Episode Report Card Jacob Clifton: C+ | 1 USERS: A+ YOU GRADE IT Once Had Love...
By Jacob Clifton | Season 3 | Episode 11 | Aired on 12.14.2006
Roslin still refuses to look at Gaius: "The less this man says, the better this will go." He starts his usual bitch and moan about how if it weren't for him, the Cylons would have blown up Galactica the second they got there, which I don't even get how he's rationalizing that one, and Roslin almost spits at him. "I think you can handle this alone," she murmurs to Bill. "If you can stomach it." She bounces, leaving behind her a cloud of Chanel No. 5 that smells a lot like unearned moral superiority. Gaius just screams and screams, trying to convince her that he's a hero. Still. "So I've saved your life...again. How many times is that now? Because I'm beginning to lose count. If it wasn't for me, you'd all be dead!" Whatever, dude. At length we have already talked about this, but does he listen? He does not. Adama asks what their offer is, already, and Biers offers to let the Fleet go if they give up the Eye. Cavil throws in Gaius into the bargain, which horrifies Gaius but which Three grins about: "Indeed!" Cavil asks Adama to admit that he and Laura would enjoy a little Two Minutes' Hate action with Gaius, and Tigh and Adama agree that it's at least worth thinking about. Which is awesome, because they don't really even want him, they just love the fact that he totally just peed a little.
You're Sharon, looking at Boomer. She's the girl that took the fall, the girl they manufactured to get broken. She's the girl you can't even hate, and when people call you by her name you just look down and say sadly, "That was someone else." She's the warped mirror that says you could have been her, and inside you somewhere there's a voice still saying, "We love you, Sharon." She's your Sasha, and your Kacey, and your secret Young Kara. She's the thing you ran from on Old Caprica and the thing you're still running from, and she's looking at you.
You're Boomer, looking at Sharon. She's the girl that won the race, wearing the uniform you used to wear, the girl the Admiral adores and the girl who could quiet Hera's crying if she were there. She's the original, you're the copy. You almost got boxed for trying to pretend you were this girl, on Old Caprica, and every dream you wish you didn't have at night, every fantasy you wish you didn't entertain anymore: she's living them. She's a commissioned officer and a beloved pilot. Everybody that you wanted to love you, everybody that turned on you when you were so confused you couldn't even begin to figure out your broken life, all those people now love her instead. The acceptance you were denied, she glories in. Her life isn't broken, it's gloriously fixed. That impossible balance you could never walk, between human and Cylon, she's walking it with strength and beauty. She's denying you free movement in the halls that you used to call home. She's standing on the ground where you died and looking at you with pity and love; nobody wants the embarrassment of absolution. She's everything you ever wanted, in the worst possible way.