"You walked out on me! The brilliant Commander who could lead all of his men into combat, but he couldn't find a way to live with his own family! Never lived anywhere for more than six months, just following you around from one base to another, waiting for you to come home. But you weren't here for any of us! Whatever was easiest for the great Adama!" She's dead. He's accusing the dead: "They needed you. They were our children." Her lip curls; we flip back and forth from the old house to Galactica, sitting with his son, faster than we have before. "They needed a father. All through your glorious career, you have prided yourself on being a leader of men, judging people. Always making the hard call. But when it came to the biggest decision of your life... Oh, Bill, you blew it. We were wrong for each other from the start, but you just couldn't accept that." She grins, with wicked satisfaction: "That's it. That's why you keep calling me back. Because if you had made that mistake..."
Bill stands on CIC, freaking out; she keeps talking: "It would just call into question all of your other decisions." He touches her face, in the old house. I don't know what the fuck she's talking about, besides Lee and Zak; I do know that carrying projection, that being on any kind of pedestal, is way heavier than loving anything ever is, in terms of burdens, and he's had to carry it all alone for way too long. Longer than we even thought, apparently.
"She was still your mother, Lee," Bill says. "I loved her." Lee agrees; he knows that. "I just don't think she ever loved you." Bill thinks sadly, but doesn't say anything. I say this: love has as many definitions as there are people in the world, and until you shake off the dust and fantasy and alluvial deposits from your shoes, you're always going to be stuck on New Caprica. Which is not, if you'll remember, the awesomest place. I'd rather be in love on shitty, horrible, scary old Galactica than living a lie or getting fake-married on New Caprica. Maybe that's the point of S3.5 after all: so much of S2.5 was heading toward New Caprica, laying down burdens and building cabins, believing that the world would give anybody a chance to stagnate like that.
If the overwhelming conclusion we can draw from the first half of this season, the whole Everything You Wanted deal, is what happens when you get lazy, then this is what happens when you leave that fantasy behind: deal with Everything You Don't Want, again. The way God intended. I always thought the Cylons existed to make the humans better, but now I think it was just New Caprica making them worse, you know? Burning off what didn't work. The Second Exodus is about stretching, getting stronger, getting better, becoming more, and all the resentment and pain and self-sabotage and refuge to fantasy that that entails. Of course it's hard, of course it's gross. New Caprica was eating lotuses and building cabins and getting naked under the moon, and then New Caprica became eating shit and the occupation and the exodus. Pretending you'll leave Dee just because you've always been in love with Kara; pretending you don't love Sam because you've always been in love with Lee. Pretending you're unified in the search for Earth while 57% of you are falling in love with humans and joining crazy religions or the Colonial Fleet. Pretending you can erase the pain of New Caprica through hate and fear and murder. Pretending you can erase pain.