Whom does she see? "I had no idea," she says, eyes filling with infinite grief, and infinite love, and understanding, and the peace just past understanding, and on into grace. Who does she see? The one in light too bright to see holds her hand briefly; she clasps it gratefully, surprised by mercy and by beauty. Who does she see? Kara Thrace, broken on her mother's wheel, just like all the times Three dicked with Caprica and Boomer, in their own best interests. William Adama, the steward of life, just as she is. Felix Gaeta, whose heart was broken by love, just like hers. Laura Roslin, who laid down her life and everything she held dear, in the search for God. Just like her. Sam Anders, who carved out a life in a haze of fear and radiation, hoping for better. Anastasia Dualla, who calls us home when we're too far out. Lee Adama, for whom breaking the sacred covenants of duty and love is physically painful, but so often necessary. Caprica Six, who taught her to love so completely that you lose whatever guideposts you were taught. Gaius Baltar, who taught her to question, and learn, and look, and seek. Sharon Valerii, who has been used just as cruelly as God is using her now. Sharon Agathon, who taught her everything that rises -- every single thing -- is a sacrament to God, no matter how terrifying it may seem at the time. Maybe she sees Ellen Tigh, or Billy Keikeya, or Maya, or Hera. Maybe she sees Leoben or the hybrid, eyes finally clear of madness, able to speak plain in this new dimension, free of the constraints of time and what we see. If I wrote it, I know exactly who she'd be looking at: D'Anna Biers Three, Cylon and angel, fearless traveler, steward of life, brave dreamer, seeker, lover, all of these and more. And the last thing she'd hear that fucker say would be, "I love you. We've always loved you. You can come home now." Whatever face it wears, and you can't honestly think it matters, maybe that's what she's hearing now. Cylon psychology is based on projection. Mine too. Yours too.
Three stands in the Temple of Five, and in Heaven, and between five stars, burning off what doesn't work. Gaius catches her as she falls, asking what she saw. "What... Who was it?" Her eyes go white and she begins to choke. Every rapture has its price: ask Dualla, looking at her pilot's hands. Ask Chief, watching the sun itself burn away his awful burden. "So beautiful," she says. Now it's all she can see. He begs her to tell him what she saw, still hoping against hope he's a Cylon, and not just a hateful traitor to his people and the Gods. "You were right," she smiles. She was the anointed one. It was time. You can't go through this and come back: the point of reincarnation is where she just reached. If they don't box her for this, something else will happen. She's done. She touched God and held His hand, and went blind, and is dying. "D'Anna, did you see my face? I have to know, please. Please, stay with me." She drops in his arms, her head hits the floor with a sickening thud. God rest her soul. (I love these Cylons, I really do. Here's a list of some of my favorite TV people -- as in, "I really identify with what that character is going through" -- of all time, which you will definitely find horrifying, but might find edifying as far as the process story this recap is turning out to be. Marissa Cooper, Brenda Chenowith, Dr. Izzie Stevens, Amanda and Hilda, Aeryn Sun, Karen Sammler, Toby Ziegler, and Simon Cowell. The reason should be obvious: I don't have any idea how to be human, either. I'm just happy when other people try.)