[fic] We are only what we always were
Title: We are Only What We Always Were (1/2)
Warnings: Season One, so like, it's kind of a faux antique; AU-ish; Homage-ish
Summary:Sadly, the Colonials were never around our good Arthur Miller plays to be tempered in their furies of accusation. Also, everyone finds out that Gaeta is a Cylon, science is infallible, and that Gaius Baltar truly has their best interests at heart. Season One. And God's icy wind will blow.
“We are only what we always were but naked now. Aye, naked! And the wind, God's icy wind, will blow!”
-John Proctor, The Crucible
He dwells often on their last real triumph; the rush of congratulation on the bridge, and Boomer looking a little bewildered at the pitch of everyone’s happiness.
There is an odd tension in her handshake.
As if she is trying to reach down for something.
He probably didn’t notice it at the time, but the clarity of his memory and the knowledge of what happened immediately after allow him to revisit that handshake endlessly. Boomer’s startled look, as if she wasn’t expecting their welcome. Her hand twitching toward her belt.
While the bridge merely gains an interim commander and a tacit undercurrent of vengeful rage, on other parts of the ship they are less reserved.
“Hey, Felix,” says Dee, intercepting him seconds away from his bunk, “sorry to ask about this, but are you and Dr. Baltar still working on that Cylon detection? Because,” she pauses, flushed, as she searches for the best way to continue, “because now that we know they can be us too….”
It would make her more comfortable to know. It would maybe put a stop to the subtle accusations being passed around the ship. The door is halfway open and he gives her the stock answer: “Even if we were working on that, I could never tell anyone,” and sees, for the first time with absolute certainty, that this is not enough for her.
“Yeah, that’s what you said before Boomer pulled out a gun and-”
“I was there too, Dee,” he snaps.
Six, for her part, thinks that all the suspicion flying around the ship is hilarious.
“They don’t know who might blow them up,” she purrs, “they don’t know whom to suspect…whom to despise…they can’t trust anyone. Not even themselves”
“Yes, well, that tends to be the logical consequence of-”
“They know to trust you, Gaius,” she mumbles into his hair, smoothly unbuttoning his pants, “you’re the one with the Cylon detector.”
“I’ve detected one right here,” he smirks, and she strokes, perversely, the length of his forearm.
“They want you to find one, Gaius.”
“Yes, well little do they know, I already had, and I lied to her-that’s lovely, could you relocate, do you think?”
Six continues her attention to his arm, nipping his wrist. “Not a real Cylon, Gaius. You can’t do
that. You can’t play God. Accuse someone else.”
His eyes roll up, and he sputters with fluent sarcasm: “Oh, and, subjecting an innocent person to torture or death and the-the murderous suspicion of his peers for no reason better than my own amusement, and on the strength of a falsified biological test, that’s not playing God.”
Biting his chin now that his hands were gesticulating angrily, she sinks slowly to her knees. “No, Gaius, that’s what being human is about.”
That evening Gaius Baltar is calmer, and he is listening to Six’s silent plot without feeling too revolted. Lieutenant Gaeta, his assistant, is making a spreadsheet of the blood sample numbers and whom they belong to. Baltar is fiddling with a microscope, doing nothing.
“What a sensation it will cause,” Six is purring, tapping sensually in her silver shoes over to Gaeta. “when you reveal that your assistant is a Cylon.”
“A what?” Baltar shouts. Gaeta looks up.
“Is everything alright, Dr. Baltar?” he asks quickly. He’s calm, used to outbursts that make no sense and to writing them off to eccentricities developed in the ivory tower.
Baltar coughs. “Yes, yes, fine, I just-” he pauses, stuck. Six is running her fingers through Gaeta’s hair, her mouth barely open “I was just…thinking.”
Gaeta nods, turning back to his computer. Baltar catches him rolling his eyes a little before his back is turned. Six has her arms on Gaeta’s shoulders now, putting a knee in his lap. Baltar is used to her playing, but this strikes him as slightly obscene. Repugnant.
“It makes so much sense, Gaius. He was here, with the Cylon detector, thwarting your efforts to avoid detection. And of course, he handed Sharon the gun.”
“Did not,” Baltar murmurs, and Gaeta pretends not to notice. What he actually doesn’t notice is Six’s mouth at his collar, biting his throat with elaborate gentleness.
“Stop that,” says Baltar clearly, to both of them. Six gives Gaeta’s cheek a sympathetic pat before pulling away, and Gaeta spins around to raise a neutral eyebrow.
“I was just getting started,” says Six, and he ignores her.
“You’re dismissed early, Lieutenant,” Baltar says in his best military commander voice. And then, his voice softens, and he takes off his glasses. “Go have some fun. Drink with your pilot buddies. Er, program something fun. Sleep. Whatever it is you do.” It is the last time Baltar says anything kind to Felix Gaeta.
Surprise registers on Gaeta’s face. “Thank you, sir,” he says feelingly, and after lingering momentarily, leaves before Baltar can change his mind.
When the door is closed, Six hands him the phone and Baltar dials Colonel Tigh’s extension.
“Who is it?” Tigh demands crankily.
“Doctor Baltar. Colonel, I imagine this is not a good time but I have a matter of some urgency to discuss.”
“So discuss it,” the Colonel growls.
“I’d rather you come down to the lab. Look at the results yourself.”
There’s silence at the other end. “Oh,” Colonel Tigh grunts, and hangs up.
Gaeta is locked in the brig before his shift that night.
Stay tuned for Part Two
Warnings: Season One, so like, it's kind of a faux antique; AU-ish; Homage-ish
Summary:Sadly, the Colonials were never around our good Arthur Miller plays to be tempered in their furies of accusation. Also, everyone finds out that Gaeta is a Cylon, science is infallible, and that Gaius Baltar truly has their best interests at heart. Season One. And God's icy wind will blow.
“We are only what we always were but naked now. Aye, naked! And the wind, God's icy wind, will blow!”
-John Proctor, The Crucible
He dwells often on their last real triumph; the rush of congratulation on the bridge, and Boomer looking a little bewildered at the pitch of everyone’s happiness.
There is an odd tension in her handshake.
As if she is trying to reach down for something.
He probably didn’t notice it at the time, but the clarity of his memory and the knowledge of what happened immediately after allow him to revisit that handshake endlessly. Boomer’s startled look, as if she wasn’t expecting their welcome. Her hand twitching toward her belt.
While the bridge merely gains an interim commander and a tacit undercurrent of vengeful rage, on other parts of the ship they are less reserved.
“Hey, Felix,” says Dee, intercepting him seconds away from his bunk, “sorry to ask about this, but are you and Dr. Baltar still working on that Cylon detection? Because,” she pauses, flushed, as she searches for the best way to continue, “because now that we know they can be us too….”
It would make her more comfortable to know. It would maybe put a stop to the subtle accusations being passed around the ship. The door is halfway open and he gives her the stock answer: “Even if we were working on that, I could never tell anyone,” and sees, for the first time with absolute certainty, that this is not enough for her.
“Yeah, that’s what you said before Boomer pulled out a gun and-”
“I was there too, Dee,” he snaps.
Six, for her part, thinks that all the suspicion flying around the ship is hilarious.
“They don’t know who might blow them up,” she purrs, “they don’t know whom to suspect…whom to despise…they can’t trust anyone. Not even themselves”
“Yes, well, that tends to be the logical consequence of-”
“They know to trust you, Gaius,” she mumbles into his hair, smoothly unbuttoning his pants, “you’re the one with the Cylon detector.”
“I’ve detected one right here,” he smirks, and she strokes, perversely, the length of his forearm.
“They want you to find one, Gaius.”
“Yes, well little do they know, I already had, and I lied to her-that’s lovely, could you relocate, do you think?”
Six continues her attention to his arm, nipping his wrist. “Not a real Cylon, Gaius. You can’t do
that. You can’t play God. Accuse someone else.”
His eyes roll up, and he sputters with fluent sarcasm: “Oh, and, subjecting an innocent person to torture or death and the-the murderous suspicion of his peers for no reason better than my own amusement, and on the strength of a falsified biological test, that’s not playing God.”
Biting his chin now that his hands were gesticulating angrily, she sinks slowly to her knees. “No, Gaius, that’s what being human is about.”
That evening Gaius Baltar is calmer, and he is listening to Six’s silent plot without feeling too revolted. Lieutenant Gaeta, his assistant, is making a spreadsheet of the blood sample numbers and whom they belong to. Baltar is fiddling with a microscope, doing nothing.
“What a sensation it will cause,” Six is purring, tapping sensually in her silver shoes over to Gaeta. “when you reveal that your assistant is a Cylon.”
“A what?” Baltar shouts. Gaeta looks up.
“Is everything alright, Dr. Baltar?” he asks quickly. He’s calm, used to outbursts that make no sense and to writing them off to eccentricities developed in the ivory tower.
Baltar coughs. “Yes, yes, fine, I just-” he pauses, stuck. Six is running her fingers through Gaeta’s hair, her mouth barely open “I was just…thinking.”
Gaeta nods, turning back to his computer. Baltar catches him rolling his eyes a little before his back is turned. Six has her arms on Gaeta’s shoulders now, putting a knee in his lap. Baltar is used to her playing, but this strikes him as slightly obscene. Repugnant.
“It makes so much sense, Gaius. He was here, with the Cylon detector, thwarting your efforts to avoid detection. And of course, he handed Sharon the gun.”
“Did not,” Baltar murmurs, and Gaeta pretends not to notice. What he actually doesn’t notice is Six’s mouth at his collar, biting his throat with elaborate gentleness.
“Stop that,” says Baltar clearly, to both of them. Six gives Gaeta’s cheek a sympathetic pat before pulling away, and Gaeta spins around to raise a neutral eyebrow.
“I was just getting started,” says Six, and he ignores her.
“You’re dismissed early, Lieutenant,” Baltar says in his best military commander voice. And then, his voice softens, and he takes off his glasses. “Go have some fun. Drink with your pilot buddies. Er, program something fun. Sleep. Whatever it is you do.” It is the last time Baltar says anything kind to Felix Gaeta.
Surprise registers on Gaeta’s face. “Thank you, sir,” he says feelingly, and after lingering momentarily, leaves before Baltar can change his mind.
When the door is closed, Six hands him the phone and Baltar dials Colonel Tigh’s extension.
“Who is it?” Tigh demands crankily.
“Doctor Baltar. Colonel, I imagine this is not a good time but I have a matter of some urgency to discuss.”
“So discuss it,” the Colonel growls.
“I’d rather you come down to the lab. Look at the results yourself.”
There’s silence at the other end. “Oh,” Colonel Tigh grunts, and hangs up.
Gaeta is locked in the brig before his shift that night.
Stay tuned for Part Two