Battlestar Galactica
Islanded In A Stream Of Stars

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Jacob Clifton: A+ | Grade It Now!
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All My Darling Daughters

"And so I walked, like the beat cop I used to be. When you walk, you see things in different ways. But when something's out of place, you notice. A cop's eyes always notice, and those eyes were one thing they couldn't take away from me..."

Bill notices her watching him, and stops reading. Observations lends existence. She's grinning, though, and tells him to turn to page 61. Giggling delightedly, she watches him find her surprise: the last of the New Caprica weed, saved for just such a time. "Cottle won't mind," she says, "It's medicinal." She pulls out a lighter as he closes the curtain, leading one to wonder if the huge-ass oxygen tank next to her is planning on blowing up in a medicinal fashion, but then Cottle smokes constantly and hasn't blown himself up yet.

They remember that day as they light up: the sun, her dress, Gaius's groundbreaking speech. "Guess what I'm thinking about right now?" Laura asks, but you already know. Mountains. A stream running into a little lake. Water so clear it's like looking through glass. The cabin. A house on Picon, a cabin on New Caprica: what matters in these little mental houses we build isn't the landscape, or the wine glasses, it's who we take with us. Kara drew her house with Sam upon the sand, and invited Lee into it; Galen and Cally wept until their own house was allowed: New Caprica was a dress rehearsal for Earth and the hard days after. It's amazing how much Boomer still thinks about it.

"It's amazing how much I still think about it. You know, sometimes I wonder what 'home' is. Is it an actual place, or is it some kind of longing for something, some kind of connection... You know, I spent my whole life on Caprica. I was born in one house, and then I moved to another. And then... this. And then now. I don't think I've... ever felt truly at home, until these last few months here with you."

Laura smiles, connecting the dots, thinking to herself, watching him breathe in the smoke. "I know you love this ship. You probably love her more than you love me." She giggles, he looks down bashfully. "Bill, if you don't get us off this ship, you may lose both of us at the same time." He looks up and swallows, and breathes, but the rest is just poetry on top: "Why don't you give us a chance?" she asks, and tokes mischievously, and nudges him with that smile. Leading him on, leading him home.

Gaius, scraping and titrating and microscoping. Tigh stares down at Sam. "A closed system lacks the ability to renew itself knowledge alone is a poor primer..." The Six and Eight admit that surges have been Sam all along: he's hooked himself into her bones, spreading through the goo and into the hull circuitry. Every system but the computers, as usual. But Tigh quickly realizes that, given the FTL upgrades, he could jump them all at any time, just like the Rebel Hybrid. "End of line. Begin reintegration of command subroutines ... there's a hole in the bucket dear Liza dear Liza there's a hole in the bucket the long view returns patterns and repetitions all has happened before and will happen again..." The Eight finally unplugs him, after sufficient growling from Tigh.

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Battlestar Galactica

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