It had all been Cavil's idea, which really wasn't that weird, the other number ones didn't seem to have anything to say anymore, which might be strange, but not to them. Boomer sometimes wondered if it had always been like this or if just the second war with humanity had started this. She could probably remember what the before was like, but she'd never really tried; upon her first resurrection back on Caprica, she had gotten all her memories and knowledge back, but she'd never tried to remember the before. She was too afraid to have to sift through her memories of being human and the people she had betrayed or of forgetting who she had been if she tried to remember the before. So perhaps Cavil had always been in charge and perhaps everyone had always done what he wanted.

It didn't matter either way; the point was that the entire plan was Cavil's idea. She herself wasn't sure that it would work; a part of her was completely sure that Adama would have her killed on the spot and if not him, definitely the Cylons. Still, his entire plan banked on the fact that the Chief, having discovered that he, too, was a Cylon, might want to make amends with her. He was also banking everything on her not walking away from this, on her not seeing what she once had and wanting it back. She didn't want it back, but there was no way he could know that, for all he knows she wanted to go back.

She would never go back to the people who had not only betrayed her, but replaced her with the first eight that passed by.

Still she hadn't been prepared for what she would feel when he did show up; any love she had for him might have lessened over time, but it hadn't disappeared, not completely. To find him standing there, lost and begging for forgiveness, she felt sorry for him, felt the need to protect him. She could, after all, remember how she felt when she found out she was a Cylon. How alone she had felt, how abandoned, and then Cally had come out of nowhere to shoot her, not knowing she could, in fact, come back.

She had forgiven Cally, when they were on New Caprica, and she had meant it, she had understood her.

The Chief was a Cylon, and she wondered briefly what Cally made of that, and he was free, walking among other Cylons on the ship she had called home. With the people she had called her family, people that had once upon a time loved her, not Athena or any of the other eights. And she was still locked up, still treated like the enemy, not forgiven for any of the actions that hadn't even been hers.

What was so different about them? Why were the final five just allowed to walk across the ship? Even the other Sharon, the one who had taken her place, had spent a long time locked in this cell. She had worked for her freedom and though Boomer hated her for taking her place she had to admit she had earned it. But what had the other five paid? The other Cylons she could understand, they had not been part of the fleet, and they were just using their first chance. But what was so important about them? Why were they just left to walk freely? Why were they so much better than the rest of them?

She hadn't known when Cavil told her what to do if she could actually do it, betray her family again – this time fully knowing what she was doing. But the sight of the Chief – just like her, a colonial officer who had just discovered he was a Cylon – walking around without any consequences made up her mind.

A long time ago they had turned their back on her. On Lieutenant Sharon Valerii , who had loved them so much, on a crying, screaming little girl who had begged for help and mercy, yet not received any; they hadn't cared then, had turned away from her when she needed them the most.

Now Boomer, all that was left of her, will turn her back on them. They'll get what they deserve.

Tricking the Chief had been easy, the love he still felt for her was clearly written on his face – and she wondered briefly if he felt the same way when he looked at Athena – and for a moment she felt guilty for tricking him. But she dismissed the thought almost instantly. He had created her, after all, he had made sure she was here to suffer all her heartaches, and now he would have to live with the consequences of his creation. They would all have to live with it.

Even walking through the ship, calmly, like she still belonged – for a moment it almost felt like she did. Nobody sneered at her, nobody laughed, it almost felt like she was Sharon, colonial officer, come home. But it wasn't. They didn't know, after all; if they did, they would haul her off towards her doom and all their planning, hers and Cavil's, would have been for nothing. But nobody notices and nobody cares. Even finding Athena had in the end been easy; she was, after all, the only eight in a colonial outfit.

(Briefly she registers the fact that the crew is very small, making her wonder just how many of the people she had once known are now dead.)

And there she was, washing up, staring into the mirror, wearing the suit that should have belonged to her. This Sharon had stolen her life; wormed her way into the hearts of all the ones she had once loved and had loved her, and made a better life out of it. She wonders if she could have done it, but she thinks Adama would have had her killed – the only reason he didn't kill this Sharon was most likely her pregnancy.

"I hope you're here to fix the pipes because…Boomer!"

The fight was short, it was most likely a good thing she had managed to catch Athena by surprise or they would have had a big fight and she would have been back in her cell before the hour was over. This was all still part of Cavil's plan; the next part wasn't.

She hadn't been expecting Helo. In fact she hadn't been expecting anyone, though not really understanding why it seemed as though the crew was cut in half and most were probably at work. But Helo wasn't and he was suddenly standing there in the doorway, looking at her with a pensive look. She hadn't expected to ever see him again and she could still clearly remember how it felt leaving him standing there on Caprica, knowing she would never see him again. She remembers the feeling of joy she felt and had to hide when D'Anna informed her that Helo had survived and gone back to the Galactica, with another Sharon.

"Hey, I need to go, my shift's about to start."

She doesn't look at him as she races past him, determined to forget that for years this had been her closest friend – he had another Sharon to love now, another Sharon to care about. In his life she no longer mattered.

"Did you bring Hera to the daycare?"

"Yeah, I dropped her off just a little while ago, just like we agreed. I really need to go."

"Just one more thing. Where's my wife, Boomer?"

A long time ago, when they'd been trapped on board that base star, D'Anna had asked him if he could differentiate between the eights. "No", he'd told her, "I can't, but I can tell when one of them isn't my wife." "How?" "I don't know." She'd gone on to ask him if he thought any of the eights could convince the crew they were Athena, to which he'd responded truthfully that the only eight that could probably do it would be Boomer, because she would not only know about the procedures, she'd know the people, too.

He hadn't expected to be proven right, though he should really not be surprised.

He'd heard they caught Boomer and locked her in the cell that had once been his Sharon's home, and he'd felt sorry for her. Athena might be his wife and the woman he loved, but Boomer had been his best friend for years before that. He did not love her but he did care about her. He'd let her go, if he could just figure out where his wife is; if it is freedom she wants, he doesn't know why she shouldn't get it. All the other Cylons had gotten it, after all, why not Boomer as, well?

"I'm your wife, honey."

"Boomer, I know my wife. Where did you get that uniform?"

"From your wife, of course, she's trying to help me, trying to make sure I don't die. She felt guilty for stealing my life."

"She didn't steal your life, you left nothing to steal. The only thing you left were your sins, for which she paid. Boomer, what do you want?"

He'd taken a step towards her in an attempt to calm her down, instead, he found himself staring at the barrel of a gun. Still, he wasn't worried; this was Boomer the girl who couldn't land a raptor if her life depended on it, the last girl of Troy, the girl who'd never shot anybody – except the Admiral, of course – she wouldn't shoot him.

"Stay where you are. Don't come any closer. Your wife is fine and she will remain fine as long as you get out of my way and let me get the chi… my freedom."

"You want Hera? What would you want with…? Cavil wants Hera, to test her, to find out why she exists and no other Cylon child does."

It wasn't a question and she knew it, which is why no answer came. Instead came the realization that this wasn't the girl he had spent hours with, this wasn't the girl who'd cried when she'd left him on Caprica; that girl had probably died when Cally shot her. This was a Cylon, bent on revenge, with one sole purpose: getting his daughter. She shouldn't have let him know, because the only thing he would protect more than his wife was Hera, and he made a step forward to fight her, to stop her, or at least scream for help.

There was no time for either, no time for any talking, anymore either. She too had realized he would never let her pass. She was going to kill him, she was going to kill him and steal his daughter and nobody would know until it was too late.

A shot broke the silence, quickly followed by a second one, and he fell backwards.

The last thing he hears is the alarm blazing and then nothing.

She wakes gasping from the nightmare, the memory that haunts her always. She'd killed him, the one man who would be willing to help her, she'd shot him. She tried to calm herself and remember that she was far away, somewhere else; in the arms of a man she was falling in love with. Jack hadn't even stirred, but then again, she was a Cylon, she could be silent if she wanted to.

Maybe she hadn't killed him, maybe he'd survived, but then she remembered the way he fell and the blood that had drenched his shirt. But the alarm had blazed so suddenly and perhaps somebody had made it in time to save him – she wonders who'd sounded the alarm, there had been a few weird things going on that day – but she doesn't think anybody really saved him.

It's too late now, anyway, to change anything. Perhaps a new life in the arms of Jack was the answer.

She had to forget. Nobody would forgive her, there was nobody left to do so.