Dualla counts it down, and they jump. And Kara's head goes crazy, and she shakes. "We're going the wrong way. If we keep jumping like this, I'm gonna lose the feeling completely, never be able to take us back." The Admiral asks Kara if she's seriously suggesting that he approach the President of the Twelve Colonies and tell her to forget Pythia and the Eye, because Kara has a "feeling." Um, yes. That is what you are supposed to do, and it's obviously what you're going to end up doing, so...

Adama's horrified and sad and tired from all the stuff going on with her: "I can't. I just left your ship. There's not a scratch on it. It's brand new. How do you explain that, Kara?" With tears on her face, she offers no response, and he looks away. He can't even look. It seethes in him. "Look at me. Look at me!" He does, and she leans close, searching his beautiful face. "I swear to Gods, it's me. Kara." But the question he can't ask, because it's too close to turning around, on the path from the underworld, is how she can possibly know that. How can you know when you know?

"I can do this. You once said you loved me like a daughter. If you still do, you've gotta trust me on this one."

He can't afford to. And that's why.

In the last months, how many times has Lee Adama watched his gun camera film, from the Maelstrom, would you say? It's not an idle question, nor is it a comforting one. He did so many strange and awful and wonderful things, between the sunset and the dawn. How many of those times was he hearing this, in the back of his head? "...They're waiting for me." No! No! "...They're waiting for me." No! No! "...They're waiting for me." No! No! Or was it only today that he could do it, go back to the scene of the crime, now that she's back (or gone forever), and something else is coming? He's only obsessive when he's drunk, so maybe this is the first time. I like to think so, but I don't really know. If she's still dead, this is the goodbye and the final sweep for clues. If she's back alive, this is a fact-finding mission, as much for her breaking heart as for his broken one.

Bill clears his throat, looks down at his son in the tactics theatre. "What should I believe? Should I believe my heart? Or my eyes?" (Come back here. Come back!) Lee makes it clear where he stands: by Kara's side. Even when the angle makes it seem otherwise. "I want to believe her," Bill admits. "But the President's right, it's exactly what the Cylons would be counting on."