The Admiral puts Lee on Lampkin's security, pissing off Lee no end. "So that's it, you're grounding me?" Not that the Lawyer Bomber is a kiddie ride, but when you've lost two children to Vipers, you're allowed to hedge. Zak knew he wasn't ready to fly, but Kara put him up there anyway. Kara knew she wasn't ready to fly, but Lee put her up there anyway. No more decisions being made by anybody; no more anybody-but-the-Admiral telling Lee who to be. "If whoever set that charge is one of our own, then you're the only one I can trust." Lee whines some more, and Bill tells his son it's "an important job," that he "needs Lee's help." Lee abruptly protests that he's "fine," reading the unwritten, and Bill assures him he's not. Why? "Because I'm not." Lee snits that maybe Bill needs some rest, and the Admiral steps back into command: "Helo will be stepping in as CAG. I want you on this ship. Not up there, not until you can...work this out." Lee nods and whines some more. People don't actually talk, think or act like this, ever, except on TV shows.

Apollo shows Lampkin to his quarters: two Marines outside the door, Ms. Cassidy (prosecuting attorney) down the hall. Head, co-ed showers, the whole bit. Lampkin asks to see his client, and when Lee balks, he points at him: "Pilot." Yeah. "King of the Pilots? We could stand around here and discuss why you got stuck with me, if you want." It's the unspoken again: Romo's natural language, his first tongue, is what's unsaid. Lee offers to take Lampkin to his client immediately, in his cell. Lampkin shies away from the cell, and then from an interrogation room -- "Interrogation rooms give me stage fright" -- before volunteering Lee's quarters. (Remember? The ones he shares with his wife? Who doesn't exist this week?) "Before it gets wired for sound like this place probably is. What's the problem? Forgot to make your bed?" Lee gives in on the location, but refuses to leave them alone. Lampkin moves on this one as well: "It is Major, isn't it? I have the right to consult with my client in private, without anybody eavesdropping or looking in. Whoever cares the most, wins. Says so in there." He holds up a copy of Law & Mind: The Psychology Of Legal Practice, by one estranged-grandfather Joseph Adama. Yeah. "I wanna see my client, you don't care, I win." He puts the book back in his bag, waits just the right amount of picosecond, and muses. "You know, you look like him." Like the grandfather, the lawgiver, the defender: "You knew my grandfather?" Like the one person Bill doesn't give too much credit. "Hated his guts." Like Bill. "He taught me everything I know." Also like Bill.