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."
A child climbs into the pod, astraddle him, pushes him into the water, deeper and deeper, hands around his throat. She doesn't kiss him. They fall past the frame, away from the light, into the darkness; all you can see is black water. There's nowhere to focus on.
Lee stumbles down a corridor, coming home again; he brushes against a crewman and shouts to watch where they're going; his ring tings to the floor and he begins to crawl. People stare and whisper and watch, but he's all alone on the floor, nowhere to stand. He shouts, a shame; he begins to shove crates to the ground, tearing into the cargo stacks looking for the ring. One of the first things you learn in the Academy is that symbols matter: they're like pieces of your heart you can look at. He falls against the wall, crying; stuck.
"Admiral, we're losing him. That's enough." Roslin nods, sad, agreeing with Cottle. "I'm putting an end to this freak show right now."
In Adama's office, Roslin's reading from her Scrolls as Bill pours the three of them (including Tigh) a drink. "Now, listen to this. Five Final Cylon models. 'Five pillars of the Temple, for the five priests devoted to the One Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken." How beautiful would it be if Laura was the one who figured it out? After all this? Tigh calls it "mumbo jumbo" but Laura's seen it before, seen the world line up to prove this stuff right. "He's holding a lot back, Admiral. I'm sure of it." Adama suggests "more direct methods," like the civil rights abuses to date -- the once so horrific even Laura Roslin blinked -- just haven't been effective enough, and Laura is totally grossed out. (Meanwhile Tigh's like, "Direct methods? I'm listening!") Bill sits and he drinks with Saul. Laura's still thinking. "We tried the stick, it's time to try the carrot. The thing he's most deeply afraid of is [that] even if he talks, we'll kill him." Tigh thinks this is rather smart of him. Bill can't look at anybody, because Laura's right and he just realized they're in the Circle and they didn't even know it. "We have to ease his fear," she says, picking her words very effing carefully and with maximal plausible deniability, which is another word for that gap. "Make him believe that if he collaborates, at the very least he'll have his life." Adama's like, "Not buying it." She sips her drink; it's harsh on her throat, and she shivers but she keeps talking. "We have to find someone he trusts." Bill looks at Laura hard. The enjambment kicks into high gear. Watch it spin!
Gaeta stares at Gaius, huddled against a wall of his cell.