The Space Between Us- Chapter 3

[mutantwrites]

CHAPTER 3: Everybody Knows that the Good Guys Lost

Back to Chapter 2

The Eight that Jesse called Sarah lay on her back on the examination table, watching the ultrasound screen intently. "Do you even know what you're looking for?" she asked.

"I was in charge of a Farm on Gemenon," the Four snapped. "Yes, I know what I'm looking for. But you said you're only five weeks along-"

"As near as the doctor on the Galactica could tell," Sarah interrupted.

"Yes, well, five weeks is really only three weeks since the egg's been fertilized," the Four said. He guided the probe over her belly, prodding a bit. "The bloodwork will be a better indi- wait." He paused and backed up. "There," he said, pointing at the display with dawning excitement. "There it is."

"I told you so," Sarah said smugly, her eyes fastened on the tiny swirl of dots that was meant to represent her baby. The Four stared for a long time before shutting off the monitor.

"So, who's the father?" he asked, cleaning the gel off the probe.

"Excuse me?" Sarah said, jerking back to reality.

"This baby was conceived after the war began… after your alliance with the humans." His face was marred with disgust. "So which one of them was it? One of the ones in your Raptor?"

"It was a Two," Sarah said dryly.

"It can't be. No Cylon-Cylon union has ever resulted in a viable pregnancy." There was something incredibly bitter in his face, and as he moved again to adjust an instrument, she caught sight of the dark bloodstain on the black t-shirt he wore under his labcoat. The reminder of her sister made her defiant.

"We're married," she emphasized. "A One officiated. He thought it was ridiculous, but we didn't. Given that it's the only marriage ceremony he's ever performed, I'm sure he'll remember it."

The Four glared at her. "You and I both know that vows don't equate love. When you're further along, we'll be able to ascertain the true paternity," he snarled. "That is, if you're further along and don't miscarry before then." He snapped his fingers, and a couple of the old fashioned, clunky Centurions lurched into life. "Take her to the cell," he ordered. "I'll tell Cavil we're done here."

***

"Gaeta?"

He was lying on a hard, cold surface, and the word came from across a chasm of pain and darkness. Felix dragged his eyes open, and then groaned and shut them again. He remembered pain convulsing his body and Cavil's face over him, angry and set, fascination in his eyes. It wasn't Cavil above him, and he wished he could believe that it was completely over.

A firm hand was under his arm. "Come on," the voice said again. "There's a bed in here. Well, sort of. Let's get you on it." The voice was male, and the owner had a long face and dark hair. For a wild moment, Felix thought Louis was hovering over him, and he tried to reach up to touch his face. But then his vision cleared and his heart slowed down as he realized that the voice didn't match.

"Give me a hand here," the man said over his shoulder.

Another pair of hands slipped under his other arm, and between them, they maneuvered Felix to something that felt wonderfully soft as he sank down onto it. "Where are we?" he asked blearily. His uniform jacket was off and his tanks were still on, and his prosthetic was off as well. But that was the extent of his knowledge.

"It's called the Colony," the man told Felix. "Apparently, it's where the Cylons began."

"I thought they had a planet," Felix said. "A home world."

The man shrugged, and Felix's eyes finally cleared enough to see Jim Brooks, one of the deckhands who specialized in air treatment technology. And the memory of the past hours came crashing down on him. He groaned.

"Are you okay?" Brooks asked.

Felix sat up slowly. Everything hurt, especially his leg, and he wondered how much time had passed and if Cavil had found the morpha hidden in the prosthetic's boot. "I think so," he said. "Nothing's broken, at any rate. Or missing." He glared down at his leg. "Where are we specifically?"

"It's what passes for a Cylon detention cell," a woman said. Felix turned to see the other Eight that had been in the Raptor, the one that had claimed she was pregnant. At least, he assumed it was her. She was out of her pilots' uniform and wearing an overlarge shirt and dark pants. She stood as far from him and Brooks as she could manage, her arms crossed. Felix looked around the cell.

"It's not too bad," he said, surprised. "Nothing like New Caprica."

"Well, we've never had much use for detention cells before," the Eight said. "That's not how it's worked."

The room was clean, with glowing black walls with squares of light. Red pulsed from the walls, felt more than seen. There was no furniture except for the bed that Felix sat on, a chaise-like affair covered in white.

"Gaeta," Brooks said, and improbably, he was smiling, "guess what we've got?"

Felix shook his head bewilderedly, and Brooks held up a roll of toilet paper. For a long moment, Felix stared at it, unable to believe it. "Where did you…"

Brooks pointed to a closed door. "There's a head right in there," he said. He handed Felix the roll, and Felix took it reverently. It was such a trivial item, but it was soft and smooth beneath his hands, and all he could do was stare.

"We have toilet paper," he said, and sharp, hot tears sprang to his eyes. "We're prisoners of the Cylons, and we have toilet paper."

"We haven't had toilet paper since New Caprica," Brooks confirmed. "We have toilet paper!"

Their eyes met, and the two of them began to laugh hysterically, until Felix was doubled over. It wasn't funny, he knew that, but it was laugh or cry, and they had toilet paper. The Eight just rolled her eyes.

The closed head door opened. "What's all this about?" a female voice asked smoothly, as if she was amused. Felix looked up and then did a double take, all of the laughter dying immediately on his lips and draining from his body, leaving him cold and chilled.

"Why, Lieutenant Gaeta," Ellen Tigh said. "I wish I could say it was nice to see you again, but under these circumstances, I'm afraid it's not, is it?"

For a long moment, Felix couldn't speak.

Ellen was wearing a black dress. She looked elegant, her hair curled and bouncing on her shoulders, heels emphasizing her long legs. She didn't wear makeup, and the lack of it flattered her, adding to the serene manner in which she carried herself.

"You," Felix said, wonderingly. "You're the fifth."

"You didn't know?" Ellen said, and then frowned. "I would advise not telling Cavil that. He's desperate to know if the Fleet has figured out who the Five are, or if they even know who they are."

"I should have figured it out." He looked around frantically for his crutches, but they were nowhere to be seen. Ellen was advancing on him fast. "I should have…" He clamped his mouth shut, because he couldn't give Cavil any information about the state of the Fleet.

Ellen raised an eyebrow at him. "That's right," she said, reading his silence correctly. "It's best that way." She knelt down in front of Felix and peeled back the shortened pant leg that covered his stump. "This looks bad," she said. "I'll make sure Cavil has a Four see to it."

"No," Felix said.

"You aren't going to have much of a choice," Ellen said. "And I don't want to explain to my husband why you died under my care." Felix snorted, but Ellen looked at him admonishingly. "Saul always did have a soft spot for you, Felix, although I'm quite aware that he was never particularly good at showing it."

"I… he…" Felix felt like he was rapidly losing the little control he had over the situation. Ellen stood up gracefully.

"It will be all right, Felix, at least for a little while." Ellen was soothing. She touched his forehead. "You'll all be all right for a bit."

There was absolutely no reason that Felix should believe her. But as he looked back down at the roll of toilet paper still in his hands, some part of him did.

***

Brooks had retreated to the corner to sulk, and Gaeta slept fitfully on the bed. The room seemed small and crowded for the four of them, and Sarah wasn't relishing being in such close quarters with two humans.

"Pregnant," Ellen said as she and Sarah sat on the floor together. She brushed a strand of Sarah's hair off her face. "You have no idea…"

She had a kind face, Sarah thought, far more so than Tory. Kind and wise and loving. "I'm not very far along," Sarah told her. "Just a few weeks."

"But still." Ellen smiled. "It's a gift. A wonderful, precious gift."

"I know."

"And the father is really a Cylon?" Ellen asked.

"Yes."

"I assume he's a Two?"

"Yes. His name is Jesse." It was the first time Sarah had allowed herself to think his name inside the Colony. The ache of being away from him, of him not knowing, was almost physical. "He uses the surname Conoy."

"The Twos always had a great sense of brotherhood," Ellen said, smiling fondly.

"You know? You know what each model line is like?" The realization was beginning to dawn.

Ellen smiled enigmatically. "Of course," she said. "The Twos were my husband's special pet project."

"You created us?" Sarah asked, but even as she said it she knew it was true. That was what was so special about the Five.

"Created," Ellen said carefully, cocking her head. "I'm not sure that's the word I'd use."

"What word would you use then?"

"Developed, I suppose. The Centurions had done most of the work, we merely… helped the process along. But once we gave you life… you create yourselves."

"I don't understand," Sarah said. She felt like she was hovering on the brink of something… something huge and important, something bigger even than the child she carried. She reached out and touched Ellen, and Ellen felt exactly like her.

"We gave you bodies," Ellen said, "and we gave you programming. But we also gave you free will. We gave you the ability to become who you want to be, to make your own decisions. And those decisions you make, those choices… that is what makes you you, what gives you your soul."

Sarah nodded mutely, unsure of what to say. Over in the corner, Gaeta groaned. Ellen looked at him, the expression of compassion deepening on her face. "It's going to be a difficult time for him," she said.

"Do you think Cavil will let them live?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Ellen said, "at least for a while, or he would have killed them already." She looked at Sarah carefully. "You should get some sleep. Here." She patted her lap, indicating that Sarah should rest against her. "The floor is uncomfortable, but I don't think we should wake him yet."

"No, I'll be all right. You-"

Ellen smiled. "I'm not the one who's pregnant," she said. "You need your sleep; you're exhausted."

Sarah hadn't had time to think about it, but now that she was relaxing a little, she felt it. "Thank you," she said humbly, as she lay down on the floor, her head in Ellen's lap. Ellen bent over her and kissed her forehead softly.

"Sleep well," she murmured.

Sarah closed her eyes, and drifted off almost immediately.

***

Consciousness came painfully, and it took Felix a few minutes to assess his surroundings. Brooks had been taken from the cell, and Felix could guess what was happening. Based on his own recent experience, he really didn't want to think about it. Ellen and the Eight had fallen asleep against a wall, huddled together. He stared at them for a long time, and then slid off the bed and scooted in the most undignified manner over to a corner of the room.

The prosthetic and his crutches had been brought back, and the morpha was still in the boot. Felix looked at the four syringes, wondering if eighteen hours had passed since the last time he'd taken it. They must have, although he'd be the first to say that his view of the past hours was distorted. Right now, he wasn't sure enough that death wasn't the better option. With a sigh, he uncapped a syringe and carefully injected it.

The cell began to cloud and spin, a blur of blacks and whites and reds. He was vaguely aware of Ellen talking to the Eight across the room. But the morpha dulled those edges, and he didn't have to think about the details. He closed his eyes and curled up in the corner, letting himself slip into a semi-conscious state.

It couldn't last. A hand on him woke him up, and he opened his eyes to see a Four. The Fours had never had that much to say on New Caprica, he remembered, but they had been ruthless and creepy in their own way. He shrank back.

"Come with me," the Four ordered.

Felix wasn't exactly in a position to argue. He fumbled to a sitting position, and then began to tug on the prosthetic. The Four winced as he watched, and then handed Felix the crutches. It took a minute to register the simple act of consideration, but when he did, Felix nodded in acknowledgement. He wasn't going to thank a Cylon for making his life as a prisoner of war any easier, though.

Two Centurions accompanied them through the halls. It seemed a little excessive for an unarmed crippled man. He noticed that these Centurions didn't look like the ones he was familiar with. They were clunkier, with a golden hue to their metal. Felix tried not to stare at them. It was the strangest feeling, like seeing museum exhibits and history books come to life. But as they walked through the halls, he noticed a Centurion like he was used to seeing cross their path.

The Four led him into a room that looked exactly like the cell, except there was water running down the walls in a sheer stream and a table placed in the center of the room. The table had an odd blue glow to it, and Felix balked. The Four gestured to a Centurion, but Felix started moving before the Centurion could prod him. Strangely enough, the Centurion helped Felix climb onto the table.

The Four removed Felix's prosthetic and made a face as he examined the stump. "How long ago was this amputation performed?" he asked. Felix didn't answer, and the Four sighed. "Look," he said, "I need to know. This is not exactly information that's going to lead to the destruction of all humanity, all right?"

"About three or four weeks." Felix wondered if it was the morpha loosening his tongue, or the simple hope of healing.

"Four weeks?" the Four's brow furrowed. "And you're using a prosthetic already? No wonder the stump is in such bad shape. My understanding is that amputation patients aren't ready for a prosthetic for at least three months."

Felix shrugged.

The Four turned the fabric of Felix's uniform pants up, and began to probe the stump with a firm touch. There was a point when Felix's leg jerked with the pain, but he didn't quite actually feel it, just a morpha-induced blur. The Four frowned, and continued his exam.

"Lie back," he ordered, and Felix obeyed.

The ceiling looked very much like the rest of the place, Felix decided. The Cylons weren't much on décor, really. Although from what the Eight had explained to him on New Caprica, they could see their surroundings any way they chose.

"Does it make it easier?" he heard himself asking.

"Excuse me?"

"All the black and the white lights and everything looking the same," Felix said. The words danced off his tongue, barely under his control. "Does it make it easier to project?"

The Four shrugged. "I suppose. But I don't have much to compare to."

"No control," Felix murmured.

"No experimental comparison," the Four corrected. "The baseship would be the control."

"This isn't a baseship, though."

The Four didn't answer. Instead, he finished his examination, wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Felix's bicep and used his stethoscope to check Felix's heart and lungs. Finally, he picked up the prosthetic and studied it. Felix was hardly surprised when he found the packet of morpha in his boot. He flipped it open.

"Three syringes of five left?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You used one recently- I can tell. Judging by your vitals and your level of cognizance, I'd say three hours ago?"

"You haven't exactly put a clock in the cell," Felix muttered. But he didn't deny the accusation.

The Four sighed, and then signaled to a Centurion. "Airlock these," he ordered. The Centurion moved away, and Felix watched, puzzled. "I will be telling Cavil about your addiction-"

"I'm not addicted!" Felix protested.

The Four shrugged. "I'm sure he'll find the resultant withdrawal entertaining. But I think it's best for your health if you don't have access to any more of it."

Felix sighed. The Four extended the prosthetic to him again, indicating he should put it back on.

"All right," he said, when Felix was done. "Take him back to the cell," he ordered the Centurion.

The Four left, and Felix followed the Centurion. At least, if nothing else, this was someone who made more noise than him when he walked. When they returned, the Centurion nearly shoved him inside.

The Eight and Ellen had woken up and were sitting on the bed. Ellen looked concerned when he came in, but he shook his head at her and limped over to the corner that he'd been sleeping in before. He didn't think he'd be able to fall back asleep, but he was able to at least get comfortable and huddle in on himself.

The first duty of a soldier was to try to escape to rejoin his regiment. Felix knew that from basic training. But trying to escape from here… he tried to remember what Bulldog had said he'd done, but from what his mind would let him remember at the moment, the plague had been pivotal. He wondered if he could manage to sneeze on Cavil.

He didn't know how much time went by, but he heard the clunking footsteps of Centurions again. They brought Brooks back in, pale and shaking. He was walking under his own power, but he collapsed on the floor as soon as the Centurions left him the cell. Felix fumbled to his feet and hurried over as best he could, but Ellen was there first.

"He's all right," Ellen told Felix as he reached Brooks's side. She was checking his pulse and breathing. "He'll manage."

Felix nodded at her, and then knelt down beside Brooks. The position was uncomfortable, not the least because he remembered crouching next to Dee's body, but the thought fled his mind when Brooks opened his eyes.

"I didn't tell him anything," he told Felix, pride flashing across his face.

"I knew you wouldn't," Felix said. He hadn't been so sure- especially after feeling what Cavil could do- but he wasn't going to let Brooks know that. "You okay?"

Brooks nodded. "Think so. Frakker really got me though…"

Felix glanced at Ellen, and she nodded. "Come on," she told Brooks. "Your turn for the bed."

"You did good, Brooks," Felix said, squeezing his arm.

"Thanks, sir." Brooks closed his eyes.

It hit Felix that he was the senior officer here. Not that it meant much, but it meant something. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, and made more of an effort to pull his mind back together. He was the commanding officer, which meant that he was responsible for this man's welfare. The fact was oddly reassuring, if nothing else because it gave him a purpose.

He looked over at the Eight that was incarcerated with them. She was sitting with her back to the wall, her knees drawn up against her chest. She was the twin of Boomer, Athena, and his Eight from Caprica, and yet, with her face set in hard lines and the way her eyes flashed, he thought he might actually be able to tell the difference among them. He struggled to standing, adjusted his crutches, and limped over to her.

"Hey," he said. "Can I sit?"

"Can't stop you," she said.

He sat down beside her awkwardly. "I don't know if we've ever met before," he admitted. "I'm Felix."

"I know who you are." She was still staring in front of her.

He controlled his annoyance. "I figured. But I don't know who you are. I don't have the first idea. It's called an introduction."

He'd seen the look she gave him before, from Boomer and Athena. The you've got to be kidding me, I am not that stupid look. But she finally sighed. "I'm Sarah," she conceded. "We never met on New Caprica."

Felix nodded. "Well, Sarah, it's time to play catch up. I don't know the first thing about a Cylon baseship, but I'm guessing the odds of sneaking out of this cell, finding our Raptor, stealing it and making it back to the Fleet are extremely slim."

"Astronomically so."

"Right." Felix sighed. "You mentioned the idea of sending a message back to Galactica. What would that entail?"

"A lot." Sarah was softening. "I'd have to be able to get to a data stream, upload a message, encode it, and transmit it. There are firewalls on the baseships' systems. I could bypass them, but it would take time. And once Cavil knows I've accessed the mainframe, we wouldn't have much time."

"How long would it take him to find out?"

"With this many Cylons on his side? A matter of seconds."

Felix closed his eyes and knocked his head back against the wall. "We're frakked," he realized. "Unless we're rescued-"

"We won't be," Sarah interrupted glumly. She hugged her knees tighter. "They've got to think we're dead."

She was right. They had to be well past the twenty-two hours of air that had been in the Raptor, and even if… Adama wasn't looking anymore. Adama thought he was dead.

Louis thought he was dead.

The thought hit him with the impact of a Viper landing full speed, and he had to close his eyes for a long moment. "Gods," he whispered, and he wished there was something in his stomach to throw up, because he felt sick.

"You okay?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, just…" He turned his head and opened his eyes. "You leave anyone back on the baseship?"

"Yeah," she said. "My husband. You did, too?" She cocked her head at the shared bond.

"My… boyfriend. Lover. Partner," Felix realized, and then shook his head. "Yeah. Louis."

She nodded. "Jesse."

"Two?" he assumed.

"Yeah. He doesn't even know about the baby yet," Sarah said. "I hope your doctor doesn't tell him. It's bad enough that he thinks I'm dead, but if he knew…"

Felix cringed. "Yeah." He sighed. "So no hope of escape, no hope of rescue, and no hope of sending a message. What do we do?"

"We sit here and wait to die, I guess. Or for circumstances to change."

"Great options," he said sourly. But he didn't move, and she didn't tell him to. They sat side by side in silence for a long time.

***

Sarah remembered when they'd held Baltar on the baseship. A few of the Ones had objected to the quarters, claiming that cells like those of New Caprica were far more appropriate for holding human prisoners, but their objections largely went unheeded, even by others of their own model line. The point, Cavil had said, wasn't to imprison humans but to exterminate them, so why build special cells?

Sarah had never been so grateful to Cavil in her life.

The head that was attached to the cell was rudimentary, but it had a shower, a toilet, and even soap and razors. Sarah had contemplated attacking the Four or Cavil with the razor and trying to escape, but they were such small things that she really didn't think she could do enough damage before someone pulled a gun on her or a Centurion fired. And Centurions weren't going to be threatened by a razor. Another bed had been put into the cell, given her pregnant status. And the Cylons gave them food. Not good food- moldy or stale bread, overripe fruit, and bland porridge or protein bars. It turned her stomach, although Gaeta and Brooks ate like it was the most delicious stuff in the world.

Other than that, there was nothing. But Sarah could project, and it helped a lot. She was lying on her back in a grassy field staring up at the stars when Ellen sat down beside her.

"This is beautiful," Ellen said, the breeze teasing her hair.

"Can you do it?" Sarah asked her.

"Not like this. It's far more primitive, what we do." Ellen looked around her with satisfaction. "This was Tyrol's idea, to give you all this ability to this extent. He was always more of a dreamer."

Sarah nodded and sat up. "Does Cavil know about Tyrol?" she asked. "And the others?"

"John knows," Ellen said, and her voice was thick with sadness. "John knows more than I ever dreamed he would."

"What do you mean?"

But Ellen didn't answer. Instead, she looked around Sarah's projection again, up at the twinkling stars. She smiled.

"You put the Fleet up there."

Sarah shrugged. "Of course."

"God, I'd give anything to be back there. I left so much…." Ellen looked over to where the men were lying, both of them asleep. Neither of them had any idea they were lying in the grass under a clear night sky. Her face was oddly tender as she looked at them, as if she actually cared about them. Sarah watched her in wonder.

"Ellen?"

"Yes?"

"Why is Cavil having Gaeta treated? The Four keeps coming back for him."

"I'd like to believe that John has a heart and is willing to keep him alive," Ellen sighed. "But I'm afraid the truth is that he's worried that an infection in his leg will kill him, and he'll lose any information or bargaining power. He's right that Brooks won't bring him much, although I've been telling him that Brooks is the one that really runs the hangar deck and that Adama desperately needs him. I'm not sure that he believes me. But he does know that Felix was high in the command structure.

Sarah worried her lip with her teeth, thinking about that. "But if Adama refuses to trade for him…"

"And he will," Ellen agreed. "Given what John will ask for. He wants the other Four. But we've got some time before then."

"Time?" Sarah asked, hope flaring in her. "Time for what?"

Ellen smiled. "Time to plan."

"Time to plan what?" Sarah asked.

"I'm still working on that."

***

"Right now they don't even know we're alive," Brooks said stridently. "There's no rescue coming because they have to believe that we're all dead of suffocation. If we don't send some sort of message, we'll be here until Cavil gets bored and decides to kill us. Could be days, could be months, could be years. I'm not sure which is the worst option."

"We got that, genius," Sarah snapped. "But the problem is that I'm not sure how to access the data stream in a way that Cavil won't detect. It's not that I'm afraid to die, although I'd really rather not. It's that if he detects us, he'll end the transmission before we can even send anything, and our deaths will be for nothing."

Sarah sat cross-legged on the floor. Gaeta was sitting across from her, his good leg drawn up and his arms wrapped around the knee. The stump was freshly bandaged by the Four, but outside of that, Gaeta looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't ventured near the razors, and he was paler than he'd been even when he got on the Raptor. His uniform jacket had disappeared somewhere, and the lack of sleeves made the bruises on the insides of his arms stand out. He was sweating, but at the same time he was shivering as well. But despite that, he was staring with interest at the rough floor plan that Sarah had sketched out on the pad Ellen provided.

"What if we could get Cavil distracted? It apparently isn't hard," Gaeta said. "Just give him me or Brooks."

To Sarah's utter surprise, Brooks shook his head. "Two problems. For one, it's not just Cavil specifically, and for two, I don't think it works like that." He'd lost his orange coveralls to wherever Gaeta's jacket had disappeared, and although Cavil had tortured him as well, he looked much healthier than Gaeta. "Is there any way you can disguise that you're sending the signal? Like, programming language or something like that, so you can make it look like a Four or a Five?"

Sarah stared at him for a long moment. It wasn't that it was the dumbest idea that she'd ever heard… it was that it actually had some merit. "I can try," she said finally.

"Even if it's crude, it could buy us enough time," Brooks pointed out. "The only problem is, if it's disguised as a signal from one of these Cylons, would the baseship in the Fleet even acknowledge it? What's to stop them from thinking it's a trap?"

"We can work around that," Ellen said smoothly. "I'm sure you each have any number of private, meaningful codes you could work out that someone back in the Fleet would recognize as yours."

Gaeta nodded. "I suppose there's one other option," he said slowly, shivering and rubbing his arms.

"What's that?" Sarah asked.

"See if we can convince the Four to help us."

Brooks raised his eyebrows, but Ellen shook her head and Sarah glared at him. "No," she said unequivocally. "It doesn't work that way. Disagreement between models is one thing,, but Cylons don't break from their model line."

"Boomer did," Brooks pointed out.

"The Eight that brought us here did, too," Gaeta added, looking positively miserable. "And Caprica didn't seem to agree with the Sixes all the time on New Caprica."

"One of the Twos explained to me that D'Anna got her whole line boxed," Brooks added.

Gaeta fixed his eyes on Sarah's. "And you married a Two."

"That's not going against my model line. They supported that decision."

"And if it came down to saving Jesse or saving a fellow Eight?" Gaeta pressed. "Who would you save?"

"That's all theoretical," Sarah said, bristling. "None of that will help us now."

"I'm just saying," Gaeta said, sitting back, "the Four seemed like he was pretty broken up about Cavil shooting that Eight. If Caprica shot Jesse, what would you do?"

I'd kill her. But Sarah couldn't say the words. She scowled at Gaeta and then looked at Ellen. But Ellen was watching Gaeta, a small frown line between her eyes.

"Are you all right, Felix? You look terrible."

"I'm a prisoner of war on a Cylon baseship who just had his leg amputated less than a month ago. I'll try to work out a song and dance number for you later."

Ellen sniffed. "No need to get so tetchy. A simple 'no' would have sufficed."

Gaeta glared at her. Discussion finished, he retreated to the corner of the cell, huddling against the two walls. Brooks hesitated, then stood up and retrieved a blanket off the bed and offered it to him. Gaeta took it, but it didn't seem to help.

Sarah glanced up at Ellen. "You still look worried."

"Well, yes. I wasn't lying when I said Saul always had a bit of a soft spot for Felix. He was such a dedicated young man. And something's going on with him right now."

"Medical, or psychological?"

"I don't know. I didn't really know him, just what he let people see. It's an interesting point about Boomer, though."

"You know about Boomer voting against the Eights?"

Ellen shrugged in a manner that clearly said of course. "You all started out the same, but as you make those choices, it changes you. I'm only surprised it didn't start happening earlier."

"But that's not the way God intended."

Ellen smiled. "Last time I checked, I wasn't God."

Sarah shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. Do you really think that the Four would turn on his own model line?"

"I don't know," Ellen admitted. "But I really think that you would. Gaeta's right. If you had to make the choice between an Eight or Jesse… or the baby you carry… whom would you choose?"

"He doesn't understand it. He's human."

"Which means he understands it all too well. It's not a bad thing, Sarah, to love someone like that." Ellen's face softened. "I betrayed everything I believed for Saul, and I would do it again."

"But he killed you for it."

Ellen grimaced. "There is that, yes. But he was working with very limited information."

"Sounds like a pretty weak rationalization to me," Sarah scowled.

"It's not. Love is a powerful force, Sarah. And love for a husband or love for a child… those are two of the most enduring, passionate loves a woman can know. But it unleashes other powers within you. It opens other strong emotions that the Cylons aren't familiar with. Anger. Jealousy. Greed. Pride. All of those reasons that you felt the humans deserved to die. "

"Lot of good love is, then." But her hand came to rest on her belly, and she thought of the child that she was carrying. What would she do to protect that baby? She still hadn't even adjusted to the news she was pregnant, she was still afraid to hope… but she knew the truth instinctively. She would do anything.

"The Four loved the Eight, didn't he?" Ellen asked softly.

"Yes. Very much."

"Felix might have a point," she said. "But we'll have to go slow with him. And we'd better keep a plan B."

Sarah wasn't sure she agreed, but she nodded anyway.

***

The blanket didn't really help. Felix pulled it tighter around his shoulders, trying to get comfortable. But the withdrawal tremors were bad and a simple blanket did nothing.

This wasn't how he'd pictured going through this. Somewhere deep down he'd known he'd have to do it, and he'd figured that he'd confess to Ishay- Ishay knew how much morpha he'd been taking, since she was the one giving it to him- and she'd be able to help. And Louis would be there with him, worried at first but willing to face the challenge with him. They'd look at it like everyone looked at basic- it had to be done, and it'd be hell now but one day it wouldn't seem so bad. And at the end, once he'd gotten through the worst of it, he and Louis would celebrate. In his better daydreams, he'd even feel like celebrating.

He turned over, struggling against the blanket. He didn't want to think about Louis right now, because somewhere across space Louis was grieving, believing fully that Felix was dead. But at the same time, it was impossible not to think of him, because there was no place that he wanted to be more.

He closed his eyes, bringing back a fantasy he'd patted into perfection during long, lonely nights on the Demetrius. They'd find Earth- Earth had always looked like Picon, just with a lot more top-heavy buildings in the cities- and he and Louis would find a small house. Somewhere in the country or the city or by an ocean… he'd never worked out those details. What he always imagined was the two of them lying in a bed, sunlight streaming in over the covers. Louis would be lying on his stomach, arms folded and chin resting on his hands, reading the paper when Felix woke up. He'd turn and smile, get a good-morning kiss, and then go back to his paper. Felix would watch him, then eventually he'd sit up enough to trace the tattoo on Louis's arm, his fingers light over the blue and red ink. And Louis would laugh and tell Felix he wanted to read his paper, but as Felix leaned over and kissed the freckles that were scattered on Louis's shoulders, he'd willingly put the paper aside.

And there it fizzled out. On the Demetrius, it had been plenty easy to keep that fantasy going, but then he'd had two legs, and Earth hadn't been a nuclear wasteland. He tried to cling to it now, to convince himself that those facets didn't matter, but he'd never been one for impossible flights of fancy. No matter what he wanted to believe, he had those two facts here in front of him, and he couldn't even erase them for a few untroubled minutes in his mind.

It's just like you. The voice in his head sounded like Dee, of all people. You're thinking too much to even think.

He shook his head to make the voice go away, and a gentle hand landed on his forehead. The hand was cool, and it cut through the feverish haze like water. He opened his eyes to see Ellen.

"Please, go away," he begged. "It's not anything."

"It's something," Ellen said. Her voice was soft, but there was something firm in it as well. "Do you need the Four?"

Felix shook his head. "Like he'd come."

"He might. If I asked him."

"If you could get him to do what you wanted-"

"There's a huge difference between providing medical treatment to a prisoner they want alive and letting me go back to the Fleet. Does Saul know about your little addiction?"

He stared at her. "You know?"

She didn't answer. She just fixed him with a look that reminded him strongly of his own mother, the silent threat that said Answer my question. He sighed.

"Doubt it," he finally answered, pulling the blanket more tightly around him. "He barely notices anything these days."

"He always liked you."

Felix glared up at her. "He nearly threw me out of an airlock."

"When?"

"After New Caprica."

Ellen patted his hand. "And he poisoned me, sweetie. Consider yourself lucky." Felix huddled deeper into his blanket, and Ellen settled down next to him. "Saul knows now, doesn't he?"

"Knows what?" Felix didn't really like the feeling that he couldn't keep up. "That I wasn't collaborating?"

"That he's a Cylon." Felix clamped his lips shut and stared straight ahead of him, and Ellen huffed impatiently. "Felix, if he didn't know it by the time the Fleet reached the Ionian Nebula, he should have figured it out by then. I'm sure of that."

"Did you know it on New Caprica?"

"No. We truly believed we were human." Ellen's smile was regretful.

"Why?" Felix asked. "Was it an experiment? Or a… a disguise?"

"A method of revenge." Ellen tucked her legs under her. "Our memories were wiped and we were put into the human world as a lesson. John did that to us. We forgot everything. Everything. Even who we were to each other." Her face hardened into an expression that made Felix shrink back into his blanket. "I can't imagine anything he could have done that would have been worse."

"He made you forget," Felix said slowly. "Could he do that to a person?"

"A human, you mean?" Ellen asked, a little smirk playing at the edge of her lips. The hardness was fading from her face, and she looked more like… well, not like Mrs. Tigh, but at least the Ellen he had known here. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that months ago, Starbuck disappeared. We all thought she was dead, but then she returned back to the Fleet two months after her Viper supposedly exploded."

"Kara returned to the Fleet?" Ellen asked.

"Yes. And she claimed she'd been to Earth, but she thought she'd been gone for six hours. She couldn't remember anything- or at least, she said she couldn't," Felix amended sourly. "But I wondered if maybe Cavil could have captured her and erased her memories."

Ellen shook her head. "He can't do that to a human."

Felix looked at her as steadily as he could manage. "Is it possible that she's a Cylon? Both Tigh and Anders insist she's not, but Anders would insist the sky was green if Starbuck said it was so, and Tigh…"

"You're very bitter."

"Airlocks make a person bitter."

"But they didn't throw you out."

Felix closed my eyes. "Ma'am," he said, "he was my superior officer. He should have…" he shook his head. "There are a lot of things both he and Adama should have done," he muttered.

Ellen considered him for a long time. "How did you lose your leg, Felix?"

"Ask your husband."

"Saul did this?"

"No. But he wouldn't be able to answer the question, either. He's still a Colonel of the Fleet, he's still Galactica's XO, and he's got no frakking clue as to why I'm hobbling around on a peg leg."

"And Adama?"

In this context, the name cut like a knife. He closed his eyes and didn't answer, shrinking back against the wall again. "Felix?" Ellen asked, but he couldn't even look at her. She loved the Admiral, he supposed, and if she saw what he was thinking… he didn't want to know how the Cylons would react to that.

"It's nothing," he said. "I need to sleep."

"I don’t remember you being this much of a liar," Ellen said, but she stood up anyway. "Get some sleep, Felix. If you can."

He watched her go through his lashes, and then shuddered again.

***

Ellen followed Cavil out of the cell obediently when he came for her. Sarah sighed and sat down on the bed, changing the cell around her into a beach. Ellen had explained so much, and yet Sarah still felt like she knew nothing. She had all these facts about Cylon history, but she couldn't integrate them. She tipped her head back and listened to the sound of the ocean waves, but the regular rhythms failed to soothe her.

In the corner, Gaeta groaned. In her projection, he looked like he was sleeping in the sun on a towel, but even then he was still wrapped in the blanket, sweaty and half-sick. Ellen had told him that he was suffering from some sort of withdrawal, and Sarah supposed she was meant to feel pity. But he was the one who had gotten himself addicted to whatever it was, and Ellen said it would be over soon, anyway. She watched him with the detachment of a scientist studying a subject.

Gaeta turned over and opened fevered, frenzied eyes. "You," he gasped.

"Yes. Who else?"

"You said you never helped me. You said the lists… how could I believe you helped me?"

Sarah shook her head, recognition settling in. "I never said that. She said that. The Eight that brought us here."

Gaeta blinked, trying to orient himself. "You aren't her?"

"No," Sarah said, drawing herself up. "I'm not."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He didn't notice the beach, didn't feel the sand or hear the water lapping softly at the shore, and she felt those twinges of pity she meant to feel earlier. "I'm sorry," he said, as coherence returned to him.

"It's all right."

"It's just…" he shook his head firmly. "It's nothing."

"I suppose," Sarah said. She studied Gaeta again, curious as to just what impact her sister's actions had had, and not really sure she wanted to know. But the words came out anyway. "What did she mean when she said she never helped you? Why would you think she had?"

Gaeta shrugged and looked down at the blanket. "I knew her on New Caprica," he said. "She was… she was very kind."

Sarah smirked. "I think you're remembering things that don't exist," she said.

"I'm not." Gaeta lay back down. "I'm going back to sleep."

He wasn't, Sarah knew that. But she recognized that he didn't want to talk anymore, which worked out well enough because she didn't want to listen. She looked away.

On to Chapter 4