"I wish there was something more that I could give you." Kat tries to smile. It's ugly, and sad. "No. It's good. I'd like to be CAG very much. Thank you." She sniffles, takes a beat, and realizes she's strong enough to be this real -- Kara gave her that. "Sir, there -- there's a thing. A reason why you might not want to do this. Kara knows what it is, but I wanted to tell you myself." As usual, he's five steps ahead. "I don't need to know anything other than what I already know. When you were CAG, you protected your people. Made them feel safe enough to be brave. What you were gonna say, does it change that?" No. Yes. Kind of. That was another girl, who died earlier today. You make me feel safe enough to be brave. She just looks up at him, mute. He pulls a chair to her side and sits down. Don't think about Billy Keikeya. "Are you...staying?" He smiles down at her. "I love this sickbay, in a way. Reminds me of where my son Zak was born. Caroline was so happy. She was convinced -- both times -- that she was having a girl. So it was a surprise at the end." (Sorta.) Kat asks -- hopefully, safe enough to be brave -- if he wanted a girl too. He realizes there's something more he can give her after all, and almost weeps. "... Yeah. Three's a good round number."
The Admiral doesn't talk, in the briefing room. Just pulls down Lee's name and switches it with Kat's, as CAG of the Galactica, placing Lee's quietly in her place as squad leader. The pilots nod, and weep, and say goodbye.
Before New Caprica, before Pegasus, the first thing the survivors did was take a wall in the corridor of Galactica and make it a little bit holier. They put up pictures of the lost and the dead and the broken, and laid flowers and candles and offerings on the floor, and made little shrines. And on that wall there's a picture of a girl named Kassie, which sounds a lot like Kat and a lot like Kara. She was just a girl. She wasn't a fancy pilot, and she wasn't a drug-runner or an expiated sinner. She wasn't a hero. Just a girl. And after she died, her lover -- a pilot -- got killed too. So then nobody remembered her, except for everybody that ever saw that picture. Everybody that ever walked that hall. And that's how we go on. Starbuck, dressed, healthy, pins Kat's picture just below Kassie's. And she looks, and she weeps, and she says goodbye. She touches it tenderly. Behind her, a respectful distance behind, Lee watches her remember.