out on the everyday, mundane matters surrounding the fleet to the old man giving them more hope for the future than either of them had dared to dream. The talk had flowed easily between them, and for the first time in the three long months since leaving New Caprica behind it was easy to forget the rest of their problems, to pretend that things were normal again for just a little while.

After leaving William's quarters, it'd only seemed natural to retire back to the XO's cabin for one last drink before going their separate ways for the night. One drink had lead to another while they'd spoken in hushed tones about the Admiral's suggestion and what it could mean for their future. It was almost as if they were afraid that speaking out loud, away from the confines of this darkened room would ruin it somehow.

Eventually though, the talking had stopped and the drinks were set aside forgotten. Without either of them really knowing who made the first move, they'd reached out for each other. There was no hesitation, only a feeling of rightness.

But kisses and caresses had triggered bittersweet memories of happier times together. It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for them; they needed more, wanted more. Any doubts that what they were doing was wrong had fallen away with each bit of clothing dropped carelessly to the floor. Everything felt perfect and right, almost like nothing had ever come between them. Maybe it wouldn't last, but at that moment, in that darkened ships quarters, it felt like maybe there was a future for them, a future for them all.

As she was on everyday since her release from the detention center, Laura was nervous as she walked through the settlement to the chapel. As she entered, she wished for the thousandth time that she'd overcome the sense of guilt that filled her each time she came up with a new excuse to keep Maya and the baby from joining her. She'd done her best to keep herself at a distance from the pair since she'd been released. It wouldn't do to have the Cylons guessing Hera's identity. Worse yet, for them to use the younger woman and child against her somehow, without even knowing who it was they were hurting.

Lost in her thoughts, she went through the motions of the prayer ritual, simultaneously praying to the gods for guidance while her mind raced with questions.

Was she being watched? Or was it just her imagination running wild? Either way, she was afraid of the answers. One hammered home the fact that even outside the walls of the detention center she was still a prisoner. The other made her wonder if she could even trust her own mind. When she was honest with herself, the former was just a sad fact of life on New Caprica. The latter a product of her greatest fears. Maybe the Cylons had succeeded in breaking her after all.

And where did those options leave her now? She found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, suspecting everyone who wasn't actively a part of the resistance movement. But the resistance, although growing in numbers steadily, was still small. The surge of new recruits after the attack on the old chapel had gradually tapered off to nothing, while the New Caprica police force seemed to be growing.

It was mind boggling, the number of people volunteering to work for the Cylons. And they knew what they were doing was wrong, why else would they hide their faces behind those ski masks? Perhaps in the beginning they were idealistic and naïve enough to think they could help their fellow humans. But somewhere along the way they had to see that what they were doing was wrong, didn't they?

So many questions, if only she could figure out the identity of just one of those NCP officers maybe she could find out the answers she needed.

Catching a movement from the corner of her eye as she watched the scrap of paper with her prayer for the Gods burn atop the altar, she swiftly turned, expecting to see one of the Cylons watching her. She expelled a relieved breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding when she saw the dark haired man standing near the entrance, looking embarrassed to be there.

"I'm sorry….." he muttered, looking down at his feet. "I didn't mean to intrude…."

"I was just finishing up," she said smiling as she gestured towards the altar. "Please…."

"Yeah….okay…..thanks…." he murmured, stepping closer.

Still he didn't meet her eyes as he knelt beside her and reached hesitantly for a scrap of paper and the little stub pencil that someone had left behind. He hurriedly scribbled something down, folded the paper and dropped it onto the little plate like Laura had done herself.

As he went about the motions of the prayer, she rose to her feet and headed for the entrance, pausing there as it suddenly dawned on her why he seemed familiar. Turning, she was surprised to find him watching her rather than the burning paper.

"You're one of Chief Tyrol's labor union boys aren't you?" she asked, surprising him.

"Yeah, that's right…Jammer…ur…..James, I mean. Everyone calls me Jammer," he finished lamely. Caught off guard, he hadn't expected her to turn around.

"Jammer," she repeated, nodding her head thoughtfully. "I'll leave you to your prayers."

He couldn't bring himself to stop touching her, his sliding a gentle caress down her arm before coming to rest at her waist. Neither of them had spoken a word, just held each other and enjoyed the afterglow. It was inevitable that one of them would screw it up, he supposed belatedly.

Maybe it was this newfound closeness, but suddenly he couldn't stop himself from blurting out his greatest fear in the worst possible way.

"What happens if we don't find Hera?" Helo asked softly. As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he could turn back time and take them back. Almost immediately he felt her body tense and begin to draw away from him. He tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her resisting body close once more. His only consolation was that she wasn't really struggling to get away.

"Sharon….." he said, his voice holding the barest hint of a plea. She looked at him, a mixture of anger and sadness warring across her face. With a sigh, she stopped struggling, rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

"I can't think about that," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Without Hera, there's nothing for me here."

"I'm here! What about us?"

"I don't know," she replied wearily. "Is there an 'us' Helo?"

"Isn't there? After last night…."

"We were drunk, Helo."

"I don't think so," he argued. "I know I wasn't, and I've never seen you drunk in all the time I've known you."

'Were Cylons even capable of getting drunk?' he wondered, not daring to voice the question aloud. Everything was too fragile between them right now.

She lay on her back now, staring up at the ceiling and saying nothing. He was kicking himself for opening his mouth so soon. Talking about the daughter they'd lost was like pouring salt into an open wound. But there was no going back now. He lay beside her, mimicking her position, waiting to see if she would say anything. When she didn't speak he started talking once more.

"Have you ever noticed that before last night, ever since the Admiral had you freed, we talked all the time but never really said anything? Not about what we're really thinking….feeling. We talk about the fleet, about going back after the others and finding Hera, but never about us. Then last night….it reminded me of those days on the run back on Caprica. It's stupid, I know, but I almost miss those days. All we had was each other and hope….. "

"Until you found out what I was," she said softly. Something in her voice had him levering himself up on his elbow so he could look down and see her face. The silent tears coursing down over her cheeks were like a knife through his heart. Anger he'd become accustomed too since Hera's fake death, and even the indifference that seemed to plague most of their relationship since, but for the first time he felt like he was seeing the real Sharon Valerii. The Cylon, no, the woman who felt the same pain and fears about the future as he did.

"I was terrified," he admitted for the first time ever. "And hurt…angry…..confused."

As he spoke, he reached out with his free hand and softly wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fingers.

"There I was, alone on the planet, the last human, that's what I thought anyway. And then you appeared, saving my life and giving me hope. I wasn't alone anymore. When I saw the other Sharons……" he broke off, memories of what he'd felt causing his throat to tighten.

She raised her hand, catching hold of his and entwining their fingers, still unspeaking.

"Even after finding out what you really are, I tried to hate you and I couldn't. I still can't. On Caprica, when Starbuck tried to shoot you….I realized then that whatever you are I still loved you. I love you, Sharon. So instead of making excuses for last night, I just need you tell me, is there still an 'us'?"