Which is what Boomer wanted, after all. She's just a fool, too, learning new ways of being, new ways of cutting herself off. Allowed to play; allowed, for the first time, to be a Cylon. Given that permission by Brother Cavil, to join in the collective and bow down to the unity of his faith.
So then, this is the test. Holy absolution in the cold light of the engine and the circuit, a brand new life in the love of Cavil's God, or the lives of her beloved sisters? She was once beautiful, but a bullet and fast current took that away from her. All she was, all that she thought she was, all that she was certain about were taken away from her. It begins with these bodies, scattered and unresurrected: "We love you, Sharon. And we always will."
THE KINGDOM OF ENDS
(In which we burn off what doesn't work, and receive the scars to prove it.)
Cally sits in her quarters among dark stars, burning on the walls. Tory touched the Chief. She opens the bottle and sees things that never happened: the Chief kissing Tory's cheek. She remembers, as the baby cries, Galen's arms around her, around her belly where their family grew. She became a mother. She was Galen's girl, and a mother, and she had a family beyond the hangar deck, beyond the family she'd built when the Cylons and Gaius Baltar made orphans of us all. One bottle is empty, then several. The Chief touched her face, with love. In love with her, with Cally. On New Caprica they started fresh, at the Admiral's word they were able to start fresh. She became a revolutionary, throwing herself after Galen on the engines they'd built with their blood. She thinks a thought you don't think, mired in misery and lost in a fog. She touches her baby one last time, and goes to shut the hatch. And in the hinge there is a note, in a strange hand: Weapons Locker 1701D 1330h.
Cally watches from around the corner as Tigh and Galen meet Tory. Tigh opens the hatch and they all enter, after acting suspicious for awhile. Cally stands outside the locker, where she's always stood. She opens a panel in the bulkhead. It's good to be small. She works her way between bulkhead and pipes, squeezing, almost drops into the body of the ship. Down goes an empty bottle. All she has in her hands now is her screwdriver. She braces herself across from the locker and removes a panel, staring down into the room.