"How many places do you need water to come from? You can wash up in the toilet!" Bobby scoffs, but she kneels down at the toilet and scrubs her face with its water. "See? It's clean." Bobby, behind the camera, shudders. As he zooms in, she takes offense, not understanding but clearly being laughed at. Children destroy innocence better than any grownup. As the pundits hold forth, she angrily pushes Bobby out of the bathroom and shuts the door on him. There's no way she could have known; no way she could know that this show got cancelled because of its preoccupation with the silly fears and biology paranoia that inhabit our darker places. There's nothing worse she could have done than put her face in the toilet; and nothing more innocent or harmless.

Even the experts, even the ones formerly on her side and on the side of the aliens, recoil. "What we're seeing is a very young, disturbed alien girl." "Clearly a passionate, though troubled young lady." Bishop Mervyn Vosko: "This young woman should not be allowed near any impressionable child. She is clearly dangerous, troubled and a bad influence." Dr. Anderson: "I defy anyone..." but Chiana presses a button back on Moya, turning the TV off.

Rygel sighs, and says pitiably: "I'm sick of this popcorn." And I don't mean he's asking for pity. I mean he should be pitied. "I just feel sorry for Crichton," says Chiana, lying and being so much stronger as John goes down, down, down. Less innocent than she was just a few minutes ago, and so much stronger than we've seen her. "Noranti gave me this stuff that'll help 'im sleep. You think I should go find him?" Rygel sighs, older and far away. "No. Give it to me." She blows the dust into his face and he breathes in deep, tired and rejecting food so that he can sleep -- pretend this isn't happening. "Feel sorry for Aeryn," he says. That's who he's thinking of; that's why he's so tired all of a sudden. "He'll get over it," Rygel mumbles. Chiana closes her eyes and massages Rygel's neck. "I don't think he will, Ryg. You know, no matter how long it takes, I don't think he'll lose hope." The word for what gets you every time. How far would you go if you could actually see the finish line? How deep could you fall if you knew the rock bottom was coming up to catch you? What deals would you make?