Authors Note: Okay, a few years ago I had an account over on a site called Survival Instinct, I wrote this story over there and now am posting it here. I was Funnyman over there and I am now Whasup here. For those of you who think this story is familair I would like you all to know that I AM NOT STEALLING THIS STORY, I PROMISE!

Bill Adama leaned over an ill-placed table in his quarters and grabbed his uniform out of the equally ill placed closet. He turned to look at Saul as he threw his uniform on top of his rack, "Are you really gonna press charges against Kara?" he asked as he turned and grabbed his boots out of the bottom of the closet.

Saul looked out at the room with a scowl as he took a breath and laboriously raised himself off of Bill's leather chair. "For striking a superior officer?" Saul asked as he raised a framed picture off of Bill's desk, the picture held a young Bill and his two sons when they were children, "You're damned right I am," he continued.

"Heard you started the day off pretty early," Bill said, looking at his friends back with thinly hidden concern.

"I wasn't on duty," Saul muttered as he turned with the picture in his hands and brought it back with him to the leather chair. He raised it and smiled at Bill, "Now, where did you get this?"

Bill sighed as he sat down on his rack and wipped his face with the towel he'd used to shave with, he smiled a smile that looked like a grimace. "Tyrol's deck gang scrounged it up." Bill threw the towel over his shoulder and asked, "I couldn't talk you out of charging Starbuck, could I?"

"Not a chance." Saul said with a firm shake of his head, "She is insubordinate, undisciplined."

Bill pulled on his left boot and began to lace it up, "She's probably one of the finest fighter pilots I've ever seen in my life."

"Yeah," Saul barked sarcastically.

Bill nodded his head, "She's better than I am," he looked over at Saul, "twice as good as you."

Saul looked up, his eyebrows rising towards the ceiling, "Like hell."

"Listen," Bill said as he pulled on his other boot and began to lace it up, "I'm not gonna defend what she did, especially the cracks about your marital problems. But you did kick over the table first."

"I did not," Saul said indignantly, after a second he turned his head away, trying to remember, "Unless I did."

Bill nodded as he took the towel off his shoulder and rubbed his still damp face. "You did. So what do you say we just drop the formal charges, throw her in the brig, cool her heels off until we get home?" Bill stood up and reached for his uniform jacket.

Saul stood and returned the picture back to Bill's desk, "You always did have a soft spot for her," he said with resigned and amused shake of his head.

"Yeah, I guess I'm just a crazy old man."

"I guess that's why Headquarters is sending a baby sitter to watch over you," Saul said as he walked aimlessly around Bill's quarters.

Bill began to button up his jacket as he whipped around to face Saul, "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You didn't hear?" Saul asked, surprised. "Oh, wait," He said as he shook his head, "I was supposed to tell you yesterday." He looked back up at Bill and shrugged, "Sorry. But anyway, they're sending some Colonel Roslin guy to watch over during the decommissioning ceremony."

"When did we get this?" Bill asked.

"Yesterday, Colonel Roslin will be here later today, at least that's what Headquarters said."

"You've got new orders, Siren," Commander Wycott screamed across the Golden Fleeces CIC.

Laura turned to look at Wycott over her shoulder, she murmured a brief, "excuse me," to the technician she was talking to and made her way towards him. "Sir?" she asked as he passed her a slip of paper, still warm from the network printer.

She read the slip quickly and looked up at Wycott, who shrugged, "Sorry, Siren, those come straight from Headquarters. Galactica is being decommissioned, and they want you there to assist in its transition into a museum."

"But why?" she asked in disbelief as she looked down at her new orders again.

Wycott leaned towards her conspiratorially, "You didn't hear this from me, okay?" Laura nodded her head warily. "They're worried the Commander over there is going to be a problem, an old war horse not ready to retire, you know?" he said.

She nodded, "Are they forcing his retirement?" she asked.

Wycott shrugged.

"Alright, well why me? I'm a Colonel for fraks sake," she said with a disbelief, "they couldn't send someone else?"

Wycott shrugged again.

Laura rolled her eyes, "Thanks Eddie, I don't know what I would do without you." Laura sighed and walked towards the hatch.

"But seriously, Laura," Wycott said as he rushed up to her side, he grabbed her shoulder lightly, "make sure things go smooth over there. The Fleet isn't getting alot of good PR lately, another embarresment and it would be your ass on the line this time." He smacked her on the ass and pushed her towards the hatch with a wink, "Golden will be waiting for you!"

Laura shot daggers at him with her impressive glare, "Touch my ass again and I'll shoot you," she warned. She sighed and looked down at her watch, "Orders say to leave for Galactica as soon as I recieve them," she looked up at Eddie Whycott, "I'm taking Raptor 7."

He nodded and waved her away, "Have fun, and don't worry it'll only take you about a dozen jumps to make it to Galactica!" And then the bastard and laughed and laughed until Laura got too far away to hear him.

"Colonel Roselin?" Doral asked, purposefully mispronouncing her name as Laura slid down the ladder towards him, her rumpled uniform making her look decidedly unkempt. A dozen jumps does that to a person.

She picked up her bag, which she'd thrown down the ladder hole before her. She brushed the dust off her bag as she looked up at Doral; "Yes that's me. Are you Mr. Dorale?" she asked as she held out her dusty hand for him to shake.

Doral's eye scrunched, she was playing his game now, mispronouncing his name like he had done seconds before. He nodded his head and shook her hand firmly, perhaps too firmly, as she clenched her jaw slightly, but did not out and out complain. Doral was incredibly disappointed that this Colonel seemed to be an insanely calm person, he loved aggravating people. And military people were usually just so easy to aggravate. He broke the handshake abruptly and began to walk off, expecting her to follow him. He turned his head slightly to look behind him and saw that the Colonel was indeed following him, all be it at an extremely slow pace.

"Colonel Roslin?" he asked, this time using the proper pronunciation, as all had it had accomplished was making him look like an idiot. Her eyes drifted down from the ceiling and found his face.

"Yes, Mr. Doral?" she asked as she strolled down the hallway towards him. He turned away from her so that she would not see him roll his eyes, when he looked back she was inspecting some sort of valve on the wall. "Doral," she said in awe, "it's a hatchback maneuver valve. I've only read about them in books!"

Doral walked a few steps towards her nodding his head, "Right, that's wonderful, Colonel. But we are actually on a schedule, you're supposed to be meeting Commander Adama after his photo op with his son, in five minutes. So, please would you follow me?" he asked as he motioned with his hands towards the end of the hallway and beyond.

"Yes, of course," she said, straigtening herself and preparing to follow him, "This ship is old," she said, smiling at Doral. "I can't even imagine it winning a battle, least of all against a Cylon basestar."

Doral nodded, "Well, I assure you it did," he said. He held an impatiant hands forwards, motioning for her to come along, "If you would, Colonel?"

"-at all familiar to you?" Apollo said.

Bill looked down into his water glass before replying, "That's not fair, son."

Apollo shook his head, his hands raising unintentionally, "No, it's not fair. Because one of us wasn't cut out to wear the uniform."

"He earned his wings, just like we all did." Bill said as he took another gulp of water.

Apollo closed his eyes and let out a silent sigh, he looked back up at his fathers back as he told him, "One of us wasn't cut out to be a pilot." He took a step forwards, "One of us wouldn't have made it into flight school if his old man, his daddy, hadn't pulled the strings!" he screamed.

"That's an exaggeration." Bill said as he lowered his glass back down to the table. "I did nothing for him that I wouldn't have done for anyone else."

"You've not even listening to me," Apollo said with a motion towards his ear, "why can't you get this through your head? Zak did not belong in that plane! He shouldn't have been there. He was only doing it for you. Face it. You killed him."

"Hello, excuse me." Bill spun around as Doral walked into the room. "Hi, Commander you have another meeting," Doral said as he looked curiously between Apollo and Bill. Bill looked up from Doral's face as a woman entered the room; her eyes scanned the room in a blur before she gave a crisp salute.

He and Apollo both returned the salute out of habit, before he asked Doral, "Who is this?"

One of the woman's eyebrows raised as she looked down at Doral with a shrug, "Uh, well, sir," Doral muttered, "This is Colonel Laura Roslin, she's been ordered by Fleet Headquarters to assist you in the decommissioning process of Galactica, she just arrived from her ship the Golden Fleece." He looked between a silently seething Apollo and the incredibly closed off face of Bill, "I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No, no, it's fine," Apollo said as he made his way towards the hatch, "I was just leaving." He exited the hatch without another word, leaving Laura and Doral with Bill.

Bill looked away from the two other people in the room and poured water into his empty glass. They stood in awkward silence until an alarm on Doral's watch began to beep, he silenced it and looked up at Laura, "I have a meeting with the press corp. Feel free to," he looked at Adama's back, inclining his head towards him, "socialize." He left the room looking back at the silence only once.

Bill looked behind him as he heard the dull click clack of officers boots coming towards him. He looked up at her face as she grabbed another glass sitting on the table in front of him, her green eyes met his briefly, "Good morning, Commander," she said as she poured herself a glass of water. "I'm Colonel Laura Roslin."

"Nice to meet you," he said, his tone implying that it certainly wasn't, he sat down heavily on the lone chair next to the table.

She looked down at him as she swirled the water in her glass, "hmmmm," she hummed. Bill raised his eyes to see her looking about the room for another chair, seeing none she leaned back and sat on the tabletop. She flipped her red out of her face and smiled down at him. "How's it going, sir?" she asked as she leaned down closer to him.


"Good," Laura nodded her head and took a gulp of water, effectively emptying her glass. She placed it down on the table next to her with a sigh. "Well, sir, I'd should probably start working."

"Yes," Bill said as he stood up and made for the hatch.

"Sir," her voice stopped him, "you do know my orders here, don't you?"

Bill turned around, his eyes slitting, "Yes, I believe I do, Colonel."

"I'm here to watch you, they think you're a crazy old war horse," she said, smiling as she slipped off the table to stand in front of him. "But I'm a soldier, sir," she said, her head tilting upwards in pride, "I'm a Colonel of the Fleet and you, you are a Commander. I am no ones muzzle, you say what you wish when you wish, I won't stop you." Bill looked at her intently, his blue eyes meeting her green warily. She smiled slightly as she raised her hands in metaphorical surrender.

His eyebrow rose in confusion as scrutinized her, "Excuse me?" he asked.

"I would appreciate if you kept your more unsavory views to yourself though," at Bill's deepening glare she chuckled softly, "I'm only asking," she assured. Her eyes turned sad as she walked passed him, "This is my career on the line, and my career is my life, however sad that sounds." She shrugged slightly as picked her green military duffel bag up off the floor as she walked out the hatch.

DISCLAIMER: Mine? Whaaaaat? Naaaaaa.