"Hey, Saul. Want a drink?"

She's beautiful. His own Aphrodite in a clinging green dress that hits her curves in all the right ways, full of promise. She tops it with the best accessories from jewelry he never sees and perfume he never smells over the musky taste of the ambrosia and with her smile which is pure sin and suggestion and he knows men will clamor for her attention, and he knows she'll go home with him at the end of every night.

What she does before they go home, he never thinks to question.

"Saul?"

He nods brusquely to Bill and moves over to the table from the bunk, his hand tight around the crutch, almost useless on the even ground of Galactica. Bill doesn't say anything, just pours the liquid into Saul's glass and raises his own. The toasts don't need words anymore, and Saul isn't sure he's got any left to say.

He did his job. He did his duty.

Except he promised Bill he wouldn't leave anyone behind.

And he did.

"I never liked this place. Too gray. Would it kill you guys to splash a little color somewhere?"

He points her gaze to a dark stain on the metal. "You like red? That's blood."

She laughs and crosses her legs, and Gods, she has gorgeous legs. "That's my Saul. Always trying to accommodate me."

"Over there." He nods even though he can't see anything in that direction. "There's some yellow from where two of the nuggets got caught writing some graffiti."

She finishes the story. "And you busted them both to the brig and grounded them for a month." She saw the graffiti before he did, but he took care of it. That's what he does.

"Defacing a Battlestar."

"You're my hero, Saul. Always were."

"Hero saves the damsel in distress."

"Damned, Saul. Not a damsel." She smiles at him and then slides off into the shadows on his right side. "But you never noticed the difference."

He makes his first appearance in CIC to a salute from Adama and a handshake for the crew, all of them cheering. He had faith and it got them through. And now he'll do his duty still. He owes Bill that much. But there are faces missing in the crowds and he doesn't know who to trust anymore. Giving up his life for the cause would have been easy. He would have happily worn a bomb to his chest and blown the frakking Cylons to whatever Hell they chose.

Instead he gave up his heart, and it eats away at him like the acid he poured down Ellen's throat.

"Hardly poured, Saul. Don't be dramatic."

He huffs a slight laugh and the corner of his mouth curls. She sits on the command table and leans back, tilting her head back so her hair falls, the flickering lights of CIC dancing across her skin and her pale blue dress.

"Besides, better at your hands than at theirs." She nods toward the others, standing around and doing their job, acting as if their lives just move on, as if the taste of blood on their teeth isn't burning the back of their throats. "You gave me dignity, Saul. It tasted so sweet, I couldn't even taste the bitter underneath."

"They wanted blood."

Ellen nods and slides off the table, leaning into him, giving him strength instead of stealing it away like everyone else. "They still do, Saul."

He stands at the door of Adama's quarters and bows his head. His hand shakes as he knocks and enters, beckoned by the voice even more familiar than his wife's. "Bill. I let you down."

"You did everything but, Saul." Bill sits and opens a decanter and nods for Saul to sit across from him. He sinks into the chair and stares at the light glinting off the liquid. "You trained them, you guided them. They were ready when the cry went up. You lead them, Saul."

"I killed a lot soldiers down there, Bill. Godsdamned kids who didn't know better than to strap a frakkin' bomb to their chest."

"People die in war. People die in peace, Saul. People die."

"She sold us out, Bill. Almost got Anders and Sharon killed. Almost got…" He shakes his head and hisses through his teeth. "Us and them. Those are the rules. What d'you do when…people frakking helped the Cylons. People sold us out for…frak. For nothing. Sold their humanity."

"She loved you, Saul."

"Yeah. She does."

"You have to let me go, Saul." Ellen sits on their bed in a slip of some sort of shiny fabric that he knows feels like the heavens under his palms. "Have to move on."

"Can't do that."

"Saul?" She reaches out and touches him and he sobs, a quick gasp of breath wrenched from his chest, a hand closing around his heart. "You have to let me go."

There are tears standing in her eyes and she swims in his vision, yet still as vivid and real as when he first saw her back on Galactica, when he first met her back on Virgon. She'd laughed and whispered in his ear that it was really true what they said about Virgons.

"I warned you it was true. You just wanted to believe that…that I only meant it for you."

"Doesn't matter. You're my wife."

"Always, Saul." She touches him again, letting her hand slide up his arm to brush his cheek, her palm curving against the bristle roughened skin. "Always."

"I need you."

"No, Saul." She sniffs and shakes her head. "You don't need me."

"I do. I have. Always. Always."

This time she nods and the tears spill over, streaking her perfect face with silver fire. "You're a good man, Saul Tigh. A better man than I deserved. But everything I did…"

He nods as well and touches her hair, curling the golden strands around his fingers as he kisses her, so softly. "I know." He closes his eyes and holds the silk of her hair in his hands until it fades away to nothing.

Nothing.

Except duty.