Lee enters the Quorum room on Colonial One, stricken. Laura's there feeling terrible and acting weird. "Look at this picture of Jacob, this is just a terrible picture, he'd hate it. I'm trying... I'm trying to find another one, because everyone will see it up on that Wall..." Lee -- in his maroon disco shirt of jurisprudence no less -- asks if this is the best idea, her being here where the senseless death is still pretty much all over the walls, and she's like, duh. "I definitely want to be here. It's such a... Senseless, horrible way to die. These people only wanted to try and keep us civilized. Sometimes I hated them, but I knew every one of them, and now I wonder who we are without them." As she flips through the photos, dropping the one of Jacob with Reza Chronides, Lee thinks.
"Actually, I've been thinking. We need a new Quorum. Or something else. These... These old planets," he says, holding up his own bloodied CAPRICA nameplate, "That's not who we are anymore. We're a Fleet now, and our daily lives are defined by the ship we're on. We're not Capricans anymore, we're from Galactica. We're from Colonial One," he says. "Maybe we should acknowledge that." Roslin sits and agrees, motioning him to sit, and asks him to take over the "heavy lifting," moving forward, and to assemble the new system of government. It's not easy for her to offer and it's not easy for him to accept; her one worry as she takes off her glasses and they both begin to weep is that he's "so hell-bent on doing the right thing" that he sometimes can't do "the smart thing," but she knows he's the right choice and always has been. "Well then, um, I'll try and be smarter. And wronger," he jokes, and she smiles. Then she coughs. They look at each other over the dead place.
Chief segues from talk about the old girl to talk about the old girl. Beams cracked, struts cracking, the length of the ship. "Frak me," says Bill; "These big cracks, it's a good, clean break, I can fix that, you just... Just don't jump her for a while. I can squeeze some more life out of her," says the Chief. They share horror over how many corners the builders cut. Bill doesn't look at Galen when he demands that the crew making these repairs be all-human, given the whole mutiny thang, but he feels gross about it. It's not the call he'd make otherwise, and he knows that.
Sam explains about the Final Fivers' choice to run back to the Twelve Colonies and warn them -- "We needed to tell them 'Treat them well, keep them close,' but by the time we got to the Colonies, they were already at war with the Centurions. It happened again" -- and further explains that they missed the boat by thousands of years because they were traveling at "relativistic but subluminal speed," so while they lived and stayed young, time was not slowed down for everybody else. Not a brilliant plan. He seizes, and Kara holds O2 over his beautiful, haunted face, begging him to stop. "Kara," he says, "I'm fine. I have to do this. You remember the Demetrius. You know what it is when you have something that you have to do." She agrees that she did; at one point she did. "Kara, if I had the answers for you... all the answers about why you came back, what you're supposed to do, you would want me to tell you, right?" Kara dares to hope, for a second, but he puts her straight, offering that maybe if he keeps going her part in all this will become clear. It won't, she's in a whole other layer, but they don't have any reason to know it. Frankly, we only have my word that that's true. Sam mentions the eight models, and Kara flips out, hoping just like Gaius once that she's one of them, but it's too late. He starts to stroke out, everybody starts glowing, "Watchtower" starts playing, and he goes into arrest.