I am glad that we don't see the way Bill pulls Saul off the wagon again, down to join him in his misery. Too easy, and it hurts for Saul. Too hard, and it hurts too much for Bill. But now they are drinking, and they are drunk, and Galactica is still falling apart around them. "So the Five of you, together at last. Any mythic revelations?" (Jane actually wrote something like "earth-shattering," and caught it later.) Tigh's like, "Oh, huh uh." He doesn't explain that on top of the hideous sadness of that fact, they wouldn't have noticed anyway, the way Martha was carrying on: "Nothing to report sir." These two guys, they're just as lovable whether they're having denture fights and breaking hips or giggling in their cups. Do we love them because they remind of the friends we have, or because we want what they have and aren't there yet? Bill pours another drink.

"You were born, right, Saul?" Tigh's eyeball is like, "Left field much?" Bill repeats the question and Saul understands him: "On Earth, yeah. I don't remember. But I wouldn't anyway. Nature of the process, right?" He laughs super weird and Bill joins him: "Not very machine-like of you," he glares, and Tigh chuckles. "Great-grandpa was a power sander!" They laugh and they drink and they smile; it's been well too long. Bill's mind is whirling like a flippy-ship, firing questions and worries out of his mouth in the order that they come. "They're putting the stuff into her." Tigh nods. "If it works," Bill says, "She'll still be the Galactica on the outside, but..." Saul stares. "...She won't know what she is anymore," Bill finishes lamely, trying to squash down what he means -- the amount of his heart that he has torn out and put in those walls and struts and engines, the machine he has built with his blood, over the years -- but of course Saul knows what he means. Saul knows exactly what he means, because his Galactica has always been Ellen. What he hasn't figured out yet is that Galactica isn't Bill's Laura. She's Bill's Saul.