Fic - "Dead Man Walking part 22"
Yeah finally getting over my story finishing anxiety. Here's part 22. There will be at least one more part of this. Its tagged ptsdfic. Its Gaeta, its AU after the Temple of Jupiter episodes, essentially all of season four and most of seasn three happened in his head. I kinda recommend starting at the beginning if you're new to the story.
He looked at the file again, and then at the man sleeping on the hospital bed. The good news, Jack Cottle thought tiredly, is that I didn’t physically kill Felix Gaeta. The even better news was that none of the more dire side affects of the truth serum had occurred. The serum had triggered the seizure that had stopped the interrogation had stopped easily, and hadn’t recurred. The high fevers that the instructions had warned about hadn’t happened. The downside was that Gaeta hadn’t come around yet. It was close to twenty four hours, edging into the time where it was becoming a concern. Not too concerning, not yet. Twenty four hours was a long time but he didn’t think it was a bad sign. Gaeta hadn’t fully recovered, the marks from his Cylon capture were faded but still visible. Between that, and the drug’s affects, the deep sleep could be just that. If it went on much longer, he’d have to use the scanner to see if there had been brain damage, or if the drug had crossed Gaeta’s mental wires enough to drive him into a catatonic state.
Neither was a great outcome, and that was why he smiled when Gaeta began blinking and rubbing his eyes. “Its about frakking time you woke up.” He stood up and went to the bedside. “How about telling me your name, your age, and why you’re lying here in sick bay?”
Gaeta blinked. “I’m… Felix Gaeta. I’m twenty nine, and we just did an interrogation. The admiral was yelling at me. I told him… I told him that I overheard two of the Cavil model Cylons discussing how… How Col. Tigh and Ellen Tigh, and Sam Anders, Chief Tyrol and the president’s aide Tory are some sort of Cylon breeding experiment and that Kara Thrace was a hybrid, part human part Cylon….” Gaeta took a deep breath. “The admiral must be so angry. I should have told him… I should have remembered this.” He held up his hand as if to ward off a blow. “It’s not my fault, I know, and you don’t have to tell me that Admiral Adama isn’t angry with me. I just… feel terrible.”
“Terrible things have happened,” Cottle said, wishing once again that he’d paid attention in the psychiatry classes. “It’s normal to feel terrible. And what you did, by repressing this, was something you couldn’t control. Normally I’d recommend you see a shrink, or maybe a whore, but I’m not a shrink, and apparently I made a rule about no whores in sickbay, so this will have to do.” He held out a cigarette.
After a moment, Gaeta took it. “I somehow thought smoking was against the rules in sickbay.”
Cottle lit the cigarette for him. “That’s probably some nonsense the Cylons made you believe. You’ve been asleep about twenty four hours.” He gestured expansively. “You’ll notice the ship didn’t explode and the Admiral didn’t explode. Hell, he hasn’t even done anything to the Final Five.” And Gaeta didn’t need to know that Kara Thrace was running loose on the ship, whereabouts unknown. There were guards in sickbay, at the entrances and he had one of the orderlies spot checking the air vents every fifteen minutes.
“You shouldn’t call them that,” Gaeta said. “That’s just a story the Cavils made up.” He shook his head suddenly. “I remember that. I remember overhearing that.”
“You will likely find yourself recalling things,” Cottle said. “I have to tell the Admiral you’re awake. Then we‘ll do a brain scan.” The Admiral would be pleased that Felix apparently hadn’t lost many brain cells from the interrogation, and wasn’t drooling or hallucinating. And if Bill Adama was finally understanding that his men and women weren’t interchangeable pegs, that was good.
He just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a piece of the puzzle missing.
~*~
On the one hand, it was one of the few places on the ship that someone could genuinely be alone. The problem was that she hadn’t remembered that the museum bay was filled with refugees. She had been lucky enough to steal some ration bars before the alarm sounded. Luckier that she had gotten into the abandoned launch tubes before anyone had seen her. The problem was that she was royally frakked.
Kara looked around the tube. I’m not defeated, she thought suddenly. I can still escape. I can hide here for a few days. The Admiral has to search but there were only so many people he could divert to the task. If she stayed under cover, security would slack off. It always did. Then she could either sneak onto a shuttle transport or steal a Raptor. Until then she would have to wait, and the unused Viper launch tubes were empty. Hiding in what amounted to an airlock did amuse her.
At least until she heard bootsteps on the metal deck. She edged up against the wall, wishing once again that she had more than three rounds for the gun she had stolen. The steps indicated it was just one person. She hadn’t needed to kill anyone, yet, and she understood Tigh’s warning all too clearly. The ship’s loudspeaker was still on in the muesum wing. The admiral hadn’t announced any trials or executions, although the public had certainly been warned about her. If she did have to fire it, she wasn’t planning to do more than deter an attack. But she didn’t want to shoot at all. One person was probably just a kid or someone looking for some quiet, she told herself. They’ll go away.
The footsteps stopped. “Starbuck.” She almost shook at the sound of Bill Adama’s voice. He sounded tired. “I know you’re here. The security guard you stole the gun from said you were heading this way.” He paused. “I appreciate your restraint in not killing him. I’m not armed, and this is the last launch tube. I want to talk to you. I want this to end without anyone getting hurt. If you don’t respond, that’s fine, but my next step is to send in the marines to verify you’re not here. I suspect that would end badly.”
She was trapped in other words. “Why don’t you just open the damn airlock then?” she shouted. She looked from where she was hiding. Adama stood in the center of the tube.
“Because the plan isn’t to kill you, Kara.” he said. He turned to the direction of her voice and after a moment she gave in and stepped towards him. It surprised her, that he looked relieved.
“Since when isn’t the plan to kill me? I’m a Cylon aren’t I?” She spat the words at him, keeping a tight grip on the gun. “Isn’t that what Gaeta spilled?”
Adama sighed. “You’re not a Cylon, Kara. The medical tests and Lt. Gaeta’s testimony indicate that… you’re a hybrid between human and Cylon. The other five are some sort of genetic fusion of Cylon genes. It was part of a rogue experiment the Cavil Cylons were running, a secret project. Based on how the testimony was obtained, I have no reason to think any of you had any idea of this.”
“I’m frakking sure Gaeta was *happy* to tell you all kinds of things,” she hissed.
His eyes flashed. “And who’s frakking fault is that, Kara? Gaeta’s? Do you want to know how I found this out? I had to have Cottle torture him with truth serum. This isn’t the right time to explain just how godsdamned frakked in the head Gaeta is, but since you need to hear it, I’ll say it. You know why you weren’t arrested three weeks ago? Because I didn’t trust Gaeta’s frakking word on this. Even Gaeta didn’t trust his word on this, which is why I almost killed him *making sure* he knew something. I sacrificed him for you and Saul. And you know what? That stupid son of a bitch was protecting you all. From me.”
~*~
And protecting himself from me, Bill thought tiredly, but it was a subtle point that Kara wasn’t in any shape to discuss. “I am not going to allow President Roslin to do anything to you.”
“Why not? I’m a Cylon aren’t I?” she said with a hiss. He could see her grip on the gun in her hand tighten. It dawned on him suddenly, just how close to the edge she was. His mind flashed to something in Cottle’s report about the Cylon scenario. A gun… blood on the floor… Not that, he told himself, that is not the outcome I want.
“You’re not a Cylon,” he said carefully. “If anything, you’re less of a Cylon than the others, you’re like Hera. The others are genetically engineered fusions of Cylon genes. ” Being the end result of a failed breeding experiment wasn’t exactly a prize, but it was going to be what saved Kara, if he was able to get the gun from her. “None of you are guilty of anything. But I can’t protect you if you don’t put down the gun and come back with me to the brig. This…” he took a step closer to her, “this can be understood and forgiven. I’ve forgiven worse. I forgave Sharon Agathon.”
For a moment, he thought he’d gotten through to her. Then her eyes narrowed and she gripped the gun even more tightly. “It’s not your decision I’m worried about, sir. President Roslin likes to kill Cylons. I’ve seen her do it. I’m not going to die like a rat in a trap with her looking at me.”
“It will never come to that, Kara. The evidence is compelling that none of you had any idea and that even most of the Cylons don’t know what you are. That’s… that’s why the Number Twos were so interested in you. The Cavils were monitoring the others and are keeping this from the others. None of you are guilty of anything. None of you are sleeper agents.” He hesitated. “Laura Roslin can do whatever she wants to her aide, but none of my people, my family, are going out the airlock. That’s not happening.” He took another step closer, he was within arms reach. “Kara, you’re my family. Nothing Gaeta said changes that. Give me the gun and come with me.”
“Or what?” She said it not with defeat but with resignation. He understood suddenly that he was asking her to do something against the grain. Kara, when backed into a corner, always came out fighting. If she didn’t come with him, he’d have to send in marines. It was a guaranteed bloodbath. He decided to be blunt.
“If I walk out of here without you,” he said carefully, “then I have to send in my marines to escort you to the brig. You’ll shoot, and they’ll shoot. I’ll end up sending you out an airlock. After the funeral… because I’ll have to preside over it. And you’ll take a bunch of my other kids with you… and you’ll break my heart, Kara.” He took the gun by the barrell, her hand still on the trigger, and held it in front of his chest. “If that’s what you want, you should start with me. If you don’t walk out with me, you’ll be killing me, Kara.” Please let this work.
Her eyes began to well with tears. She let go of the gun and then fell into his arms, crying. “Please don’t hate me.”
“I could never do that,” he promised.
He looked at the file again, and then at the man sleeping on the hospital bed. The good news, Jack Cottle thought tiredly, is that I didn’t physically kill Felix Gaeta. The even better news was that none of the more dire side affects of the truth serum had occurred. The serum had triggered the seizure that had stopped the interrogation had stopped easily, and hadn’t recurred. The high fevers that the instructions had warned about hadn’t happened. The downside was that Gaeta hadn’t come around yet. It was close to twenty four hours, edging into the time where it was becoming a concern. Not too concerning, not yet. Twenty four hours was a long time but he didn’t think it was a bad sign. Gaeta hadn’t fully recovered, the marks from his Cylon capture were faded but still visible. Between that, and the drug’s affects, the deep sleep could be just that. If it went on much longer, he’d have to use the scanner to see if there had been brain damage, or if the drug had crossed Gaeta’s mental wires enough to drive him into a catatonic state.
Neither was a great outcome, and that was why he smiled when Gaeta began blinking and rubbing his eyes. “Its about frakking time you woke up.” He stood up and went to the bedside. “How about telling me your name, your age, and why you’re lying here in sick bay?”
Gaeta blinked. “I’m… Felix Gaeta. I’m twenty nine, and we just did an interrogation. The admiral was yelling at me. I told him… I told him that I overheard two of the Cavil model Cylons discussing how… How Col. Tigh and Ellen Tigh, and Sam Anders, Chief Tyrol and the president’s aide Tory are some sort of Cylon breeding experiment and that Kara Thrace was a hybrid, part human part Cylon….” Gaeta took a deep breath. “The admiral must be so angry. I should have told him… I should have remembered this.” He held up his hand as if to ward off a blow. “It’s not my fault, I know, and you don’t have to tell me that Admiral Adama isn’t angry with me. I just… feel terrible.”
“Terrible things have happened,” Cottle said, wishing once again that he’d paid attention in the psychiatry classes. “It’s normal to feel terrible. And what you did, by repressing this, was something you couldn’t control. Normally I’d recommend you see a shrink, or maybe a whore, but I’m not a shrink, and apparently I made a rule about no whores in sickbay, so this will have to do.” He held out a cigarette.
After a moment, Gaeta took it. “I somehow thought smoking was against the rules in sickbay.”
Cottle lit the cigarette for him. “That’s probably some nonsense the Cylons made you believe. You’ve been asleep about twenty four hours.” He gestured expansively. “You’ll notice the ship didn’t explode and the Admiral didn’t explode. Hell, he hasn’t even done anything to the Final Five.” And Gaeta didn’t need to know that Kara Thrace was running loose on the ship, whereabouts unknown. There were guards in sickbay, at the entrances and he had one of the orderlies spot checking the air vents every fifteen minutes.
“You shouldn’t call them that,” Gaeta said. “That’s just a story the Cavils made up.” He shook his head suddenly. “I remember that. I remember overhearing that.”
“You will likely find yourself recalling things,” Cottle said. “I have to tell the Admiral you’re awake. Then we‘ll do a brain scan.” The Admiral would be pleased that Felix apparently hadn’t lost many brain cells from the interrogation, and wasn’t drooling or hallucinating. And if Bill Adama was finally understanding that his men and women weren’t interchangeable pegs, that was good.
He just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a piece of the puzzle missing.
~*~
On the one hand, it was one of the few places on the ship that someone could genuinely be alone. The problem was that she hadn’t remembered that the museum bay was filled with refugees. She had been lucky enough to steal some ration bars before the alarm sounded. Luckier that she had gotten into the abandoned launch tubes before anyone had seen her. The problem was that she was royally frakked.
Kara looked around the tube. I’m not defeated, she thought suddenly. I can still escape. I can hide here for a few days. The Admiral has to search but there were only so many people he could divert to the task. If she stayed under cover, security would slack off. It always did. Then she could either sneak onto a shuttle transport or steal a Raptor. Until then she would have to wait, and the unused Viper launch tubes were empty. Hiding in what amounted to an airlock did amuse her.
At least until she heard bootsteps on the metal deck. She edged up against the wall, wishing once again that she had more than three rounds for the gun she had stolen. The steps indicated it was just one person. She hadn’t needed to kill anyone, yet, and she understood Tigh’s warning all too clearly. The ship’s loudspeaker was still on in the muesum wing. The admiral hadn’t announced any trials or executions, although the public had certainly been warned about her. If she did have to fire it, she wasn’t planning to do more than deter an attack. But she didn’t want to shoot at all. One person was probably just a kid or someone looking for some quiet, she told herself. They’ll go away.
The footsteps stopped. “Starbuck.” She almost shook at the sound of Bill Adama’s voice. He sounded tired. “I know you’re here. The security guard you stole the gun from said you were heading this way.” He paused. “I appreciate your restraint in not killing him. I’m not armed, and this is the last launch tube. I want to talk to you. I want this to end without anyone getting hurt. If you don’t respond, that’s fine, but my next step is to send in the marines to verify you’re not here. I suspect that would end badly.”
She was trapped in other words. “Why don’t you just open the damn airlock then?” she shouted. She looked from where she was hiding. Adama stood in the center of the tube.
“Because the plan isn’t to kill you, Kara.” he said. He turned to the direction of her voice and after a moment she gave in and stepped towards him. It surprised her, that he looked relieved.
“Since when isn’t the plan to kill me? I’m a Cylon aren’t I?” She spat the words at him, keeping a tight grip on the gun. “Isn’t that what Gaeta spilled?”
Adama sighed. “You’re not a Cylon, Kara. The medical tests and Lt. Gaeta’s testimony indicate that… you’re a hybrid between human and Cylon. The other five are some sort of genetic fusion of Cylon genes. It was part of a rogue experiment the Cavil Cylons were running, a secret project. Based on how the testimony was obtained, I have no reason to think any of you had any idea of this.”
“I’m frakking sure Gaeta was *happy* to tell you all kinds of things,” she hissed.
His eyes flashed. “And who’s frakking fault is that, Kara? Gaeta’s? Do you want to know how I found this out? I had to have Cottle torture him with truth serum. This isn’t the right time to explain just how godsdamned frakked in the head Gaeta is, but since you need to hear it, I’ll say it. You know why you weren’t arrested three weeks ago? Because I didn’t trust Gaeta’s frakking word on this. Even Gaeta didn’t trust his word on this, which is why I almost killed him *making sure* he knew something. I sacrificed him for you and Saul. And you know what? That stupid son of a bitch was protecting you all. From me.”
~*~
And protecting himself from me, Bill thought tiredly, but it was a subtle point that Kara wasn’t in any shape to discuss. “I am not going to allow President Roslin to do anything to you.”
“Why not? I’m a Cylon aren’t I?” she said with a hiss. He could see her grip on the gun in her hand tighten. It dawned on him suddenly, just how close to the edge she was. His mind flashed to something in Cottle’s report about the Cylon scenario. A gun… blood on the floor… Not that, he told himself, that is not the outcome I want.
“You’re not a Cylon,” he said carefully. “If anything, you’re less of a Cylon than the others, you’re like Hera. The others are genetically engineered fusions of Cylon genes. ” Being the end result of a failed breeding experiment wasn’t exactly a prize, but it was going to be what saved Kara, if he was able to get the gun from her. “None of you are guilty of anything. But I can’t protect you if you don’t put down the gun and come back with me to the brig. This…” he took a step closer to her, “this can be understood and forgiven. I’ve forgiven worse. I forgave Sharon Agathon.”
For a moment, he thought he’d gotten through to her. Then her eyes narrowed and she gripped the gun even more tightly. “It’s not your decision I’m worried about, sir. President Roslin likes to kill Cylons. I’ve seen her do it. I’m not going to die like a rat in a trap with her looking at me.”
“It will never come to that, Kara. The evidence is compelling that none of you had any idea and that even most of the Cylons don’t know what you are. That’s… that’s why the Number Twos were so interested in you. The Cavils were monitoring the others and are keeping this from the others. None of you are guilty of anything. None of you are sleeper agents.” He hesitated. “Laura Roslin can do whatever she wants to her aide, but none of my people, my family, are going out the airlock. That’s not happening.” He took another step closer, he was within arms reach. “Kara, you’re my family. Nothing Gaeta said changes that. Give me the gun and come with me.”
“Or what?” She said it not with defeat but with resignation. He understood suddenly that he was asking her to do something against the grain. Kara, when backed into a corner, always came out fighting. If she didn’t come with him, he’d have to send in marines. It was a guaranteed bloodbath. He decided to be blunt.
“If I walk out of here without you,” he said carefully, “then I have to send in my marines to escort you to the brig. You’ll shoot, and they’ll shoot. I’ll end up sending you out an airlock. After the funeral… because I’ll have to preside over it. And you’ll take a bunch of my other kids with you… and you’ll break my heart, Kara.” He took the gun by the barrell, her hand still on the trigger, and held it in front of his chest. “If that’s what you want, you should start with me. If you don’t walk out with me, you’ll be killing me, Kara.” Please let this work.
Her eyes began to well with tears. She let go of the gun and then fell into his arms, crying. “Please don’t hate me.”
“I could never do that,” he promised.