(OMG what if Gaius turns into Dr. Baltar Dr. Baltar and the Centurions all start going "By Your Command" and... I can think of some ways that would be cool, and other ways that would be even sadder than Gaius usually, even. King of the tin soldiers. Plus he'd have to get a cape, and he already looks so gay so much of the time.) The Centurion looks down at him -- one of the posters on the forums suggested that maybe the chromejobs will fuck up religion just as bad as everybody else and start walking on all fours with food on their noses going, "I don't know why, just do it" -- and he nods, patronizing and over-identifying at once. "I know. Pathetic. Pathetic, isn't it?"
He looks around, at the sudden sounds of violence; outside, the Vipers and Heavy Raiders take Cavil's Basestar out (after Boomer, I am sure, finally got her shit together and grabbed the next bus outta there), and they head home. Home, to a Cylon Baseship, so they can regain the Fleet, having saved maybe the scariest of all the Cylons, and the most singular. This season fucks around not even a little bit. Did you see the preview for tomorrow? How bad is this going to get?
Explosion. The Centurion and Gaius are blown across the hall; they fall to the floor. He rolls onto his back and tries to sit up. He feels the wound before he looks, and his eyes go wide. He can't look. He looks: he's bleeding, badly, from his side. The tears well up. He is terrified. Have you ever been so scared you cried? That is scared. The fragile frakkin' body of Gaius Baltar. It's all about bodies, about the meat and the pilots inside it: yours, mine. Laura's, Gaius's. Theirs. Ours.
The Marines bring him to Laura in her squat, her little home, and she rushes to his assistance. She steps from his side for a moment to grab a medkit, and he yowls; she rushes to him again, without thinking, Teacher Laura coming to the fore; she apologizes. I swear she says, "Easy, Slim. Easy." She sends the Marine to find out about what's bringing the ruckus and bandages Gaius's body. "Thank you, thank you." She ignores him, focused and firm, like a school nurse; he goes on thanking her. She finally grabs a needle of morpha and sticks him with it; he yelps and she apologizes again.
She can't help but come home again. This is what humanity's capable of at its highest moments: faith and mercy, beyond anger or fear. That's what strength looks like, and it's how we're going to win. She's so charming when she's at a loss, when she's forgotten to be angry or manipulative; there's a disarming kind of rawness and humor behind everything she does, when she's forgetting to be Madam Airlock for a second. "Okay. Sorry. You have this, uh... You have this big hole in your hide, as Cottle would say. Okay. All right. I'm gonna do this again..." He can't believe her; as he slips into the morpha he's amazed by her. "It's the least I can do. I think you're gonna live. As usual." Heh. "You know something?" he says drowsily, as she continues to work. "You're very pretty." Duh. She snorts and keeps working on him. "Man, that morpha worked fast." Thy drugs are quick.