Kara gets frustrated, playing, and he tells to her keep going, but there's something missing. He nods: it's the left hand. He noodles around, looking for the chords, and he starts to annotate it on his staff paper. Kara thinks of Hera, the diligence with which she drew the stars, and pulls out the paper, unfolding it. He writes them onto the staffs as well. "Play the bottom, okay? Just come in when you think you're ready." She nods; for a moment as he's playing the bass it sounds like the record she owned in Delphi. She begins to pick out the melody. Boomer fetches Hera from daycare, shoving a sippy-cup in her mouth before Hera can even notice who she is. She tosses an apology over her shoulder, excuses as she's leaving. Hera drinks deep. Saul notices the melody of the song Kara's playing, and his eye goes wide.
Boomer's trying to load a crate of the long-duration provisions into her Raptor; nobody notices. Our mission this week is the same as the week before. The Chief helps her load it; she begs him to be careful. There's life inside.
Slick and Kara kick into it, playing with confidence. Right on time, they hit the crest together: it's "All Along The Watchtower," gorgeous and full. Saul and Tory stare, recognizing the song. And when he's played the last note, Dreilide holds up one finger like a gun, for his daughter to blow the smoke away; Kara remembers, beautifully, and smiles at him. He touches her face as she recognizes him. She thanks him for visiting, calm again, with a smile and a laugh like a fresh wind. The cruelest thing about free will is knowing you've got your whole life ahead of you, and no trajectory but what you decide.
Not the Arrow of Athena, not the leader of the search, not the harbinger of the apocalypse: just a girl. To exist. That is an incredible amount of pressure. Kara's smart enough to live through it, but I don't know that Boomer is. She hasn't been so far. In order to be the man or woman you choose to be, you have to know the moves and be brave enough to make them. And then he is gone, as Saul grabs her and demands to know what the frak she was playing. She mumbles about her father, looking around for him, but he's gone. Tory snatches at the notes, the stars, and demands to know who wrote them. I've been waiting for Kara to get looped into the whole Hera thing since before she was born, but I mean, she was a very busy girl.
On the Raptor's wing, Boomer asks Galen to come with her, swearing she can't survive out there alone. He knows she can; promises they'll meet again when the heat's off. The best lies are the ones that are true: "There's something I want you to remember. All the things that I said? About us. I meant them with all my heart." He's moved, searching her face. She's still human enough to be ashamed. "So no matter what happens..." He kisses her, here and there, in the house on Picon where it's always springtime. The no-place, where there are no rough spots, and their future wasn't taken away at the barrel of two guns. He leaves, before weeping.