Thanks hugely to adamaroslin-love and guest for your lovely reviews! I'm so glad you enjoyed the first bit and hope you enjoy this bit too. It ended up both fluffier and slightly crackier than intended, but ... oh well.

Laura allowed her head to fall against the tall back of her chair. It'd been a long day and she was exhausted; her very eyelashes hurt and her neck muscles protested as she rotated her head. Even 'cured' cancer was still a bitch, she was finding. Her cells might have got the message and stopped the runaway division that was killing her—everything else, not so much. As Cottle kept saying, her body needed time.

She knew that. She did. Gods, she could see it every time she looked in the mirror and saw the still-present hollows in her cheeks and the papery quality of her skin. Never to mention her hair ... She ran a hand through it and groaned. It felt like straw, dry and brittle, and she knew it looked as bad as it felt. The sheer number of split ends alone would have sent her favourite hairdresser back on Caprica into a rage and as for the colour ... She grimaced, imagining his reaction.

'Laura darling, I hope you haven't been reading those magazines again. Trust me, sweetie, the badger look is never good one.'

Once—when she'd been crazy busy and regular visits for colour a hassle she could do without—she'd voiced a wish to let nature take its course and allow her hair to fade to grey. She'd inherited her mother's red hair; it wasn't unreasonable to assume that it would turn the same elegant silver hers had, that last good year before the cancer struck.

Before diloxin made it fall out, of course.

Jonny waxed highly indignant at the mere suggestion. Yes, silver was elegant and classy ... but she was far too young for that as yet. Give it twenty years, he'd said with a flattering wink, and Laura was charmed into agreeing to regular appointments to maintain her colour right until the Cylons came.

She'd noticed the grey really peeping up when the Pegasus arrived and Cottle told her she'd be lucky to make it another month. Crisis followed crisis and those last few weeks simply flew by ... until she was on her deathbed and the colour or otherwise of her hair simply ceased to matter.

And then Baltar. And the cure.

And now here she was. Alive ... or getting there. Every day she gained back a smidgeon of what she'd lost, but in the meantime her bones continued to ache, her stomach to churn, and her energy levels were only marginally higher than before.

Billy still hovered. Bill wasn't much better. She wasn't the only one who needed time; it would take a while for them to believe she was recovering. Nor did it help when she looked like death warmed up-and not properly warmed up either, just barely tepid.

Fixing her hair would help with that, if Billy ever managed to fulfil her request of a week ago. Not that she'd blame him if he didn't; given their circumstances, the chances of him finding "Autumn Leaf" were pretty frakking low. She knew he'd do his level best and in the meantime, his quest got him out of her hair, pun not intended. She could relax from trying to look relentlessly recovered all the time. If, as now, she wanted to flop across her desk for a nap...

Hmmm. A nap. That sounded good...

'Madam President?'

Laura bolted upright so fast her head pounded. She met Billy's knowing gaze and felt her cheeks warm.

'I was, uh ... looking for something.'

'Sure.' Her aide sounded politely sceptical and she summoned enough energy for a half-hearted glare. He went to the kettle, pausing to flash a cheeky look over his shoulder. 'That was crap too, ma'am.'

She ignored him in favour of a stretch, trying to ease the kinks along her spine. 'Tea?'

'Coffee. Admiral's on his way.'

She blinked. 'Oh. He usually calls—'

'No point,' Billy said, coming to lift a pile of papers from her desk and dumping them on his own. 'He came back with me.'

'Right.' Laura's eyes narrowed as she studied the young man. 'You were with Dee?'

'Yeah.' Something in his tone made her glance sharply at him, but his gaze was shuttered and she let it go. He'd tell her if he wanted to and she wasn't his mother. She'd no right to pry. He held out his arm. 'Come on.'

She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. 'I can get up myself, you know.'

Billy smiled the smile she'd come to love. 'Yeah, but admit it. Right now it's easier with help, huh?'

'Hmmm.' She sighed and settled into one of the deep comfy passenger chairs at the back of her office. 'You're too perceptive for your own good but I think I'll let you off, this once-'

'Believe me, ma'am, that paperwork is the best punishment you could ever devise.' The look he sent towards his burdened desk made her laugh.

'That's good to hear,' another voice said and Laura twisted to smile up at Admiral Adama. She started to stand but he waved her back. 'Stay put, Laura. This is a social call.'

'Coffee, sir? It's already on,' Billy ended with a grin and Laura's eyes widened. She'd never seen her aide so comfortable with Galactica's commanding officer before.

'So long as it's the good stuff, go for it, son.' Bill lowered himself into a chair at right angles to Laura's, reaching to take her hand, and she experienced a flash of deja-vu.

Never give up hope.

'Good to see you, Laura.' A swift, assessing glance up and down. 'You're looking better than the last time we sat here.'

'Feeling it too.' She plucked at the fabric of her skirt. 'It's slow, though—slower than I'd like. There's so much to do-'

'It can wait,' he said, his thumb brushing over her fingers. 'Take your time. We need you strong, Madam President.'

'I can't,' she whispered. 'There's an election coming up, Bill. I told the people I was the Dying Leader who'd bring them to Earth. Well, I'm not dying now, am I? I don't look like much of a leader either, I'm just another tired middle-aged woman-'

'You're being too hard on yourself,' Bill interrupted. 'Not every day you come back from the nearly-dead. It'll take—'

'Time. I know. Gods, Bill, d'you know how sick I am of hearing that? We haven't got time. Thanks to Lee, an election's happening in two months and no-one's gonna postpone it because of my health. Nor should they. This fleet's been held hostage to my health for long enough.'

'Here,' Billy said, handing coffee round with an efficiency that made her wonder if he'd worked as a waiter during his student days. He started to retreat but Bill called him back.

'Sit,' he said, pointing to the empty seat beside him. 'Social call, remember?'

Laura blinked when Billy relaxed visibly. 'Only if it's okay with you, Madam President.'

'Always.' She leaned forward to pat his knee. 'So,' she went on, looking from one to the other, 'as this is just a social call, what's going on?' She permitted herself a smirk. 'Never thought I'd see you two become buddies.'

'We wanna help,' Bill said, holding her gaze with his. 'This is hard, Laura. Our lives. Our jobs. And Gods know, coming to terms with nearly dying—that's all kinds of frakkin' hard. I know.'

'Boomer,' she breathed and he nodded.

'Yeah. Comin' back from that-' Bill shook his head. 'And I'm a soldier. I've done it before, I knew what to expect the first time I regained consciousness. But you-'

Laura put her cup down before she spilled it and covered her mouth with a shaking hand. 'I never ... I never expected to-' Her breath hitched.

'You expected to die,' Bill went on in that warm voice of his that never failed to steady her. 'Maybe you were even ready to die.' Something resembling guilt shifted behind his eyes and vanished, leaving her wondering if she'd imagined it. 'I'm not gonna apologise for bringing you back. We need you too much. Right, Billy?'

The young man nodded so energetically that Laura found herself laughing through her tears.

'The prophecy-'

'Frak the prophecy.' Bill's jaw was hard. 'I'd rather have you than some prophecy that might not even be true. And even it is... I'd still rather have you.'

Laura stared (that was as frank a declaration as she'd ever heard) and Billy, bless him, turned a rich shade of pink.

'Uh, I think I'd better-' He gestured towards the curtain. Bill's brows came together and both men talked at once.

'Don't you wanna wait until-'

'I thought you'd prefer to-'

'Gentlemen,' Laura said in a tone honed through many years in the classroom. 'Let's cut to the chase. What's really going on here?'

Her companions exchanged glances evocative of schoolboy conspiracy and she followed suit, playing her own role by crossing her arms and eyeing them over the top of her glasses.

'Well?'

'Go on,' Billy prompted, his blush fading, and Laura turned to her Admiral.

'Bill?'

He shifted in his seat, one hand opening the top of his jacket to reach into it. Laura's eyebrows went up as the hand reappeared, holding a clear sachet of something ... something that looked like a small clay block stamped with the Tauron crest.

'Here.' Bill took her hand and pressed the sachet into it. 'It's for you.'

Laura examined it. She knew she should recognise it, the name was on the tip of her tongue-

'Henna,' Bill supplied, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. 'For uh ... Your hair.' He gestured towards his own.

'Oh.' Her breath expelled in a rush.

'It's not exactly what you wanted,' Billy jumped in. 'That um, "Autumn Leaf" stuff? Couldn't get it anywhere, even Mrs Tigh didn't know-'

'You asked Ellen?' Laura squeaked, cheeks burning.

'I did,' Bill corrected. 'Made up some story.' He shrugged. 'Think she bought it, never tell with her.'

'Oh my gods.' Laura covered her eyes with one hand.

'Then we set Apollo to combing the black market,' Billy continued as Laura gave a small moan of embarrassment. 'Still no luck.'

She allowed her hand to drop. 'And?'

'The Admiral remembered women on his home world using henna to dye their skin and hair. We asked on Galactica, nothing. Ditto Pegasus. Then Cottle-'

Laura's head snapped up at that. 'Did you have to tell the whole frakking fleet?! Talk about being punished for vanity!'

Billy smirked. 'Yeah, and imagine how I felt asking the Admiral for help-'

'Or how I felt being asked,' Bill interjected and Laura sent him a look. She knew him well enough to detect the amusement bubbling beneath his stoic surface.

Resigned to the inevitable, she sighed. 'So, Cottle?'

'He suggested putting a request out, like we did for chamalla. Apparently it has medicinal uses.'

'Covering grey hair is not medicinal,' Laura grumbled. 'Gods, I dunno how I'm ever gonna look these people in the eye again.'

'With a full head of red hair, Madam President,' Bill said and she sent him an evil look. He grinned. 'Go on, Billy. Might as well finish.'

The younger man shrugged. 'Not much more to tell. Cottle put the word out. Galactica got dumped with henna in all its forms. Ishay said that was um, the most suitable.'

'Do you know how to use it?' Bill asked.

'Hmmm. Yes, I used it once before.' Laura smiled wistfully. 'My sisters always envied my hair. Cheryl, the youngest, was blonde as a girl—closer to red-gold, really, but she yearned for proper red. I mentioned it in the staff room one day and a colleague suggested henna.'

'Did it work?' Billy asked.

Laura laughed, relaxing at the memory. 'Very well, as it happens. Cheryl was delighted. Our mother-less so. She loved Cheryl's hair.'

'Did you get in trouble?' Billy grinned.

Laura rolled her eyes at him. 'I was nearly thirty, Billy. What was she gonna do, ground me?'

'So? My mom tried to ground me last—' He broke off, turning away, and Laura's throat constricted.

'Billy,' she called. He didn't turn and she staggered to her feet, waving away Bill's assistance. 'Billy-'

'If there's nothing else, Madam President.' He sounded choked and she put her hand on his shoulder, compelling him to face her.

'Billy.' Laura looked straight into his eyes and put a hand on his cheek. 'I'm sorry.' Her thumb caressed his skin. 'I won't keep you, just—' She used his tie to tug him down, allowing her to press her lips to his forehead. 'Thank you. Really. For everything.'

He was scarlet, glassy-eyed. 'It was not-'

'It was not nothing,' she cut in. 'It was everything and it meant a very great deal, to me personally as well as the fleet. Now go. Rest, read ... anything but work. Just take some time, hmmm?'

He nodded jerkily and left, shoulders slumping more than usual as he vanished through the curtain. Laura watched him go, biting deep into her lip to suppress her own tears.

She felt Bill reach for her elbow and turned to face him.

'Kid's overwhelmed. Give him time.'

She blew out a breath. 'There's that word again.'

'Sit,' Bill ordered, putting an arm around her shoulders. She allowed herself to lean on him for a moment and then he was moving, steering her to her seat and folding her fingers around her cup handle once she was settled. 'Drink.'

Needing the warmth more than she cared to admit, Laura obeyed.

'Better?' Bill asked, brows peeping up behind his glasses.

'Much. Thanks, Bill.' They exchanged a long, slow smile. When Bill's hand found hers once more she entwined her fingers with his. 'He's such a rock, I forget how young he is—or how much he's lost.'

'And found, in you.' Bill's eyes were knowing as she shook her head. 'You needed him but I think he needed you, too. Gave him something to focus on.'

'Hmmm.' Her head fell back against the deeply cushioned back of her chair. 'Still doesn't excuse what I put him through. Kid goes through the end of the world, loses all his family and friends ... and finds himself stuck with me, a dying president. Gods, Bill. I know what I went through with my mother and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. To see someone waste away like that—' She shuddered.

'You're not wasting away any more. We're gonna fatten you up, don't worry,' Bill said, grin flashing in and out in a brief glimpse of mischief. 'I set my chefs to seeing what they could do to algae.'

She shuddered again, a hand going reflexively to her mouth to stem the nausea. 'What a thought.'

'Nah, we're doin' better than that. Colonial One is gonna be the best fed ship in the fleet for a while.'

Laura eyed him warily. 'Meaning?'

'When the news broke that you were gonna live ... ships startin' sending food, real food, for you. First to Galactica and then here.' Bill leaned in. 'Gaeta tells me there's some prime steak in there.' The longing in his tone resonated, even as she sent him her most presidential stare.

'Admiral, is this you angling for a dinner invitation?'

Bill smirked. 'How'd you guess?'

'Hmmm. The words "heavy" and "hint" come to mind.'

'Did it work?'

Laura studied him, her gaze shifting to focus on the block of henna he and Billy had sourced for her. Her lips twitched as she imagined that initial conversation and the others that succeeded it—with Ellen Tigh, with Cottle, with gods-knew-who-else... It was a lot of effort to go to for the sake of soothing one woman's vanity, president or no.

She lifted the henna and smiled. 'I guess I owe you. For this. And,' she continued as he tried to speak, 'I'll invite Billy too. He deserves it.'

'That he does.' Bill surprised her by dropping a quick kiss on the hand he still held, blue eyes twinkling. 'Thank you, Madam President. That's a very ... adequate compensation for all our trouble.'

'That's good to know. It is,' she added as he rose. 'What, you're going already, Admiral?'

He stood before her in a familiar pose, hands clasped at his waist. 'Things to do. People to see. And it's late,' he ended gruffly. 'You need your rest.'

'Uh uh, Bill. You don't get away that easily.' Laura pushed herself upright, ridiculously pleased when the movement took less effort than she'd anticipated.

She stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek, using a finger to remove the traces of lipstick left behind. 'Thank you. For everything—and don't you say "nothing" too!'

He pulled her into a hug, enfolding her in his warmth. 'Always a pleasure, Laura. Good to have you back with us.'

She felt him start to move away and hummed in protest as the gap between them filled with Colonial One's cool recycled air, her fingers snagging along the opening of his military jacket to pull him close. Bill paused and she hummed again, this time with satisfaction.

'Laura—'

She tilted her head back to look at him. 'I know. I know. Things to do, people to see...I hear you—but I don't wanna let you go—'

Bill said nothing, merely lifting a hand to stroke the wayward hair back from her face.

Laura smiled.

His gaze turned thoughtful as he continued winding threads of her hair through his fingers.

Their eyes met and Laura held her breath, heart skipping erratically. He was going to kiss her properly, she knew it, and this time—

'I see what you mean,' Bill said, and mingled disappointment and confusion made her gasp.

'What?'

He twisted the lock he was stroking so she could see it. Silver glinted all too noticeably amongst the red.

Annoyed, Laura twitched both lock and her person out of his grasp with a waspish, 'Thanks for pointing it out. Now I know chivalry really is dead.'

'Just makin' sure we didn't go to all that trouble for nothing.' She huffed. Oblivious, he pointed at the henna. 'Gonna try it tonight?'

'Might as well.' She couldn't help the peevish note that crept into her voice. For a moment there she'd thought she might be doing something more exciting.

Bill frowned. 'By yourself?'

'I won't fall over, Bill. Contrary to what you, Cottle and Billy seem to think, I'm not made out of glass.'

'Wait,' he said and she glared, irritation joining the pile of negative emotions he seemed intent on evoking this evening.

'I'm sorry?'

She saw Bill shift, as though uneasy. 'That head of yours, it's not big enough to swing a cat. My ex-wife ... the boys' mother, she dyed her hair every time the weather changed. I thought. I, uh, I know it's messy. Wouldn't it be easier to do on Galactica?'

Laura raised an incredulous eyebrow. 'In the communal head? With your crewmen?'

Now it was his turn to scowl. Clearly it'd finally dawned on him that her mood had soured. 'Dammit, Laura! In my quarters.' A pause. 'I'll, uh, I'll help. If you like.'

She considered it. Considered the fact that his head—whilst larger than any to be found on Colonial One—was still anything but large. She wouldn't be wearing much more than a robe because Gods forbid she should get henna on one of her few precious suits. If Bill helped, that would be ... well.

It would be interesting. Very interesting indeed.

Irritation fading, Laura met Bill's eyes before deliberately dropping her gaze to his mouth, allowing him to read her thoughts in her actions. He shifted again and she knew— sheknew—that he was more than uneasy.

She chortled inwardly. Two could play this game.

'I think that would be a very good idea,' she said softly, taking his arm to lead him to the curtain. 'I do.' He tried to stall but she whipped the curtain back, utterly destroying any illusion of privacy. 'Tory will show you out, I know you're very busy,' she added loudly as one of her junior aides approached. 'Your assistance with ... these matters has been much appreciated, Admiral. Good evening. I look forward to seeing you again ... soon.' With that, she restored the curtain to its proper place and leaned against the nearest seat, a hand going to stifle the giggles that wanted to come at the memory of Bill's expression.

He looked as if he didn't know what had hit him.

She glanced across at the henna and a gentler smile curved her lips. He did deserve her thanks and he would get it, in full measure. But not tonight; she hated to admit it, but (teasing aside) she was tired and longed for rest. For once it held some appeal; if she rested she would recover her strength more quickly.

And then...

That night she fell asleep clasping the henna bar—and for the first time in many years, smiling.

Fin

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