Maybe it's academic at this point, but there's a pretty strong line to be drawn between the femme fatale and the belle dame sans merci. The first was an act, confusing for us as we got to know the angel wearing her face more than we ever knew Caprica herself; when Caprica returned to the Cylon she returned to the second. She remembered herself to herself, cut her makeup use in half at least. The thing about the belle dame is that she's more like Peter Beagle's Lady Amalthea than his Lady Celeno: perfection and immortality are cruel by their nature, they never come to it by malice. Malice comes later, when you fall to earth.
Neither of them knew, what he was to her. A confused, half-blind saint asking for succor from an enemy of the state; Lear leaning on Cordelia's shoulder, Antigone leading Oedipus by the hand. The frightened last unicorn trying desperately to bring a soul back to fallen Zeus, both of them with more memories stolen than the ones that remained. Saul begged for Caprica's help in turning off his emotions; she responded by turning them up to eleven. She beat him bloody and made love to him, and realized something new about the world. Another wall fell down. They'd thought a lack of God's love was what prevented them all from getting pregnant. She'd championed the idea, to keep herself from weeping at night, in her loneliness and jealousy, but having made the jump to the world -- having come willingly into enemy territory for the love of a child, having been given the gift of death by Natalie -- things looked different. Her heart had begun to sew itself back together. And the only thing she'd ever wanted, since that curious, bloody day on Caprica City and further, back to the mother she never knew she forgot, supplant that long-lost memory, and enter the world forever. She would finally be a mother.
Act One: Fun & Games
You Are Cordially Invited To George And Martha's For An Evening Of Fun And Games
There's a hot Six doing the Maggie Chascarillo, spreading Cylon aid and comfort across the struts and walls of Galactica, holding her up and making her strong again, when Bill comes down to visit the Chief. He puts his fingers in it, touches the compound where it sits on an artist's palette. "It's gooey," the Chief explains, "But it hardens, becomes like cartilage. It's flexible, strong. It's what the Baseship's made of." Bill's fascinated, like Laura watching the Hybrid sing: "Is this alive?" Prove it.