The end. You know in movies when the people are going to get hot and heavy on a desk, or a finely-appointed dinner table or whatever, and they sweep everything off the surface in an incredible passion, and it's sexy and powerful and a little bit scary, because actually you'd never do this at home, because you don't want shards of glass or thumbtacks in your tender post-coital feet? That's this episode. Cancer? Check. Cybrid? Check, for now. Gina in hiding? Check. Gaius still a little too White-Hatted? Check. And all the little questions -- Turning a rape victim into a single-minded terrorist? Really? One little letter shoving Gaius to the dark side and erasing all of his genocidal guilt? Really? Unnecessary hexagon tesseract blood? Really? Everything that ever happened to Roslin happened on the same day, and Six and Gaius spent that entire day canoodling in the park so she could keep spotting them? Helo is suddenly willing to shoot ten Marines and the Admiral? Nobody thought to ask the admitted terrorist if they could maybe look through his luggage? Really? -- don't really matter, because this is love, baby, and we are right in the middle of something awesome. Don't talk, don't ruin it, don't worry about the mess, we'll clean it up later. And one thing about this show: you can count on them cleaning it up later, at the very least. Right now there's just us, and the show, and you've got work in a few hours. You know? And next week, lots of angsty half-naked "Redemption of Apollo," I mean, that's worth something to some folks, right? Let it ride.