I cant believe its been nearly 6 months since my last update. I feel like I always have to begin with an apology. I don't blame those who have given up on this story. Through building a new house with many construction setbacks, juggling things with my children and then sadly losing a close family member right before Christmas its been so difficult to find time for my hobbies. I had to write this chapter in fragments late at night a little at a time, sometimes falling asleep in the middle of it and I'm worried that its evident in how it reads. I did my best to polish it but I just really wanted to get something out for those still hanging on. Its a bit of a bridging chapter but I hope it's still entertaining.

Please note a strong CONTENT WARNING for the first section* It contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts beyond what would be considered typical of the TV series.

There are still references in this chapter to the BSG series webisodes from 2006 for series canon mentions that may seem unfamiliar.
Some small excerpts have been taken from
BSG episode transcripts and altered to fit the fic plot.

This fic is crossposted on A03
Thank you for your patience and Happy New Year to all!

*BATTLESTAR GALACTICA;

QUARTERS OF ADMIRAL ADAMA

Bill lay awake in his rack staring up into the darkness. So many nights he found himself waking up well before reveille, losing out on a few last precious hours of potential sleep. In the dark his thoughts instantly went to her. The moment his eyes opened in the pitch black Laura was all that his mind could conjure. Sometimes all he could do was worry for her; imagining the horrid host of possibilities that awaited him once he returned to New Caprica. Often he found himself recounting old arguments or debates they'd had, longing for their easy banter and the spark that spurred their impassioned interactions.

Mostly he just missed her. He missed her voice and her smile, missed her advice and her ever-sharp wit. He missed her body too, every frakking inch of it from her wild russet mane to her endless legs. In the darkness, solitary and lonely he'd taken to trying to recall every intimate encounter they'd ever had. Some blended together; weekends she'd spent off-planet visiting Galactica and hardly emerging from his quarters until it was time to return to the surface or the times he'd go down to her, spending a few nights in a row within her tent, the two of them frakking like they were making up for lost time. Some singular trysts stood out on their own; times of significance. The night of Baltar's ground breaking ceremony came to Bill's mind often and though it was leaden with the haze of their shared intoxication he still considered it his happiest memory since the worlds had ended.

Though he missed Laura deeply, each recollection brought him a sense of appreciation. He could hardly believe that he'd found her at the end of everything. When life as he knew it had fallen apart somehow he'd been granted the greatest connection and attraction he'd ever known and now that she was away from him he pined for her soul and body.

It was only their very first time together that Bill usually abstained from reminiscing over, but recently even that had changed as he'd come to a new realization in the lonesome dark. One that had taken him far too long to comprehend.

"I don't know what to do now," he remembered Laura flatly remarking, drink in hand and staring off into nothing as they sat beside one another on his couch.

She'd given her official concession speech over the Fleet's Talk Wireless that morning. A grueling press conference followed and once it was done the rest of her day consisted of dealing with all of the usual pressures of her office with the added dreaded task of beginning to prepare everything for the upcoming transition of power. Her day's work had ended on Galactica with a Fleet Captains Meeting.

When the conference began Laura was already drained. Bill could see the weariness in her eyes when she'd glanced over at him every so often as if she were looking to him to offer her the strength to keep going. As soon as Tory had given Laura the all-clear that they were finally done for the evening she'd told her diligent Chief of Staff to take the shuttle back to Colonial I herself.

Laura took the arm that Bill had wordlessly offered her and the two of them walked back to his quarters together in silence, uncaring of what it looked like. She had no energy left to worry about appearances.

"I could pour you another drink," Bill had teased in response.

"You know what I mean," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Bill looked down at his half empty glass, attempting to choose his words carefully.

"You'll do what comes naturally to you."

"And what's that?" Laura miffed with a raised brow, her immediate response one of annoyance that he presumed to know her well enough to make such a statement instead of being touched that he actually might.

She hated that her innate reaction was so cynical, but her emotions were beginning to slip beyond her control.

"You'll take care of the children," Bill encouraged. "You'll make sure that their education continues as best as possible."

"I suppose so," she sighed, taking a sip of her drink.

"You've always said that was the only part of your career that gave you any joy," he reminded her. "You told me plenty of times that you've always hated politics."

"So I should be grateful that I no longer have to deal with it anymore?" she'd snipped in return with nowhere else to fire her frustrations.

"You're putting words in my mouth," he told her, firmly enough to defend himself, but calmly enough as to not add any kindling to the burgeoning fire he knew was slowly seething within her.

She was still angry with him over the election. It was going to take time for that anger to dissipate. Perhaps one day she'd thank him for reining her in, for saving her integrity, but that day was not today and the resentment burned deep in her gut along with the two glasses of Scorpian scotch she'd downed since arriving in his quarters.

She was angry at him and yet at the end of the long exhausting day he was where she'd sought out refuge. Since the moment Laura woke that morning she'd felt as if she were fighting for air like a caught fish flopping around on a hot wooden dock. As soon as she'd crossed the hatch into Bill's quarters she'd felt as if she could breathe again. He'd wasted no time taking her blazer, guiding her to find a seat and pouring her the drink he knew she needed. Resentful as Laura felt, Bill was her only comfort anymore. She wasn't quite sure when it had happened, when she'd begun to feel a sense of protection and warmth within his home. It had crept up on her little by little until one day she'd realized that she felt more at ease with him there than she did alone in her own bedroom on Colonial I. Anger or not, she didn't want to be anywhere else.

"Maybe you're right," she mumbled into her drink.

"I'm not. Or you'd say so," Bill returned as he watched her take a long sip draining the glass. "You're not the kind of woman who doesn't know how she feels."

Laura swallowed down the liquor and hummed over a mirthless smirk, the kind she gave the press when she was trying not to tell them all to go frak themselves.

"So what is it?" he pressed. "What's really bothering you?"

"You really have to ask me that?" she scowled, avoiding his eyes as she placed her now empty glass on the trunk in front of them.

"I don't mean Baltar," Bill answered, discarding his unfinished drink beside hers. "Anyone with half a brain is worried about that. That's not what I mean. What's wrong, Laura?"

She didn't answer and Bill was taken off guard when her eyes suddenly filled with tears. He could tell that she wasn't staying silent because she didn't want to respond. She simply couldn't as she struggled to fight back the wave of emotion.

His hand reached for her, his warm palm settling atop her knee.

"Laura-"

"I'm not supposed to be here," she finally whispered, unable to add any volume to her voice.

Bill frowned.

"I'm not sure I under-"

"I thought it was my destiny to die," she spoke over him, each word fighting its way past the tightness of her throat.

"Pythia," Bill replied, observing the stubborn tears that wet her lashes but wouldn't fall.

"Gods," Laura exhaled, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back to rest on the couch cushion. "I thought dying was my destiny long before all that."

Bill wasn't exactly sure what she meant. Not wanting to think of darker implications he'd chalked it up to a reference of her family history. She'd told him once that she'd expected her illness years before it ever came to be. He still couldn't bring himself to face the fact that Laura wasn't altogether grateful for the decision he'd made to save her life using the hybrid's blood. He'd made the choice knowing well that she would have denied it had she been conscious.

"But you didn't die," he reminded her.

"I didn't," she sighed with a strange tone of what Bill worried was lingering disappointment in her words. "So why am I here?"

It was something she'd been asking herself for years. Since her family died she'd struggled to come up with a reason as to why she was left behind. For a moment after her diagnosis and the fall of the Colonies it all seemed to make sense. She had to play her part in the story. She'd been so willing to do so when it meant that she'd soon be joining her lost loved ones once she was done. But everything had changed. Her illness was cured and soon she would no longer be the President. She wasn't the dying profit and she wouldn't be their leader for much longer. So why was she there? Why had she so miraculously survived? The same question remained. The only difference was, for the first time in years, lost as she felt, she actually wanted to live. It had been so long since she felt that way that it was almost disorienting. She'd lived most of the last decade without contemplating the future because the prospect of doing so only deepened her hidden depression. Besides, she'd figured that there wouldn't be much of a future left for her as she willingly waited for an illness she knew was coming. Now since her cure everything was so open ended, so uncertain. She could hardly recall what it was like to live for herself instead of others and in some ways she found it more frightening than she'd found the idea of impending death.

"Laura, just because your fate didn't turn out to be what you thought that doesn't mean you don't have great value to-"

"Bill, please stop," she cut him off, placing her hand over his where it still rested at her knee. "That's just not what I need right now."

Bill let out a long breath.

"Then what can I do?" he asked feigning ignorance, but the truth was that he'd come to understand Laura well enough to know what it was she was seeking out. She was two drinks in and he had little doubt of what she wanted.

She stared deeply into his eyes for a long moment, willing him, daring him to do what they both knew she was looking for. When he didn't she grabbed him by the tunic and pulled herself against him, capturing his lips in a near bruising kiss. She moved her body against his eagerly encouraging him to return her advances, but he only kissed her back for a few moments before he gently pushed her away.

"Not like this, Laura," he told her, leaning back on the sofa to put some space between them.

"Not like this?" she'd scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean, Bill? If not now then when? Isn't all of this crap what's been holding us back? Our positions, our responsibility? That's all over for me! What's the frakking excuse now?" she'd challenged, her eyes narrowed at him as if they were aiming to fire.

He wouldn't frak her as President Roslin. Now he still wouldn't frak her as Laura the school teacher?

"You're upset," he told her, doing his best to keep a pragmatic tone, but had he been honest he would have told her that he was hurt by her advances.

To say that he was infatuated with her would have been an understatement. Besides that, he cared for her. He'd gone through almost losing her and since she'd recovered it had taken every fiber of his being not to confess his deepest feelings for her and finally give into temptation.

Now that intimacy was actually an option she wanted him to frak her, but not as a glorious culmination of their shared patience, resilience and desire. She wanted it as some sort of perverse avoidance tactic; a distraction and an outlet for her pent up rancor.

"I'm upset," she curtly echoed. "And you think I'm so vulnerable and weak that I don't know what I'm doing? Think you'll be taking advantage of me, Bill?" she caustically prodded.

They'd had a handful of slip-ups since first meeting, times when things became physical, started yet never finished. All of which she'd instigated besides the one chaste kiss he'd given her aboard her ship when she was still so ill. If he denied her now, if he stopped her again, he knew he'd probably be shooting himself in the foot for good. She was far too smart to take his denial as a sign that he didn't want her badly, that he didn't find her incredibly sexy. She knew what she had and she already knew what she did to him, but that wouldn't prevent her fury. If he rejected her now it would probably be the final straw on top of the pile of growing resentments she had toward him. He'd once locked her up as his prisoner and she'd forgiven him. He'd made a choice to approve a cure for her illness without her consent when he knew it was something that she never would have agreed to and she'd thanked him for it. He'd counseled her to enact a law that went against every fiber of her morality in order to save their dwindling population and she'd done it. Now he'd just convinced her to relinquish her falsified reelection and reluctantly she'd agreed despite all of her fears for their people. Bill knew whatever affection she miraculously still had for him wouldn't survive another dismissal. He couldn't humble her again. He was lucky as frak that her fondness for him still somehow outweighed all of the bitterness. He understood that he was on thin ice and yet he didn't want their first time to be like this, both of them half drunk and discontented.

"You're angry," he told her, causing Laura to shoot to her feet.

"So what!?" she shouted over him. "I'm angry! You're damn right, I'm angry! If you're waiting for some special time where I wont be, I have news for you, Bill; we're all angry! We're all angry and scared and we're all grieving all the time and we have been since the worlds ended. Some of us since long before that…and it's not going to stop in your lifetime or mine. There's no good time, there's no right time. Not for this, not for us. We're not going to get that, Bill. Not in this life!" she proclaimed, ending her rant. "But…" she began again, her tone dropping to a soft breathy tenor, "you can make it feel better," she told him with the last remaining glimmer of sanguinity shining in her eyes. "You can help me through the worst of it. I'd very much like to do the same for you if you'd allow it, but I can't offer anything more. If that's what you're waiting for then maybe this has all been-"

Bill was on his feet and kissing her before she could finish the sentence.

This wasn't the way he wanted things to go, but he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes and deny her again. Maybe she was right, he considered. Maybe he was a fool for thinking there might be a better time, a more meaningful moment.

"Bill, please," she said breathlessly as his lips moved from her mouth to her jaw and down to her neck. "I need-"

"You've already said what you need," he'd husked gruffly into the hollow of her collar bone. "I've been waiting for this for a long time too, Laura."

His words only seemed to incite her torrid fervor even more and her hand went down to grip him through his pants.

Bill's breath caught in his chest and he momentarily paused as the sensation at his groin spread, warming the rest of his body. He couldn't help the instant effect she had on him but he wanted to take his time, wanted to relish in what was finally happening. Laura on the other hand was avaricious in his arms, pawing at him with wild lust. As he held her and touched her, feeling the tension in her body and her frenzied movements he began to see that she just wasn't going to be capable of responding in the way he'd pictured. Not this time. This time she needed him in a way that was almost desperate. The same affection he had for her that was telling him not to do it was telling him that he had to. His desires, his emotions, they could be satisfied later, but first he had to give her what she wanted.

"Frak me, Bill," Laura gasped as he sucked on the pulse point of her neck.

"You're sure?" he muttered with his lips pressed to her skin.

He was still searching for a shred of sense and reason even as his hands found the swell of her ass and he knew he was about to venture beyond all rational thought.

Laura nodded pushing her pelvis into his in an attempt to urge him onward. She didn't want anymore preamble. Didn't want any foreplay. If they were lucky they'd have time for that another day. For now she just wanted to get frakked. She recognized it was an awful habit. She'd done it for years back on Caprica, turning to sex as a way to distract herself from feeling. She so frequently sought it out as a carnal form of withdrawal. It had started when her mother was sick and turned into an impulse when she wished to forget or escape. It took a darker turn when she began to use it as a form of self punishment, turning to sex when she felt the worst about herself. She'd used Richard Adar this way more times than she could count. At those times she'd come to him, not to talk or to be comforted but to lose herself in blunt physicality. Richard never cared. He hardly knew when anything was wrong for that matter. He'd just obliged her, but she could tell that Bill didn't want it to be like this. In the back of her mind she felt guilty, but the burning anger she had deep inside was saying that he owed her this, that it was the least he could do after pressuring her into giving up. He'd convinced her to let it all go, to let the people's will be done, but the people had made the wrong choice and so had Bill and they would all suffer for it soon. She was sure of it.

He was driving her crazy. He touched her too softly, took far too much care in his movements. She'd never known how to be handled like that and this night of all nights was not going to be the time to learn. For every gentle caress of Bill's hands Laura gripped him tightly in return. For every tender kiss he gave her she nipped roughly at his lips with her teeth. Every response, a vulgar attempt to show him what she wanted.

He began to unbutton her blouse, though not quickly enough for her liking. It fell open and off of her shoulders, but she didn't bother to remove it the rest of the way.

Dipping his face into the valley of her breasts Bill licked and kissed at her cleavage while his hands traveled down to unzip her skirt.

Before he could manage to pull the zipper tab Laura had hiked it up above her thighs granting him immediate access.

Bill's hand moved between her legs and as he began to rub her through the thin fabric of her panties he pushed her backward, stumbling step by disjointed step together until they were standing in front of his rack.

As Bill went to pull down her underwear once again Laura stepped in, hurrying things forward by hooking her fingers through the lace and yanking them down herself, shimmying them to the floor.

Bill grunted at her rabid determination. She was too keyed up to even allow him the satisfaction of finally getting to slip off her frakking panties himself.

Annoyed by her haste he pushed her onto his rack with feigned force, knowing she'd go down willingly.

He looked down at her propped up on her elbows, her shirt open exposing her bra. He marveled at the supple swell of her flushed breasts and yet the anxious heaving of her chest distracted him. Her once neatly pressed skirt was bunched up around her hips revealing a sight he'd dreamed of hundreds of times before, but his focus went to her thighs that seemed to be quaking as if her entire body were drumming with rage.

He wanted to snap her out of it, to convince her that it didn't have to be this way. Instead he met her salacity. Bill shrugged off his tunic leaving his tanks, unzipped his fly and dropped his slacks and boxers together revealing himself to her.

He couldn't help but smirk when he noticed Laura's eyes widen in what almost looked like alarm.

Whether she was stunned to speechlessness or she just didn't want to inflate his ego, Bill couldn't tell, but suddenly she wasn't trying to hurry things along. She was frozen in place staring at his cock bobbing in front of her.

Laura had noticed his impressive size before during their few close encounters, at least she'd thought she'd gotten an idea, but finally seeing him there in front of her fully erect was equal parts striking and startling. Even in her frenzied state she told herself that she should brace for what was coming.

Bill leaned over her, nuzzling at her pert nipples through the satin and lace that still covered them. He trailed his lips lower and lower, venturing down past her navel when she abruptly grabbed him at the shoulder halting his journey downward.

"No. Bill, stop," she told him as his brow furrowed in obvious disappointment. "I don't need that. I just need you. Now."

Bill let out a puff of air through his nose, reining in whatever self control he had left. Maybe she didn't need it but he'd been dying to do it since he first laid eyes on her. He was so close; close enough to smell the sweet scent of her. For too long he'd imagined how she would taste on his lips. To get so near to finding out only to have to back away made his heart sink into his gut.

He leaned up and looked into her eyes wishing that he could find even a hint of joy in them.

Still, he wouldn't turn away from her.

Bill softly ran his knuckles down her belly, over where her skirt was gathered at her hips, lower and lower until his hand slipped between her legs. His fingers began to gently swipe and swirl at her center. He was encouraged when she let out what sounded like an approving hum.

"Bill, please?" she urged him as his fingers circled and danced.

"Laura…why don't you give yourself a little more time?" he suggested after a moment, concerned that he hadn't found her quite as aroused as he'd expected considering the apparent level of her desire.

"I don't need time. I'm ready now," she'd insisted.

Bill continued to caress her for only a moment more before he leaned up again, knowing any additional persuasion on his part was only going to upset her further.

Gripping his hands behind her knees he pulled her toward him so that her ass was at the edge of the bed. He looked down upon her, reminding himself of how much he'd wanted this for so long. He tried to tell himself what a lucky bastard he was and to just enjoy it.

As he held himself at her entrance Laura bit at her lip feeling the only wave of apprehension she'd experienced all night. Forcing it away she nodded at him to continue.

Neither of them expected the shrill shriek that she let out as he pushed the head of his cock inside of her.

"Gods!" she yelped with a hiss, drawing up her knees.

"Shit," Bill swore in a panic, freezing in place unsure of what to do. "You okay!?"

Laura supposed she should have been more prepared. She hadn't been with anyone since before the fall of the Colonies and in that time her body had been through the fight of its life. Though her cure and recovery had left her body feeling surprisingly rejuvenated there was no changing the fact that almost a year had gone by since she'd last had sex. The current physical and mental tension she felt wasn't helping things either. She was far from relaxed and Bill was right, she just wasn't ready. All that combined with him being a good bit larger than anyone she could recall being with wasn't going to make it easy. But then again, she didn't want it to be.

"Yes," she winced. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just…it's been a while. I didn't expect-"

"Should I-"

"No! Frak no, please," she cried out in a near panicked state. "Don't stop!"

Bill couldn't help but look down at her with a befuddled expression. This was all so unlike her. Then again, he supposed there was a good deal he still didn't know about her.

"Laura, relax," he attempted. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere. Just take it easy," he told her as he ran his palms gently up and down the soft skin of her thighs.

He couldn't help that the feeling of her gripping the head of his cock so tightly was sending powerful surges of need through his groin up into his stomach. He had to resist the primal drive he felt to immediately push into her as far as he could go.

"How long?" he asked, hoping the question wouldn't add to her frustrations.

Laura sighed and looked up to the cabin light that shone dully over his rack.

"Few days before the fall, maybe a week," she shrugged, trying not to visibly flinch at the stinging between her legs.

She knew the more discomfort she showed the more he would hesitate.

Bill nodded, trying not to show much of a reaction, but he had to wonder who it was she'd last been with. He couldn't help but feel some relief in the back of his mind that she'd never actually slept with his son despite Fleet rumors. He felt a bit ashamed wondering if the tabloid press had been on to something early in her presidency when they ran salacious claims that she had an affair with the late President Adar. Bill quickly pushed it all out of his mind. It didn't matter. He had her now and she wanted him more than she seemed to want her next breath.

"Even longer for me," he admitted, with a low chuckle, but Laura offered little response.

"I've got you," he pledged, hoping it would give her some reassurance.

Bill watched her as she let out the trapped breath she'd been holding and he took it as a sign that she was ready for him to continue.

Bringing his hand back to where they were still just barely joined, Bill ever so lightly brushed her clit with the pad of his thumb. He felt her quiver under him.

"Trust me?" he prompted.

She did. Of course she did. That was why she was there. That was the whole thing of it all and even so she couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't give him that. It sent another wave of self loathing through her body and she told herself that she more than deserved whatever pain was coming.

"….It's fine," she muttered. "Go ahead."

"Lie back. Just relax," he softly told her as he began to move. Gently sliding himself in the slightest bit further he took a short deliberate pause. He pulled out and then eased back in just a bit more than before giving her time to adjust. "That okay?" he tested as he reached down and gently thumbed at her again.

Laura nodded and bit at her lip as pain and pleasure began to intertwine.

Bill repeated the motions over and over, his hips gently pushing in and out. His fingers eased her along and finally began to elicit her arousal, slickening his movements.

"There we go, that's it, that's better. Gods you're so tight, Laura," he groaned. "Still doing okay?"

"Mmmhmm," she moaned, spreading her legs wider for him and arching her neck as the sharp sting at her center became a full satisfying ache.

"How bout now?" he asked, going a little deeper with each short stroke.

"Better," Laura confirmed, reaching for her own nipples while attempting to open herself even wider for him under his slow steady pumps. "Much, much better."

"That's it," he encouraged, glad to see her letting go for a moment. "Frak, Laura," he swore, allowing himself to indulge in the feeling of her, marveling at the sight of her body under his.

Discomfort aside, it felt damn good to finally have Bill inside of her. She began to get lost in the feeling of him, closing her eyes and forgetting for a moment what it was she'd been searching for. Laura's eyes pricked with unexpected tears and her heart swelled in her chest. When a grateful moan escaped her lips and turned into a whimper the sound of her own voice caused her eyes to fly open in alarm. It wasn't the time for sentimentalities. It wasn't something she could even attempt to handle at the moment. She had to stop it before she lost control, before she was sobbing underneath him.

"Bill…" she called out as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, aggressively tilting her pelvis to urge him deeper.

"Easy. Easy," he tried to persuade, but she was incensed again.

"Frak me, Bill. Hard."

"I just want to make sure-"

"I'm fine! It's fine!"

"But you were just-"

"Just let me have this godsdammit!" Laura suddenly snapped, her words fired in anger rather than lust. "Are you going to make me beg for frak sake!? Fine! Please just give this to me, Bill and don't frakkin hold back!"

Bill's lips instantly curled into a seething snarl at her manic callousness. He'd been more than patient and considerate with her and she just didn't care.

In a mix of pent up resentment and primal need he pulled his hips back and without warning rammed himself into her as hard and deep as he could eliciting from her another sharp exclamation of pain.

He leaned over her, looking down expecting to see an expression of shock or surprise on her face, but when all he saw was a flash of satisfaction in her eyes it set his anger aflame.

She wanted him to hurt her. She'd been goading him into it all night and now it was working.

For a split second he hated her for it. All he wanted was to make her feel good, to show her how much he adored her and here she was pleading with him to be anything but caring and gentle. She wanted him to act as her punisher, doling out a perverse sort of penance.

"Is this really what you want, Laura?" he gritted through clenched teeth, holding his hips still while tightening his grip on her thighs.

She nodded, swallowing whatever verbal response that was caught in her throat and parting her legs even further for him.

"Like this!?" he grunted, driving himself into her again.

"Ugh!"

"Tell me!"

If he'd felt as if his anger was causing him to lose control he would have stopped himself before it went too far but he knew it was leading him to take control instead. Just the way she wanted him to. She'd lured him into this frakking contemptive compliance.

"I said tell me!" he barked, pulling back and plunging into her as if he were punctuating his demands with each thrust of his hips.

"Yes!" she shrieked.

"This is what you want?!" he repeated over and over as he continued pumping with a steadily increasing force.

"Yes. Frak yes, Bill," Laura panted under him, her voice hitching each time he bottomed out inside of her. "Give it to me!"

Bill bit down hard on his bottom lip as he frakked her.

He pitied her in that moment almost as much as he resented her. Why did she need this? They could have been making love, his hands caressing every inch of her body as he rocked inside of her savoring how she felt around him. He would have made sure she was ready to start, made sure she was satisfied in the end. Instead he would leave bruises on her flesh.

"Harder," he heard her rasp between strained breaths.

"Fine! If this is how you frakking want it, then take it!" he snarled, bucking his hips into her as hard as he could manage.

He didn't know if the sounds she was making with every thrust were ones of pain or pleasure or some mix of both. He just knew that later on he'd feel guilty for being turned on by it either way.

"Frak, Laura. Take it. Take it all. Take it, that's it," he crudely coaxed her, keeping his eyes on her breasts, on the smooth plane of her belly, at the juncture where they were joined, anywhere but her face. He couldn't look at her face and keep going.

"You frakked up, Laura," he growled as he began to near the brink. "That's what you really want to hear, isn't it? You frakked it all up."

When she began to jerk erratically underneath him letting out a choked back cry of release he let himself follow.

Burying himself inside her as far as he could go Bill came in an embittered fury.

He held himself there, grinding into her as if he were spilling every ounce of his indignation deep inside of her.

When Bill couldn't hold himself up any longer he collapsed beside Laura on the bed, leaving her there with her trembling legs still spread wide and her chest heaving.

Attempting to catch his breath he rubbed at his eyes with his palms until he saw stars.

Laura stayed quiet other than the sound of her rapid breaths subsiding little by little.

She closed her knees together and threw an arm across her brow to rest at her forehead, blocking out the amber overhead light that suddenly seemed much brighter than before.

The two were wordless for a while more until Laura finally broke the strange silence.

"Thank you, Bill," she softly spoke, her voice now weak and hoarse.

Bill let out a low grunt and for a moment she thought it would be his only reply.

"I'm not going to do that for you again," he told her. "Not like that, Laura."

"I know. I'm sorry," she whispered, wincing with one hand on her forehead and the other held low on her pelvis, still twinging with dull aching aftershocks.

Bill rolled over to his side and watched her as she lay there looking utterly dejected. His heart hurt for her. She'd given everything to her people. She'd given them what was supposed to be the last days of her life. All of her remaining energy, the last shreds of herself went to them and now that she was going to live they'd cast her aside for someone new, someone who cared for himself above all else. Bill could only imagine the storm that she was battling in her mind. As angry as he had been at her just moments before, all he wanted was to gather her up in his arms.

Placing his heated palm on her hip he slowly ran it down past where her hand rested low on her belly, continuing further to find his way between her legs again.

Laura froze, her entire body tensing at the feeling of his return.

"Bill-"

"Shh," he said as he gently cupped her within his palm. "Breathe."

After a moment she relaxed, taking in and letting out a measured though unsteady stream of air.

Bill began to languidly dip two gentle fingers inside of her causing her whole body to shiver. When he withdrew them coated in a mixture of their shared fluids he started to softly massage its slippery warmth over the sensitive flesh of her vulva, soothing the soreness he was positive he'd inflicted.

Laura's breath hitched as he tenderly caressed her and finally she broke down into quiet tears.

"It's alright, Laura," he told her as if it were a promise. "It'll be alright."

She wept quietly in his arms until she fell asleep and somehow the fact that she stayed there in his embrace for a few hours made him feel better about what had just occurred. Had she left right away Bill wasn't sure he could have ever welcomed her back.

A few weeks later after Baltar had officially assumed the presidency Laura made up

for that night.

Bill had granted her temporary visitors quarters aboard Galactica after she'd expressed that she had no interest living aboard Colonial I as a civilian resident. Unsure if or when she would be moving to the planet that Baltar named New Caprica, she found Galactica the most comfortable place to regroup in the interim and Bill was glad to have her so close by.

Other than a few stolen kisses and pets there had been little physical intimacy between them since their first night together. It didn't seem exactly purposeful, but Bill still felt a bit uneasy about where things stood between them. The evening of Baltar's inauguration he noticed that Laura made it a point not to take him up on his offer of dinner in his quarters. She'd seemed regretful and apologetic and he'd realized that she was making sure that she wasn't in a position to use him in that way again. She wouldn't ask him for something he'd told her he didn't want to give. He appreciated her consideration, though he yearned for another chance to be with her. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps she'd started to have second thoughts about continuing their physical relationship until one night she'd shown up at his quarters unannounced and uninvited.

"I couldn't sleep and I thought maybe you might be able to lend me another book," she told him, appearing cheerful for the late hour.

"My library is open to you anytime," he told her as he gestured toward one of his book cases, unable to hide his mirth over the surprise visit.

Laura smiled in thanks, a smile undoubtedly more flirtatious than it needed to be, and then made her way to the shelves.

"How about a nightcap?" Bill had suggested as she began to browse. He smiled, observing her in comfortable civilian clothes; gray lounge pants and a satin camisole, her shoulders barely covered by an unzipped rec-room sweatshirt someone must have given her. "It might help."

"I'll take you up on that if you'll join me," Laura agreed as she ran her fingers down the spine of a novel.

She continued to look through his books while Bill poured them each a small glass of ambrosia.

"Cheers," he'd said, coming up behind her and holding out the drink.

"Cheers? What are we celebrating?" Laura asked, turning to gladly accept the glass.

"I'm not sure. Here's to a good night's sleep?" Bill proposed with a shrug.

"So say we all," Laura smirked and the two sipped the liquor without taking their eyes off one another.

"Can I help you find anything?" Bill eventually asked, breaking the static charged silence.

Laura faced the bookcase again, setting her glass down upon one of the shelves beside an antique chronometer.

"I think I'd like something sort of fun. Nothing heavy. I need to unwind," she spoke with a smile. She pulled a selection out to glance at the cover before slipping it back in place, not doing a very good job at feigning any actual interest in Bill's collection. "I keep expecting to be called or interrupted with a question or a crisis at any moment and suddenly…life is quiet," she said with a sigh. Bill noted that her expression sounded more like relief than regret and he hoped that she was beginning to see the benefit of a life free of the burden she'd been shouldering for so long. "I'm just still so on edge," she told him, letting the obvious hint linger. "I need something to help me relax a little."

Discarding his drink on an end table Bill came up behind her placing a hand to the side of her waist and reaching over her shoulder as if he were about to select a book.

"I might have something in mind," he said behind her ear so that she could feel his breath on her skin.

"I thought you would," Laura replied, tilting her head to the side to invite his lips to her neck.

Bill's fingers abandoned the novel he'd been reaching for and found their way to her side where they slipped up her camisole to explore the smoothness of her skin as he kissed and nuzzled at her neck.

Laura leaned back into him, letting out some appreciative hums as he touched her.

"You've been on my mind," he muttered as he kissed her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her middle. "I can't stop thinking of you."

"What have you been thinking of?"

"All the things I'm still dying to do to you."

"Show me," she told him.

Bill could hardly recall how they'd made it to his rack that night. Part of him felt like they might have floated there for all he knew.

The next thing he remembered was how she'd lifted her hips for him as he pulled down her pants to find that she'd come to him without any underwear on. The thought of it still made him instantly hard.

Laura allowed him to explore her, never once hurrying him along as he kissed the length of both legs. He took great care in taking off her top licking, nipping and suckling at each breast all while she encouraged him with hums of delight.

He loved the sounds she made. They drove him wild. When the time came where his lips and tongue finally made contact with her sweet center he thought he might just cum from hearing her erotic vocalizations.

"I've wanted to do this since the moment I met you," he confessed, looking up at her from between her thighs.

"That can't be true," she'd giggled in response.

"I may not have liked you much back then but trust me, Laura, when a man gets a look at these legs there's a good chance he's wondering what it would be like to have his face between them," he teased before bowing his head back down and plunging his tongue inside of her.

"Bill!" she'd shrieked in amusement and pleasure.

That night was sexy and playful, passionate and romantic. They were patient and accommodating to one another. It was everything Bill had dreamed being with Laura would be.

He may not have been able to say he particularly enjoyed the memory of the first time they'd frakked, but he cherished the memory of the first night they had made love and every single time after.

But ever since he'd left her on New Caprica spending night after night without her and imagining the strife she was likely enduring he'd realized that he should have cherished that first tumultuous time as closely as the rest.

He'd come to see that every moment with her had been precious, her sorrow as well as her light. This woman who was a closed book to the rest of the world had chosen him as the solitary witness to her anger, loss and utter humiliation. She'd exposed everything to him; her body, her raw emotion and nearly begged him for consolation. Though he'd reluctantly complied at the time he knew he'd made her feel badly for it after, probably deeply embarrassing her. Worse of all he'd firmly told her that he would never willingly be there for her in that way ever again.

Bill cursed his own frakking self righteousness. He didn't know what she was going through without him on New Caprica but he swore to himself that once they were reunited he would do anything she asked of him to take away her pain.

NEW CAPRICAN COLONIAL TENT CITY;

DWELLING OF SAUL & ELLEN TIGH

WEEK 44 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

Ellen winced as she bent to lace up her boots. Her shoulders ached and her throat was on fire. She couldn't tell anymore whether she was getting sick or had just been crying too much. It didn't matter anyway, she figured.

She huffed in frustration, her fingers fumbling as she tried to pull her laces tighter. She was exhausted and she felt weak, her hands trembling uncontrollably. She felt herself beginning to perspire despite the cold, perhaps out of anxiety or perhaps because she'd added a layer of clothing, putting on a negligee beneath her street clothes and coat. It was a request from Cavil the last time she'd been to his office.

'Next time wear something a little sexier, will ya?' he'd chuckled watching her get dressed to leave.

Wearing her lingerie had always made Ellen feel sexy and empowered. This time it made her feel ill.

It was miserable being at a point where debasing herself to the enemy was the only way she was of any use.

She'd been just a little girl during the First Cylon War. She could hardly remember it but she could remember being afraid.

Being mostly ocean, Picon didn't have many war zones, but she remembered getting nightmares from the bits of news she saw her father watching. She remembered how her older brother would let her sleep in his room when she was scared. She was so terrified that one of the silver monsters would find her in her bed at night. She could still recall her father telling her not to be fearful, assuring her that it would never happen.

Ellen thought of herself back then, that little scared girl on Picon and she cried for that child. All of her nightmares had come true and they were so much worse than any dream. She was walking into the clutches of the beast, coerced into bearing herself to a wicked adversary in the worst way. There was no Cylon monster coming to get her in her bed. She was the one climbing into the bed of the monster in order to survive.

After the Temple attack Ellen had tried to brace for what was coming. As upsetting as the massacre was to so many she couldn't help that she was selfishly dreading the resistance retaliation that she knew was soon to follow. She'd even begged Saul not to do it, not to shed more blood and cause more chaos. She'd sobbed and she'd screamed at him. She told him that she couldn't take it anymore. She accused him of caring about literally everyone more than he cared for her because he refused to consider how his actions leading the resistance hurt her; almost ensuring that she would wind up suffering once he was punished. Saul didn't know the true extent of how she would suffer for his arrest but he knew that he was leaving her alone, potentially forever, and she considered that far worse than what she was secretly enduring. Without Saul she had no one and a life without him, or a life not knowing if he would ever return was akin to torture for her. She'd accused him of being ready and willing to play both hero and martyr for anyone but her while she would do anything for him, all others be damned. Her frustrations over not being able to tell Saul how she'd been helping him had exploded in a mess of bitter tears, shrieks of anguish and angry accusations.

He'd hardly argued back, hardly defended himself. He simply told her that he was sorry before he opened the hatchway to the bunker and descended below where he waited for Sam to join him so they could finalize their retaliation plan.

A few hours later Saul sent Sam up to talk to her, hoping he'd be able to calm her down or at least talk some sense into her. But she'd sent Sam away, shouting at him and chasing him off much the same way she'd done with her husband.

Ellen drank herself to sleep that night and every night following.

She decided to tell Cally that she couldn't babysit Nicky anymore. She didn't trust herself with him and it broke her heart. He'd been the only bright spot she had left in her days.

Now that Saul had been arrested again Ellen regretted how harsh she'd been with him, but she'd still meant every word of it. Even as she pulled her coat closed preparing to leave for the trek to Cavil's office the resentment she had toward Saul was as powerful as her fear for his well being. She was angry at him, but she would keep doing what she could to save him until she had nothing left. Knowing he couldn't or wouldn't go to the same lengths for her was painful, but it didn't change a thing.

Ellen had been trying her best not to think about what was ahead of her but it wasn't working. She wondered if the One would even see her this time. Things had escalated so quickly. If he refused her then she had nothing left to offer. If he agreed to see her she knew the price would be even higher than before and it made her stomach churn to imagine what he might ask of her.

After the totality of the Temple attack Saul had decided that there needed to be a fierce response by the resistance. They'd settled on bombing a Cylon power station, one that powered half the encampment and employed two dozen Colonials alongside its Cylon workers. It made Ellen sick to think of it. Her heart felt like it was in her throat every time she pictured Saul and Sam deciding that some of their people were going to become potential casualties. She wondered if they would have gone through with it if Laura hadn't been in the clinic refusing visitors. Somehow Ellen thought she could have talked them out of it and even though she knew that Laura had to be suffering in a thousand different ways she couldn't help but begrudge her for not being there to slap some sense into them.

According to Tory, Laura had been despondent since hearing of the events at the Temple, barely willing to speak even to Doc Cottle. Apparently she'd become even worse after the Power Station was hit.

It was why Ellen was so surprised when Laura came directly to see her after being released from the clinic.

When Ellen had first heard someone approaching the tent she'd hoped it was her husband. With the recent bombing they all knew he would likely be arrested again. It was only a matter of time.

She'd hoped maybe he would stay home with her while they awaited what was coming but Saul was out making arrangements and leaving instructions for the rebels in preparation for his inevitable absence.

The dismay on Ellen's face was evident to Laura as she let her in.

"Where's Saul?" Laura had asked as she entered.

Ellen took a seat at her ragged little excuse for a kitchen table, her shoulders slumped in disappointment that it hadn't been him at the door. She'd been drinking and she was tired. Hardly in the mood for a visit.

Laura noticed the absence of her usual concern. Usually Ellen would have asked a dozen overly personal questions about her condition and how she was feeling knowing she'd just been under Cottle's care. This time she hardly looked at her.

"He's at Sam's. Waiting to be arrested I suppose. Not with his wife spending the last few moments of his freedom at home," she answered, her reply listless yet distinctly bitter.

Laura had no response other than a grim expression. She took the seat across from Ellen when it became clear that it wasn't going to be offered to her. Though she'd healed and recovered well over the past few days, Cottle had still made her promise that she was going straight home and wouldn't be on her feet for long.

"Curfew is soon," she attempted, implying that Saul would likely be home shortly.

Ellen let out an acrid snort under her breath.

"If he makes it back I'll let him know you stopped by."

"I came to see you," Laura replied, finally getting Ellen to look up at her.

"I thought you weren't speaking to anyone," Ellen half jabbed, still angry that Laura had reportedly refused any input on the Power Station bombing.

"Yeah, I haven't felt much like talking lately," Laura grimly responded.

"Me either," Ellen bitingly returned, the implication overt enough to cause Laura to frown.

She hadn't really anticipated a warm welcome but beyond her bitterness and obvious intoxication Ellen seemed haggard and worn in a way Laura never expected to find her.

"You don't look well, Ellen," she observed.

"Right back at ya," Ellen spitefully quipped, though it was a lie. She was actually pleasantly surprised to see Laura looking rather healthy considering that she'd left her at the clinic bleeding and barely conscious.

Laura ignored the dismissal of her concern. Ellen's apparent condition had taken her off guard. After less than a week she looked downright gaunt, as if she hadn't eaten in days and days. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Laura tried to be inconspicuous as she scanned Ellen's arms for abrasions and bruises, recalling how often she seemed strangely injured as of late.

"I know that you probably don't want to talk to me," she acknowledged.

The two had not seen each other since Ellen left her at the medical tent the day they'd attempted to go to the foster home. The Tighs had received updates from Tory and though Ellen had been concerned over Laura's condition, the Temple attacks and all that followed had consumed her focus over the last few days.

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you, Laura," Ellen said with a defeated sigh. "I just don't have the energy to at this point."

Laura bowed her head at the blunt reply.

Her life was inconceivably complicated, she was dangerous to know and even more treacherous to befriend.

"I understand."

"You should get home, get some bottles filled while you still can," Ellen spoke up again after a few moments of heavy silence. "They'll probably be coming for you too soon."

It was an echo of her typical thoughtfulness stripped of any of the vigor that usually propelled it.

"I know. That's why I wanted to come see you while I still have the chance," Laura began to explain. She'd left the clinic well aware of the current climate. She'd already been warned once by the Cylons that her arrest was pending and the power station bombing had likely signed her warrant in spite of the fact that she'd had no actual say in it.

Though Tory had attempted several times to draw some kind of response out of her to give the Colonel on the matter, Laura had been in no shape to condone or condemn a damn thing.

"Ellen, I want you to know how sorry I am for what I did, for dragging you into it, for how I reacted."

"You don't have to say you're sorry," Ellen told her with an apathetic shrug. "I don't need an apology from you. I'm not punishing you, Laura. I just can't…I just can't anymore. That's all."

Laura licked her lips and gave a slight nod.

"I thought I would be able to…I should have listened to you."

Everything Ellen had warned her about attempting to see the baby had happened. She'd been so stubborn. She'd endangered them both and she'd jeopardized her son's safety. It was as if she'd been possessed by the need to see him. Pulled to him by instinct until the piercing reality of his shrill cries had broken the spell sending her fleeing in fear.

The Temple attack had plunged Laura deep into a well of guilt that she felt she had no right to emerge from. She couldn't repent or apologize to the rest of her people. Ellen was the only one she could offer her regrets to.

"I told you, you don't have to explain yourself, Laura." As annoyed as Ellen had been over what happened, she had little space left in her head to ruminate on other people's problems. "It is what it is."

"Still, I just-"

"Do you remember the first war, Laura?" Ellen spoke over her, eyes glassy and unfocused.

Laura's brow lowered, confused by the sudden interjection. Had Ellen been listening to her at all?

"Bits and pieces," she shrugged. "My parents tried to shelter me from most of it. And it was over before my sisters were even born. I know we spoke of it a bit in school. We had air raid drills. It's hard to recall much."

The privileged suburbs of Caprica City were far from any war zone. Only once when a rumor circulated of a possible nearby threat did Laura's parents pack their bags and bring her to stay at a family cabin in the country.

She was young. Too young to truly understand why.

"Do you remember if you were afraid?" Ellen asked, her gaze still so distant.

"Yes," Laura answered in an unintentional whisper, as if her voice might startle Ellen from the unseen fog she seemed lost within.

"That's all I remember too," she replied, sounding oddly childlike and distant.

"Ellen," Laura said more firmly, hoping to regain her focus. "If it's worth anything to you at all, I am sorry for asking so much of you," she offered.

Ellen closed her eyes against the sting of her prolonged blank stare. She blinked a few times before looking back at Laura.

"It's fine. It's over," she dismissed.

"But it's not," Laura said, shaking her head, her voice cracking with sudden sorrow. "That's the whole thing, Ellen!"

She'd hardly spoken to anyone in days and now it felt as if the dam was breaking.

"The instant Will was born and I heard him cry I thought my worst fear was over. The whole pregnancy I just kept waiting to lose him, or waiting for something to happen where…we both died," she recounted with a hard swallow. "I think…I think partly because I had to see my sister that way."

"Huh?" Ellen grimaced.

It was unlike Laura to divulge something so personal, but over the past several months Ellen had willingly shared with her more than a few heart-wrenching tales of her own past. She'd done so with an easy fearless vulnerability and a willingness to offer perspective and empathy. If anything had inspired Laura to share her own closely guarded memories she supposed that was it. Ellen was brazen enough to wear her emotions on her sleeve and in her presence Laura found herself less fearful of exposing her already battered heart.

"She was pregnant with my nephew," she continued, old pain still clear in her voice and evident in her eyes. "She only had a few weeks to go and then- they were both gone."

"My gods," Ellen remarked, clenching her fists in her lap as a deep chill ran through her body.

She wondered what it was that happened but she didn't dare ask for details. The thought of it was so utterly dreadful. Sometimes she was grateful that she'd never once conceived. In all of the fertility specialist clinics and doctors offices she'd gone to she'd met women who had no problem getting pregnant yet suffered loss after heartbreaking loss. Ellen didn't think that was something she could have survived had it been the case for her. Getting so close to what she wanted, knowing what it felt like and then having it ripped away; it would have been torture. She'd rather feel barren and empty than torn apart. Laura's sister had apparently died with her child. Maybe it was better that way, she considered, than for one to have to live without the other.

"There was a viewing before they were cremated," Laura continued, her eyes closed tightly as she recounted the heinous story. "I wasn't much help with the planning. I was a frakking mess and my brother-in-law was in worse shape, I think," she cringed, skipping over the details of the nervous breakdown she'd suffered. It was enough just to be sharing even a single part of how she'd lost her entire family. "Somehow we got it all done but…anyway, I had to see her like that. Lying in state, her unborn son still with her. And…and though she looked beautiful it was just the most horrifying thing I've ever witnessed."

"Lords, I'm sorry, Laura," Ellen said in a strained whisper.

Her thoughts went to her brother and nieces. By the time the Colonies were attacked he hadn't spoken to her for over five years and he'd long stopped letting her see the girls. Now they too were all dead and as she listened to Laura holding back sobs over her own deceased sibling, Ellen suddenly realized that she hadn't mourned them. For a moment she began to wonder why she'd never grieved for them at the end of the worlds, but then again she supposed that she already had back when they'd cut her off.

"It's been about a decade since and I've never stopped getting flashes of that image in my mind," Laura continued, regaining Ellen's focus. "Never…And so while I was pregnant with Will I just kept imagining that we were going to end up the same way. Then he was born alive and…and I made it too and I was stunned. There was just a fraction of a moment of relief before my worst fear turned into something entirely new. Suddenly I was petrified of never seeing him again. And now…now that's turned into being afraid to be anywhere near him," Laura admitted, dejectedly shaking her head. "Every time we make it through one nightmare there's another horror to follow. It's just been a disaster. And I realize now how big of a mistake it was to bring him into this godsforsaken world, no matter how desperately I love and want him."

"Don't say that, Laura!" Ellen abruptly shouted, the distance and obscurity now gone from her speech. "That's the frakking depression talking! You survived his birth, he's healthy, you've put him in a safe place, you've been able to feed him. How is that a frakking disaster?" she sternly challenged. "Yeah, you could have died! But you didn't! You could have lost him but he's fine too! He could have already been taken but he's still right where you sent him!" she listed. "I know this is hard. I'm sorry this is how it has to be, but you had a plan, a plan we have all helped you with and it's working and you're still calling it a disaster for frak sake! You're a parent now. You're always going to have a new worry, a new fear no matter how many trials you overcome. You made your choice! He's here now! He's a little boy! He's a blessing! He's a frakking miracle, Laura! And no matter how much you say you love and want him he doesn't deserve to be called a disaster or a mistake!"

Laura's eyes watered with fresh hot tears and her head fell as she began to nod emphatically at Ellen's words.

"You're right. God's you're so right," she began to weep as it all sank in.

She'd been wallowing in self-centered misery for days without anyone around her to snap her out of it. As blunt and as brutal as Ellen's words were Laura felt as if they'd just yanked her from the despondent hole she'd been trapped in.

Ellen watched from across the tiny table, unable to bring herself to offer any consolation. She'd become oddly in tune with Laura's emotions over the past few months, so much so that sometimes it felt like there was a connection there that shouldn't exist. The kind forged after decades long friendships. Now Ellen just felt broken. Her compassion, her sympathy, everything felt so dulled and muted. Not just with Laura. With Sam, with Cally, with everyone. The only pain she could bear was her own.

"I can't help you anymore, Laura," she said, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair. "I can't help anyone."

"But you are," Laura insisted, wiping at her tears with the sleeve of her coat. "Frak, you just did, Ellen. Gods know, I needed that."

Ellen shook her head in denial. She should have just shut up, she inwardly berated herself. What business did she have lecturing anyone?

"Don't listen to me. I don't know what the frak I'm talking about. Okay?" she claimed, her tired eyes widening.

Laura frowned in confusion.

Something was undoubtedly wrong with Ellen Tigh, she decided. Something beyond the stress over Saul's freedom. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she sensed it all the same. Maybe if she asked this time Ellen would be honest. Perhaps she needed someone to unburden herself to as well. She wanted to return the favor, give her someone to confide in if she needed it.

"Elle-"

"What?!" Ellen erupted, lunging forward in her chair and slapping her open palm to the table top. "What else do you want from me, Laura!? Frak!"

Laura bit down on her tongue as she faced Ellen's angry unexpected outburst. She found herself stunned and the air around them deafened to a hollow silence.

Suddenly Laura felt foolish. Why was she bothering this woman who was clearly dealing with her own strife and obviously had no patience left for her? What was she doing there?

Somewhere along the line Laura had begun to draw a sense of comfort from Ellen's presence. The connection had inevitably deepened during Will's birth. Ellen obviously knew it, had been consciously aware of it in a way Laura hadn't been. For a while she'd seemed more than glad to be there for her, but something had changed.

All that Laura could surmise was that she'd overstepped. She'd tested Ellen's limits when she'd begged her to reveal Will's location and now, combined with whatever it was that she was privately dealing with, Ellen just wasn't willing to offer that comfort to her any longer.

"Nothing. Nothing," Laura said, shaking her head as if to clear away the delusions of where they stood with one another. She shouldn't have shared what she did. She didn't know what it was that she'd expected. "I just wanted to explain. I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll leave you alone now."

Laura had quietly stood and left the tent.

Once she was gone Ellen found herself wracked with sobs.

She hated everything. Never once had she wanted to give up on life, not even with all the disappointments and heartbreak she'd endured over the years. She still didn't want to give up on life, but for the first time she felt that there was no joy left within it.

In the span of one week she'd told Cally to stop asking her to babysit Nicky, she'd shrilly snapped at Sam when he'd tried to talk with her as a friend and now she'd driven Laura away too.

It was another casualty of the sorry state of her life, but she told herself that they were both better off. She didn't have anything left to give and a woman desperately trying to protect her newborn son from the evils around them didn't need to be seeking the company of someone who was literally sleeping with the enemy.

The New Caprican Police came for Saul less than an hour later, just minutes after he'd returned home. Ellen supposed she was lucky he'd made it back at all. From what she'd heard Laura never made it to her tent after she'd left. They'd apprehended her at some point on her way there.

Irrationally and almost childishly Ellen was angry at both of them for leaving her.

Now a day later, coat bundled and boots laced she stood in front of her only mirror, small dusty and cracked. She hardly looked like herself anymore. The stress, the sleepless nights and recent heavy drinking was all evident on her face. She worried the One wouldn't be interested any longer. She pinched at her cheeks hard, hoping to draw some color into her face but the slight pain only reminded her of how she never left the Cylon's company without a bruise or two to show for it. Unable to look at her reflection any longer Ellen bowed her head and closed her eyes.

"Hecate, make the night moonless so my travels go unseen," she began to recite a prayer her aunt had taught her when she was a child. She'd told her that it was for the times when she had to do something hard without anyone's help, for the times when she had to make choices for herself that others might not understand. "Stay at my side just as Athena follows warriors into battle and be my armor against evil in the dark," she continued as her tears began to fall again. "Guide me through the blackness, past the crossroads in my path. Give me strength and let my intentions turn to stars in the vault of the midnight sky."

Clenching her fists she walked to the cupboard. She opened it and took out the last bottle Sam had brought her. She knew he was going to be angry when he saw how quickly she'd gone through it, that was if he even came by to check in on her after the awful way she'd treated him. Uncapping the bottle she took two big swigs. She replaced the cap before returning it to the cabinet and closing the door.

She turned away, pausing for half a moment considering going back for another sip.

She decided against it.

She would need it far more when she returned. With a deep breath she left her tent.

NEW CAPRICAN COLONIAL TENT CITY;

DWELLING OF GALEN & CALLY TYROL

WEEK 44 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

"You could have died, Cal," Tyrol stressed for about the third time since returning home.

With all that had gone on since the Temple massacre he'd hardly spent any time at their tent. The plans for the power station attack had happened quickly and he'd been needed elsewhere following all the outages it caused.

He finally had some downtime but what he'd hoped would be a calm evening with his little family had quickly become tense and heated.

"I know that!" Cally shouted, wincing when the baby whined at her volume.

They'd already woken him up. She didn't want to make matters worse by scaring him but Galen was being unreasonable.

"It's getting way too dangerous out there," he continued. "I can do the shopping at the market and pick up rations. Just stay in as much as you can. No more helping out merchants with their machinery. From now on you and Nick just stay here unless it's necessary," he instructed.

Cally's eyes narrowed at him. He wasn't talking to her like a wife. He was making demands as if she were still his subordinate and she wasn't going to tolerate it.

"Like what?" she challenged. "What do you consider necessary now?"

"A bottle run for Roslin," he shrugged, glancing over at where their son lay kicking and cooing in his cot.

"She's been arrested, Galen," she reminded him with little patience left in her tone. "I have nothing to run."

"I mean once she's back," he clarified with forced hope in his statement. "Or ya know if Anders and his guys need you."

"Oh!" Cally exclaimed in mock understanding. "So I can go out and leave my son to go help wire literal explosives that could go off in my hands at any time but going to Temple, that was too far, that I should feel guilty about for putting myself in danger!"

"I didn't say that, Cally," Galen attempted to deny, trying to keep himself from raising his voice and startling Nicky. "You're taking it the wrong way."

"I am not! What was the point of you bringing it up then?" Cally contested. "You go out and we never know if you're coming back again and I can't stop you. I don't throw it in your face when you get back!"

"I'm not," he defended. "That's not what I meant."

"That's how it feels, Galen!" she yelled as tears of frustration filled her eyes. "I can help the resistance, I can help Roslin, but I do one thing for myself like go to Temple on a holy day and that's the example you use to tell me I should stay home and hide?" she cried. "As if it was my frakking fault?"

Galen's shoulders dropped and he let out a relenting sigh.

"I'm sorry, Cally," he conceded, suddenly feeling like a jerk at the sight of her tears. "Listen, I'm sorry, okay? You're right. Frak. I'm sorry. Of course it's not your fault. I just…I don't wana end up like Sam and Duck damnit."

Cally sniffled and bit at her lip, watching as her husband hung his head.

Closing the gap between them she put her arms around his body and held on tight until he returned her embrace.

"I'm sorry," he told her once more.

He didn't want to end up a frakking widower. He didn't want to raise their son alone or worse, lose him too. He could see his possible future in the eyes of the men who fought with him and it was grim.

"Have you spoken to him?" Cally asked as they stood there holding on to each other.

"Sam?"

"Duck," she corrected.

Galen cleared his throat and gulped hard.

He'd seen him and yes, he'd spoken to him, but Duck hadn't said much back.

At Sam's suggestion they'd gone to check on him earlier in the afternoon. With the amount of bodies needing cremation after both the Temple and the Power Station incidents it had taken a while to get through them all. Finally Norah's pyre had been lit just after sunrise and Anders figured someone should at least look in on Duck before the day was done.

Galen wasn't sure how he'd expected to find the grieving man but seeing him had sucked all the air out of his lungs. Norah had been the one who died in the Temple massacre, but Duck almost seemed gone too. He didn't seem to be mourning. There was no sense of rage or sorrow within him. He seemed checked out; merely going through the motions of breathing, blinking and muttering a few words here and there, as if his very soul had left along with his wife's. It was eerie and Galen departed the man's tent determined not to end up like him. It was the whole reason he'd come home and told Cally she should hunker down at home as much as she could. He'd figured after all that she'd gone through recently she'd be in agreement, but she'd obviously taken offense to his request.

"Duck…Duck's not in a good place, Cal," he told her.

Cally's face crumpled as she gripped at him even tighter.

"I just can't stop thinking of poor Norah," she began to cry into his shoulder, recounting the awful event. The evening had started with the vigil for Roslin baby but when the prayer service was over the traditional ceremony for the observance of Anthesteria began. That was when the Police and bullet heads showed up to supposedly break up the large gathering.

"We were together and then all of a sudden everything went crazy," Cally recounted, shaking her head against his shoulder. Everything had gone down so quickly. She didn't know about the weapons cache at the Temple until she saw people prying up the floorboards. She hardly knew what happened until it was all over. "We got separated and-"

"I know, Cal," he stopped her. She'd told him the story more than a few times over the past week and he'd gotten more than two dozen reports of what occurred from others in attendance. It was a horrific scene in what should have been a safe and peaceful place. She was right. It wasn't her fault for being there, for wanting to pray and light some candles on a damn holiday and he was wrong for making her feel as though she'd put herself in a dangerous situation. As much as he wanted to allow Cally to get it out if she needed to talk, he hated to hear the fear in her voice. They were both having nightmares over it all. "It's okay. It's alright."

"I frakking hate it here," Cally sobbed, her cries becoming more forceful. "And it's all my fault we're stuck here."

"It is not," Galen told her, rubbing his large palm up and down her trembling back.

He swallowed down the guilt he felt for sometimes wishing that she hadn't insisted on their move to the planet.

Even though he knew she regretted it he never brought it up. They heard the Colonel bicker and tease Ellen all the time for being the one who'd wanted to come down and settle, but Galen knew he could never do the same to Cally now that things were the way they were. Ellen Tigh could take that sort of ribbing in stride in a way he knew Cally couldn't.

"Yes it is. It was me. You didn't want to come. You didn't want to leave Galactica. You just agreed to make me happy. The Old Man wanted us to stay. I was the one who insisted on having Nicky down here," she lamented into the wet stain that her tears had begun to make on his jacket.

"We did what we thought would be best for him," Galen attempted to console. "We didn't know."

He didn't want to come, but he'd wanted her to be happy. He could still remember his relief when the Admiral had given them the okay to muster out and move down to the surface. It was the morning after Baltar's Groundbreaking ceremony. He and Cally had spent the night in one of the large temporary military barrack tents that were pitched back then. Hardly anyone had gone to bed that night so they had it almost totally to themselves. Cally wasn't able to drink in her condition and though Galen had enjoyed his fair share from the open bar he'd retired with her once she'd had enough of the festivities. They arose early deciding to take a walk through the settlement and get some fresh air to combat Cally's morning sickness. On their stroll they consoled each other over the denial of their initial discharge requests. Distracting themselves from the disappointment they laughed over finding many of their comrades passed out along the way. Anders took the cake, face down under a high-top table by the bar. They saw the Tighs not far away cozied up together against a shipping crate; Ellen under a GI blanket sleeping with her head in the Colonel's lap and using his balled up tunic as a pillow.

It seemed everyone had just partied until they literally dropped.

As the sun warmed the encampment they continued on walking as others began to wake and wander around searching out coffee or tea.

Galen first noticed Roslin walking along the path in her bright red dress. He couldn't help but smirk, recalling that it was what he'd seen her in the night before. His grin grew once he squinted through the glare of the bright morning sun and realized that she was walking arm in arm with the Admiral. Elbowing Cally he'd nodded suggestively toward the duo. Nearly everyone around them was walking in shame, hungover as hell and still in the clothes they'd donned for the previous night's party, but to see Adama and Roslin no better off than the rest of them had he and Cally chuckling and exchanging glances of unspoken bemusement. It undoubtedly looked a certain way to see the two walking arms linked and neither the former president nor the Admiral seemed to give a frak.

He and Cally quickly composed themselves as Adama approached them. They saluted him and greeted Roslin, starting up some polite conversation.

The four of them spoke of the night's festivities and exchanged pleasantries. When it seemed as though Adama was about to walk off on his way Roslin had stopped him. She'd taken the Old

Man by his elbow and whispered something in his ear causing his brows to rise with sudden recall. Roslin leaned back with a wry knowing smirk on her lips and patted him on his shoulder. It was the moment Galen had been certain that there was more to the pair's relationship than the air of casual convenience they'd seemed to want to portray over the past few months. In fact the whole scene gave him flashbacks to when his mother would prompt his father to give him a hug and twenty cubits for gas every time he'd left home after a visit back from bootcamp. There was an ease of familiarity between Roslin and Adama that obviously went deeper than he'd thought. The two had clearly become very close.

It was that tiny exchange that told Galen that they actually had Roslin to thank for what came next as the Admiral granted their leave and told them to go on and have at least a dozen more kids. She'd obviously convinced him and made sure he followed through.

Galen had been so thankful for her that day, though all of his outward gratitude went to the Admiral.

He wondered now if she remembered it, if she ever thought of it when Cally came by to collect the bottles. He wondered if she regretted it, wishing she'd allowed the Old Man his stubbornness so they would have still been with him and saved Nicky from being born under occupation. He wondered if she ever wished she'd stayed up on Galactica too. She probably had never imagined back then that she'd have a son of her own to protect.

Following Roslin's arrest witnesses had reported seeing her escorted into the gates of the Cylon medical building instead of the detention center with Col. Tigh as they'd expected. Galen couldn't decide if she was better off there or not.

He just prayed that she was still alive and that they wouldn't have to face Adama without her when he returned.

With the Colonel gone too he and Sam were now left to make decisions with Tory acting as Roslin's proxy. He hoped they'd be able to continue on without too much strife. Tory had warned them both that it would come to this at some point and they needed to be ready to act without conflict.

Sam would want to move fast, do something big in retaliation for the arrests. Tory would cite the recent casualties and the risks of endangering Tigh and Roslin even further. Galen knew he'd be stuck in the middle. He always seemed to be stuck in the middle.

"I just want to go home," Cally whimpered in his arms.

"Soon, Cal. Soon," he spoke softly, his lips at the crown of her head.

"How do you figure?" she sniffed, her back hitching with a held back hiccup.

"I dunno. I just have a feeling. We're gunna get out of here soon."

NEW CAPRICAN CYLON MEDICAL CENTER

WEEK 44 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

She'd expected the arrest. She'd been braced for it. What she had not expected was to wind up back in the Cylon hospital handcuffed to a bed instead of put in a cell inside the detention center.

She worried about what they could possibly want from her now. She wasn't pregnant any longer. If her abduction was merely an arrest for terrorism she would have simply been jailed. It seemed they had some other intentions.

They'd arrested her midway through her walk from the Tigh's to her tent. She could only presume they'd been waiting for her. It was New Caprican police at first. Not a single Cylon present. She'd been apprehended by her own people and she made sure to tell the masked traitors how cowardly and foul they truly were as they loaded her onto a transport cart and took her to the gates of the enemy hospital.

Initially she'd been brought to an nondescript room within the medical facility. It looked to be some sort of unused office space with only a table and chair furnishing the fluorescent lit area.

She was kept there for several hours as a One interrogated her off and on; sometimes with a Two by his side. Sometimes with a Five. Neither of them spoke much, letting the One do most of the talking. It was abundantly clear they assumed she was at least in part responsible for her baby's demise. As abhorrent as it was she found a measure of relief in their accusation. They truly believed he was dead.

They'd allowed her water a few trips to the restroom where she'd thankfully been able to discreetly relieve the pressure built up in her breasts from not pumping since before she'd left the Colonial medical tent. What the Cylons hadn't allowed her was sleep. As the night turned into morning and the irritated One gave up his questioning and taunting Laura assumed that she would be transferred to the prison and put into a cell. She was confused when an unfamiliar pair of Twos dressed as orderlies showed up with a wheelchair and a centurion escort. She was taken a few floors up to the ward she'd previously been in, one that seemed to currently have more Cylon patients than Colonial.

Upon Laura's arrival she was forced to disrobe and change into a hospital gown all at the looming threat of the centurion escort's pistoled hand. She was exhausted and worn out but when she was asked to sit on the bed and extend her arm a new rush of adrenaline surged through her body as a set of handcuffs was secured to the bed rail and her left wrist, chaining her there.

The Twos left, warning her that the centurion would be stationed just outside the curtain.

Eventually one of the Simon models showed himself and attempted to start an IV. It was after the second time that Laura pulled it out that Boomer appeared.

"If I'm under arrest then why the frak am I here!?"

Boomer stood with her arms crossed, her expression stolid and unmoving at Roslin's ranting. She didn't want to be there but when Simon called John complaining about the former president's lack of compliance it had suddenly become her chore to handle.

She'd tried to tell Cavil that her presence would likely only escalate the woman's agitation but he sent her anyway.

Roslin had no trouble immediately discerning who she was, sending her into a rage.

Boomer was getting nowhere as far as calming her down.

"Simon hasn't examined you post delivery yet," she offered as vague of an explanation as she could think of.

"And?" Roslin crossly pressed, hardly satisfied with the answer.

"And we'd like to see how you're doing," Boomer added.

She hardly knew what it was they planned to do to her, only what it was all in preparation for.

"What the frak do you care now that my baby is gone?" Roslin scoffed. "You expect me to believe you're just concerned for my welfare?"

"The last time we had you in a cell without proper knowledge of your health you nearly bled to death. You would have too, if I hadn't found you," Boomer crossly reminded her. "You're welcome by the way."

Laura stared back at the Eight with an arched brow that showed anything but gratitude.

"We just want to know what to expect this time," Boomer amended, attempting to come off as apathetic as possible.

Any emotion on her part would only lend further fuel to Roslin's indignation and she really just wanted to be able to leave.

"I don't want your so-called doctors touching me!"

Boomer bit her tongue, holding back what she knew would be an expression of frustration.

"Then I'll tell them just to sedate you," she snidely proposed with a shrug and an air of cold indifference. "How bout that? They get to perform their exams and you can sleep right through it without being a pain in the ass to everyone."

Laura's eyes narrowed at the former Colonial pilot in disgust.

"I told you last time that I didn't want to see your face ever again, Lt. Valerii," she sneered, using the Eight's former fleet rank as caustically as possible. "And I meant that."

"Ma'am," Boomer tersely began, "you're right about one thing. With your child no longer factored in, our patience with you has dissipated. You continue to conspire to commit terrorist acts, to encourage discourse and social unrest. With the baby we had a reason to prioritize your comfort despite your position in the resistance but now, well…you'll have to endure whatever punishment is decided upon."

"And what's that?"

"I have no idea," Boomer admitted. "It's not up to me."

Laura clenched her teeth as she looked back at the Cylon woman that had once nearly taken Bill's life. Her blood boiled within her veins.

"Then get the frak out of my face," she gritted.

"Ms. Roslin," Simon greeted as he opened the partition and stepped inside. "I'm here to begin your evaluation."

"Knock her out unless you want a fight," Boomer brusquely advised the Four.

"Don't you dare!" Laura shouted.

The Cylon doctor paused and looked over at the Eight.

"Do it," she bluntly ordered him, while looking his reluctant patient spitefully in the eye.

"Godsdamn you," Laura muttered in return.

"We have a lot of tests to do, Ma'am," Simon attempted to explain in a more practical and neutral tone. "It's probably for the best. I know you could use the rest. You should take advantage of it. Get some sleep."

"Tests?" she asked, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

Laura put up a minimal fight before giving up, knowing she had no real choice. As scared as she was to be unconscious in their hands, the moment the sedative hit her veins the calming effect of the impending drug-induced sleep felt almost blissful. She was so tired. Too tired to fight it.

She drifted off to dream of her baby.

Her dreams were vivid, as vivid as they'd been back when she was using chamalla. She dreamt of when her son was still safe inside her, of how it felt and how each time he moved she couldn't believe it was real. She dreamt of his birth; of the anguish she'd suffered, of the kind and strong women who had surrounded her, of how the full moon shone down over the planet that night. She dreamt of the moment her baby was born, the force at which he'd left her body, the shock and awe that overtook her entire being when she first saw him. She dreamt of holding him in her arms for the first time and it felt so real she could feel the weight and warmth of his little body against hers. She dreamt of his bleating cries as he was taken away from her, of how they'd echoed through the tunnels into her ears and sliced at her soul.

In her dreamstate she couldn't help but run after him. Suddenly clothed and free of the physical trauma of delivery she ran through the corridors following the bellowing of her child. She ran and ran and ran until suddenly she stopped, blocked by something in her way.

"Sweetheart, how did you get here?"

It was Hera standing there alone and unsteady on her little feet, raising her arms to be picked up. Laura looked past the toddler for only a moment, listening to the sounds of the crying infant echoing through the mine. Despite her son's cries getting further and further away, Laura knelt down to the little girl.

"I've got you. Everything's going to be alright," she promised, putting her arms around the child and lifting her into an embrace as everything went black.

The remainder of her sleep was an empty void as the cylon doctor and his staff went about their testing and examinations.

NEW CAPRICAN COLONIAL TENT CITY; TEMPLE OF THE GODS

WEEK 44 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

They weren't supposed to enter this place, this haven for heathens, this sanctuary of sacrilege. It was a sinful place dedicated to false divinities, blasphemy against the one true and almighty God. They tried to keep away.

Most were just adverse to the symbolism of it. Others were frightened that even just breathing the aroma of the pagan incense and oils that permeated the air around it could somehow damn them in the eyes of the Lord.

It was no wonder such an atrocity had occurred when they sent the centurions in with the New Caprican police, D'Anna thought. The damned place had to be cursed.

But it didn't seem quite so scary now with its torn canvas haphazardly repaired, its shrines disheveled and statues cracked and broken, propped up by prayer books and stones. In fact it looked downright pitiful as D'Anna entered and scanned the sight of the massacre.

There were gaps in the floor coverings, the planks of wood exposed where there should have been overlapped prayer rugs. As she walked around the bare spots she realized that they must have been removed due to blood stains.

Some of the planks were freshly nailed down. She'd heard they were hiding a cache of firearms beneath the temple floor. It made her sick. What kind of people would store murderous weapons in a space they deemed so holy?

"Your mother must have named you for the goddess," a voice spoke, causing D'Anna to jump.

She looked over to see an old sibyl hunched within a circle of stones and crystals. She'd missed her presence at first, her view blocked by a pile of broken stools and other debris that had been gathered to discard.

"Pardon?" she asked, watching as the woman shook a vial of something into her hand.

"Diana," the Oracle Selloi spoke before licking the contents of her palm. "Goddess of the hunt."

The Three shook her head at the charlatan but then paused when she noticed her glazed unfocused eyes.

"D'Anna, not Diana," she enunciated. "And I named myself. I have no mother," she explained, with a bemused smirk.

"I know who and what you are, Three," the woman said without missing a beat. "But that's not what I see. In fact I see a mother. A loving mother and a father who made you what you are. Who cared a great deal for you."

D'Anna stuck her hands inside of her coat pockets as she chuckled under her breath.

"Well then whatever it is that you're shaking into your palm there must be some pretty strong stuff, because I'm a machine and I've never had parents."

"We all have creators," the seer replied.

"That's not the same thing," D'Anna answered, taking a few careful steps closer.

"Isn't it?" the Oracle smiled.

"God is my father," D'Anna stated, taking another deliberate step toward the circle of stones and crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's not comforting you anymore, is it?" Selloi posed as she took a handful of some dried herbs from a sachet and added them to her mortar. "Not the way it always has in the past."

D'Anna felt her cheeks flush at the temple sister's words. She swallowed, reminding herself that the woman was nothing but a trickster keen on reading her reactions. She decided to ignore the statement, not wanting to give her anything to decipher.

"You're still coming to pray here, even with the state of this place?" D'Anna taunted instead as she glanced around the disheveled tabernacle.

"The gods are imperfect and don't ask for perfection," Selloi spoke as she began to grind her herbs. "Besides, looks the same to me as it did before the attack," she joked with a shrug.

D'Anna almost corrected her. It wasn't supposed to have been an attack. They'd only want the crowd to disperse. It was the Colonials who had drawn hidden weapons and attacked the Police. They'd only fought back in defense. It was unfortunate things rose to a level where the Centurions had to be utilized.

"Right," she half muttered. "Well, I'm sorry I bothered your worship," she offered as she turned to go.

She wasn't sure why she'd even come but she knew it was time to leave.

"You are looking for something, Three…D'Anna," the Oracle called after her.

D'Anna paused in her tracks and looked back at the woman who was still busy milling her herbs. For a moment D'Anna thought she could smell it in the air; sage and maybe sandalwood.

"Aren't we all?" she answered, unsure as to why she'd even stopped.

She told herself to go, reminding herself that the more she replied the more the con woman had to draw from, but she was stuck in place as she watched her take the powder she'd made and pour it into a clay cup.

"Love," Selloi spoke again. "You want to know what it is to experience true love. You're envious of those who obviously do."

"I know the love of God," D'Anna firmly stated.

"But not another soul among us," the Oracle returned.

"Way to rub it in," D'Anna bantered. "Gosh, don't people come here to feel better?"

"People come here for all sorts of reasons. Why are you here, Three?"

D'Anna's mouth went dry as she realized she couldn't remember why she'd come.

In fact she could hardly remember how she'd gotten there at all.

"I- I don't know."

"You will know before your time here has ended and you will come to know what it is to be loved," Selloi recited.

"I need to get out of here," D'Anna scoffed as she turned away again. "This is the stupidest thing I ever did."

"It is your dream that brings you to me, D'Anna."

The Three turned to the Oracle again as the blood drained from her face.

"How do you know about that?" she whispered.

The Oracle shook the contents of her cup before raising her clouded eyes to meet D'Anna's.

"I have a message for you from the one you worship. He speaks through me to you just as he speaks in your dreams. A child…born from strange circumstance will show you the way. The way to love. They way to all that you seek."

"What child?"

"You know the answers. You find them in your dreams, but these visions frighten you and you run from them."

"I don't-"

"You must be wary of decoys and of distractions. You may think you're on the right path when it's only leading you further from the truth."

D'Anna swallowed against her parched throat as she contemplated the Oracle's words. Could they truly be a message from God?

She knew of her dreams, of the sounds of a child within them. She seemed to know her heart, to know the emptiness she felt.

As D'Anna stood breathing in the strange scents of herbs and oils she felt something overcome her. There was suddenly a sense of clarity within her that she had never known before.

She hadn't quite understood why she'd never felt the joy over Sharon's child that the others had or the devastation over the hybrid's loss. Likewise she hadn't shared in the anticipation of Roslin's baby. Something about the arrivals had left her feeling flat and empty and almost resentful of those like Caprica who were in awe of it all. Selloi had warned to beware of decoys. Lately D'Anna's dreams had her pulled in every direction chasing the sound of a crying infant. It was all a distraction. Decoys. Hera and Roslin's child were gone and they needed to move on. Why should they have ever looked for the hope of their race's future within the union of a wayward Cylon and a simple Colonial man? Why should they have expected such a monumental gift from the womb of a hateful human woman undeserving of the Cylon blood that ran through her veins?

John was right. They had to take things into their own hands.

A child born from strange circumstance will show the way. They needed to create their own future. They had to succeed. What D'Anna was seeking depended on it.

NEW CAPRICAN CYLON MEDICAL CENTER

WEEK 44 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

Boomer left the clinic as soon as Roslin was sedated only to be summoned back by Simon a few hours later once he was through and expecting her to awaken.

The Eight stood outside the former president's curtain hoping like hell that the woman would be too groggy to argue when she woke up.

Boomer had no patience left.

John had to be testing her, she considered. Why else would he send her to deal with Roslin now that they knew she could tell who she was?"

She stood there waiting, continuing her internal commiserating until she was suddenly distracted by a face more familiar than most walking briskly down the adjacent hallway.

"Caprica," she called out, getting the Six's attention.

The blonde instantly looked over at her. Though she offered a polite smile Boomer couldn't help but notice Caprica's momentary hesitance before she began to walk toward her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as the Six approached.

Caprica sighed and looked around the unusually crowded ward.

"We have many brothers and sisters hospitalized from the recent bombing," she solemnly began. "Some of them appreciate visitors. If we're supposed to be a family then none of us should have to feel lonely especially if we're hurt," she finished, rather proud of how quickly she was able to sculpt the lie.

She was there to see Roslin. She'd heard of her arrest and admission to the medical center. She couldn't be sure if she would find the privacy or opportunity to speak to her alone in the facility. She wasn't even certain she would have the courage to tell her the truth when it came down to it, but she at least wanted to come by and see what they were doing to her. If such a time presented itself she hoped she would be able to do the right thing. She hadn't expected to see Boomer there.

"Don't you agree?" she prompted.

The Eight frowned, unmoved by the sentiment.

"Sure," she halfheartedly replied.

"Do you know how many were euthanized?" Caprica inquired.

"About a dozen," Boomer reported. "They're mostly back already though. How many are in here?"

"Seems to be about the same," the Six replied, looking around at the numbered bays and occupied rooms. The ones who already returned had dealt with the immeasurable pain of death and rebirth, but those around them were enduring the pain of survival. Caprica didn't want to die anymore. Even if it meant suffering.

"Having to heal through an injury is something quite monumental for us. Don't you think?" she considered aloud.

"What do you mean?" Boomer scowled.

"When an illness or injury isn't quite grave enough to kill or to warrant being euthanized, but still serious enough to need time and care to heal it must deeply solidify one to the body they're in. The pain endured, the effort and energy expended that it takes to recover; it's all put into that body. It takes work and willpower to get better. It must make it all the more difficult when the time in that body finally ends."

"You wouldn't think that way if you ever lived life believing that you only had one body," Boomer dryly responded.

Caprica's shoulders fell.

"I guess I can't say."

"Exactly," Boomer muttered.

"Roslin's here?" Caprica asked after an awkward beat.

"Yes," the Eight confirmed, nodding toward the curtained off area. "I was with her earlier. I got sent here because she was uncooperative. Simon had a lot of tests to run. I told him to just sedate her. She was so agitated. I think it's better that she wasn't witness to everything anyway. At least not yet. I'm not sure exactly what kind of tests he ran but I'm guessing they would have made her suspicious."

Caprica looked at the curtains attempting to spot Roslin through the slight crack in the partition.

"This…what John plans to do to her," she began, making sure her volume was low enough. "It's a far cry from the reason you and I decided to come here."

"Not really. We wanted to live with the humans as one," Boomer contended. "Sooner or later that's going to mean that the races will begin to intermix. It's already happened once. We have such a hard time reproducing on our own. It's important to know what our options are," she said, attempting to speak of the plan as if it were something perfectly practical.

"What about her gene mutation?" Caprica questioned. "Simon says this could trigger a recurrence of her cancer."

"He said maybe," Boomer corrected. "Besides, why the frak should we care?"

"Is that what John tells you?" Caprica contended, her question heavy with implication.

Boomer's cheeks flushed in a mix of resentment and embarrassment. For a moment she struggled to form some statement of defense but she knew there was nothing to say to a sister Cylon who could quite literally feel the shame emanating from her.

"Look, I don't like this plan much either, okay?" she confessed.

"But you back up his every whim now."

"I don't."

"When's the last time you spoke up for yourself? Or told him no?"

"Ya know, at least he cares to talk to me."

As poorly as John treated her, as much as he intentionally hurt her feelings and dismissed her opinions, he was the only one who came to her daily to voice his concerns, to tell her his ideas, to employ her aide. He gave her a place to exist and to return to each day. "I can't say that for anyone else these days."

"That's not-"

"Save it," Boomer dismissed, cutting the Six off before she could begin to patronize her with hollow expressions of comradery.

Their bond had led them to the planet but it had promptly dissolved into the damp New Caprican dirt. There was no use pretending.

"Are you staying long?" Caprica asked, decidedly changing the subject and assessing the likelihood that she would have any chance of visiting with Laura.

Boomer let out a sigh and put her hands to her hip.

"Roslin should be waking up soon. John expects me to deal with her so she's not wasting Simon's time, but to be honest, I just make things worse. I don't know why I keep getting tasked with her. She hates my frakkin guts."

"Because I failed with her," Caprica grimaced. "John's punishing me."

"Yeah, well it seems more like I'm the one getting punished," Boomer said in a huff.

"I'll go in with you," Caprica offered, seizing the opportunity. "She responds better to me. We don't have to tell John."

Boomer rolled her eyes at the Six's offer. It didn't matter if they told him or not. Someone would. Simon or one of the Twos. He would find out. It was anyone's guess whether or not he would be angry about it. She supposed it depended on if he was already pissed off about something else, but that would be later on and right now she really did not want to deal with Laura Roslin on her own.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed. "Fine."

"I want to know what the frak was done to me!" Roslin's voice suddenly demanded from behind her partition.

The two Cylon women looked at one another in silent communication before making their way through the curtain.

"You're up," Boomer curtly greeted as Caprica remained quiet beside her.

"I want to know everything that happened to me while I was out," Roslin persisted, her eyes wide and wild with worry and indignation.

All evidence of sedation was gone from her body. She actually looked well rested for once and her visible anger seemed to be igniting her energy.

"They just did some standard blood work," Boomer began. "They gave you a saline IV and they did a postnatal ultrasound and a pelvic exam."

"All against my will," Laura accused.

"You had the choice to cooperate," Boomer shrugged, though she found it difficult to get the words out. She knew how intrusive and debasing it all was no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that it was justified.

"I thought I told you that I didn't want to see your face again, Lt. Valeri," Roslin sneered. "Why are you back here?"

"How are you always so damn sure it's me?" the Eight challenged with an abrupt antagonistic smirk that made her suspicions more than obvious.

Laura stayed silent, returning the former pilot's glare with an icy stare of her own.

"How are you feeling, Laura?" Caprica stepped in, intentionally breaking the tension.

"Angry," she replied, her razored gaze darting to the Six. "Violated."

Laura examined the blonde for a moment longer before she realized it was Caprica. The daggers in her eyes instantly softened, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"If you would just comply, Ma'am," Boomer continued, quickly regaining Laura's attention, "there would be no need for the sedatives."

Enraged at the Eight's absurd suggestion Laura opened her mouth to tell her where she could shove her advice when a sharp pain radiated through one of her breasts, reminding her of how overly full they were. She hissed at the throbbing ache, but stopped herself from palming at the soreness, not wanting to bring attention to what was wrong.

"Are you okay?" Caprica questioned, immediately noticing Roslin's discomfort.

"I need to use the restroom," Laura told the pair.

"You're cuffed," Boomer reminded her. "I'll see if they can bring you a-"

"Oh no!" Laura exclaimed. She would be damned if they were going to force her to use a bedpan or some kind of bedside commode. She'd avoided having to use such aides even at her sickest and there was no way in Hades she was going to agree to do so now. Besides that, she needed some frakking privacy to relieve the pressure. For a second she considered just telling them what the problem was. They were well aware that she'd recently given birth. They couldn't very well expect her breastmilk to be gone already, but she was too scared. What if they became suspicious that her supply seemed too robust for someone who wasn't supposed to have a living infant they were providing for? What if they tried to stop it all together with medication? As far as they knew she didn't need it. Why wouldn't they try to eliminate something that would become a nuisance to them during her imprisonment? She wasn't sure if she would ever get out of their custody but she wasn't ready to give up the possibility that she might one day hold and feed her son again. She wouldn't let them take that from her. Not yet.

"I'm not an invalid and I am not a godsdamn house cat!" Laura shouted. "I want to get up and use a frakking toilet!"

"I'll escort her," Caprica quickly offered. "The restroom is just down the hall."

Boomer looked unsure, glancing first at Roslin, then to her sister and back.

"Fine," she relented, fed up with dealing with the entire situation. "The centurion will follow. Be quick."

Laura almost made a snide remark in return but she thought better of it. She just needed to get it done.

Once the key to her bedside shackle was retrieved Boomer freed her.

Caprica escorted Laura down the hallway to a nearby restroom with a solid door. The centurion took its place nearby.

"I'll be right out here," the Six said as if it was supposed to offer some kind of comfort.

Strangely Laura had a sudden peculiar recall to the first time Ellen Tigh had made a similar remark.

'It'll be okay…I'll be there," Ellen had promised her one day when they'd been discussing her worries over her baby's approaching arrival.

Laura had been caught off guard by Ellen's assumption that the pledge would give her any sense of reassurance and even more surprised to find that it actually did.

She couldn't fathom why she would feel any echo of that same assuagement from a Cylon, but she found herself giving the Six a silent nod of thanks before she entered the bathroom.

Laura let out a sigh of relief when she saw that it was actually a private lavatory.

Turning to lock the door behind herself she paused, hesitating to slide the latch. The click of the lock would signal suspicion. She decided against it. She just needed to work fast.

Rushing over to the sink Laura gripped the basin with both hands and hissed at the aching in her chest. She was beginning to break out into a sweat that she knew was triggered more by her nerves than the pain. She hardly ever let herself get so overly full but the few times that it happened since Will's birth had caused an unfortunate response that she couldn't afford to deal with at the moment. The pain in her breasts was too akin to the past pain of her illness, the swollen ducts too similar to the feeling of the tumor it had all originated from. The few times she'd become engorged before had caused her to break into a cold sweat, lose her breath and eventually vomit; a panic attack according to Cottle and Nurse Brigid. A physical response to a traumatic memory.

She couldn't lose control of her mind or her body now. She wasn't sick, she told herself over and over. She had work to do.

With a deep breath Laura turned on the hot water and stuck her left hand under the faucet. As she let the warm stream run over her fingers and palm she began to open the front of her hospital gown with her free hand.

The water ran hot, so hot that it almost began to scorch her skin. Laura pulled her hand from the sink and placed it on the breast that ached the most. With her palm warmed from the water she began to knead at the swollen ducts, massaging and rolling the enlarged glands under her fingers as firmly as she could stand it. They were so full, too full and she wondered how long it would take to develop mastitis if a duct became inflamed. Meri had warned her how much more painful it would be if that happened.

With her hand still warm from the water Laura began to try and trigger a let-down. She could tell from the amount of pressure that had built up that it wasn't going to be easy and she didn't have much time. The bullethead looming outside of the door was no help in easing her body's tension.

With a grunt of frustration Laura let go and ran her fingertips under the faucet again making them wet.

She closed her eyes and attempted to breathe deeply. Taking her nipple between her moistened fingers she gently tugged as she tried to conjure up the image of her son. He had been so clear in her dream and it made her wish that she could picture him nearly as vividly when she was awake. She thought of his face, of his tiny hands and of the little sounds he'd made when she nursed him the night he was born and as Laura's tears began to flow so did a steady stream of milk. Sad as it was, the tactic always seemed to work. Laura continued to quietly weep for her son. She opened her eyes to watch the milk spilling into the sink, clouding the water at the bottom of the basin before it all swirled down the drain.

When the pressure was finally relieved on one side Laura moved to the other doing her best to hurry.

"Laura?" Caprica called through the door.

Laura's face went flush but she kept going, knowing she had no time to lose.

"Are you okay in there?" the Six asked with a light knock.

"I'm fine!" Laura shouted over her shoulder, cursing under her breath at the absolute lunacy of her situation.

She continued emptying her breasts as much as she could before she heard the doorknob click.

Laura pulled her gown closed and crossed her arms over her chest. She winced at the soreness caused by her rushed and harsh manipulations but she was thankful to find overall relief from the painful pressure. She looked up as Caprica slipped inside and locked the door behind herself in one fluid motion.

"Laura, are you alright?" she asked again, looking visibly worried.

"Yes."

"Are you finished?"

"I- Yes. I'm finished."

Caprica's brow fretted as she looked Laura over.

"You're in pain," she remarked with what seemed like true sympathy. Her eyes stayed focused on Laura's crossed arms. "I never knew that part was painful. I thought that it would be…almost pleasant. Then again so much of a mother's love seems to come from pain. I suppose it makes sense."

Laura's face went hot as she watched the Cylon woman staring at her in awe as if she were looking upon some holy monument.

"It must be hard to see it all go down the drain," Caprica lamented in sympathy. Since finding Roslin's baby she'd mostly stayed away from the foster home not wanting to risk drawing any attention to the location. Instead she'd kept a watchful eye on the little home from afar and observed several deliveries a day, presuming it was the milk the foster mothers mentioned was sent to them during her supposed census survey. "It's a shame. Your body made it just for him. It should be nourishing and comforting him."

Laura gulped at the hard knot that had formed in her throat as Caprica spoke. The Six was obviously aware of exactly what she'd been doing. She got the overwhelming sense that the cylon hadn't caught her, but rather just somehow knew.

"How will he eat while you're here?" Caprica asked.

"What?" Laura snapped, a chill running down her spine.

It was all the confirmation that she needed. The Six knew Will was alive and well, just as Laura had suspected. She knew where he was. She'd seen him there. Not only did she know his location but she was somehow aware that Laura had been providing him with milk. He'd been found by the Cylons after all. Miraculously, it seemed, by one who for some reason had yet to tell the others.

Laura's eyes began to dart around the room searching for surveillance.

"They can't see us," Caprica told her, apparently well aware of her sudden worry.

Laura licked at her lips. What the hell was going on?

"Laura listen to me," the Six began as she moved closer. "I just want to tell you how breathtaking he is. Your little Atlas. Like a tiny angel sent from God. I was so relieved. So relieved I can't begin to tell you. I can only imagine how you must miss him."

Laura was dumbfounded at the Cylon woman's words and the apparent ardency with which she spoke them.

"I need to get out of here," she responded between gritted teeth.

This Six, this so-called Caprica Six, she could act as if she was on her side all she wanted, but she was still helping to keep her imprisoned, she was still part of the oppressing force that had invaded the planet. It infuriated Laura, but what upset her even more was the nagging feeling that she should be trusting her in spite of it all.

"I'm sorry I can't get you out of here, but there's something I have to tell you," Caprica said, her eyes filled with foreboding. "Something you need to know."

Laura looked back at her with trepidation, their eyes locked together. Whatever the Six wanted to tell her it obviously wasn't good.

Caprica clenched her fists and bit at her lip, internally recounting what she planned to say. She had to be clear and succinct. They didn't have much time alone and she knew Roslin would be confused and afraid.

"You can't let them know that I've told you this. If you do, I won't be around to help you any longer."

Laura nodded as a knock suddenly sounded at the door.

Both women looked toward the noise waiting for a voice to follow, but there was only silence.

"C'mon," Caprica said after a moment, regretfully abandoning her attempt. "We should get back."

NEW CAPRICAN CYLON RESIDENTIAL BUILDING; RESIDENCE OF LEOBEN CONOY

WEEK 44 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

Kara tucked her legs underneath herself pushing back on the cushions of the sofa in an unconscious attempt to make herself smaller, to shrink away from her captor's presence. He'd been pestering her with questions for hours. Now and then he would back off for a while giving her some space and making her think that he was done only to return and start it up again.

It began upstairs in the loft; questions about the Colonel, questions about the Chief and Fleet tactics and practices. He wouldn't stop and so she went down the stairs to the kitchen. He'd followed her there after a while, continuing his cryptic interrogation. She'd eventually made her way to the den, but he'd soon come in to join her.

Now he was frustrated as he stood in front of the sofa looming over her.

Apparently something terrible had occurred at the Temple. Whatever it was had made the resistance retaliate in a big way and the Cylons were rattled.

He wouldn't tell her exactly when it happened but Kara thought she might have heard some explosions in the early morning hours just a few days before.

She'd still been rattled and worn out from the strange exams she'd experienced at the Cylon hospital. Sleeping on the sofa, avoiding the bed she had to share with the Two, she'd been awoken by what she first thought was the sonic boom of some raiders entering the atmosphere. She'd become so accustomed to the noise that she usually tuned it out, letting the thunderous sound become part of the dulled white noise that existed outside of her prison. It was odd that the boom of a raider would have even caught her attention. When another blast sounded in the distance she knew that it had to be some kind of detonation and she'd prayed that it was the Colonial rebels. A moment later the building she was in lost power and the lights that shone outside the window went dark. She'd stayed up listening for more sounds until the sun came up but all she'd heard was alarm sirens blasting through the city. The power wasn't restored for nearly twelve hours. Whatever happened had affected the electrical grid.

From what Leoben had shared, the target, which he wouldn't disclose, was known to be a space populated with both Cylons and Colonials. According to him the Colonial resistance had knowingly attacked some of their own people. It sounded wrong, but Kara couldn't be sure. She supposed things had gotten pretty bad. Under the right circumstances she knew the Colonel could be pretty ruthless, that was if he was even still commanding the resistance. Leoben was purposefully vague with his questioning and the information it gave her.

"For the hundredth frakking time, I have no idea what's going on out there," she told him again, her patience now paper thin. "How could I? You won't tell me anything, I haven't spoken to anyone since you took me besides that frakked up doctor you brought me to. I don't even know who's alive or dead. Don't ask me anything else. I have no answers for you."

Leoben stared into her eyes for a long uncomfortable pause. He always had to make it seem as if he were assessing her, looking at her as though he could see past her face and into her soul. It was immensely irritating.

Abruptly he straightened his posture and took a step back giving Kara some much needed space.

He turned as if he were leaving the den but then he doubled back, spinning on his heels to face her again.

"You know," he said rubbing his chin, "I do have a bit of news from the outside that you might find interesting, though I'm afraid it's quite a sad circumstance."

"Gods, now what?" she huffed with a roll of her eyes.

He chuckled under his breath, amused at her frustration.

"I've been debating telling you this but I think now is the right time," the Two prefaced with an insincere expression of concern on his face. "It seems that there was a new addition born into the Adama family," he said, placing his hands on his hips looking pleased with himself.

"Huh?" Kara squinted, confused over what he'd just claimed. It made no sense.

"Tragically the baby boy didn't make it," he added, forcing a somber articulation.

"Lee and Dee?" Kara presumed. "You say they're still gone. How would you know-"

"No. Not your Apollo," Leoben cut her off, shaking his head with a bemused smirk. "Though, I have to wonder if maybe he has one of his own by now as well. Who knows? How would you feel about that?" the Two tested.

Kara's lip went up, disgusted by the satisfaction he seemed to be getting out of anticipating her reaction.

"I don't know what the frak you're talking about," she answered, turning herself away from him on the couch.

"No, this child belonged to your beloved patriarch," he said to her back.

Kara froze for a moment before turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

"The Admiral?"

"It would seem so."

"What the frak?" she mocked. "I don't believe you."

"Sadly the baby was stillborn."

"You're frakking with me."

"We offered Roslin the opportunity to get proper medical care. She refused and it resulted in a tragedy of her own making."

"Roslin," Kara flatly echoed.

It couldn't be true, she thought to herself. Could it? The unlikelihood of it aside, Leoben was a liar. She supposed it wasn't totally impossible but just the fact that it had come out of his mouth made it that much more unbelievable. And yet, it was an odd claim to make and he did have the maddening habit of always mixing partial truths within his lies in order to keep her in a constant state of uncertainty. Adama had warned her upon her first meeting with the model that no matter what the Two said there would be a level of deceit to it no matter how honest his words might seem. It left her unable to trust Leoben when he would tell her it was raining even as she was staring out of the window watching raindrops roll down the glass.

She'd been aware of the relationship between Roslin and Adama before most others and she'd been unsure of how she felt about it for some time. Once Roslin moved to the surface and the Admiral became far more public with their personal involvement Kara had been able to witness their dynamic more often. She was conscious of the new light in the Old Man's eyes and amused at how excited he seemed every time he came to the surface. There were more than a few instances where she'd passed crass innuendo about him coming down to the planet just to get laid. She'd cut it out only after he pulled her aside and told her to knock it the hell off, especially when Roslin was in earshot. Kara remembered how her cheeks had burned with unexpected shame, confronted with her rude and childish behavior. Suddenly she'd been all too aware that her mockery of the union had come from a place of discomfort and nervousness. As long as she'd known him Adama had shown his paternal love to those under his command. She'd never witnessed him expressing romantic affections before and for some reason, though it was nice to see him happy, it gave her an uneasy feeling that she knew deep down was fear.

Fear that Roslin would distract him, fear that she would change him or control him or worse, break his heart. Kara stopped making the crude jokes, but she kept on teasing them lightheartedly about their status, just trying to make it feel more normal for everyone, especially herself.

She tried to count the months since Galactica blinked out of orbit, wondering if the math would even work for a baby to have been born that Adama could have possibly fathered. She opened her mouth to ask Leoben when the supposed child had been born but she stopped herself before she uttered a sound. It was all too absurd to be true.

"If your so-called father ever does return he's not going to find much left here for him but heartache."

"Frak you," she spat.

Lie or not, the look of gratification Leoben had in his eyes over Adama learning he had another dead son was disgusting and it enraged her.

"The child was special," the Two announced, ignoring her fury.

Kara balked at the proclamation. As always, his statements were purposely ambiguous, vaguely mystical and melodramatic. They were constructed in an attempt to bait her into asking a question so that he could give a long winded, contrived response meant to lead her in whatever direction he desired. She'd learned early on in her imprisonment that the less she replied the better. She'd never seen him more frustrated than when she was silent in the face of his dramatics. He hated to be ignored. It was just so hard to do it when he was there, irritating her nearly constantly. She took the bait far too often.

"I don't want to listen to any more of your bullshit."

"You should, Kara. What happened to the child concerns you."

"And I bet you really want me to ask how."

Leoben smiled pertly and clasped his hands together, taking a few even breaths in through his nose.

"Maybe it's better we continue this another time," he told her.

"You're a frakking lunatic!" Kara exclaimed, instantly losing whatever self-control she'd been trying to maintain. "I know that you're obsessed with the sound of your own godsdamn voice, but it makes my skin crawl! So you can take your stories and take your frakking self-righteous crap and shove it!"

Leoben's plastic smile never left his lips though his eyes seemed to darken with each insult she slung at him.

"I'll go order you some dinner," he stated, ignoring her rant. "You need to keep your strength up."

Something about the glint in his eye caused Kara to suddenly snap. Leaping off of the sofa she lunged toward him in an attempt to take him by the throat.

She was too slow, too obvious in her movements and he anticipated her attack, easily catching her wrists and twisting her into a tight hold against his chest.

"Uh uh, Kara. Not tonight. Just settle down," he spoke beside her ear as she panted in his arms. "We can still have a pleasant evening when I come back," he added before letting her go.

She quickly faced him and backed away, returning to her spot on the couch.

He snickered as she took her seat and then he turned to leave the den.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Just a meeting."

"Don't hurry back," she muttered under her breath.

"I'll bring some food home," he told her.

Kara covered her face with her hands and rubbed at her eyes. He'd gotten to her again. She'd allowed him to bring her to her breaking point once more. She was afraid one day she'd crack for good. Sometimes he made her feel like she was losing her mind.

"Wait," she spoke into her palms just before Leoben got to the door. "Is-is Roslin okay?"

She hated herself for asking, for feeding into his labyrinth of deceit, but once again, she found she couldn't help herself.

He paused, not bothering to look back at her.

"I'm about to go find that out," he replied. "But don't worry. You may get to see her for yourself soon enough."

"What?" she questioned, dropping her hands from her cheeks.

"I'll be home later," he told her, dismissing her inquiry. "You should get some extra rest while I'm gone. It'll do you good. Your health is paramount."

NEW CAPRICAN CYLON ADMINISTRATION BUILDING

WEEK 44 OF CYLON OCCUPATION

"Laura Roslin is healing quite well. Considering that she suffered an internal laceration during delivery it's remarkably healed for the amount of time it's been," Simon reported to a circle of his siblings. A representative of each model was present except for the Threes. D'Anna was noticeably absent. "There is still normal postpartum bleeding that appears to have been recently exacerbated, but I suspect with proper rest, hydration and nutrition that will heal and subside in less time than would typically be expected."

"So we are on target?" Cavil tested.

"We scanned her ovaries and both still contain enough ova to attempt a harvest. We'll only know if they are viable after they are extracted, but getting to that point is probably what's going to slow things down."

"Well, can't we speed it up?" John pressed.

"It takes about six weeks for the natural cycle to reset itself following delivery," the Cylon doctor continued to explain. "Sometimes longer. I need that to happen on its own before I can introduce the artificial hormonal regimen for egg retrieval."

"If she seems to be healing well isn't that a good sign?" Boomer posed.

She'd been waiting for John to approach her about her time with Roslin since they all arrived, but so far he hadn't mentioned being alerted that she'd delegated any of her responsibility to Caprica Six.

"It is," Simon nodded, "but human hormones are tricky. There's plenty of factors that can alter them or cause the reproductive cycle to change. As I mentioned during our last meeting, Roslin's bloodwork shows that she's in perimenopause. That in itself can cause irregular and erratic cycle timing. It makes things harder to predict."

"You can't force it?" John questioned.

Boomer saw the creases on his forehead deepening and she knew it meant he didn't like what he was hearing .

"Not at this point," Simon answered. "Once her body has begun the process on its own we can absolutely speed up the maturation of the eggs being harvested but until her system gets to that point there isn't much I can do. Her body knows it just gave birth and it's not going to allow anything it can't handle at the moment."

"Frak," the One swore with clenched fists.

"There's one big factor I feel could delay things," the Four began.

"What's that?" Doral frowned.

"Stress," Simon stated.

"Give me a break," the Five scoffed.

"Stress?" Caprica echoed.

"Stress hormones can directly affect reproductive hormones," the doctor insisted. "They can easily alter natural functions."

"And?" John said in irritation.

"And," Simon continued, "Roslin is quite combative and resistant to being detained at the clinic. She's agitated and I can't just keep sedating her if I want her body in a healthy condition. Sedatives and anesthetics can delay or prohibit natural hormonal cycles as well."

"What are you suggesting?" Caprica inquired, doing her best to show little emotion.

She was surprised at Simon's concern over Laura's obvious fear and anxiety. Whether or not his concern was self-serving it was encouraging to hear.

"I'd like to keep her for the rest of the week to help get her uterus to heal and the bleeding to taper off. I can give her plenty of fluids and helpful supplements. If I can get her vitamin E levels up that should help the bleeding. She'll be able to rest in a comfortable bed and rest will be what helps her heal the most," the Four proposed, leaving the group to quietly take in his assessment.

"What then?" Boomer spoke up.

There was no way Roslin would calm down whether in the hospital or the detention center and she was beginning to suspect what Simon was about to say next.

"Then…" the doctor said, intentionally avoiding eye contact with the One, "Then… suggest she's released."

"What?!" Cavil squawked.

"That can't be a good idea," Doral discouraged.

"I agree," Leoben seconded, speaking up for the first time and looking rather worried at the prospect of Simon's proposition. "I think that would be unwise."

Caprica couldn't help but notice his agitation and it seemed as though Boomer had noticed too as the two women exchanged curious glances.

Simon licked his lips and tucked his hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

"Just for a while," he clarified. "I don't see her hormone levels evening out or her body resetting as quickly under lock and key. I think it will only make the wait longer," he said with a shrug. "If we let her free until she reaches six weeks post delivery I'm hopeful that will do the trick. She's already about halfway there. She's obviously under stress either way, but being imprisoned is another level. If you want this to happen faster I don't think she should be detained."

The group was silent once again except for the sound of John's manic pacing.

"It sort of makes sense," Boomer eventually spoke. It wasn't as if she really wanted to advocate for Roslin one way or the other, but she knew if the plan failed John was going to be more furious than ever. As much as she wished that she didn't care, she couldn't stand it when he was angry. As much as she hated him he was her only constant anymore. Her life was quickly becoming consumed by making sure he was placated. When he was appeased at least she felt like she had somewhere solid to be. With him, at least she didn't feel like she was living in purgatory. "I was stationed on Aerilon one summer. The military base butted up against a horse ranch. We used to drink at night with the stable hands," she began to recount a memory she was thankfully confident that she'd actually lived. "They had told us that they were trying to breed one of their best mares so it was timed just right for potential buyers during the next auction season. They kept watching her and watching her, putting her with their best stud over and over but it wasn't happening. No matter what they tried or how much they did to encourage things it never worked. One day someone left the stable door open by accident. She got out, wandered around on her own for half the morning, found her way to a random stallion and got knocked up. It only finally happened once no one was watching her and waiting," Boomer finished.

John stopped his pacing and looked at her with a disgruntled expression.

"Thank you, Eight, for that folksy little anecdote from your time as a fake human being," he mocked her.

Boomer's face went hot with embarrassment, anger and an odd sense of shame.

"I'm just saying-"

"That is the basic concept," Simon weakly defended, cutting off the Eight's attempt to explain herself.

"Then that's what we should do," Caprica agreed, trying not to seem too eager when inside her heart was racing. "Let her go. She's already been interrogated. It's doubtful she'll give us much more than she already has. We have to decide what's more important; showing the Colonial people that she's being punished for her crimes or getting the result we want out of her biologically," she said with what she hoped sounded like firm practicality. "John. You're the one who really wants this," she continued, looking toward the One. "What's it worth to you?"

"It should be worth everything," D'Anna's voice suddenly sounded from the doorway.

Their eyes all went to where she stood looking wide-eyed and almost exhilarated.

"Nice of you to finally join us," Doral caustically greeted her.

"Where have you been?" Boomer interrogated.

The Three ignored them all rushing up to John as if he were the only person in the room.

"Everything, John," she told him, her words impassioned and fervid. "This child is worth everything."

Cavil stood grimacing, arms folded and cheeks mottled red in anger.

"We called for you twice and you didn't come. No answer. No response. You didn't even bother to send another Three in your place!"

"Listen to me, brother," she continued, further disregarding his admonishment as if she hadn't even heard it. "We need to do whatever we can to make sure this child is created."

"Why's that?" Cavil said with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Our future," she replied.

They all stared at her for a beat unsure of why she was suddenly so impassioned over John's plan.

"I agree," Leoben eventually concurred.

"So are we in all agreement?" Simon proposed. "Roslin will be released?"

"I guess," Boomer sighed.

"The Fives will vote with the majority," Doral relented.

Their eyes all went to John waiting on his call. More and more it seemed their votes didn't matter. They all knew it was his opinion that would decide what would ultimately happen next. For now he was humoring them.

Caprica thought the little man looked like a kettle ready to boil over as he stood their stewing. She prayed he'd respect the majority vote. If Laura was free at least she'd have more time to try and warn her of what was coming.

"Fine!" he finally shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. "Do what you have to get this show on the road for frak sake!"

Caprica's shoulders instantly relaxed at the news of the minor victory.

"I'm out of here," Cavil announced, turning to D'Anna and looking pointedly up at her.

"Remember, Three, you're of no use to us if you're not around to contribute. We don't need deadweight. You know what happens when someone can no longer function as part of the hive."

Caprica felt a lump swell in her throat at John's casual reference to Boxing. D'Anna looked totally unphased but she couldn't disregard it so easily.

The tension in the room dissipated as John exited.

For a moment Boomer considered following him but she stopped herself.

"Well this has been fun," she groused with a roll of her eyes.

"Meeting dismissed?" Leoben suggested eager to get on his way.

"Hey wait," Doral spoke as a notion seemed to come to him. "What about our surrogate?"

"What about her?" Simon replied.

"Does the same hold true for her?" the Five posed. "I mean as far as the stress factor?"

"In a way, it could," the physician considered, "but she's far better off health-wise. She's younger for one thing. More importantly she doesn't have a recent pregnancy to factor in. Though she only has the single ovary left, it's not a problem as far as what we need. Our only concern with her is a healthy accommodating uterus and she seems to have that. In her case we aren't waiting for any kind of recovery or hormonal change. We will have to synchronize both women's cycles at one point but again, that depends on Roslin," he finished.

"Still," Doral went on, "if stress in issue for the surrogate too then maybe-"

"She's quite comfortable where she is," Leoben abruptly interjected, stopping his brother from insinuating otherwise. "I assure you," the Two vehemently insisted, "She'll be ready when the time comes."

—

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