Sam holds his gun to Atreus's head; he does not call him adelphos. He laughs, pulling the trigger. No bullets. Atreus laughs, weeping, in gratitude; the Cylon opens fire. And when he's done, after not much time at all, the Cylon turns to Sam. Task completed, it says. By your command. And Sam gets very excited, then. "How are you with tanks?" he asks. The women, screaming, and the dirt they ate. The flowers two boys saw along the roadside. If in our way of living there's a blood debt to be repaid, blood calling to blood and then again, then the only real limits lie in your thinking and in your access. Caprican money to build him up, the playboy prince. Caprican money to bring him to his knees again. And Tauron not only avenged, but finally made strong.
Daniel confesses to his wife. She stands across the table from him, sipping her wine, unhappy with him now. Nervous about their meeting. And he confesses. The death of Tomas Vergis, just behind the couch. The avatar of Zoë that he kidnapped, and punished, and killed, before her mother had ever learned she was alive again. The things he did to get the company back; the men he is aligned with now.
"I have tried to make sense of it myself, tried to figure out how in the worlds I got to this place. And the one thing I keep coming back to is Zoë. All I know is that once I found her again, I... I couldn't let go. I wanted her back in my life so bad that I was willing to do anything, anything to get her back."
Zoë would hate him for it. All that death, all that selfishness. Playing NCC inside NCC inside NCC, never really seeing her at all. Pushing her past pain and into madness; threatening her with extinction and childhood traumas until she killed herself. Zoë would hate this. But Zoë isn't here anymore.
"What do you expect from me? Just to forgive you? Wipe the slate clean?"
She hardly hesitates, of course. Aching for his approval, happy only in his arms. Made to love, and be loved in return. She forgives him a thousand times, her faith unshakeable and absolute. Her creator, and her lover. Healthy sex drive and a desire to please are baseline for every avatar. A thousand times, to give him what he wants.
Nobody wants the embarrassment of absolution; this is how he knows she isn't real. He shoves her away, throws her onto the couch: "How can you forgive me after everything I've told you?" Because it was a true confession, because our memories are shaped by shared experiences, she can't possibly be real. The data net is not wide enough, if it's wide enough to contain his redemption. It's just masturbation. Maybe that's all it ever was.