“We could have been, yup.  Ah, but that’s ok.  I still have to find a way to break it to my mother about me being gay,” muttered Quin.  Not knowing why she was thinking it was going to be a big deal, but Quin was intent on making sure that Peggy didn’t start comparing her to Helena.

            “Just tell her,” snorted Alice.

            “That’s it, she’s Peggy, you know her, she’ll have a smart ass remark or something like that.  Whatever, it’s my life.”

            “It is, and you should follow that advice, live it.  Where are we going?” asked Alice as she noticed that the car was turning the wrong way.

            “I don’t…  Baltar?” asked Quin, knocking on the window, the driver brought it down.  “Where are we going?”

            “Your apartment, Miss Quin,” he said.  Quin groaned, having forgotten to tell him to bring Alice home. 

            “Fuck, I wanted you to bring Alice home….,” swore Quin.

            “That’s ok, I’ll call a cab from your place,” said Alice with another hiccup, making Quin laugh, the small laugh lines appearing on her cheeks as she smiled.  “God, you should do that more often.”

            “What?” asked Quin, reverting instantly to the serious look that usually graced her face.

            “Laugh, smile, you are fucking gorgeous when you do,” admitted Alice, staring back out at the street, lost in thoughts of Rosita.

            Quin said nothing, knowing it wasn’t really a compliment, just a statement.  The car quickly pulled up to a small apartment building, the driver didn’t bother getting out, he knew that Quin opened her own doors.  Getting out, Quin pulled Alice with her, waving for the car to leave.  “Come on, we’ll call you a cab.”

            Alice nodded, feeling woozy and sick to her stomach, following Quin up the stairs and into the small elevator.  Closing her eyes to the waves of nausea that crashed into her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Alice swallowed hard.

            Jingling her keys, Quin exited on the top floor, Alice in tow.  Sweeping open the door, Alice rushed in, looking for the bathroom, finding it at the end of the hallway.  Skidding to the toilet and puking unceremoniously, Quin sighed, thinking people who drank were insane.  Walking down the hall, leaning against the doorframe, looking at Alice, arms crossed over her chest, “Better?”

            “God, that was gross, no more Hurly Burly Whirlies for me,” gulped Alice.  Quin took a glass, filling it with water and handed it to Alice.  She took it, rinsing her mouth and smiling a thank you.

            “Why don’t you take the bed, and I’ll take the couch, it’s not a big deal,” said Quin.  Thinking it was the least she could do for the woman who was her boss. 

            “That’s ok, I’ll be fine…,” said Alice standing up.  Another wave of sickness washed over her, sending her back to her knees, head in the toilet.

            “Right, I’ll go make the bed,” said Quin without any more arguing.  In her bedroom, Quin heard Alice vomiting again, this time something chunky was hitting the toilet bowl, making Quin grimace.  “Gross,” said the blonde guitar mistress.  Getting another blanket, and throwing it on the foot of the bed.  Digging into her closet, finding an old baggy shirt of The Who, Quin put that on the end of the bed also.  Alice trudged into the room, still green, “Here, shirt, there is a waste basket over here, and I’ll get you some water, ok?”

            “Thanks,” said Alice sheepishly.  Quin shrugged, returning to the room a few moments later, Alice was in her shirt and in bed.  Already asleep and snoring lightly, Quin smiled again, tucking a strand of her white blonde hair behind an ear, kissing Alice’s forehead and leaving the light on, the water on the bedside table for the sleeping and still drunk radio DJ.