Thanks so much for all of the reviews. To all of you Guest reviewers, a special shout out and thank you with very appreciative cyber hugs of gratitude, since I can't thank you personally via PM.

CHAPTER 10

Bill scooted on the roller out from under the Occulus, a sleek small ship built for comfort and travel. It wasn't anywhere near as enjoyable as working on a Viper or a Raptor, but he was around ships again and that felt damned good. His arms ached and his back was sore from working with the heavy tools while having to remain in that fixed position. His hands were filthy and his overheated body was covered in sweat. He didn't mind. His clothes were streaked with grease and he even had a slight headache, but he'd always found work like this to be rewarding.

"Give her some juice," he yelled.

Saul hopped into the cockpit and pressed a series of buttons and pulled newly calibrated levers. The engine came to life with a silky hum. The two men grinned at one another and cheered.

"I told you it was the carbonite reflux," said Saul.

"Yeah, well, you have to be right once in a while."

"Heh."

"But I guess I do owe you a drink."

"Or two."

Bill stood up slowly with a low growl, muscles sore. A creak in his knee reminded him that he wasn't twenty anymore but now that he had more time he'd just have to get out for a morning run. Caprica hadn't necessarily grown on him yet, but starting his part time job teaching civilians how to fly and repairing the small non-military ships at the flight academy had greatly boosted his morale. He was about to tell Saul that he'd meet him downstairs after a shower to head out for that drink when his phone jingled.

He hastily wiped his hands on a dirty rag, taking off enough of the muck to enable him to handle the phone without making too much mess as he dug it out of his pocket.

"Hi, Dad," said an exuberant feminine voice. It was the first time his future daughter-in-law had called him that and Bill beamed.

"Kara." The smile made its way into his voice.

Kara took a deep breath, feeling a little bit guilty about the lies that she was about to tell. But the Old Man would forgive her in the end. Lee would be upset with her for meddling and her mother would be furious with her. But she'd find a way to apologize later. If they didn't expect stuff like this from her by now then they didn't really know her. And she'd done worse. This was, all things considered, a minor infraction – a little bending of the truth to suit her purpose. She was not going to let her mother spend the weekend by herself facing all of those buried memories alone. And if Lee's father got to know her mother a little better in the process, then it made her intentions serve a twofold purpose. All the better. What harm was there in that?

"Lee and I are staying at our family cabin in Galatea for the weekend and we'd really love for you to join us. Sorry for the late notice, Dad. You know me – I kind of sprung it on Lee. It'll be fun. If you leave soon, you could even get here in time for supper. I promise – no algae." They'd lived off nothing but algae for five days on one of Kara's survival training missions that he'd led about a year ago and they'd never forgotten it.

"I don't know, Kara. My son would probably much prefer some alone time with his fiancée – not that I don't appreciate the invitation."

"Not a chance. He's got a huge test on Monday so he'll be neglecting me for a good part of the weekend," Kara improvised with a sly smile at her own cleverness, "so I'll need to be entertained. Please come."

Bill had a soft spot for Kara with her irrepressible spunk. If he'd been lucky enough to have been blessed with a daughter, he would have wanted a carbon copy of her. "All right, kiddo. I'll come."

"Yay!"

"Anything special I should bring?"

"No. Although the water is beautiful this time of year. So if you want to bring a swimsuit – "

"Okay."

"I'll hit you up with the address and a GPS loc. Bring a jacket, too, it gets cool up there at night. Oh, and if you need any additional directions, call me. Lee's phone is off. He's studying away. What a nerd," she laughed. She couldn't have Adama calling up his son and discovering her ruse.

"I'll see you soon, Kara."

"Later, Dad." Bill hit the small red button on his phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Can you take a rain check on that drink, Saul?"

"I can - but that will up the ante to three drinks. I hope, that at the very least, you're ditching me for a beautiful woman." He broke into a wide smirk. "Preferably a sexy redheaded politician."

Bill expelled a puff of air, making a buzzing sound with his lips. "Hardly."

Saul glanced down at Bill's hand to tell him again that he needed to get rid of the wedding band already when he noticed that the familiar gold ring was absent.

"You devil," he smirked.

"What?" Bill realized what his friend was referring to. "Oh, that. Yeah, well….you were right. It's time. Not time for me to do anything with -" Bill reddened. That wasn't what he meant. "But time for me to – oh, hell."

Saul was giddy with triumph. "I was right twice and you're ditching me for Laura Roslin. Four drinks. And you really should throw in an appetizer."

"Two drinks. And I'm not meeting Laura frakin' Roslin," said Bill grouchily.

"Well, you're a fool then. You should be."

"Kara and Lee invited me to spend the weekend in the mountains with them. And no – before you even ask – Laura will not be there."

"I wasn't going to ask that, Bill. But it's very interesting that you can't stop talking about Madame Secretary."

"You brought her up, you idiot."

"You have a thing for Laura Roslin."

"Frak you, Saul," said Bill as he began marching toward the showers, fists clenched in aggravation. He flung one final comment at his grinning friend. "You are such a colossal pain in my ass."

Bill had to walk a good distance before Saul's laughter faded away out of earshot.

The sun was low in the horizon when Laura arrived at the cabin. The mountains were a jagged sea of indigo and gray against the fading orange glow of sunset. The lake, usually a limpid blue, was colored with glimmering flecks of gold. The scenery was even more majestic than she had remembered. There was so much space here, no buildings, standing stiff and tall to block the wide vistas, nothing to obscure the effusion of light and sound.

Laura pulled into the gravel drive and unloaded the car. She had stopped at the store on the way to pick up some staples like bread, peanut butter, jelly, milk, eggs and a small assortment of other odds and ends that she might need. She didn't plan on doing much cooking as she'd only be there for the weekend – and it was just herself.

As she brought the things into the cabin, she kept her mind focused on the tasks at hand: putting away the groceries, sweeping the floor, and doing a quick dusting. She didn't look around too carefully. She could already feel something tightly coiled starting to form in the center of her chest. She pushed it down. She couldn't allow herself that, not this soon – she wasn't ready. It was something that she would have to take in slowly, maybe a room at a time; otherwise, she felt that she would drown in it. The sharp secret of grief was that it wasn't those first few months that were the most difficult, when the flowers and the cards came, when she was busy with the paperwork that the lawyer sent or the half-heard condolences that couldn't possibly be hers to receive. In those early months, reality wore a veil and everything was filtered through that numbing shock of a dull pain. It was what came later. It was an empty chair and the indentation where her father sat so often with his black coffee and his newspaper. It was Sandra's violin or sometimes a piece of jewelry that Laura had borrowed but forgotten to return, discovered in her jewelry box on a day that would have otherwise been ordinary. And then came the false smiles, the expected pretense that everything was all right when it wasn't. It was the hopeless longing and the nonsensical guilt at the thought of being happy again that remained-long after the notes of sympathy stopped coming.

It was a cabin of happy summers, full of music and vibrancy and laughter – now unaccountably empty. It was being the last one left when the others were gone.

She was changing the bulb on the lamp clipped to the front of the piano when the knock came. The sound startled her in the quiet cabin, and as she approached the door she remembered that she had forgotten to call Kara. She expected one of the Cottles, Jack or Beverly from down the road, who had probably seen her car – coming by to check on her.

She hadn't expected Bill Adama to be standing on her doorstep with a large green duffle over his shoulder and a bouquet of daisies. He looked just about as confused as she felt as they both just stared wordlessly at one another.

"Bill?"

"Hello, Laura. I guess Kara forgot to tell you that I was coming." He laughed uncomfortably. "If it makes you feel any better, she didn't tell me that you'd be here either." Bill looked past Laura, hoping to be rescued by Kara or Lee. Laura didn't look happy to see him. He watched as the displeasure on her face quickly reassembled itself into a look of polite tolerance.

"I'm here alone, Bill. I didn't expect anyone."

"Ah. I guess Kara thought that you uh…." Bill was at a loss. "Frak, Laura. I'm sorry. I accepted an invitation to spend a weekend with Kara and Lee."

"Kara's at the base and Lee is at the university."

Bill handed her the bouquet of daisies. "They were for Kara but – well, under the circumstances –" Bill decided that being under fire from a bunch of angry Cylons would probably be more pleasant than this.

"Thank you, Bill."

"Look, Laura. I'll head back to the city. I'm sorry to have interrupted your evening." Bill apologized. He turned to go, wanting very much to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible.

"Come inside, Bill." Laura opened the door all the way and stepped back. "The roads get very dark here at night and if you're not familiar with them – " She paused. "You can't drive back to Caprica now."

Not exactly a warm welcome. Laura sighed and tried again. "It's not your fault. Really, it's fine. Company would be nice. Come on in."

It was a lie and they both knew it. It wasn't fine and Laura radiated anti-Bill vibes in neon multi-colored waves. She was like a flashing roadside sign that could be seen a mile away that read No Bills Allowed. Bill was suddenly beginning to seriously doubt Lee's choice of a future spouse. What had Kara been thinking inviting him here?

There was nothing to do but step inside. Bill had never seen Laura dressed so casually but he noted that she was just as lovely in her red knit top and gray pants as she was in her perfectly pressed suits.

"I'll just put these in water," said Laura. "If you want to put your things down, it's the room on your left, if you don't mind a twin bed, that is." Her voice softened. "It's the room I used to share with my sisters."

"That's fine, Laura. Have you seen the size of my rack?" Bill realized that the question sounded terribly wrong and he quickly rambled on. "I'm sure I'll be very comfortable. This is a great place. Thanks. I'll just – be a minute."

With Bill absent, Laura plunked the daisies unceremoniously into a vase and put them on the kitchen table. Next, she pulled out her cell phone and read a new text message from Kara:

There's a little surprise heading your way. Play nice.

Laura punched in a hasty reply. Yes, the surprise is here. She was prevented from elaborating any further because Bill was suddenly standing in her kitchen.

"Are you hungry, Bill? I don't have much here but I can make an omelet, pancakes, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," she offered. "I think that I can probably even rustle up a bottle of wine."

"That sounds great, Laura."

She looked expectantly at him. "What does, Bill? Which one do you want?"

Dancing together had been awkward but carrying on a conversation was so much worse. At the decommissioning ceremony they had had the added buffer of formality. This forced domesticity was a nightmare.

"Peanut butter and jelly."

"Good choice. I'm going to see about finding that wine."

Clearly, they were going to need it.