Chapter 2 Jean Barolay sat at a table surrounded by people, not really listening to the whirl of conversations around her. Instead she watched, almost wanting to laugh at how this stupid holiday made everyone so damn sappy. She counted half a dozen couples who were now acting like sappy teenagers after spending the whole past month fighting. The festival of Aphrodite was never her favorite holiday even before the cylon attacks. It seemed like the gods conspired to make sure she was alone during it. Usually though, she was in some hotel running amok with the rest of her team. This year, even Hillard had found himself a date. She could have too; it just never felt right with anybody she met lately. It didn't help that most of her ability to let go got left behind with their dead friends on Caprica. Even now, surrounded by friends with a drink in her hand, she still felt like she should watch the horizon for the enemy. She didn't understand how the others could just move on and go forward. What happened was still burned into her brain, from the first blast to Cavil's outing on the hangar deck.

Sam's was the defection that hurt the most, even though that wasn't really what he did. She never wanted him like that, but before Kara, this was almost their holiday. Every year since they had started playing together, they would spend the night drinking and, joking about how relationships one night stands were the only sane relationships and marriage was for people who couldn't get laid anymore. Heck, it was one of the first things she wanted to say to him when he told her that he and Kara were getting married. Then she saw the dumb grin on his face and couldn't rain on his day. She threw her arms around him and congratulated him. She still hated playing second fiddle, even though she understood Kara, his wife, was supposed to come first. Truthfully, for all his tough talk, Sam was a total softy. She always knew she'd lose him someday, and at least Kara was his equal. Kara accepted her and was confident enough to include Jean, rather than shut her out, and knowing that eased the pain a little bit. Heck, she even understood how he could love Kara. In fact, some nights she wondered if she understood that too well. She shoved the thought away, though; she wasn't drunk enough to let herself think too much about that yet.

She turned instead to Jammer on her right and smiled. He was the only unattached guy at the table. He smiled back and said, "I didn't think you'd want to talk to me after that dinner disaster at Kara and Sam's."

She leaned closer so they didn't have to shout. "That wasn't your fault. Those two are the idiots for trying to play matchmaker in the first place."

"I just figured you stormed out because you thought I was beneath you somehow," Jammer said, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"I just didn't want those two idiots thinking they had a good idea. Trust me, Sam is the last person who should ever give relationship advice," Jean said, trying to make light of the incident. She hadn't really objected to Jammer. It was just that she resented the idea that she was such a loser that she needed to be fixed up, especially by those two.

Jammer chuckled and relaxed. "So you wouldn't hit me if I asked you to dance?" he asked, extending his hand.

"Let's go," Jean said as she reached over and grabbed his hand.

'What the hell,' she thought. Jammer wasn't ugly, and it beat sitting there brooding on thoughts she really didn't want to think. So Jean drank and danced and acted like a sap, thinking that maybe if she pretended long enough, she would actually feel happy. She went home with Jammer that night, hoping a quick frak would fix things, but she was gone before he woke up the next morning. Jammer was a nice boy, and she had stopped being a nice girl a long time ago. Jean Barolay wasn't the same girl she was a year ago. She was nice then. She played on a team and played by the rules. Now, she had spent months on the run,
carrying a gun and blowing shit up. She wasn't sure what she was anymore, but nice girl she wasn't.