New Caprica
26:00
Ιουνιος (Iounios) - month six of occupation

The explosion could be heard from Laura's tent on the far side of the settlement. A thunderous shaking of the earth partnered to a fiery plume of rock and white hot ash - it climbed up toward the sky, fire bursting fourth sporadically from beneath the blackness. People stepped out from their tents or stopped in the streets - all eyes focused on the ridge behind the settlement.

"What's going on?" said Adama still inside the tent. Laura didn't respond, only watched as the dark cloud clawed its way to the first layers of atmosphere, secondary explosions now coming thick and fast. "Gods - what the frak is that?" he emerged from the tent to stand next to her.

Everyone stood there - just watching, mouths agape at the growing wall of fire.

Somewhere far off men were shouting and screaming. The Chief, half buried, struggled free of the rubble to search for his workers. There was no air - only hot, choking fallout, the heat still radiating down from the fireball above. "Move!" he shouted, stumbling in the eerie red landscape under the cloud, "Move!"

Bill and Laura stood with everyone else, lost for action. It wasn't until the debris began to return to New Caprica's surface that people really panicked.

"Laura watch out!" Bill pulled her back - the two of them falling over each other, into the tent. The unique sound of rock smacking into mud filled their senses. The loudness was unbelievable.

Laura found her world to be completely black. She froze in confusion for a moment before she realised that the Admiral was lying on top of her - protecting her from the chaos. He rolled off gently - clearly needing a second to recover from the exertion.

"Admiral!" Laura sat up then crawled over to where Bill had let out a painful groan, his hands held to his chest.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." he lied as his old injury stung beyond his pain tolerance level. "Just - give me a minute."

She nodded, assessing that he was not badly hurt. Laura tried standing, her head colliding with heavy tent canvas. She ducked back down, tilting her gaze to find the front half of her tent collapsed.

"That was close." Adama shifted onto his side, then onto his knees.

"You're not wrong."

Together they managed to make it out of the tent, thank the gods it wasn't on fire - the heavy rain at noon a grace for once. Perhaps it was the steady fading light of dusk, or the three moons glittering overhead serving as a backlight - whatever it was, the blaze was spectacularly beautiful in a morbidly fascinating way. "Oh my gods - " Laura held the remains of the tent, "that's the mining camp."

"Come on." Adama grabbed hold of her hand and started to lead her through the ruined settlement, dust now raining down rendering everyone a monotonous grey.

"Where are we going Admiral?"

"To find out what's going on."

*~*

Laura and Adama made it easily to the Admiral's Raptor. It was undamaged, the crew standing outside watching the spectacular event unfold.

"Sir, Ma'am." said a young Lieutenant as they approached - two more men turned and came to attention. They had managed to escape the majority of the fallout, you could tell by their degree of 'grayness'.

"Report." Adama came to rest, Laura not far behind.

"I don't know sir."

"Anything over the transmission?"

The man shook his head. "Nothing sir."

"Must be too early." he said, turning to Roslin.

"Will you and the President be returning to Galactica?" Laura wasn't sure if it was a slip of tongue by the young man - or a purposely defiant comment against Baltar's government. Either way, she found herself surprised by the sudden and unexpected use of her title.

"Madame President?" The Admiral extended the invitation to join him, the Lieutenant seemed to have started a trend.

"I - " she watched the cloud, now past its peak intensity, drift lazily above the land - imposing even in its death. There were so many people - reasons she shouldn't leave - the young child for one, Maya had taken her for an afternoon walk during the Admiral's meeting - goodness knows what could have happened to them out in the open.

Standing there though, in front of the waiting Raptor - Laura felt what she thought she never would again. It was like something from a memory, something she had forgotten for too long. All of the men stood, eyes fixed on her with respect - hope. "I - if you would be so kind."

The Admiral stepped aside as the Lieutenant helped her up into the ship - and in that moment, though layers of New Caprica hid all visible evidence, she became the President all over again.

*~*

The mining site was devastated - the Chief stood in front of a group of tired and injured men. Most of them were not recognizable by sight, their features completely concealed under the black soot and shreds of fabric left behind from their uniforms. Some were bleeding, most were clutching some part of their body in pain - the very act of standing a stretch of their will.

The Chief stumbled down the group, counting. Forty-Eight. Twelve were missing.

He knew already that this disaster was likely a human error. His men were tired - hungry, sick and overworked. Baltar's regime had been criticized for the relentless stress it placed upon the union - now the union had been given a hand to win them all.

*~*

Laura sat opposite the Admiral in the Raptor, both of them looking as if they'd survived another apocalypse. The ride out was smooth and fast - the pilot clearly experienced though he did stumble a little on the landing. Laura suspected it was the result of the precious few hours these men now spent in the air.

Word traveled fast once people escaped the initial shock - someone even remembered to inform President Baltar who immediately ordered a line to Adama requesting an urgent meeting. The Admiral had agreed - he was not one to refuse Baltar just yet.

The Admiral and Laura departed the Raptor and headed straight for his quarters, both in need of some serious cleaning up. Thankfully Tigh had been informed of the situation and Ellen had offered to take Roslin in and clean her up. She did so, departing his quarters with the intent of meeting up in an hour - President Baltar in for more than he had bargained.

*~*

New Caprica
26:00
Ιούλιος (Ioulios) - month seven of occupation

Heat lazily clung to the wavering hours of late evening on New Caprica. Darkness, a rarity these days - the sun seemingly content to watch over the browning earth which turned golden beneath its stretching beams.

The village bustled between this merger of day and night, people who all too strongly remembered the ice of winter indulged in mid-night trades and twenty-eight hour parties in the small wood just to the east. The tortured trees revealing galactic structures of mushrooms illuminating the dusk as they clustered up the trunks and scattered amongst the leaf litter. Their retrieving a favourite children's game. For the first time, in a long time, people managed to relax enough to rekindle the distant memory of actually living. Laura and Bill were no different.

Having narrowly averted disaster with Baltar, the state of things had settled to a cease fire of sorts. The Union, faced with the tragic deaths of its members and the risk of losing more, reluctantly returned to work. Amazingly the turbulence seemed to have climaxed and tapered off and now the crops struggled up through the earth, their gilded tips filling with seed and the sickness which, last month nibbled at the edge of the civilisation, had all but dissipated into extinction.

New Caprica had entered the age of play.

And what better game for two powerful leaders then that of war - well, theoretical war at least.

Laura averted her eyes over the ancient board - a meeting of dark and pale polished wood reflecting the firelight that played across the room, its flames a mere flicker of their former selves. Somewhere off to the side fresh bread was baking under hot coals, filling the tent with the sweet smell of grown food. Its enticing sent distracted her slightly as she inspected her position - eyes lowered to gaze through the forest of pieces, the murky burgundy of her squares unfortunately hidden beneath the darker wood of a smiling Admiral.

The Admiral in question sat across from her in lighter summer attire - his obligatory coat done away with early on in the meeting. The beginnings of a smile snuck into his expression as he imagined his inevitable victory - she, however, did not look away from the matter at hand. Instead Laura scanned the board intimately, following the curves and peaks of each piece as their intricate forms rose and fell.

When she finally spoke, it was languid - carefully seductive. Calculated with all the sharpness of her strategic prowess. "Most Interesting." she rolled the words a little, the Admiral's confidence in his victory quivered, ever so slightly.

It was important, though, to main the façade of complete confidence. So he leant back into the confines of his chair, apparently undeterred. "Defeat usually is."

Laura smirked, she saw his hesitation and the subtle nervous tremor of his hand. They sat in continued silence, the ex-president catching the Admiral's lingering eye as he snuck a quick check over his position, almost giving away his secret plan with a careless movement of his eyes, his thought currently limited to, damn that woman and is that vanilla in her hair?.

"No," said Laura simply, twisting her lip suggestively, "this is interesting." She brought up her hand, the Admiral's eyes not daring to touch the softness of her exposed skin, as she sleekly slid her piece down and across, replacing Adama's with her own.

Bill blinked - the move clearly having not occurred to him. "That's - " he started, moving from his relaxed position to lean in over the board, his own hand hovering as he processed the situation. Finally he relinquished his sword, " - interesting..."

Laura almost shivered at his gravely defeat, the events of the past months having distracted her from many things. Carefully censoring her thoughts, lest they slip into reality, she replied with a devious grin that completely disarmed him, "Isn't it just."

Adama picked up the silver piece left in the box - as was the tradition, and placed it in her outstretched hand.

"So?" she eyed him quizzically, not allowing him a moment to mourn the loss.

His eyebrows furrowed. "You mean I have to go now and get it?"

Laura's countenance turned playfully stern. "As I understood it, that was the plan."

Bill all but rolled his eyes, muttering, "women" beneath his breath as he relieved his bones of the comfortable chair and ducked under and out into the busy street.

Laura smiled down at the piece of silver, letting it fall across the back of her fingers before flinging it up into the air and catching it - and old habit. That made it six nil.

A muffled cry made its way into her thoughts, the urgency still lost in sleep. Laura smiled and replaced the silver, moving to the back of the room where the child was waking. "Well hello there." She folded excess fabric away from the little girl revealing a newly opened pair of sapphire eyes. This time the child did not cry, instead its gaze was held by the warmth of the woman above. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

She reached down into the cot and gently retrieved her, cradling the bundle protectively in her arms. The child had grown, its appearance now that of a two or three month old, a welcome change from tiny, fragile form that had, not so long ago nestled in her arms.

They stood there for a while, Laura gently wandering with no particular direction, immersed in thoughts she never thought she would have. Her inner distance was so great that she didn't hear the Admiral return - place his small parcel on the table, and approach from behind.

He had long ago come to terms with the idea of Laura assisting in this child's upbringing. As a result of his initial apprehensions, he had been distant at first - but now, as he watched her quietly coax the little girl into warm safety and love, he understood.

She noticed his presence just before his hand came to rest gently on her back as he leant in closer over her shoulder. The little girl was wide awake - a large smile spreading across her face as she saw the Admiral.

"I think she likes you Admiral."

A feeling that had long been buried stirred within him as he realized, "She's beautiful."

"Would you like to hold her?"

"I ah -" but Laura was already transferring the bundle to outstretched arms he didn't remember unfurling. There was something uniquely intimate about he, Laura and the child, it felt, very nearly - like home.

Bill cradled the child, an excited laugh escaping from her tiny mouth. "She's got your sense of humour." He said jokingly as the girl reached up to touch his moustache, giggling as her small fingers brushed the roughness.

"And your stubbornness." Quipped Laura. Adama laughed as the child took hold of his finger and simply refused to let go.

The three of them stood there together, Adama with the child and Laura beside with one hand laid on the soft material around the girl’s body and her other around Adama’s waist.

Nothing was said – it never was. Emotion held in silence could be heard above all else – it was stronger then hardship, despair and fear. And it was there, saturating the room in a warmth that couldn’t be shaken – drawing together three unlikely souls in a poignant symbol of all that was hope.

New Caprica
26:00
Aygoustos (Σεπτέμβρης) - month eight of occupation

Laura stirred, the warmth of the Admiral emanating beside her, stray beads of warmth permeating the air as he slept soundly. They were a scant few feet apart, close enough for the rhythm of her breath to echo his as they had slept - the child nestled protectively between them - satisfied by the nearness of its careers.

It had happened again, Larua and Bill had been talking deep into the afternoon - operating once again below Baltar's radar. With the peaceful time still clinging to New Caprica, they were left to their own wills and as the sun managed to finally set from several months of lasting warmth the distance and the protocol between them had set also.

They found themselves sitting closer on his visits, no longer taking seats in opposition to each other. Several times Laura had the distinct sense of slipping, though she was not sure what from or where to. When they sat close they would talk, the talking would sometimes travel through the night and into the morning but it was not the words that were said, only the action itself that brought that gentle warmth to her cheeks and shine to his eye. It was a tentative happiness, testing the waters ever so carefully.

Earlier today Laura and Bill had been talking - he having obtained permission to spend the entire day on New Caprica, but somehow, between swapping fiery tales of childhood and nursing the crying child - they had succumbed to the sweetness of sleep.

As was routine, the Admiral had stopped in to see Kara on the Eastern wing of the settlement - her new husband was - as usual, out and about with the other kids harvesting their second field of the summer. One more, thought Adama, and that would be their last - summer having peaked weeks ago on an evening where three glittering moons struggled to have their light felt through the resilient star which simply refused to set. The village had held an all night festival for the event, people looking on in awe as two of their moons eclipsed at twenty-four hundred. Adama's hand finding Laura's in the diminished light - the pair lost somewhere in the crowd.

This was life now - bittersweet. All the more so because it would not last - it could not last. Here and there in the wood, a leaf had turned, a smile lost, its nutrients stripped; parched and dead. Winter was waiting, creeping its way around the curve of the planet - the Admiral could see it from space when he drifted by in orbit. The ice laden clouds which tumbled and froze hugged the surface, its approach growing ever closer.

Laura sought out the Admiral in her sleepy haze, her arms lightly reaching him to rest just above his hip where he faced her, the child still sleeping between them.

Bill did not stir, he had said the month had been long aboard Galactica, the little staff he had hovered around him, asking - begging for shore leave, the rebellious youth having nearly forgotten the real hardship of the planet and the still quiet danger of the Cylons. She watched him sleep, eyes lingering where one of his hands gently clutched the little girl's blankets, guarding even in sleep.

From seemingly nowhere, a tear broke her gaze and disappeared just as quickly below the cream curve of her cheek. The wet surface darker than it once was, tanned from the endless days that Adama said had deepened the red in her hair.

Outside, the light was at its weakest, the middle of the night approaching fast beckoned by nearby laughter of small children still playing.

She had nearly drifted back to sleep when the entrance to her tent pealed open, light gushing to fill the comforting darkness. Laura sat up in alarm but relaxed when she found Kara peering back. If Kara had an opinion of the sight before her, she didn't push it.

The Admiral was waking now, hoisting himself into a seated position.

"Admiral - Laura," spoke Kara hurriedly, sorry for the interruption as she caught her breath.

"What is it Captain?" he kept the title as she had chosen to introduce it. Kara gave that token look that could only mean trouble.

"It's Balter -" the Admiral should have known, "I mean, the President." she corrected herself.

"What now?"

"He says he's going to bring Colonial One in to land."

"He what?!" said the Admiral furiously, starting to raise his voice.

"Lee's been up there trying to talk some sense into him but he won't listen to reason."

I'll show him reason thought Adama imagining his fist intersecting Baltar’s jaw. "Alright, I'll be out in a minute and we can all catch the shuttle up there."

Kara shook her head slowly, "Don't bother, he's landing now."

Adama couldn't believe the depth of stupidity exhibited by this man, landing the presidency ship? Imagine the damage (let alone fuel consumption) should something happen and it be left stranded on the ground.

"Thank you Captain. I'll only be a minute."

Kara nodded and left the tent leaving the Admiral, Laura and the still sleeping child alone. Laura turned to him, "You better go."

"For all the good it'll do." he paused, cautiously, "Are you going to come?"

Laura's first response was, 'yes', any chance to watch someone have a go at the president. Except now she found herself making excuses not to - perhaps finally accepting that she was no longer part of this fight. "I'll get Maya to come and take this little one somewhere safe in case this gets out of hand."

Bill, still a little sleepy, stole a look at the sleeping child - peaceful and innocent. Then he smiled at Laura, "You didn't answer my question."

"Yes I did." was her soft response.

Laura realised her hand had slipped to his hip when he sat up. Despite Baltar's rabid comments nothing more had passed between Bill and Laura then two stolen kisses. One when everyone believed she was dying and it had taken all her strength to stop herself from collapsing into his arms - succumbing to their warmth. The cold loneliness of winter and too much drink had been responsible for the second - both of them more forthcoming then they had meant to be.

They had slept together - yes, but not in the manner one would imagine. This was sleep, a needing just to be near each other, to have something other than the encroaching cold and limitless loss that threatened every day to claim them. Someone to hold onto in the dark when no-one could see their weakness.

So they had talked, every month, and occasionally the talk drifted long past the Admiral's appointed hour. Then they would leave their chairs for the weary, instead sitting beside each other on the floor, shifting closer until she could rest her head on his chest and the Admiral wrap his arms around her silently. They would sit there, without a word - until sleep claimed them.

Now that they were both awake she felt more keenly his eyes upon her and the warmth of him beneath her hand. Laura didn't dare move it - lest it be taken as an acknowledgment of its presence. The Admiral was a step ahead of her heart, letting his own hand descend to cover hers. Her eyes fluttered closed in weakness.

"I'll come back for you soon." and that was the last thing she remembered hearing him say. All too quickly he was beyond the limits of the tent and she felt the edges of her own lip curl upward.

New Caprica
26:00
Septembris (September)- month nine of occupation

Shrouded in the pale August veil, soft pinks and hushed violet provided a muted backdrop for the constant shower of falling leaves. Burnt and crisp, their violent exteriors braced fleeting winds to trail across the sky, settling at last in New Caprica's soil. The last of August settling - dry and dead on a world about to freeze. The sky fought back as sun slipped further in its shorter path around their home. Eventually all the colour drained - winds picked the leaves up and carried the colour elsewhere. Night - and another month, fell heavily onto New Caprica.


*~*

Laura struggled back in the dark cool of her tent. It was two hours until the new day though you could scarce believe it from the world outside. Winter, it seemed, was teething the edges of their world, the cold skipping seasons without care - thrusting the last of the human race into weak ice drifts. The tents they stayed in barely kept this cold out - it would be much better to be caged up in one of the few ships left in orbit. You didn't dare say that out loud though, it all but accounted for mutiny these days.

These days... Laura half laughed to herself. So this was the time they lived in. Today was the day, a mark in the new history - where they had officially been on the surface of New Caprica longer than they had run from the Cylons in space. And three months from now would be Baltar's one year anniversary as President of the Colonies. The people would celebrate - they had already begun to make preparations for the event. Kobol knows why. Funny though, a lot can happen in three months.

Laura, for one, certainly wasn't holding her breath for stability.

Another jolt of wind pushed inward on the tent. The darkness was well into ‘deep’ by now, unlike summer where night scarcely got a look in. The few candles in the corner lit the air enough for her to glance at her watch. No fire tonight – the hour was late and she didn’t want to draw any extra attention to her tent.

Ten past - he was late.

Their last meeting had been full of promise, if not surprise. Her official status in the Colony remained simply as Laura Roslin, Teacher of the children. Unofficially, people whispered her old title as she passed by - dared to call her 'Ma'am' when she purchased goods from the market, and watched carefully over her wherever she went in case word of her new rise to power inside the Colony should reach Baltar. The Admiral - Bill, had seemed pleased with this development, though perhaps that is too softer word for it. The Admiral was invigorated - drawing from her resurrection strength of his own. It was something unique to start anew - all the pent up strength that had grown under the suppression of Baltar's reign - so why wasn't he here already? They had so much to discuss, and, unless she was very much mistaken - they had grown closer in these past months. She wanted to see if for no other reason than to simply, see him.

Twenty past... This was late - even for him. If something had happened to his transport ship - then she would have known already. The night sky over New Caprica would have lit up like a beacon in the dark - and the settlement broken out into chaos. The still and the cold told her that this had not come to pass.

Someone's fingertips brushed the outer material of her tent, their feet sinking slightly into the freshly made mud. Laura felt her breath skip slightly, the movement of the person outside not that of the Admiral. She knew his walk too well - the way he rested his hand over the zipper just long enough to breathe in the free air he fought for but so rarely got to taste.

No - this person was not William Adama.

Two days after they had settled the surface of this gods-forsaken planet, Tigh had come to see her, make sure she had settled in. On this trip he had slipped a weapon under her pile of blankets, and though she protested he would not retrieve it.

"I am under orders from the top - you will thank me one day Madame President."

She was thankful now that she had left it there. Sliding over as quietly as she could, she pushed her hand under the pile of course haired quilts, her fingers curling around the edge of a Colonial Standard issue firearm as the figure outside her tent reached the entrance, kneeling slightly to find the zipper at the base.

This was always a possibility, after the events they had set into motion last month she had prepared herself for visitors, but she had relaxed after three weeks. Underestimating Baltar's skill – it seemed.

Devastatingly slowly the zipper undid itself. Laura slid the metal out from under the pile - a sharp 'click' as she released the safety, the only evidence of her existence. Hands shaking, she raised the weapon at the entrance, preparing herself to brandish the gods-awful thing, and, if necessary, fire its death into the poor soul. Something she distantly remembers swearing never to do.

But times change. And they had.

The clarity of night, but not the identity of the intruder peered through the opening, their figure still hidden behind the fragile material. Laura steadied the glock, desperate to stop it trembling in her hands.

"Madame President?"

She gripped the base of the weapon tighter. A trap?

"Laura - are you in there?"

The voice lowered, a hesitant whisper - vaguely anxious in delivery. Its owner somewhat familiar.

Around the edge of the opening, Commander Adama, the younger, carefully ducked inside the ex-president's tent - checking the area outside for Baltar's spies before zipping it closed in one swift movement. Turning, he found the cold of Laura's weapon trained squarely on his face. He had never seen Laura this way - her eyes completely frozen and unwavering.

"Laura - for frak's sake, put that down." Lee reached forward, gently altering its aim with his hand, repeating his request.

"Oh - I'm sorry. I thought - " She lowered the weapon and switched the safety back on. "It's just - "

"No need to explain ma'am. These are dangerous times for all of us." He smiled reassuringly at her, there was something comforting in knowing that she was back, and that she was ready to fight.

"Is everything alright? I was expecting your father but he hasn't shown yet."

"He's not coming, not tonight. Baltar's having him followed at the moment. He's damn lucky, after delivering that letter of yours the rumour was that Baltar was going to have him stripped of his title."

"It would never stand - Baltar may be President, but Bill will always be the Admiral - he's nothing short of a god to the Colony."

"Baltar knows this - he doesn't want to get into a power struggle with Dad, especially when he can't be sure of victory." Lee paused. "The Admiral sent me here to make sure you were okay, he knew you'd be waiting for him. He has not forgotten you." Lee added the last part, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Something had changed between his father and Ms. Roslin, not since their decent to New Caprica - long before that. After her miraculous recovery things had been different - he wouldn't be half surprised if they were...

"Thank you Lee. I admit I was a little concerned."

"The gun to my head was a hint Madame President."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't be - it's a good sign. You've come a long way since the end of the world."

"Haven't we all." Haven't we all she repeated to herself, briefly reminiscing over the lives that they had all left.

To her surprise, she and Lee talked well into the next day. It had been a while since either of them had sat down and had a good conversation about their respective lives - to anyone. Lee talked about Dee - apparently the Viper Jockey needed some motherly advice after all, and Laura, keenly mourning the loss of her dear Billy, needed to mother someone. By the end of it, they had bridged just about every topic they could find and found a deeper sense of friendship with each other. It was strangely surreal, almost a reminiscence of her first few months drifting through space.

"I have to go." he said finally, as they finished another bout of quiet laughter over some trivial event. "I only took leave for three hours, it is well beyond that now."

"Oh frak - I have to get the classes ready for tomorrow, oh, today..."

Lee grinned. "You know, there was a time when you would never take a word in vain."

"That was the time I became President of the last humans left alive in the galaxy - let's just say I changed my speech habits a little."

"Ah." They both held their faces serious - for a moment anyway, before breaking out into smirks quickly followed by deep laughter.

*~*

Sweeping the outmost layers of atmosphere of New Caprica, Bill stood on the observation deck. Cusps of clouds edged forth from the planet's surface and stretched as far as they could into the darkness of space. He could almost feel the ice they held laden and heavy in their form. Snow encroached from the upper pole, creeping through the deep gashes of valleys and trailing the higher mountain ranges down toward the settlement. They had not experienced true winter - not yet.

The year threatened to come full circle shortly, everything happening again as it had done a thousand times before. The world, existence, tumbling through in frustratingly infinite circles. And he was up here, removed - isolated. Finding himself cut off from the one thing he wanted most in what was left of this life. They say a man goes down with his ship, well then, Bill resigned himself to be a child. He didn’t want to go down – not yet, with or without his ship.

Galactica's tired hull groaned under the pull of yet another turn about the world. What were they fighting for now? Sometimes Bill didn't even know. He was so tired of fighting. He wanted to rest - relax and live out the remainder of his life with the woman he had come to love. But destiny wouldn't let him do that - not yet. He could feel the approaching storm below - he could feel it all around him.

New Caprica
12:04
Οκτώβρης (Oktobris) - month ten of occupation


Strips of torn fabric decorated the main street at the heart of the Colony. Tents trailed off in all directions, the narrow, muddied paths between them feeding in to merge with the main stream. Each alley brought scores of New Capricans converging onto the markets that flourished with the ‘almost’ warmth of the day. Laura Roslin, just one of the hundreds of souls picking their way through the array of produce on display. This was the last harvest market of the season and without refrigeration or large storage facilities, it was the final chance to taste fresh food for at least four months. The atmosphere seemed positive enough, but underneath - behind the fabric of their tents, they were all thinking, there's not enough food...

The military had already been here, securing large amounts of grain and salted meat for the fleet's dwindling pilots. No-one might be interested in manning the flight decks of space at the moment, but give them a few months of nothing but weevil infested bread and rotten meat and they might change their minds. The boredom was worth it for the food alone.

Laura fought the crowds around one stall, eventually making her way far enough in to glimpse the table on offer. There wasn't much left - a dozen or so bags of grain, one with a worn edge leaking precious seeds to the ground.

"Yes ma'am?" the woman who was once young had aged terribly from the task of attending her fields.

"Ah, two bags." Laura held up the number on her hands as well in case she wasn't heard over the noise of desperate haggling. She would have bought all of them but she had precious little to bargain with - and she wasn't ready to part with the beautiful stone around her neck - not yet. It remained the only gift the Admiral had given to her and she would rather starve than lose it.

The woman went to pick up the leaking bag but Laura shook her head. "Not that one." She shot Laura a 'beggars shouldn't be choosers' look before reluctantly picking the bag next to it and placing them both on the table. Laura passed her a container of pain killers with nine tablets left inside. The woman counted them, then nodded. A fair trade was passed.

The bags of grain were heavy for their size and Laura struggled to pull them off the table. Food was so frakking heavy. But she needed it - the young child was spending more and more time in her care with her mother struggling to secure enough of a life for the both of them.

Laura had one more stop to make, Tyrol said he had a little yeast to part with in return for one of her pain killers. Cally needed them, her pregnancy had set off horrendous back pain and as the time grew closer - and the cold worse, the pain was becoming too much to bare. Laura knew a lot about pain - she knew that if there was something she could do to take it away from another, then she would.

The thing she hated most about market day was that it turned the ordered streets into an absolute mess. She knew roughly where she was going, but it was hard to tell exactly because all the tents looked the same. The only difference coming from their varying states of decay.

'Down from the square - turn left, no - right and fourteenth on the left.' Laura stopped again, resting the heavy grain bags on the ground, taking a moment to secure her shoulder bag as well.

Walking along what could be the equivalent of Bia Street, Laura counted the tents carefully until she came to number fourteen. Counting manually was a pain and she often wondered why they hadn't at least tried to instate some kind of primitive street names.

Number Fourteen was a largish tent - larger than she would have expected. Its Kiekie shell spanned the better part of five meters which made it about ten meters deep. It certainly wasn't a family tent, but then again, Tyrol had never said he would be at home. More than likely he was finishing up another Union meeting and just wanted her to stop by there.

It didn't matter - she was tired and just wanted to go home and prepare lunch before the child and her mother arrived.

It was a mistake - from the moment she walked in. Everything screamed at her and she knew -

This was the wrong tent.

She could feel it as she entered the diminished light filtering in from several gashes in the 'ceiling'. A group of thirty or so packed into the space around a make shift stage that was really just a sheet of metal bridging the gap between two stones. The air smelt of cigars and ambrosia, rancid garbage left to decay at its edges where three or four elderly people slumped against the tent walls - muttering to themselves in intoxicated hallucinations. Whispering broke out from those next to her and spread through the room, people shifting to face her, anger and disgust rising from within them.

Panic rooted her to the ground, this was not the Union tent. Behind the table hung one of the old election posters, the one with her and Baltar standing side by side. She remembered that day vividly, it was way back in the time she thought she was going to win. Baltar's image was exactly how she remembered it being, his greasy hair glistening from the poster's surface. Her picture though, was torn slightly at the edges - mud from outside smeared over her suit and, to her horror, an assortment of sharp objects jutted out. Knives that had embedded themselves in the board.

This tent belonged to those still loyal to Baltar, but worse, this was the extremist movement and they hated her for trying to steal the election from him. They blamed her for their hardship in space, and for the oppression of the military. Word was, they wanted her out of the picture - in the permanent sense. She hadn't believed the rumours, until now.

Oh frak.

"Looky what the cold dragged in." Leered one of the more tortured faces. His clothing was covered in mud, streaks of it also hiding the various gashes and sores that had only stopped bleeding recently.

"Well I'll be frakked if it isn't the bitch herself." This time, the room parted and Laura noticed that the stage was empty, the man who had been occupying it making his way through a crowd restless with anticipation. They were waiting to see what their leader would do with the arrival of their greatest enemy.

"Look everyone," he continued, "It's our very own, President" the man gave a little bow, rising to meet Laura. He moved so that he came uncomfortably close to her, his smell particularly strong. She wondered if he had ever been sober. "What brings you here ma'am?"

The crowd laughed maliciously, this was the most interesting thing that had happened to them in months. For the first time Laura Roslin was not surrounded by her usual entourage of protectors. This was their world, and she had entered all on her own - what happened next, well, that wasn't their fault now was it?

"My apologies, I was - " she searched for a valid excuse, trying not to meet their eyes, "looking for someone. But - obviously they're not here so I'll just be - "

"Going?"

"Yes."

"Oh no, I don't think so. What sort of hosts would we be if we didn't give our ex-president and one true prophet the welcome she deserves." Laura really didn't like the way he was smiling at her - or the way the crowd was gradually inching closer.

"That's very kind of you but I really should be - "

"Ah, you've been shopping I see - stocking up for the long winter?"

"The same as everyone else." Maybe she could talk herself out of this.

"Those bags must be heavy."

"Nothing I can't manage." She could smell every detail of him as he leant down closer.

"Here, let me help." And he took the bags from her, smiling before passing them back behind him where they disappeared into the crowd. There was nothing she could do.

The bastard.

The crowd broke into applause and the man backed off, hands raised in the air. Things could have been worse, if he was satisfied with two bags of grain, then she was lucky. Laura tested a step backward, the man seeming to show no interest. It looked as if he was going to let her go until he caught a glimpse of the precious stone around her neck. Laura tried to take another step back but he was too fast - grabbing her arm, preventing her retreat. "What's this then?"

"None of your business." she cut quickly, attempting but failing another retreat.

"It's mighty pretty ma'am, why, worth enough to feed the entire room. What do you say we propose a trade, your life for this fine jewel of yours?"

Laura pulled her arm away. "Frak you."

"If only darlin'"

The way he looked at her made Laura feel sick.

"Now hand over that pretty necklace of yours and you can be on your way."

"No."

"Have it your way."

For a brief second she wondered what that meant. Then, without warning three or four of the crowd leapt upon her. "No! Get your hands off me!" She struggled against them, yelling as loudly as she could but she already felt their hands moving to where the stone sat around her neck. Despite her efforts Laura knew she was losing, someone had hold of the leather band and was pulling without consideration for her neck.

"Frakking animals! Let her go!"

The room paused at the bellowing voice of the Vice President standing on the stage. They were all quiet for a moment, not sure what to do. "I said let her go - NOW!"

The formerly dominant male released his grip on her arm. "Frak this shit." And then he left the tent, the fun seemingly over. Once he released her, the others seemed to follow begrudgingly.

Zarek remained on stage long enough to quite the crowd before moving towards Laura. He came up to her, whispering quietly. "Are you okay?" she nodded. "We have to leave." Laura didn't protest, letting him lead her out of the tent gently by the arm.

Once outside and a safe distance he pulled her aside into one of the smaller streets. "Laura, are you insane? It's not safe, you could have been - they could have - you're damn frakking lucky! Laura?" Tom stopped, faltering when he realised Laura was close to tears. Sometimes he forgot that she was a person, she always gave the illusion of some untouchable creature, whether it be prophet or president. It would take Zarek a while to get used to the fact that he would have to be gentle with 'Laura'. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, regaining her composure, her hand feeling the tender skin around her neck. "That was very good of you."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No." she said as convincingly as possible.

"Thank the gods."

"I thought you hated me?" Laura was a little taken aback by his earnest response.

"I don't hate you Laura, besides, could you imagine what the Admiral would do if anything happened to you?" He smiled, "It was as much about saving my own skin as it was yours. See," he said as Laura returned the smile, "there - I'm back to being the selfish terrorist we all know and hate."

"I don't hate you either." She laughed a little, it was strange, they had spent so long 'hating' each other they hadn't realised that they were all in this mess together. Just because she disagreed with him on politics didn't mean there wasn't still a good person in there somewhere.

He loosened his grip on her arm, holding it only tight enough to make sure she didn't fall over. "You should hate me Laura - I know I do. It was my idea, New Caprica - I wanted to beat you so badly and for what?"

"Politician." she quipped.

"Terrorist." he corrected. "Even when it became obvious you had rigged the election, Baltar wouldn't hear of it - he believed so strongly in your goodness."

"You disappointed?"

"No - impressed." They were silent for a minute, it was surreal, talking to each other like this. Maybe it was true, old friends and old enemies became one and the same.

"Oh frak."

"What?"

"They took my food!" Laura broke away from Zarek, "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Leave that to me, you just get yourself home." Zarek looked at her seriously, "And ma'am, try not to wander into any more tents on the way."

"What about Cally?"

"What?"

"I was supposed to trade this for yeast." She retrieved the small bottle.

"Leave that to me as well." Habit - she hesitated. "If I was going to steal from you Laura, I would have done so already."


New Caprica
26:00
Οκτώβρης (Oktobris) - month ten of occupation


Laura fiddled with the fire in her tent. Frak the lot of them, she was cold and she wanted a fire so she was going to have one. Besides, she couldn't let the tent get too cold with the little one - medicine was so scarce that a cold could be the undoing of a child. Thankfully, the child in question was sleeping peacefully over in the crib in the corner - her mother having dropped her off early in the afternoon. It had taken her hours to quiet her, she was hungry and Laura had nothing to feed her. It almost broke her that children were starving because of their - her mistakes.

There had been no word from the Admiral, and after the last chat she had with Lee - she had no reason to believe that he would be coming.

Laura knelt on the ground - not another month, another month by herself. She didn't know if she could keep this up much longer. She was strong – she was a leader, but she couldn’t do all of it on her own.

The heavy thud of several objects hitting the floor behind her startled Laura. She didn't move for a minute - not sure what to think or do. The events of the day past made her slow to trust unknown sounds.

It was then that she heard it, the voice she had longed to hear for so many weeks now.

"Miss me?"

Behind her, Laura found the Admiral, two sizable bags of grain and another of smaller bag at his feet, a large smile spreading across his weathered features. At once she forgot the sorry state she had been in, choosing to ignore the damp skin below her eyes and instead fix them on him. Taking in every feature she had taken pains to catalog.

She wasn't sure how long they were there for before Bill offered his hand and she took it, the movement pulling upwards and straight into his arms which encircled her - holding her tightly. She couldn't see the layer of moisture build up around his sight as he held her. Laura drew him as close as she could.

Judging by his gift of food - Zarek had confessed everything to him. The honest bastard.

"I thought you were confined to your ship." she managed, finally bringing her head up to rest above his shoulder, neither letting go yet.

"I am." Was that a mutinous grin? "I should never have left you here." he confessed into her hair, bringing her closer again, feeling the fragile bone structure beneath her jumper. The Admiral surprised that the action didn't break her.

The news of Laura's encounter had first reached him with the returning supply ship. An unexpected phone call disturbed him from his daily watch over the planet, and who was he to find on the other end of the line but that lousy traitor and terrorist - Vice President Tom Zarek. A man who had just moved up a few thousand places in his book.

He finished his duties as always, then dismissed the officer posted outside his cabin. Waited half an hour and then boarded one of the transport ships on its last run back to the Colony. No-one knew he was gone except for Tigh, Lee and perhaps Zarek if he put two and three together.

The fact that Laura had not just fallen, but collapsed against his shoulder told him that Zarek hadn't been exaggerating the situation.

Bill, sensing she was strong enough, moved her back so that he could examine her. The beginnings of bruises circled her wrists, and, where the Admiral pushed up the fabric, were also present on her arms. They were angry marks - and Bill was going to make sure those sorry son's of bitches paid.

"I'm fine. Really."

"Laura, it is my experience that we humans are many things - 'fine' is not one of them."

It was too much emotion to deal with. He was so close, and they needed each other, but for some reason she couldn't deal with it right now. So she changed the subject.

"What's all this?" she said, escaping from his grip, bending down to the objects he had left on her floor.

"Someone said you were hungry."

"These wouldn't be from Galactica's supply now would they Admiral?"

"Ah - no..."

"Liar."

They both forgot about everything for a moment and laughed. Only stopping when they heard noise coming from the corner. The little girl stirred.

"Have you adopted her yet?" asked Bill, Laura already lifting the bundle into her arms.

"You'd think so wouldn't you?"

There was something about the site of the infant in Laura's arms that filled Bill with a feeling he couldn't quite describe.

"She's hungry, I didn't have anything to feed her with today."

"Here, give her to me - we've got food now and if I'm not very much mistaken, she's not the only one in need of feeding."

She smiled, passing the little girl into Bill's confident hold. The action quieting her crying almost at once.

"There's no doubt about it - she likes you."

"It's the moustache - woman love them."

"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you."

New Caprica
26:00
Νιόβρης (Niobris) - month eleven of occupation


The wind ripped through the settlement of New Caprica on the last official day of ‘Autumn'. Not that it was fair to call it that. Applying the old names had become a dying whisper from the past. Everything on New Caprica was different almost a year on, the Admiral could see that. The days, the seasons they meant nothing. The laws of nature had been thrown aside, this world deaf to the prayers of the Colony.

Bill tilted his head in time to catch another dark cloud drift in from the shallow sea. Night was running late again. He watched for a moment as the dark surged, feeling certain that the gods did not live in these clouds, watch over their people or care if they survived the year.

On the outskirts of the tent city, he pulled his jacket tighter. His eyes watched the kiekie linger then, like icing sugar on a cake, succumb to a snow fall. The wind ensured that a dual personality befell the city. One became pure white and the other remained dirty and dark from the mud. Nature was the ultimate master of irony, revealing truth wherever it sees fit.

Adama turned slightly, facing away from the wind. He had watched this storm build from space - seen it creep over the globe toward this spot. Being here, you couldn't see its true extent. It could even pass as another drifting storm.

The reality was that the globe was freezing as the planet increased its distance from the sun, the enormous strain on gravity breaking in stress fractures along the equator where volcanic eruptions plumed black smoke into the air fuelling the run away green house. This blackness blocked out more and more of the precious sunlight, threatening to freeze the shallow oceans and plunge the planet into a permanent ice-age. A planet constantly on the verge of an ice-age; not exactly an ideal candidate to call home. Frankly, the Admiral would rather be legging it out in space, but then again, he's always lived aboard a ship - the general population would rather freeze on the surface of some gods awful planet then watch space drift by from their compartments. Something he would never understand.

New Caprica had made them free.

But there was 'free' and then there was 'dead'.

"Sir - sir?" It was a careful voice, little more than a whisper against the snowfall.

Adama turned, seeing nothing at first except a frail line of trees inching further toward the delta valley. "Is someone there?"

"Admiral sir."

The voice was a little more to the left... Bill advanced cautiously, he was unarmed and alone. As much as his testosterone denied it, it wouldn't be hard to bring the old man down. "Identify yourself." It had been weeks since he'd had so much as a whiff of any of Baltar's spies – strange that they would start following him now-

"It's me sir," a slender figure appeared from behind one of the trees, his suited form advancing cautiously onto the snow, "Gaeta."

The Admiral relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. "It's good to see you." Gaeta seemed to relax also, taking the last steps out from the protection of the forest.

"You too sir." he paused, unsure of how to go further. After the election - after the lying and politics he had left the military to become Baltar's advisor. Baltar never completely trusted him though, Gaeta was loyal to the Admiral once and would likely be again, but in the mean time he served his purpose. Hell, if the President was lucky he might even be a Cylon.

"What's on your mind Lieutenant?" All those months ago, Gaeta had come to him, hands nervous like they were now. 'I'm resigning sir, for personal reasons.'

Gaeta averted his eyes, "It hasn't been Lieutenant for quite some time." Another gust of snow covered their jackets in powder, "Sir - I know what you're up to - the Resistance, and I know when you're planning to make your move." Bill thought he felt the temperature drop, "and I just came to tell you that it's not going to work."

Distrust - it permeated the air as fast as the snow. "It appears that you might be on the wrong hill - so to speak."

"I know this because," the Admiral tensed again as Gaeta paused, it was treason to even make reference to the Resistance, "because I know the President - and I know Tigh."

"Mr. Gaeta I suggest you return to your President."

"I will - but you need to know sir, I'm a member of the Resistance, and believe me - your plan isn't going to work. There are things in motion that are going to send your plans to hell - everyone's plans to hell. You need to wait or we're all lost."

"I think you should leave now."

"Alright, but please make sure the Colonel gets the message. Please Admiral - it's important."

Adama said nothing as Gaeta disappeared back into the forest.

*~*

Zarek watched as Laura picked up the child, bouncing it on her knee. He observed the little girl smiling and laughing like every other child in history. "Tell me that's not her Laura."

Laura held the girl closer, her silence giving Zarek his answer. "Frak" He shook his head in disbelief, it was all such a tedious situation. "I hope you know what the frak you're doing."

"I do." replied Laura firmly, standing up and taking a few steps closer toward him. "Do you?"

"I hope so Laura. I really do." Zarek smiled this time, accepting the child that Laura held out to him. The girl went quiet, unsure of what to make of her new minder.

New Caprica
26:12
�ιόβ�ης (Niobris) - month eleven of occupation

Bill entered Laura's tent to the sound of a young child's laughter. Laura was lying on the floor, either asleep or dozing whilst Zarek was sitting in one of the chairs playing with the young child whose eyes were brightly anticipating the next round of peak-a-boo. The Admiral cleared his throat and couldn't help thinking he would never get used to the semi-permanent presence of the terrorist. But, he sighed internally, they needed him and he had done a lot in preparation for the oncoming rebellion.

"Admiral, we were expecting you."

The Admiral nodded, "Tom." He glanced over to where Laura lay resting peacefully.

"It's okay, she's been asleep for a while now. It's probably safe to wake her up."

"No - let her sleep for a minute. I doubt she gets much of a chance to anymore."

Zarek smiled, "Not with this little one."

The little girl laughed gleefully as she set eyes upon the Admiral - stretching out her strong arms toward him.

"Da-ad." The little girl beamed up at the Admiral.

Bill blushed with embarrassment. "She ah - "

"It's okay." said Zarek, passing over the little girl. The terrorist waited as Bill found a nearby chair and bounced the little bundle on his lap in the same way that he had seen Laura do earlier. "So, what kept you this time? Did the Cylons stop you on the street or did you just pop in for a casual drink with the President?"

"That's funny Tom. No, actually I had an interesting run in with the President's Gofer."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Gaeta..." finished the Admiral. "He informed me that our plan isn't going to work and that he's part of the Resistance. Did you ever hear such rubbish, the Lieutenant made his choice a long time ago."

Tom was quiet for a moment, "Actually Bill, Gaeta is part of the Resistance." He bent down to retrieve a bottle of Ambrosia and two glasses. "What exactly did he have to say about our little plan not working?"

Zarek offered to pour Bill a glass but the Admiral waved him off, "No, not tonight." Tom seemed undeterred and poured the green substance into his own glass, swirling it in admiration before sipping it. "He's really part of the Resistance? There's not much to tell in any case, just some vague reference to something sending all our plans to hell."

"He didn't give any specifics?"

"No - nothing."

Zarek frowned, "I was hoping he could give us more than that."

"He didn't say anything else - ow!" Bill felt a strong tug on his moustache. "That hurts!"

Zarek fought hard not to laugh as the Admiral tried to separate an excited child and a tempting moustache.

"Oh you're here." The two men turned to a sleepy voice coming from the floor. Laura rolled over, propping herself up on her arm, her hair groomed by sleep falling casually over her shoulder. No doubt she'd been woken by the sound of the little girl. "I wasn't sure you'd be coming this month."

"Security has been pretty lax lately, it seems that the President has had better things to do, especially with the food crises. Trailing an old Admiral has got to be at the bottom of his list, especially as he knows where I'm going anyway." He smiled – Laura smiled back and Zarek started to feel like he was intruding on a family moment.

"Well," he said, finishing the last of his Ambrosia, "I think it goes without saying that I need to find Tigh. He and Jammer are out the back fixing the water tower after it iced up this morning. Do you need anything while I'm gone?"

Laura stood up, stretching, "No thank you Tom, you've done more than enough for the moment."

He nodded, "Admiral – Ma'am." And then he was gone, back into the cold of New Caprica's night.

Laura smiled warmly at the Admiral, "He's not so bad you know. After you get past his annoying urge to detonate things-" She moved closer, taking a seat in Zarek's vacant chair. "What was all this talk about Gaeta, he wasn't supposed to have any contact with us at the moment – we don't want to draw Baltar's attention toward him."

"You knew he was part of the –" Bill stopped, feeling stupid, "of course you knew-"

"I'm sorry, I thought I told you."

"No you didn't." He didn't know why he felt a little hurt, maybe she had just forgotten. In fact, he had no right to feel strange about it – it's just, it felt like he was back in the past where he was the Admiral and she the President. There were things she didn't tell him then – things she still hadn't told him but since they'd been on New Caprica they had been different. They hadn't lied to each other in such a long time that it caught him a little off guard that she had most probably deceived him on purpose. Oh well, it was probably something he was going to have to get used to if everything went to plan in a months time.

"Is something wrong Bill?"

Adama looked at her carefully; in the now fading candle light he thought he saw the outline of a business suit encase her figure. A trick of the light- "No – nothing's wrong Laura. But I think we need to have a little chat about this coup of yours-"

We don't know who we are at war with -
The darkness removes all, leaves us struggling against the ceaseless fall of night.
DARK DAY



New Caprica
02:00
Dekembris - month twelve of occupation
One Year Anniversary of the Colonies

Streamers filled the air - raining down in a blizzard of gold, white and crimson. They curled on the mud resting next to scratched and worn shoes - the carcasses of autumn's leaves and a gentle grey darkness that persisted to cling to the land. Smoke rising from last nights bonfire passed casually in front of the sun as the door to Colonial One opened and President Baltar stepped out into the winter air. A sheet of ice slipped from the door and hit the mud with a sickening thud. No one seemed to notice its fall as the crowd found their voices and lifted up in a cheer for the President of the Colonies. He raised his hands at their faces - some of them smiling, others crying. Their mass hid those that lurked amongst the crowd staring in silent protest. Baltar saw only what he willed himself to believe - that the people were happy. That New Caprica was humanity's home. That he had made the right decision.

Laura stood behind Tigh, her whole body shaking with the cold of the weather and of what today might bring. Underneath her full length overcoat was a suit of promise and hope for a better future. She shifted with the crowd as its voice grew louder, scaling past the cheers and into a repressive cry of determination. Today they were going to set these people free, they were going home.

Baltar called for quiet, streaks of red and gold falling across him. He raised his hands higher, "Please - please."

'Chara! Chara!' They shouted. It was an old war cry that had bled into tradition and become a sound of hope. The crowd shouted it, again and again. Their feet broke up the ice in the ground and the gold and red vanished with the white until all that remained was the ever-present grey that had come to express their lives. Again they shouted, and the smoke thickened around the sun.

Finally, they quietened. Baltar moved forward to speak.

"Today," he started, a streak of red slipping off his arm and falling to join the ice on the ground, "today I look at all of us, all of you and I am moved. It has been one year since the Cylons attacked, a year of freedom - of peace."

Again the crowd called. Peace made them louder.

Laura closed her eyes, peace. Peace was drifting far off somewhere in distant fantasies that were closer a year ago then they are today.

"There is solid ground beneath your feet, houses built by you sheltering your family. The burdens of the war are finally falling back into the past - only to be seen in the darkest of dreams. New Caprica is finally home."

The darkest of dreams still haunted Laura even when she wasn't sleeping. Struggle, oppression, death - they weren't a figment of fantasies, they were all around her - spilling into the crowd. The vision of war echoed above Baltar's empty words and lifted - louder and louder with the crowds cheers.

"We have been on this planet longer then the Cylons chased us - they failed. They have failed! We are not dead, and neither will we die. By the gods we shall go forth and build a race to rival that of the Cylons, and one day - one day we will fight."

'Chara, chara!' They called from the battlefields of the distant past.

"But not today - not today. Today we celebrate our freedom."



Battlestar Galactica
One day before the One Year Anniversary

"And Bill," Tigh stopped short of the Admiral's door, a strange kind of silence disturbing the room. Tigh didn't say anything else, only letting eyes wander back to the Admiral.

"Was there something else Saul?"

"Only that, Bill - I've known you for longer than I care to remember. Are you sure?" He stopped and took a step closer to Bill, "This doesn't have to be a war. There's still time."

Adama sighed, "Saul, we are fighting for our very survival. I can not sit back and watch humanity crumble while there is still a chance to save it. The world ended a long time ago, but not this - not life. All we can do is fight - fight until we can't."

Tigh nodded, satisfied that the Admiral's will was strong. "I've been waiting too long to hear you say that."

"So have I, believe me. That'll be all Colonel."



New Caprica
Two days before the One Year Anniversary

Laura packed up the things in her tent into three left over grain bags, threading a length of nylon rope through some roughly made holes in their tops before pulling them tight. Admittedly she did not have much left now, not that she had much to begin with...

Deliberately not packed was her best suit that hung from a hook at the side of her tent. Laura looked at how its lifeless fabric fell from the metal frame. They had all placed so much hope in such a simple item. It was like a uniform, or the stars and wings on that uniform. They stood for something that mattered and that was respected. Hope - freedom - humanity.

Someone ducked inside Laura's tent. She startled and turned to see Kara Thrace peering back under the flap - checking to make sure no one was following her. "Hi," she finally said, confident they were safe, "I'm here to pick up your gear."

"Oh yes." Said Laura, remembering the three bags piled in the corner.

"When this goes down, we don't want to be thinking about baggage - in any sense of the word." Kara grinned and picked up the sacks, "Madame President." She nodded, exiting the tent.

Apparently there was no time for idle chat anymore.



New Caprica
Six days before the One Year Anniversary

"We're waiting for your word Mr. Vice President." Said Admiral Adama as he watched the other man pace around his tent. Lee's hand twitched in the direction of his weapon. He’d been aching to use on someone the day Baltar took office and if Zarek so much as looked in the wrong direction Lee was willing to give it a go.

Laura took a step closer. "Tom..." she said, hoping that a more human approach might work after the Admiral’s semi-ordering failed to coax Zarek into agreement. She had to hand it to him, he’d been very helpful to them so far but they needed him to go all the way on this one.

Zarek spoke, but didn't stop pacing, "If I do this,” “- they'll turn, you know that don't you?" He stopped, facing the Admiral, "Not everyone is going to follow you. It'll be risky, especially for you.” he diverted his gaze in Laura’s direction, “Laura, I know people who would like nothing better than to ship you back to Caprica and let you die slowly."

"Zarek." Warned the Admiral - Tom ignored him.

"The point is, even if this works - and even if the people are prepared to dissolve Baltar's government, they won't take too kindly to me appointing you as Vice President and then stepping down the very next day. It looks engineered and it reeks of trouble. The Quorum would never stand for it."

"Come on Tom - you hold power over the only group of people in a position to cause trouble. Use your talent," pleaded Laura, "convince them that Baltar must go."

Zarek buried his face deep within his hands. If only hadn’t spent so much time destroying Roslin’s government. They were all going to die for this, one way or another. It just amounted to when.

Despite what people thought, Zarek was still a man of principle. Besides, it wasn't like him to flee death when a moral victory was at stake. "Alright." He said. "I'll do what I can."

Laura thanked him then hurried out of the tent, Maya and the little girl were waiting at the edge of the colony to say goodbye to her before Tigh secured them in an underground bunker. It was a precaution – in case the coup dissolved into civil war.



Galactica
Nine days before the One Year Anniversary

Laura cooled her heels in Galactica's corridors after a rather nasty run in with President Baltar. They'd gotten into a screaming match over the Quorum's obsession with finding Earth. Laura said that as she was neither President nor a member of the Quorum and that there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Not that she would if she could…

At about that point he'd thrown a bottle of Ambrosia at the wall screaming, 'you're the frakking prophet you deal with it!' The bottle shattered everywhere leaving a green stain dripping onto the floor. Laura remembered staring at it, feeling sorry for the poor room having to accommodate Baltar.

Laura gave back as good as she got. A highlight of the meeting being an enraged, 'get your motherfrakkin' face out of my way and for frak's sake wash your hair' when Baltar tried to encroach upon her personal space.

"Feel better?"

Laura whipped around in fright - relaxing when she saw Bill leaning against the wall next to her. "Oh..."

"You look -" he started, eyeing the way her shoulders stood rigidly perpendicular, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, "tense...."

"I'm not tense," she snapped, "I'm furious. This is what I look like when I'm furious."

Which is frakking hot, thought Adama, but didn't say it, instead settling for, "You look like you need a drink."

Laura looked up at him as if she wanted to say yes, "I can't - I have to get back to New Caprica. There's too much going on at the moment. I'm sorry."

"Five minutes won't kill you unless you choose Nectar - which I may or may not have in my possession." Bill grinned when she ran out of reasons to put up a fight.

"Five minutes only Bill. I mean it."

He nodded, leading her off down the corridor.



Colonial One
Ten days before the One Year Anniversary

"You're really going to do that sir?"

"Is there a problem Gaeta?" growled a semi intoxicated Baltar back at his subordinate.

"No - I just..."

"Get Laura Roslin or get off my ship. Hell - get the frak off my planet and go hang in space with the rest of the terrorists."

Gaeta nodded back at Baltar, "I'll get her now." And exited the room.


New Caprica
Four and a Half hours before the One Year Anniversary

“What do you hear Starbuck?”

Kara rolled her eyes at Adama. “Do we have to do this every time the world is about to end?”

“Absolutely.” “Come on, what do you hear?”

Starbuck prodded Bill, “Nothin’ but the rain.”

Adama grinned, “Then grab your gun and bring the cat in.”

Starbuck tightened the silencer on the sniper rifle, “Yes sir.”


New Caprica
Three hours before the One Year Anniversary


Laura hugged her legs to her chest and rocked gently back and forwards on the floor. This was so frakking insane. In three hours President Baltar would be dead - Zarek would take office and then she would be sworn in as the new president. Then they were packing up and heading for space - and they hadn't told the people yet. Laura was mainly terrified that sentiments hadn't changed since the elections... What if the people didn't want to go - or worse, what if it all went to hell and her, Bill, Lee, Tigh, Kara and Tom were executed as terrorists and traitors? She in-took her breath sharply, rocking faster.

"Laura, are you in here?" It was still early morning and the world outside was dark. The winter sun was lazy and never rose until the last moment before seven.

"What are you doing here Bill? You're supposed to be on your ship."

"Oh that." He said, getting caught out immediately. If this went down badly, he wanted to take the opportunity to say goodbye to the people he cared about most the way he'd been denied back when the world ended. He'd seen Lee and Kara already, they prepping with Tigh. But Laura, she was all alone in her tent - like she too often was. "I just came to say -"

"Goodbye?" She looked up at him, almost in tears. "Because that's what you're thinking, isn't it? That a lot of people are going to die today and either or both of us could be among them."

He didn't speak, instead he knelt down in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder - before moving it up to her neck - finally cupping her cheek. Laura looked back at him, confused for a moment until he leant in and kissed her soundly; deepening as she parted her lips for him. Laura bit back the tears threatening to breach as she returned the sudden affection. If they were going to die, at least they had this and as Bill's hand slid down to cup her breast she forgot about what was coming. The pair teetered backwards, still joined in an intimate embrace. Laura wrapped her arm around Bill's neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. She gasped, breaking the kiss as Bill's hands found bare skin.

"We can't -" she protested.

Bill undid the last of Laura's shirt buttons, slowly sliding the fabric off her shoulders, "Why not?" When he received no answer the pair gave in. Laura wrapped her legs around him and the darkness outside did its best to hide her screams.



New Caprica
02:12
Dekembris - month twelve of occupation

"Freedom." Repeated Baltar, lulling the words over as if the taste lingered upon his lips. Laura cursed under her breathe, what did Baltar know of oppression to want freedom so much.

Except, Baltar did know what it meant to be trapped, and perhaps his prison was the worst of all. His own mind, in the form of a red dressed beauty, had him firmly planted beneath her long fingers. Sometimes Baltar wondered if she was a metaphor for the guilt he knew he should feel for the destruction of the entire human race or just a fantasy he created to preserve outward sanity. Either way, she was a prison watching his every thought.

Tigh bent down to talk to his wrist - an odd thing Laura might have thought except she could see the black plastic transmitter strapped there. After a few minutes he pulled his sleeve down to cover it and leant over to whisper in Laura's ear. "Commander Apollo says the snipers are in position, we're a go. Should I give the order?"

Laura looked up at Baltar, "No." She said, "Let him finish the speech - it's the last thing he'll ever say."

Tigh would rather blow him away mid sentence but Adama gave him firm orders to obey Laura as if she were still the president. He was only following those orders because they old man would crush his nuts if he didn't so he nodded and relayed the message.

Behind them, a small child picked up one of the red streamers that had fallen and wiped the mud off it so that it shon with its original brilliance. The little girl smiled, tugging on Laura's coat and holding it up to her.

Laura caught her coat as it slid, briefly revealing the dusty pink of her shirt and dark silk suit jacket beneath. She found the cause standing next to her - a child she had never seen before smiling gleefully up at her. Laura bent down and smiled, taking the streamer offered. The little girl grinned and ran back into the crowd.

Baltar continued to speak, the Vice President appearing from inside Colonial One to stand behind him, leaning against the ship - hands clutched in front. That was the sign, the go ahead. Hands behind - forget it, the whole thing's off - suicide. Hands in front though, they were good to go. Tigh again relayed the signal back to the snipers where Starbuck lay on the deck of one of the grounded civilian ships. It was the only place they could get enough height to shoot at him and get away with it.

"And that, Ladies and Gentlemen of New Caprica, is what we fight for." Baltar raised his hands once again, applauding the crowd - and they copied.

Laura braced herself - Baltar had moments to live.

She waited. A second - a minute. She couldn't see Kara's finger tightening on the trigger, waiting for Baltar to turn just that little bit towards her. And then -

and then the piercing sound of a Cylon raider broke through the freezing air.