"I thought I might be one of them," he says. As the burned children still surround him. "I told them I wanted to be one of them." He'll always call himself a victim, Bill will say. He'll always elect to be among the children of the end of the world; without that, what is he? Surrounded by his legacy. All those burned children: Kara Thrace and Sam Anders, Anastasia Dualla and Lee Adama. Saul and Ellen; Laura and Bill. Gina. Boomer and Athena, Helo and Hera, Cally and Chief. Remember when he was President, and ruled a planet full of orphans? Remember how the world ended, and keeps ending -- all on his shoulders, every time -- and all these orphaned children are just trying to get back home?

He leaves it blank and he's not talking about those kids, or the one in the visions either: he's talking about the Cylons. Roslin fills in the blank; he lives in the blank right now. "A Cylon. Why?" He opens up as the children resume singing: "All my sins forgiven." And the children could come unto him, and be healed, and none of it forgotten. As far as I'm concerned he just indicted himself. "Are you a Cylon, Doctor Baltar?" In the dream, he shakes his head; in the lab he nearly tears in two: "No." The children pull their hands from the water, not touching him. He's alone. "That's not good enough, Doctor," says Adama, intimately, into his ear. "Tell me. Tell me what you told the Cylons. What do they know? Tell me or I'll let you go, Doctor." The lifeline; the sherpa. And see what he does. "I'll have to let you go. Tell me or I'll let you go, Doctor. I'll have to let you go. I'll have to let you go. I'll have to let you go."