Familiar
Summary: Gaius reflects on what has become of Felix.
Characters/Pairings: Baltar/Gaeta.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: BSG is not mine.
Spoilers: Up to S4x7
Author's Note: This little ficlet was originally part of a much longer Baltar/Gaeta fic that I'm still muddling through. I like these paragraphs but in my editing I'm finding that they simply don't fit with the rhythm of my overall fic. Normally I don't post drabbles but I didn't want to just leave these cuttings to my recycling bin. And yes, I love the Baltar/Gaeta and I love cats, so here is a gratuitous helping of both.
Familiar
Gaius hadn't expected to see him again. For all his earnest repentance, he found that he could not extend his hand to mend this one of his countless mistakes. No, not this time. So he hid behind the thin plastic curtain. He listened to the broken beauty of his voice. In the last two months he had hardly dared to think of Felix Gaeta.
Gaius smiled faintly, remembering how he used to tease Felix about his name. During their idle nights on New Caprica, when he had been especially drunk, he would call Felix his pussycat...his kitty...his familiar. Felix would roll his eyes and tell him 'that's enough ambrosia for one evening, sir...'. He was never fond of his pet names, but Gaius had spent his whole childhood on an Aerolon farm, surrounded by animals. Felix was exactly like a cat. He had the features; the grace, the quietness. He would sit at your elbow, contemplating you with narrow yet curious eyes. He liked it when you spoke softly to him, when you fussed him, stroked him, cuddled him even. Sometimes you could almost hear him purring.
He was Baltar’s little pet to be sure, but Felix lacked the loyalty and eagerness of a dog. In the early days maybe. Yes, he was a bit of a spaniel back then. Gaius could still remember those first few weeks on Galatica when a puppyish Felix would follow him around at his heels; pining for his attention, yearning for pats on the head. It was some months after their settlement on the planet that Felix slowly started to become his own creature. He didn't want to play with Gaius anymore. He would sit silent and aloof at his desk, his back thrust at his master, while he scratched boredly over his papers. Sometimes Gaius felt like giving him a ball of yarn. Most days Felix wouldn't stay on the ship; he would slink away to his other whims and distractions. Yet he would still return to Gaius at night time when he wanted to curl up on his bed.
When Gaius had left New Caprica with the cylons part of him had felt like he had abandoned his dearest pet; leaving him to fend for himself, possibly leaving him to be mauled to death by those savage beasts who had led the insurgency. When Gaius met with Felix again it seemed that his cat had learned some new tricks in survival. He still had his soft feline grace but it was edged with something more feral and ruthless. His cat had become a hunter. He could hiss and scratch. He could pounce on you and bite; especially if you made the mistake of trying to back him into a corner. Gaius brushed a hand over his neck. He could still feel the graze in his skin where Felix had sunk his claws into him.
No, Gaius hadn't expected to see him again. After the trial he didn't think he could stand to look at him. But in spite of the lies and betrayal, he would never have wished to see his old cat in this state. Gaius watched over Felix now as he lay wheezing on the papery sheets of the hospital bed. His eyes were glassy and confused, as if he wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings. It seemed the foolish creature had gotten into a fight with the tougher alley cats and he hadn't come out of it well. Now the poor thing was missing a leg and patches of his fur had been torn out. There were tubes pushed into his wet nose to aid his sharp shallow breathing. And in between those hitching breaths there were his long forelorn meows of song that echoed through the wings of the infirmary and halted all its visitors in their tracks.
Gaius swallowed. He wanted so desperately to sit beside him. He could bring him plump velvet cushions from his luxuriant temple on the lower decks. He could fetch him little sugery treats of food to nurse him back to health. He could speak softly to him, stroke him behind the ears, comfort him through his pain and yowling. But Gaius understood that he must keep his hands away this time. His cat would never purr for him again.
Gaius bowed his head and turned away, leaving his Felix to other carers.
The End
Characters/Pairings: Baltar/Gaeta.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: BSG is not mine.
Spoilers: Up to S4x7
Author's Note: This little ficlet was originally part of a much longer Baltar/Gaeta fic that I'm still muddling through. I like these paragraphs but in my editing I'm finding that they simply don't fit with the rhythm of my overall fic. Normally I don't post drabbles but I didn't want to just leave these cuttings to my recycling bin. And yes, I love the Baltar/Gaeta and I love cats, so here is a gratuitous helping of both.
Familiar
Gaius hadn't expected to see him again. For all his earnest repentance, he found that he could not extend his hand to mend this one of his countless mistakes. No, not this time. So he hid behind the thin plastic curtain. He listened to the broken beauty of his voice. In the last two months he had hardly dared to think of Felix Gaeta.
Gaius smiled faintly, remembering how he used to tease Felix about his name. During their idle nights on New Caprica, when he had been especially drunk, he would call Felix his pussycat...his kitty...his familiar. Felix would roll his eyes and tell him 'that's enough ambrosia for one evening, sir...'. He was never fond of his pet names, but Gaius had spent his whole childhood on an Aerolon farm, surrounded by animals. Felix was exactly like a cat. He had the features; the grace, the quietness. He would sit at your elbow, contemplating you with narrow yet curious eyes. He liked it when you spoke softly to him, when you fussed him, stroked him, cuddled him even. Sometimes you could almost hear him purring.
He was Baltar’s little pet to be sure, but Felix lacked the loyalty and eagerness of a dog. In the early days maybe. Yes, he was a bit of a spaniel back then. Gaius could still remember those first few weeks on Galatica when a puppyish Felix would follow him around at his heels; pining for his attention, yearning for pats on the head. It was some months after their settlement on the planet that Felix slowly started to become his own creature. He didn't want to play with Gaius anymore. He would sit silent and aloof at his desk, his back thrust at his master, while he scratched boredly over his papers. Sometimes Gaius felt like giving him a ball of yarn. Most days Felix wouldn't stay on the ship; he would slink away to his other whims and distractions. Yet he would still return to Gaius at night time when he wanted to curl up on his bed.
When Gaius had left New Caprica with the cylons part of him had felt like he had abandoned his dearest pet; leaving him to fend for himself, possibly leaving him to be mauled to death by those savage beasts who had led the insurgency. When Gaius met with Felix again it seemed that his cat had learned some new tricks in survival. He still had his soft feline grace but it was edged with something more feral and ruthless. His cat had become a hunter. He could hiss and scratch. He could pounce on you and bite; especially if you made the mistake of trying to back him into a corner. Gaius brushed a hand over his neck. He could still feel the graze in his skin where Felix had sunk his claws into him.
No, Gaius hadn't expected to see him again. After the trial he didn't think he could stand to look at him. But in spite of the lies and betrayal, he would never have wished to see his old cat in this state. Gaius watched over Felix now as he lay wheezing on the papery sheets of the hospital bed. His eyes were glassy and confused, as if he wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings. It seemed the foolish creature had gotten into a fight with the tougher alley cats and he hadn't come out of it well. Now the poor thing was missing a leg and patches of his fur had been torn out. There were tubes pushed into his wet nose to aid his sharp shallow breathing. And in between those hitching breaths there were his long forelorn meows of song that echoed through the wings of the infirmary and halted all its visitors in their tracks.
Gaius swallowed. He wanted so desperately to sit beside him. He could bring him plump velvet cushions from his luxuriant temple on the lower decks. He could fetch him little sugery treats of food to nurse him back to health. He could speak softly to him, stroke him behind the ears, comfort him through his pain and yowling. But Gaius understood that he must keep his hands away this time. His cat would never purr for him again.
Gaius bowed his head and turned away, leaving his Felix to other carers.
The End