Lee comes home quietly and sits down at Dualla's side; she wakes up and smiles sleepily up at him. They kiss, and he notices a package: "It was here when I got in. It's from your father." He asks -- per telling his father hours ago that his ex-wife never loved him -- whether it's ticking. She smiles. "He left you a note." She married him to be an Adama. (That's like me marrying Hera so I can be an Agathon. Or marrying Caprica so I can be a Cylon. WHOA, I just thought about me and Six getting married; that would work to like a scary degree. "Who is Number One?" "You are, Number Six," okay, and we'd laugh but then we'd blow up Parliament or something. But damn would we have some awesome clothes, on the other hand. Throw outrageous parties; be golden. Start religions and revolutionary movements every five seconds. Plus, I always knew I'd marry a Canadian. That's like Dualla marrying Lee so she can be an Adama... And we're back where we started. I am going to think about this some more, I'd imagine.) She married him to be an Adama; everything he does is for the same reason. "Caprican criminal codes. These are my grandfather's law books." But what about his papers? "Your dad must've had these in storage all this time. Why's he giving them to you now?" There's an inscription.
For that day when we all have the time.
No matter what, I don't know how, we will manage. Find a balance. And that's the day we win, and that's the day we rest. And when there's no more war, Lee can orchestrate peace, and Bill can build a cabin, and lay down his burden, and step down from that pedestal. Or everybody steps up, onto theirs, so he can look them in the eye.
"I'm glad you stopped by," says Roslin, her body language crying out. "I have something for you. This was given to me by one of the Colonists, down on New Caprica." She holds out a silly old paperback, like they both love. Tory found it, in a pile of old clothes. Blood Runs At Midnight, it's called. "Don't let the title fool you, it's a pretty good mystery. I think you'll like it." Books for these two are like the lost language of flowers. After the mutiny, after they forgave each other under the Gods' watchful eyes on Kobol, to keep her alive, he said "fuck story logic," and he gave her a book. It is their policy never to loan books; only to give them. This is the language of their love, whatever definition is yours. "And it's not a loan. It's a gift." She gets -- is she nervous? She keeps packing, fidgeting, getting her makeshift office together, to go back to Colonial One. Unless he speaks.