On New Caprica, Gaeta wrote down names for her, and numbers. "This list... Some of these people I haven't seen in a long time. They may already be... Gods." Sweet Eight assured him that the Ones kept excellent records, as machines were meant to do, and that, as per their agreement, she would free the prisoners on the list. She swore they could do it; she promised.
Fifteen months later, Racetrack and Hoshi launch Raptor 1029 from Galactica. Because if you're looking for something at random, Racetrack will always be your best bet.
Hard Eight floats among unfamiliar stars; the makeshift crew of 718 beds down for their last night of sleep. Gaeta's leg begins to ache, and he guiltily injects himself with morpha. Sweet Eight pretends to be asleep, but she sees it. She sees it all: his weakness and his needs, his hungers; the way he'd give his other leg, for a better world. How he will trust anyone that promises to lead him home again. A list you could love anyone for. A fire inside.
Fifteen months ago, she wept in his tent: a man named Jeremiah got sick and died while still locked up. Another woman killed herself. Two more, she was able to rescue; but only two. One child, she couldn't find at all, not even news about his fate. That's the one that sent her crying. "You saved so many of them. Okay?" They promised, in their fear, in the middle of the night with no one watching, to make more lists, to save more lives, and he reached out, to kiss her. Softly at first: one more right thing, to add to the list.
There are as many kinds of love as there are Tribes of Kobol; there are more kinds of love than there are survivors. Up the hill, in the detention center, in a room so secret it barely existed, Kara Thrace killed Leoben for the forty-seventh time, as he pled his love. Down in the city, Galen Tyrol wrapped his arm tighter around his wife, her belly, as Nicky kicked and Cally pretended to be asleep. Sam Anders dreamed of her, and woke up coughing in the cold. Up in the sky, Anastasia Dualla Adama lay with one leg below her husband's, an arm across her chest, and looked up at the ceiling, imagining the stars just beyond it. Dreaming of the day when they could leave their cages, and head for Earth again. On Colonial One Gaius Baltar awoke lying half-off his Presidential bed, one palm on the floor, where he'd passed out; at first he thought the girl beside him was Caprica Six, but when his eyes adjusted he saw her, in a chair across the room, watching his every move, quietly and without moving. Across the camp, in a much finer room than Felix's, Ellen closed her eyes and smelled the whiskey on his breath. She was thankful for it; it helped her picture Saul, above her in the dark.