Chapter 1

Of all the places on the Galactica, the one room that William Adama felt the least accepted in was the mess hall.  It was his ship – his crew – his life.  But there was something about standing at the end of the serving line, holding a tray, and not having a single person that he felt comfortable sitting with that was damned depressing.

It wasn't that he was unwelcome.  Probably there were a number of people who wouldn't mind his company.  The part that bothered him was that if they did mind, they still wouldn't tell him.  Honesty was the first casualty of trying to mingle with his troops; he didn't feel like bothering with the lies.  Also, he didn't want to impose the presence of a commander on any of his troops, and as everyone in the room was beneath him in the chain of command at one level or another, that pretty much left him standing there alone.  Most meals he ate in his office just to eliminate the difficulties associated with making this choice.  He didn't know what he'd been thinking when he'd grabbed a tray instead of requesting a box to go.

Except that he did.  He was sick and tired of eating alone.  His office was too damned quiet, and there was nothing there for him except work that needed to be done.  Like every other man and woman in this room, he needed a break and he wasn't likely to get it if he went back to his office.  He would take a bite and do a report, sip his coffee and check the rosters.  He wouldn't rest, and he wouldn't relax, and even he knew that if he didn't start separating his work from his life he was going to lose the line.  It was already so damned blurred that he could barely see it.

So there he stood, holding a tray of cooling food and looking over a half-full room in hopes that he would find an empty area of table so that he wouldn't have to be a burden to anyone.  Lords, he was pitiful.

The elbow that jolted him was a total surprise.  He jumped, turning quickly to see who had rammed into him, and found Kara Thrace standing there with a sheepish smile.  "Sorry about that," she said quickly.  "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"And I was standing in the way," he admitted.  "Go ahead."

Her head cocked sideways as she looked at him.  "You don't usually come down here," she commented.  "Finally get tired of working dinners?"

The question was so close to his earlier thoughts that his jaw fell open.  She grinned at that, and looked around the room with a cursory glance.  "Cool, Evans is on his way out.  Do you have someplace you need to be, or can I keep you company?"

The woman was a mind reader.  "I was just looking for a table," he admitted.

"Follow me," she ordered, and he had to smile.  She was probably the only person on the ship who didn't mind ordering the Commander around.  It wasn't a lack of respect – far from it in fact – but rather a simple matter of unconventionality that was unique to Kara.  She didn't give a flying frak who ranked where; people were people, and that was that.  It was one of the reasons he admired her so much.  She was just as likely to sit with the mechanics as the pilots during a briefing.  Rank didn't even seem to register on her radar.

So he followed the briskly walking woman towards a back table.  The mess hall was basically a huge bay with long tables situated in rows.  It was similar to most cafeterias, if a little more tightly arranged to preserve space.  Kara was headed for the back, towards the end of a table against the far wall of the hall.  It was a spot that looked quiet, and again he wondered that she was reading his mind.

By the time they were seated, his meal was frankly cold.  It wasn't unusual; he rarely got around to his food while it was warm.  It was a hazard of command.  There was always something more important to do than to eat.  He took a seat across from her at the very end of the table, looking at her oddly as he did so.  Kara was a very social person, seeming to know everyone.  Why was she hiding down here with him?

He was about to ask when he saw her eyes close and her head drop.  Her lips moved in a silent prayer that was quickly over.  He was abashed as she looked up, her cheeks turning slightly pink.  How long had it been since he had seen someone give thanks for their meal?

"It's not much, but it's better than the processed crap we started with," she said with a shrug, and  - yes, he was certain now – a blush.  "Weird the stuff you feel grateful for."

"Being alive is something to be grateful for," he said quietly.  "I don't often remember to be thankful though."

She gave another embarrassed shrug.  "It's drilled into me," she admitted.  "Betty was big on going to church and saying prayers.  I guess some of it took after all.  She'd be thrilled."

"Betty?"

Kara gave another careless shrug as she took a bite of whatever was passing for meat this week.  "Foster parents," she said once she'd stopped chewing and had swallowed.  "My mom died when I was born, and my dad really never forgave me for that."  She gave a smile that he didn't think was nearly as careless as she'd made it appear.  "He was a mean drunk.  I don't remember a lot about him, but I do remember waking up in a hospital on Picon with a busted arm and he was gone.  Betty was one of the nurses, and was getting ready to retire.  She took me home and kept me.  She and Kyle – that was her husband – pretty much raised me.  I guess I was around… five or six.  Not sure, really.  They picked the day they brought me home and called it my fifth birthday, and we went from there."

He shook his head in wonder.  "I had no idea," he said softly.  "I've known you… how many years?"

She smiled up at him.  "Almost five, I guess.  Zak and I dated about two years before…"

He nodded, not making her finish.  Before his son had died.  "It sounds like they were good people," he said as he sampled the vegetables.  They were decent; not good, but decent. 

"They were," she said with a wistful smile.  "I was with them until I was fourteen.  Kyle died when I was twelve – cancer – and I was mad at the world.  I really put Betty through hell before I started to grow up.  She only made it a couple of years, but that wasn't all me.  She and Kyle were… I don't know, almost like they shared a heart.  When he died, there wasn't much left for her.  She held on mostly for me, I guess."

"Fourteen?"

She answered his implied question.  "I didn't go back into the system," she admitted.  "I told you I was mad at the world.  I screwed around until the juvenile department gave me an ultimatum – join the Service or go to jail.  So, I joined.  It wasn't so bad, and they offered me some college classes.  I was pretty good at that, kept at it, and when I got my degree I applied for a commission.  It was iffy for a bit, and then they stuck me in a plane."  She grinned genuinely at that.  "I did okay."

"I can imagine," he said wryly.

"It kept me out of trouble," she admitted, and then winked.  "Most of the time."

"I've had some experience with 'most of the time', although you've done better lately."

"Lee threatened my flight status," she admitted.  "I'm on my best behavior."

"As I remember," he said thoughtfully, "Spencer did that more than once.  It didn't help."

She laughed, and for just a moment he realized exactly how young she was; for a moment he'd forgotten.  She had a way of sounding older, perhaps born of such an uncertain beginning in her life, or maybe the older people who had raised her.  "Ripper threatened," she said with a wide smile.  "Lee means it.  He doesn't take much of my shit."  She shrugged and then looked him in the eye.  "Like father like son, I guess."

William shook his head and had to laugh.  "You get away with more than you think," he told her.  "It's those damned dimples."

She blushed again, and it occurred to him how the remark might be interpreted.  Unfortunately, he didn't have a clue what to say to make it more appropriate.  Hell, he didn't have a clue why he'd said it in the first place.  He chalked it up to being able to talk to someone for a change that didn't cringe every time he looked up at them, and didn't cower from his approach.  Kara was just… Kara.  She was tough enough to hold her own, and comfortable enough with herself that she didn't really care what others thought.  Or did she?

"So you learned to say your prayers and fly a plane.  What else have you been hiding, or should I even ask?"

She shook her head, shoving her now empty plate away.  "Not a lot," she admitted.  "I'm pretty much an open book.  Well, tonight at least.  Normally I don't ramble quite so much.  Sorry."

"Don't be," he told her honestly.  "I've enjoyed having someone to eat with, and to talk to.  I get sick of eating in my office, but I'm always afraid that if I come in here I'll disrupt everyone's digestion."

She laughed again.  "They'll get over it.  Think about yourself once in a while."  Her expression became more serious as she continued.  "You do a lot for everyone else.  You keep us motivated, and monitor absolutely everything.  Hell, you even keep Roslin in line, although how you put up with the bureaucracy I have no clue.  You deserve to think of yourself once in a while.  I know Lee worries about you; he thinks you work too much.  So you shouldn't feel guilty about taking time out to eat a meal."

"I don't," he told her.  "I feel guilty making everyone else uneasy."

She glanced around the room, as though just now noticing that they were in a public place, among dozens of their colleagues.  "Why would you make anyone uneasy?" she asked in genuine confusion.

He had to shake his head.  "No reason," he told her, not wanting to get into it.  It all sounded entirely too self-absorbed when he tried to put it into words.  It was easier to just let it be.  "So, how are things on the line?"

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table.  "Slow.  And that's a good thing, because I'm not interested in any more life-or-death battles.  But it's a little dull, and very routine.  Lee's going stir-crazy, but that's mostly because he's doing more paperwork than flying.  There aren't a lot of patrols to fly, and he's pretty good about giving them to those of us who will go insane if we don't get an occasional flight."  She gave him a sheepish grin.  "Which mostly means me.  He says he can't stand me if I'm not in the air at least twice a week.  He probably has a point."

"He cares about you," he said with a wink.

She shrugged.  "It's mutual.  He's probably my best friend, even after all the crap we've had to sort out.  Lords, I don't know how he puts up with me.  A couple of weeks ago I lost a gimbal and bounced a landing.  When I came out of the cockpit I was ready to kill a crewman, or at least try, but he just stayed on the ladder when I tried to get out of the Viper and wouldn't let me down until I'd calmed down.  He probably saved a life that day, and he sure as hell kept me out of hack."

"He's a good CAG," William said, and he knew that the pride in his voice was slipping through.  He couldn't find it in him to care.  His son was a damned fine pilot, but he was also turning into an amazing leader.

"He is," Kara said.  "And you know, Commander, I wouldn't have been.  Too selfish; I'd rather fly than schedule."

William paused a moment.  "I'm not sure how… appropriate this is, but can I ask a favor?"

He realized that his wording was awkward when he saw the expression on her face.  "I guess.  You're the Commander," she added with a wink.

"That's just it," he said with a sigh.  "Always the Commander.  Do you mind, off duty, if we could just forget that for a few minutes.  I get sick of everyone treating me like a holy lord.  Out of uniform, and off duty, can you please call me Bill?  Hell, I'd even settle for Husker," he said dryly.

She gave him a soft smile that held clear understanding.  "I can probably handle that," she said.  "After all, you never have called me by rank."

"Maybe because you've never acted like a Lieutenant," he muttered, and then they both laughed.  "Seriously, though… sometimes I just want to be a person.  Saul is on duty; let him command.  I just want to eat dinner."

"So eat," she said with a smile.  "You're picking."

He looked down and saw that she was right.  While she had finished her meal, he had more or less pushed his around the plate until it looked even worse than it had when he'd originally received it, if it were possible.  "It's not fine cuisine," he admitted.

"Never has been," she said.  "But it's better than starving to death."

He poked at the mess he'd made of his dinner.  "You know… given the right utensil, I bet I could make this fly what… twenty feet?  Is that Lieutenant Evans over there?"

Kara looked over her shoulder, then back at him with a wicked grin.  "I dare you," she said, her smile widening.  "He's been on my nerves for a week."

"I wish," he told her softly.  "There was a time I would have done it, though.  Lords, Saul and I got into so much trouble when we were at the Academy.  Food fights, women in the dorms, and once…"

"What?" she asked eagerly, leaning forward with a glint in her eyes.  How in hell had he gotten himself into this conversation?

"I can't tell Saul's stories," he hedged, trying to get himself out of the hole he'd dug.  "It's not my place.  Besides, I happen to know you'd use it against him.  Let's just say… we got one another out of more scrapes than I care to remember.  It's a wonder either one of us made it past the first year there.  I spent as much time in the brig as I did in classes."

"And here I thought my academy time set records," she told him with a smirk.  "What was it they said… I racked up more hours in hack then in class?"

"How exaggerated is that?" he asked her gently, honestly wanting to know.  She wasn't a bad officer, but she did have a temper.  Tempers tended to make for bad reputations.

"You haven't read the records?" she asked with her eyebrows raised.

He shook his head.  "I glanced over a few reports when Zak announced that he wanted to marry you," William admitted.  When Kara blushed, he let her off the hook.  "I didn't see any court-martials, so I decided to quit reading while I was ahead.  How much did I miss?"

She shook her head.  "Enough," she admitted.  "I didn't hurt anyone though – nothing bad enough to get me on formal charges.  I just didn't take any shit from anyone.  I still don't, if it comes to that."

"I suppose that's what's important," he admitted in a mock-solemn voice.  "Not everyone can be as upstanding as Lee."

Kara laughed at that.  "Upstanding?  More like uptight!  I swear, he's never met a rule he didn't love.  He could have at least loosened up around Zak, but he was worse if anything."

"He wanted to be a good example," William said, and he almost managed a straight face as he did it.  Almost.

Kara giggled.  "Lords, he and Zak used to make one another crazy.  I think Lee was actually glad when Zak asked him to move out so I could move in; got them out of one another's space.  I've never known two brothers to be so different."

"They were that.  But they… suited one another.  Zak had the humor and Lee had the logic.  Put them together, and it's a wonder Iilya and I survived it.  Zak would get them into trouble, and invariably Lee had to get them out.  It was that way right up until…"  He broke off, suddenly remembering just who he was talking to.  "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

She shook her head.   "Don't be.  I miss him – I'll always miss him – but I think I'd feel worse if he was forgotten.  He was a good man.  Lee and I talk about him sometimes.  It's gotten easier, at least.  But remembering him is really all we have left of him.  We had a lot of good times, and that's something that I can't get back.  It's the least I can do to remember – keep a part of him alive that way."

"It's difficult," he said softly.

"If it bothers you…" she began.

William shook his head.  "No," he said quickly.  "It's just that there are so few people who remember him.  Lee and I still don't really talk about him; there's too much pain there, and I know he has so much regret.  And Saul didn't know him that well.  Some days, it's as though I never had two sons, and that just feels so… wrong."

"Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here," she said with a soft smile.

"Thanks," he said, and he genuinely meant it.

"It beats eating alone," she told him.  "Lee's got a date tonight, and I just didn't want to deal with the guys.  I swear if one more man makes a pass at me I'm gonna be in the brig again."

"Lee's dating?" he asked.  That was new.

She gave a shrug and a grin.  "Lieutenant Cummings," she said.  "From Life Station.  I've been teasing him for a week about going out with a nurse."

William grinned.  "You're okay with that?" he asked.  Rumors had flown on occasion that Kara and Lee were occasionally a couple.  While William hadn't seen any evidence of it, neither had he bothered to ask either one of them if there was any truth to the rumors.

She shook her head.  "If Cummings can put up with him, then more power to her," she said.  "Don't get me wrong, I love Lee.  I always will.  He's my best friend, and I'd do anything for him, but there are days I can't stand him.  By the book is one thing, but he's given new meaning to the term 'anal'.  It's his way or no way, and that makes us all nuts.  He'll probably give her a checklist if they ever have sex," she muttered, but she seemed genuinely amused by the thought.  "On the other hand, maybe if he got some he'd be easier to tolerate."

William watched her as she realized just what she had said, and to whom she had said it.  Both hands flew to her mouth, and he had the rare pleasure of watching her blush bright red.  "How do you really feel?" he asked her with a totally straight face.

"Lords," she muttered, her face brightening if anything.  "Tell me I didn't just say that to his father."

"Not a chance," he told her with a grin.  "This is blackmail material for years to come."

She shook her head, but finally a giggle broke free.  It made her sound about twelve years old, and made him feel interminably old.  But the humor was contagious, and he had to join her.  He didn't know how long they laughed, but every time one stopped, the other started up again, until they were getting more than a few odd looks from the other diners.  William tried to control himself, and found that he only laughed that much harder.  Lords, how long had it been since he'd laughed?  Really laughed?

He didn't know how much time had passed before she finally calmed down, took a sip of what passed for coffee, and smiled up at him.  "I need to go," she said, and he could have sworn there was reluctance in her voice.  "I'm on shift in another hour, and I still have some things to check over.  I refuse to go up without a pre-flight.  I trust Tyrol, but I just can't bring myself to go up in a bird that someone else has cleared."

"Understood.  I was the same way."

She stood up, picking up her plate as she did so.  He stood as well – a combination of ingrained manners and common courtesy.  "Do you miss it?" she asked.

"It?"  He wondered where he'd lost the thread of their conversation.

"Flying," she said.  "I can't imagine…"

He smiled sadly, reaching up to touch his glasses.  "Yes, I do," he admitted.  "Every day.  I love the Galactica, but there's nothing like flying your own plane.  Enjoy it.  You'll never feel anything like it."

She smiled.  "Don't have to tell me that," she told him. 

His smile became more genuine as he watched her for a moment, and he found that he couldn't let the moment pass unrecognized.  "Can we… do this again sometime?" he asked.  "It's nice to be able to talk to somebody who doesn't salute me three or four times before I pick up my fork."

Her smile softened somewhat.  "Please," she said, and the honesty in her voice took away any discomfort he had felt in asking.  "It's nice to be able to talk to somebody who doesn't want to hit me by the end of the conversation."

He laughed at that.  "Have a good flight."

"I will," she told him.  "And thank you.  For the company, and just… thanks."

"My pleasure," he admitted.

Once she had left, William found himself sitting back down, but he didn't bother to eat.  His mind was running in overdrive, and he couldn't slow it down.  There was something shifting in his mind – something out of place – but he couldn't tell what it was.  He wished that he knew.

He had felt comfortable with Kara there, but with her gone he found that he had no interest in staying in the mess hall.  He turned in his plate, which was still full, and then walked back to his room.  He saluted absently in the corridors, his mind not on where he was, but rather where he had been, and whom he had been with.

Kara Thrace was a good person; that was just a fact.  He hadn't been thrilled when his son had announced an engagement to one of the biggest troublemakers that the academy had seen since… well, since William and Saul had been there in any case.  But the moment he'd met her – had seen her with his son – he had known that there was something special about her.  She wasn't just a woman, or just a pilot.  She had a strength and personality that amazed him.  He had no clue why some man hadn't snagged her years before… but he did.  Kara was as true and loyal as they came, and she had belonged to Zak, heart and soul.  They'd had a love that he could almost touch, and could certainly see.  Had Zak lived, they would no doubt have children by now.

Our would they?  Kara loved to fly; would she have given that up?  Would Zak have asked it of her?  The chances of either of them being alive today would have been infinitesimal.  They never would have been assigned to the Galactica if they'd been married; as his son, it would have been impossible for Zak to work beneath him and logically they would have applied for a joint station.

It was all more than he could manage to process – the ifs and maybes and fears, and mostly the relief that he still had some of his family around him.  Saul was family – a brother by choice if not by blood.  Lee was his son.  Kara was… hell if he knew.  If he had to define it, he supposed daughter was close, but it wasn't right.  She wasn't his daughter. 

But what in the Lords names was she?  A friend?  He wasn't sure he could fit her into existing slot of classification that he currently had for the people in his life.  She was a co-worker of sorts, but he didn't really work with her directly; he left that to his son.  She wasn't exactly a friend though, either.  Certainly she was someone who he felt comfortable with, although he really had no clue why. 

She had been around him very little actually since the war had begun.  He had spoken to her in some briefings, and even a few meetings with pilots over the last year, but beyond that they'd had no real contact beyond the occasional morning greeting or passing one another in the course of duty.  Even before the war, the only time they'd really spent together had been the couple of weeks following Zak's funeral.  Lee had been beyond furious, and Kara had been distraught.  It had been after the tirade that Lee had made at the family house immediately following the funeral that she had called him aside to tell him that it had all been her fault. 

She had explained then how she had passed Zak though the class on basic flight in order to keep him in the training program until she could work with him and get his skills refined.  Her commanding officer had been out of town, and she had covered the evaluations.  How no one had realized that she was rating her own fiancé William had no clue.  He had never asked.  At first, because she had been hurting so much and he had been afraid that any questions would have brought on an investigation that would have destroyed her.  And later, he hadn't bothered because it hadn't mattered.  Destroying a career at that point couldn't bring his son back from the dead.  It hurt less to let it go than to hold on to the pain by dragging it all out.

But the fact that he knew, and that Kara was aware that he understood – or at the very least accepted – her part in Zak's death had given them a common ground.  Kara had stayed in touch with Lee, providing a link to his son that even Iilya couldn't manage, and she had stayed in touch with him. 

He and his wife had already been on shaky ground with the military as a barrier between them before Zak's accident.  William had been past the point in his career when retirement had become an option, and yet he didn't feel that he could leave the job.  Iilya had been furious, saying that she had served her time alone and was finished with it.  She had given him an ultimatum – leave the service or leave her – and he had made his choice by not making one at all.  She had made the choice for them.  Losing her baby to same organization which had kept her husband from her had been more than she could stand.  She hadn't even spoken to William at the funeral, and Lee's only words had been screamed from half-way across the room.  Only Kara had stayed close, and he'd realized then that she was a fairly special lady.  It had been no small wonder that Zak had fallen in love with her.

Granted, Kara wasn't the typical idea of a beauty queen, but she was certainly beautiful in her own way.  She had an athletic build that he found considerably more attractive than the willowy figures that were so much in style.  She had stamina as well, as she had proven on more than one occasion, working marathon sessions on the deck to get planes in the air or ship repairs done.  She was independent and had a strength that he frankly admired, and yet he had seen in those days following the loss of Zak that she had a heart as soft as anyone.  But she hadn't broken when she'd lost Zak, even under the guilt that had swamped her pain.  She had simply put herself to work and stayed busy until the initial grief had eased.  She had kept in touch with him and she had also stayed close to Lee, which at the time William had thought was more of a penance than a friendship.  He knew now that he had been wrong.

Kara and Lee were polar opposites, just as Lee and Zak had been.  But they complimented one another.  Kara provided the fun in their relationship, and Lee the control and rationality.  It was a pleasure to watch them work together.  In the early months after losing Zak, William had actually hoped that something romantic might develop between the two of them, but the friendship was just that, and no more.  They didn't mind being physical with one another – a hug here or there, and perhaps sitting closer than one might expect – but it was a comfort born of friendship rather than of sexual interest.  William had seen it first hand when the war had begun.  They were there for one another, but the friendship had a camaraderie that was completely platonic.  Lee was no more physical with her than he had been with Zak, and frankly William was convinced that this was the role that Kara filled for Lee.  She had replaced the brother whom he had lost, both in personality and proximity.

William had asked his son about it once, wondering if he would ever consider settling down with anyone and immediately assuming Kara would be the woman he would want.  Lee had almost laughed at him, which might have offended William under different circumstances.  But the sheer surprise on his son's face had told him all he needed to know about their friendship.  They were close, yes, but not romantically.  It was a rather constant source of disappointment for William. 

He liked Kara, and he could see that she was lonely.  She didn't hang with the women because she didn't seem to fit in, and even the men in her squadron excluded her from a lot of activities.  If she spent time with anyone, it was usually the deck crews, either men or women or a mix.  Lee included her of course, and as CAG he carried some weight in 'suggesting' that the other men do the same, but a female Viper pilot was still just a little bit of an anomaly.  Women were common in the service, and common as pilots, but Vipers required a strength and stamina that most women just didn't have.  Kara did.  In fact, she was more than adequate in the position; she was easily the best pilot he'd ever seen.  She had an instinct for flight that he envied, and a love for the planes that was obvious.  Hell, maybe that was why he found her so damned attractive; they were both pilots to the marrow of their bones.

William's thoughts ground to a halt.  Attractive?  Where had that come from?  Certainly he was fond of her, but attracted?  Good Lords, she was at least thirty years younger than he was, and certainly more a match for his son than for him.  He only wished his son could see what an amazing woman she was.

William leaned back against the chair where he had seated himself when he'd returned to his office.  He'd been so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even remember the walk, much less settling himself in to work.  He hadn't really accomplished anything… he had daydreamed about a beautiful pilot with wide green eyes and a sparkle to her personality that made him wish he were a hell of a lot younger than he was.  And he knew he must be tired to let his mind wander down the track it had begun.  Tired, lonely, and absolutely pitiful.

Dirty old man.  She'd be appalled if she'd known that he had even… but it was only thoughts, and respectful ones at that.  And he was old, not dead.  The day he was too old to recognize a lovely woman, he was going to hang up his glasses, crawl into bed, and stay there until he died.  The world they had left lacked many things, but the recognition of honest beauty shouldn't be one of them.  Kara was charming, inside and out.  Even an old man like he was could appreciate that.

But it still made him feel very old to do so.  Lords, Kara had a whole life ahead of her and he was approaching the age of mandatory retirement.  He wasn't there just yet – and he was sure that under the circumstances the clause in regulations would be overlooked – but his age was a fact just the same.  He wasn't a young man, he couldn't run ten miles anymore, and the last time he'd made love to a woman had been…

It had been too long ago to bother with remembering.  He and Iilya had been on fragile terms for years before Zak's death.  Granted, it had been the final nail in the coffin of their marriage, but their relationship had faded long before then.  The two of them hadn't done more than sleep in a bed together for more than a year before she requested the divorce.  And they hadn't done very much of that.  He'd been home only a handful of days, and she had made it clear that she wasn't going to be a second choice.  The couple of times he had brought up the subject, she had made it clear that he could just go be with his mistress – the Galactica – because she surely had more than Iilya could ever provide him.  At the time it had made him furious; now it just made him very sad.  He should have let her go long before she had demanded it.  It had only been his selfishness that had prolonged their marriage.  One more regret, he thought, among many.

Giving up on the thought of getting any work done, William stood and began to undress.  He tugged off the day shirt which he used in place of a uniform top when off duty – not that he was any less recognizable, but it was the best he could do - and uniform pants which he folded carefully and laid over the back of his chair so that they would remain crisp for tomorrow's shift.  Then he tugged back the covers to his neatly made bed – a habit which had remained with him since he'd joined the military – and slipped beneath the cold sheets wearing only his undershirts and skivvies.  He turned on one side, shivered slightly, and waited for the cocoon of covers to get warm. 

William was too tired to work, but sleep was still a long time in coming.  His mind rambled of its own accord, never really focusing anywhere for any length of time.  He did his best not to feel responsible for where his tired mind decided to go.  His last thoughts before finally drifting off were of a lively blond woman with wide green eyes and a smile that could light up a room.  If he had been alert enough to realize who he had been thinking of, he probably would have felt guilty.