"Lee. I'm not afraid anymore." Say again? "I'm not afraid anymore," says Kara, with her mother's hand in hers, tears of love and pain and joy on her cheeks. Down in CIC, Tigh's getting nervous. You can hear it in his voice. "She should be afraid. She's damn close to the hard deck." Helo notes that the pressure is close to crushing Apollo too. It always has been. Adama urges his son to get her back, again. Always, this story: Lee bringing her back, Bill praying to the Gods he doesn't believe in, for her safe return. 90 seconds to hard deck.
"All right, Kara, listen to me. Forget the damn toaster. Climb now or you're dead."
She's already climbing, just at an angle he can't see yet. She's rising. She's bathed in light. The Viper soars, down, into the storm, on a crest of light. She's calm, and beautiful.
"Godsdamn it, Kara! Pull up now. We can still pull out of this, we haven't gone past the point of no return. Pull up!" Nothing he hasn't said before. 60 seconds to hard deck.
Gaeta and Dee get Red Section into position, alert Vipers at ready one. Lee keeps screaming.
In a wicked pack of cards you can see her, standing beneath a red, blue, and yellow star, kneeling by the water's edge. In her hands she holds two jugs of water, pouring one back into the river, and one onto the ground. She brings water to the river, life to the shore. She stands astride, enjambed upon, the line between life and death, like Three; like Three, her death and rebirth enliven and renew them both.
He finally spots her, and tells her he's coming.
"Lee...I'll see you on the other side." He begs her to listen, to come back. She begs him to let her go. It's not abandonment if you're running to; she can't explain this because we don't have the words. The message got confused.
Three stepped into the Great Hall, turning on her heel like a girl. "Is it really you?" Everywhere was the light the Hybrid sees, the songs she hears. She stepped toward one of them, one of the Five, who held out his/her hand. Her eyes went, soft, as she got the joke. "You. Forgive me. I had no idea." And if I'd written it, the last thing she'd have heard that fucker say was, "I love you. We've always loved you. You can come now."
"They're waiting for me," she says, the joy and weariness fighting in her voice. Looking down at all the Karas, from above the Eye, looking at how all of them lead in a line here, and nowhere else, looking at this story from the new dimension, seeing how she'd been hiding from herself, around corners and under bridges, inside the bug room. You have to laugh. All that time masturbating and getting too drunk to walk, all that time lying and treating boys like dirt, all that time hating yourself: it's ridiculous. You have to laugh. This is a life seen from the eye of a storm, and where it leads is here, and she knew it all along. All around her the atmosphere is getting heavier as she descends; the water spattering on her canopy cuts off all other sound. What can you hear?