17 Years before cylon attack
Laura Roslin age 35
Location: Caprica – Seacade Memorial Cemetery

It felt like a dream, but it wasn't.

"…For Judith Roslin the burdens of this life were heavy, but those burdens have been taken into the hands of the Lords of Kobol…"

The voice of the priest sounded distant to Laura and gusts of bracing wind periodically drowned out the words altogether. "Everything's going to be okay mom. I'll be fine."

"…And now we commit her body to the ground from which we were all made…"

The grass that blanketed the hilltop where she stood was as green as it had been the last time she was here, almost twenty years ago, at the burial service for her father and sisters. "Don't be afraid. I'm sure dad's there, waiting for you."

"…Secure in the knowledge that she has been reunited with those who have gone before her, in a better world…"

This time, instead of sorrow and tears what she felt was relief. It came upon her like a sudden reduction of pressure, a lightening of the air in her lungs. No more Dr. Gallagher. No more hospital visits. No more phone calls every few days. No more. Twenty years of holding back from living a full life was enough. Now she was free. What had begun with a devastating car accident was finished and finally laid to rest. "It's okay. Everything will be fine…"

"So say we all."

It was over.

-xxx-

"Richard?" Laura stood in the doorway of her apartment at a quarter to eleven while Adar made a fumbling attempt to fix the collar on his shirt and correct his disheveled appearance.

"I uh… I think, I, made a mistake," he mumbled. Laura noticed that he was speaking a little too deliberately and he seemed, off, somehow.

"Are you drunk?"

"She…we had a fight. I made a mistake—she kicked me out…" He went to lean against the door frame, but miscalculated and stumbled forward. She reached out to catch him, but at the last instant he managed to brace himself on the other side of the frame.

Laura sighed and helped him inside before he managed to hurt himself. He pressed against her for support until he found his balance.

"I'm, okay…" He nearly tripped again as she guided him to the couch where he promptly collapsed. "I'm fi—sorry. I didn't know what else—I, ruined everything…" He muttered a few more incomprehensible things and passed out while still trying to explain. She checked to make sure he was breathing fine and adjusted his position on the couch so that he wouldn't fall over onto the floor. She decided to give him a chance to sleep some of it off and in the mean time she cleaned and put away her paint supplies. At this rate I'll never finish that painting.

-xxx-

It was just past midnight when she decided it was time to wake Adar. She had only left the lamp at the foot of the couch on, but coupled with the faint rays of city glow that filtered through the window blinds it was just enough light to see clearly.

She glanced down at his sleeping form. A deep frown had altered the strong lines of his face and while anyone else as charismatic and intense as he was would have seemed diminished by that troubled expression, he only seemed all the more handsome for it. And as much as she was tempted to leave him alone and just watch him sleep for a few minutes more, she wanted to make sure he was all right. She also wasn't about to let him spend the night without first knowing exactly what had happened.

"Richard…" Laura knelt down next to the couch and roused him gently. He woke with surprising ease. He must have been more tired and stressed than intoxicated. He looked over at her with a helpless grin. He's still drunk enough.

"Richard, what happened?" she asked.

He rolled over onto his back, the grin had vanished and he held one arm over his eyes to hide his face.

"Work was hell," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I had, a couple of drinks, before I went home—few more after…" He let his arm drop with a suppressed groan. "I don't remember what I—She said she was, going to, divorce me—My campaign…it will be—over. It won't matter anymore." Richard tried to sit up. She told him to stay down and relax.

"I'll be right back," she said and was about to go get him a glass of water, but he reached out and caught her by the hand. She paused. The heat of his palm against her fingers made her flush and she was reminded of the last time he had been in her apartment, of his lips against hers... She tried to push the memory and her reaction to it away, but instead she obeyed the slight tug of his hand and sat down on the edge of the couch cushion.

"Laura. I really, made a mistake."

There was a change in the tone of his voice this time that had altered meaning of his words, but before she could respond any other way the ever-responsible part of her took over, tried to make it seem as if she was ignorant of what he was trying to say.

"I'm sure that tomorrow this will all blow over and—"

"That's not what I meant." She sighed. I know.

She finally looked over at him and was tempted, so very tempted, to take advantage of the opportunity he had presented to her. And she knew this was one of those moments where she had a choice, to do what she always did, withdraw, push him away, play it safe, and leave herself wondering what could have been… A few days ago she would have done just that, without any hesitation. But after the funeral her circumstances had changed and this time she hesitated. There was nothing to be gained anymore by keeping her distance. Only regrets for chances not taken, and opportunities wasted.

She decided that this time she was done with sacrificing in the name of responsibility.

Laura shifted her weight, leaned down and kissed him. It was foolish, thoughtless and selfish, but she didn't care. Her heart was already racing, she could feel the sudden rise and fall of his chest against hers, the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his dress shirt…but within moments the rush of arousal was contaminated by the faint taste of whiskey and zivania.

"I shouldn't," she breathed. Tell me no.

He pressed her closer, firmly enough that there was no mistaking his response. He wasn't going to say no.

In fact she didn't even hear the words he spoke next; she was too busy readjusting her position so that she straddled him. In the midst of another kiss, she slipped his ring off his finger and then transferred her attention to the buttons of her blouse.

She wasn't going to give herself another chance to hesitate.

If it was a mistake then she was fine with that. She'd made so many others by holding back when she should have pressed ahead what difference would it make?

-xxx-

Richard busied himself with collecting various sheets of paper that he'd scattered across the table during the course of his weekly cabinet meeting while everyone filed out of the spacious conference room. Laura stayed behind and kept her distance near the opposite end of the table. She thought that he had done remarkably well throughout the meeting, considering he was probably still feeling the splitting headache he had woken up to this morning.

He looked up from his overly neat stack of papers and glanced back at the open doorway to be sure they were alone before he said anything.

"We didn't really get the chance to talk earlier," he began. She noticed him run his thumb across his wedding band.

"We don't have to talk about it," she offered. In fact, she didn't particularly want to talk about it. It wasn't that she regretted what had happened or anything like that. She just didn't feel a particular need to discuss why she had changed her mind or what they were going to do now. As far as she was concerned, no one had to know and nothing had to come of it, simple as that.

"It's a curious thing," he said without looking at her. There was a strange sort of calm about him while he spoke. "I don't feel any regret… I should. I should be panicking or berating myself for being a reckless fool but—This," he slid his ring off his left hand and held it up as if inspecting it for flaws, "This was the first compromise and I've made a few more since." His eyes finally focused on her. "Now I find myself wondering how many more compromises I'm going to make in order to get I want."

The expression on his face told her that as many as it takes was the answer. It was the first thought that came to her mind, but she didn't tell him that.

"We're going to be late," she said.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Hm." He nodded, replaced his ring on his hand and tucked his papers into his briefcase. She closed the space between them and he motioned for her to precede him through the door.

The walk from the Governor's to the President's Office amounted to nothing more than taking an elevator up one floor and walking down a short corridor to the reception area, but in that short span of time Laura found her concentration was slipping. The sound of his voice while they made innocuous small talk in the elevator tugged at her memory of the way he had whispered her name, the moisture and warmth of his breath on her neck, the sensation of his mouth on her skin… "Laura."

"Laura?"

She nearly started, but managed to cover it up with a slow turn of her head in Richard's direction.

"Hmm?"

He raised an eyebrow. Then he cleared his throat, stiffened his posture, and chose to stare directly ahead instead of at her.

"Nothing." Apparently, he couldn't resist one last sidelong glance and his self control faltered in the form of a subdued, conspiratorial grin.

She gave him a once over and tried to appear unimpressed. You weren't that good. She sighed. But good enough…

When the elevator doors opened and they stepped into the lobby, they had restored their veneer of professional indifference. Even so, the slightest brush of his hand against her back was enough to distract her again while he traded formalities with the secretary and guided her toward the narrow hall to the President's Office. She was reminded of how his fingers had haltingly traced the contours of her body and—

Laura was jarred back into the present reality when someone bumped into her. She barely heard his fleeting apology and looked back only to see the retreating uniform of a Colonial soldier who appeared to be distracted by something his hand and had a slight limp.

"Are you alright?" She turned back to Richard and nodded. "Damn grunts, they should watch where they're going."

"I'm fine," she insisted in order to quell his indignation. Besides, I should have been thinking about our proposal to improve Caprica's CEA scores instead of—Concentrate—you have a job to do now.

Laura managed to keep her focus throughout the conference with President Kearney and she spent the rest of the day away from Richard. She had a budget meeting with Wally over lunch and then finally sat down in her small office to do some paperwork, but she kept nodding off at her desk. It had been a long time since she had been up so late when she had work in the morning and it didn't help that she had kept waking up during the night because she wasn't used to having someone sleeping next to her. She gave up on the paperwork, indulged in a nap instead and ended up late for a conference with several representatives from the Federal Education Union.

By the time she got home that evening she just wanted to relax, finally work on her painting, perhaps start the mystery novel that she had picked up on the way home and cook a decent dinner for herself. But unfortunately things did not quite go as she planned.

Dinner had come first and had been nearly burned, she tried to read for a while, but she was unable lose herself in the words of the story and when she tried to make headway with the painting she couldn't get into any kind of rhythm.

She stared at the canvas for so long that a drop of paint eventually fell from the end of her brush onto the sheet that protected the floor. After twenty minutes she realized this painting would probably never consent to be finished, it had been stubborn from the beginning. So she changed brushes, loaded the new one with thick white paint and drew it across the top of the canvas. With every stroke, the image of the water ripples was obscured and after a second coat of white, she had erased it completely.

When she was finished she regarded the blank canvas with a sigh and put away her painting supplies. Maybe I'll be able to finish the next one. Time for bed.

AN: Apologies for the extreme delay on this part. It was unusually difficult to write and college has been keeping me busy. The next section shouldn't take nearly so long...I hope. Thanks everyone for your patience, reviews are welcome and special thanks goes to one my friends (you know who you are) for letting me shamelessly borrow ideas.