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He did not fall in love in an instant.

Like all of his brothers, Simon was a logical thinker--a scientist, a doctor, a mechanic. Find the problem, identify the steps to a solution, implement them. That was the mindset he brought with him, when he came to live among the humans before the end.

Falling in love was not so exact, of course. Emotions weren't simple or logical. But the way he was designed, the way he thought, he could see each step along the way as he took it.

Admittedly, he didn't recognize all of them in the moment. And as for recognizing it as love--well. That particular puzzle took him more time to solve.

At first, he was simply drawn to the things he and Gianna had in common. A logical mind; find the problem, identify and implement a solution. She was a gifted engineer, a person who--resonated, somewhat. More than the other humans he'd spent time with. Even other doctors.

They'd met at an engagement party, celebrating one of his coworkers and one of Gianna's college friends. He'd accepted the invitation because, at the time, he was still establishing his cover and it would be useful to build relationships with his coworkers. And he wanted to get a better picture of how humans interacted with each other.

The party itself was--fine. Not something he'd choose to do purely for his own enjoyment, but not unpleasant. He'd met Giana at the bar, doodling on a napkin; a work problem she was trying to sort out. It caught his eye, he'd asked her about it.

"Not many doctors are interested in engine design," she'd said.

"Is a man not allowed to have hobbies?" he'd replied, raising an eyebrow.

She'd laughed. He'd liked the sound of it.

They'd spent quite a bit of time talking; at the end of the night, when she'd suggested meeting up again, for coffee or something similarly casual, he'd offered her his number.

That was step one.

At the time, he'd recognized that he enjoyed her company, or at least that brief taste of it he'd had in a broader social situation. Enough to want to see more, to follow this particular thread and see where it might lead. A further study of human behavior if nothing else; and wasn't this how a man in his position would be expected to respond to someone attractive expressing interest?

She was attractive; beautiful and clever and charming. He readily admitted that from the start.

And, apart from that…

Simon wasn't quite lonely, among humans, but it was--an adjustment. Being away from his brothers, from all of the others. He knew there were others like him, spread throughout the human worlds, but even if he'd known where to find them, reaching out wasn't an option. And if a certain amount of distance from the humans around him was important, to remember who he was and what he was doing here…well, he'd been programmed to exist in a community. When he met Giana, he'd been living among humans for months, and that distance was, perhaps, beginning to wear on him.

So, he went into the next step--coffee--with all of that in mind. What he might gain from pursuing this, both practically and emotionally, as long as he kept his head about him.

Giana was, of course, just as beautiful and clever and charming in the light of day as she had been at the bar. She, clearly, had a similar good impression of him; the next few steps--dates--came in quick succession.

After each one, when he got back to the quiet organization of his apartment, he took stock, evaluated where he was. He was a logical thinker, after all.

It was after their fifth date that he had to admit he was gaining more from this on the emotional side than the practical one. Or that he was beginning to care more about that, at least, more so even than supporting his identity. Not that he called it love, even in the privacy of his own soul. Not yet.

But he liked her. He looked forward to spending time with her. He felt less…alone, when he was with her.

Sleeping with her for the first time was--an interesting experience. Not an entirely novel one; he'd had sex before, once with a Two and twice with Eights. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't exactly her being human that made it different, he didn't think. It was something else, something he couldn't quite quantify, no matter how long he turned it over in his head and studied it.

Despite not being able to share a projection with her, there was--a connection there. Something that he hadn't experienced with the others.

Acknowledging that was, of course, another step. He considered the word 'love' at the time--the concept--but decided that that was too much, too powerful a thing for what this was.

And then he began to notice other things. Little things; unique things; things that only they shared. Not just inside jokes--though there were plenty of those, too, of course--but something more ephemeral. Harder to define. Something in the way she looked at him, and he looked at her; in the way they related to one another, independent of everyone around them.

He thought about love again, and thought--maybe. Maybe that was, in fact, the right word. Even if this wasn't some towering, world-shaking passion. Even if it was just…quiet. Ordinary, almost.

It would have been ordinary, in fact, if he were the human man he was pretending to be.

When Giana asked if he was willing to meet her daughter, he knew, beyond all doubt, that he loved her. And she loved him.

He agreed, of course. Because this--this connection, this relationship, this shared thing, this love, was too precious and powerful to waste.

And when he met her child--God. He'd known, of course, that they were commanded to have children someday, of course. But it wasn't until he met that little girl, until Giana shared her with him, that he understood that it could be a joy, not just a duty.

He knew it wouldn't last. He knew what was coming for them, sooner rather than later.

But he loved her. And she loved him. Perhaps it was selfish of him--no, there was no perhaps to that. But even if it killed him, even if it truly and permanently killed him someday, he convinced himself that it would be worth it. To spend what little time was left together.

When he proposed, he told her a version of the truth. That he couldn't promise her forever, because life was strange and wild, but what he could promise was to love her, truly and deeply, for as long as their lives were shared. If she would have him.

Giana, who had divorced her first husband years ago, had brought her own meaning to that, and promised him the same.

It was a strange feeling, for a Cylon, for a man who was used to being one of millions of copies. To build something that was only his.

His and Gianna's.

Theirs.