Episode Report Card Jacob Clifton: A+ | 2 USERS: A+ YOU GRADE IT This Is Not A Love Story
By Jacob Clifton | Season 4 | Episode 9 | Aired on 06.06.2008
They jump, out and back in. In the jump we are all forest, for a moment; we turn back into trees. But she can do both now, she's mastered the art of remembering the miracle, and no longer needs the protection of the lacuna; she turns her scars into new gardens. This is the trial and the Maelstrom of the President, Laura Roslin, who shines in the dark.
"You lied to me," she says, wry, to Elosha, who followed her out of the jump. "Did I?" Roslin speaks softly, like a woman in love. "I thought I was earning humanity's right to survive." Elosha laughs at her. "Oh! It's not a vending machine, Laura. You don't save a life, and then... 'Cue the celestial trumpets, here's the way to Earth!'"
Which is to say: the Gods are not a factory for making Gods, or luck, or answering anything. You can't earn their love, because you can't earn anything freely given. These are duties to yourself. Roslin grins at her. "-- I know." "Jump!"
"Disorienting, isn't it? All these little limping steps back."
From the altar to the temple: every day, a little bit closer to home. Holding them in balance: Laura smiles. "I like it. I'm used to it. Every jump brings us a little bit closer to home. Galactica. ...My home." Elosha smiles. That's part of it.
"Maybe there's something there for me..." she muses, wondering if these visions were true. Daring to hope this is a love story.
"Maybe even closer," Elosha says. Laura smiles at her, and casts her eyes around the Baseship; she doesn't know it's literal. She is so beautiful. Then she considers the Hybrid, alone.
Bill sits alone, in a Raptor, in the black. He reads Searider Falcon; his fingers on its pages, its scent in his nose. It keeps her close. On the wall behind his head there's the flash of a jump, and the proximity alarms go off. Louder than they've ever gone before.
Bill heads to the cockpit, refusing to blink, younger than ever -- is it the flightsuit? -- and scans the sky for more. It's just that one. Just her. He refuses to take his eyes off her, as he straps in for the approach.
The hatch opens, on a Baseship deck as alien as anything, and as close as home. He makes his way toward her without pomp, with a fair amount of grace, like a boy. She tries to speak, twice. This is his show.
"Missed you." He is the bravest boy in the universe.
"Me too," she says, and he puts his hungry, tired arms around her. She rests in them, with tears in her eyes. Finally home.
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