"I laid out the cabin today. It's gonna have an easterly view. You should see the light we get here when the sun comes from behind those mountains. It's almost heavenly," he says, then as if an afterthought, he adds, "Reminds me of you."

A cool breeze blows up from the valley and gently dries his tear-stained cheeks. The day has been long, and night is soon approaching. The setting sun drags a brush along its illustrious canvas, leaving practiced strokes of auburn and pink and salmon as it stains the sky. He sits and continues to enjoy the bittersweet view, trying to remember exactly how long it's been since his eyes were witness to such a portrait. Too long, he finally decides.

"What will the inside look like?"

Long arms snake around him from behind, red fabric coming to rest upon his green fatigues. Melodic, albeit brief laughter fills his ears and moves straight to warm his heart. A single kiss is pressed to the side of his neck, and the arms squeeze once before letting go. A figure comes to rest beside him, and without thought, he extends his arm around her. She leans into him and breathes a happy sigh. He glances down and he sees a head of auburn hair and a smile full of life, a contradiction to the mound of sticks and stones he'd laid with his own hands an hour before.

"It'll be simple," he replies.

"Simple is fine. Can there be a ring of stones in the front for fire? When I was a young girl, my family would go camping deep into the Caprican forests and my mother taught me how to cook by fire. I miss that."

"Of course," he replies again, reveling in the impossible warmth of her touch and drawing her even closer. This emits another happy sigh from her.

"We'll have to begin our reread of Searider Falcon," he continues after several moments of silence. "Would you like that?"

"That would be lovely," she says. She shifts in his arms and gazes up at him with the brightest, liveliest green eyes.

Heavenly.

"What?" he asks, smiling.

"Tomorrow, let's take a hike to the lake. Maybe go fishing," she proposes, a twinkle in her eye. "I want to feel the water on my ankles."

"Fishing," he says with a chuckle. "I didn't know that was an activity you were fond of."

She bites her lip. "Well, I haven't been fishing in years. If you recall, Admiral, we've been stuck in deep, uncharted space for the better part of the last four years."

This emits another chuckle from him, and he kisses her forehead.

"We'll go fishing tomorrow," he promises.

A twig cracks behind him under the weight of a newcomer. Bill turns his head and watches his son pause thirty meters away. He has a pack slung over his shoulder and weariness etched into his pores.

"Dad?"

He continues to approach and Bill notices that his skin looks weathered with wet emotion. Lee pauses again as he acknowledges the newly-dug grave with a sad respect.

"Go to him," she whispers into Bill's ear, nudging him away from her. "I'll be here when you get back. Promise."

Bill reluctantly stands. He believes her, believes in her. He'd even admonished to her once, what seems like a lifetime ago, that she made him believe. It hadn't been a lie.

"Son," he says as he stands. His bones protest. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, Dad."

The two meet at the foot of the grave and collide into a desperate embrace. The sun disappears as Lee tells his father of mountains he'll climb, seas he'll cross, and his broken heart that may never fully heal. He says he knows how his father feels. Bill tells his son that maybe, just maybe, he'll find what he's looking for somewhere along the way.

* * * *
150,000 years later

The bustling city life is crude to her ears. As her feet find the wandering walkway that leads into the park, the roar of car engines and greedy venders is almost immediately replaced by chirping birds and children playing. Laura thinks that in another life, she lived in a quiet cabin by a lake where the water was so still it was like looking through glass.

She takes a seat on a park bench that overlooks a gushing fountain. She's been here many times. This is her escape.

"Secretary Roslin?"

The low voice startles her out of her daydream, and she looks up at the newcomer. She had almost forgotten why she came here in the first place.

"Commander Adama?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for meeting me," she says, standing.

The school teacher gazes silently across at the soldier while he extends his hand. As the warmth of their hands entangle, a stinging sense of familiarity shoots through both of them and causes the handshake to last a few moments longer than is probably appropriate. Finally, several children darting across the pathway and towards the nearby playground causes her to retract. They drop their arms but their eyes remain locked. Millions of years worth of fate and recurrence and they can't tear their eyes away if they tried.

"So tell me, Secretary, what can I do for you?"

She smiles and crosses her arms.

"Shall we walk, Commander?"

He nods and they turn together down the winding path. He thinks for the briefest of moments that the parkway path is just about as hard to navigate as an old, depleted warship he has seen only in dreams. They do not walk in silence, talk of business on their lips. But as the daylight begins to fade and the path comes to a quickening end, their pace growing lazier with the destination nearing, she turns to him and smiles. Her smile is bright, her auburn hair glistening. He thinks to himself that the view is heavenly and decides that he wants to be able to tell her this on another walk through the park on another summer day.

He accidentally slips his book into her handbag. She pretends not to notice.

The say their goodbyes and go their separate ways, only to meet again just like they will in every lifetime that was and is to come.

The journey is only beginning again, and he'll see her on the other side.