Caprica was reborn, after the blaze; visited by an angel wearing her lover's face. She asked again and again, and they told her he was dead. Dead in the blast and never recovered. She lost all that makeup and the dresses, and felt more like herself. She tried to come back to the fold, to be the girl she was supposed to be, but it didn't feel right. She began to feel too much like herself: one girl, drowning in an ocean of memories. She'd begun to swing away from herself, a finger on a hand thinking thoughts of its own. Her selves became sisters. They played her against a Sharon, the sleeper named Boomer, who was coming apart in another way. They were Heroes and they were Villains, threatening the fabric of the world. She counseled Boomer, and Boomer taught her that Gaius was alive, the Vice President of remnants; they saved the life of a secret saint together and taught the Cylon a new way to live, too late for redemption but early enough for love.
Love is cruel by its nature, not by malice. Caprica was restored to him, the man she thought she loved, the man who'd tainted her with knowledge and her singular perspective. The hardness and the quickness of him, the man who would never love her as she loved him, had only become harder and faster. He slipped away beneath her gaze. He became her pet, alive only through her loving care; she fought the glares of Felix, and eventually Gaius lost even his hardness. His confused tangled layers -- herself, the angel, Gina -- had brought the Cylons to New Caprica; what was for her a reconnection was for him the doubled memory of betrayal. She was murdered in front of him to prove a point; the fact that he was able to mourn her was a sign he was still alive: proof. But they saved Hera together, and they saved New Caprica from another detonation. The destruction they'd brought to the Colonies, averted on a second doomed home. The ending dream of harmony, this time heralded by a nuclear blast, came not with a conflagration but on a rainy day.
Caprica took Gaius and Hera back to the Baseship, and tried to love him. She held on so hard she entered into creepy threesomes, and was betrayed by his ambition and the religious awakening of her sister D'Anna: corrupted too by her time in the Fleet, her experience of Caprica and Boomer in the presence of Sam Anders, the first victim of a Cylon/Cylon murder. They left her there, alone, without love and without a child, again: the baby began to die. She'd failed, again. She was the first Six to experience romantic betrayal, the aching loneliness that only humans know; what Athena gave up willingly she had taken away, again and again. She was alone, again. And no matter how jealous she was, of Athena, she loved Hera so much that just the thought of that little girl brought tears to her eyes. Caring for Hera -- snapping necks to defend her -- felt good in a place she could barely remember: the Caprica City marketplace where she committed the very first murder. The Caprica City marketplace where she kissed her lover under a strong sun, under the watchful eyes of a dying politico, and wished it all could last forever. That's when love stole into her heart. That's when robots become human: not the first murder, but the first kiss. That's when she became dangerous.