Roslin and Adama sit quietly. He looks incredibly old. He sighs, and she watches his face, begging him to give her the left-field lie that will acquit her. The "Lie To It About Earth" ruling that will keep her campaign alive. Adama: "Do we steal the results of a democratic election or not? That's the decision. Because if we do this, we're criminals. Unindicted, maybe, but criminals just the same." Laura nods: "Yes, we are." Hoping he'll okay it, hoping he'll for once provide the rudder without the "ethics" bullshit that goes along with it. "You won't do it," says Adama. Her face falls, because she knows he's right: whatever he says next, she won't do it, because his blessing is essential, because he's the biggest liar there is. "We've gone this far, but that's it," he adds. She's not feeling this. "You try to steal this election, you'll die inside," he explains. "Likely move your cancer right to your heart." She starts to cry, because he's right, and she knows that in her body. "The people made their choice," Adama concludes. "We're gonna have to live with it." Roslin chokes: "It's the wrong choice." He knows that, and says so. He looks away, and she stares at him, nods to herself. Whispers this next: "All right. All right. All right." She drops her shoulders, weight gone, new weight on top, and smiles sadly at him: "So that's it. We just give it up, just like that." But he's the biggest liar: "The battle, perhaps. But not the war." Nope, motherfuckers. The war, too. She smiles, because at least they're okay. At least he brought her back, and she didn't lose him in the process.
I don't often say this, because it's generally not as true as it could be, but Gaius Baltar looks gorgeous, meeting with Roslin and the aides in Adama's quarters. Just luminous and stunning and righteously angry. Adama: "Well, the important thing is, the error was discovered and corrected. You've been elected President. Congratulations." Baltar thanks him snippily, but keeps going: "Now, about this error. Exactly what kind of a tabulating error could have occurred on your ship that could've swung several thousand votes away from me in favor of your preferred candidate, Admiral? As soon as I have the time, there will be an investigation." Adama, without his glare-proofing glasses, speaks, deadly and without rising: "I suggest that you take your victory and you leave it at that, Doctor." Gaius twitches as they trade steely looks: "I think you'll find I can be...magnanimous in victory, Admiral. And I believe the correct honorific at this time is Mr. President-Elect." Once more, his feelings are hurt. Like Adama was going to roll over for him, like he did Cain. Like Gaius has earned anything but the Presidency. Like he was going to get not only Roslin's office, but all her awesome friends. Like there's anyone he could ever trust. Anyone that would ever respect him. "Set course for New Caprica," he clips out, and turns on his heel. Bill looks down, so tired.