Farewell Symphony (part I), for trovia
Title: “Farewell Symphony”
author: kappamaki33
Summary: Saying goodbye is never easy.
Characters: Dee, Gaeta, Helo, Tyrol, Hoshi, Romo, Hotdog
Rating: PG
Title, Author, and Original URL: Recapitulation, by trovia
Beta Thanks: Thank you so very, very much to my wonderful beta brennanspeaks!
Author Notes: Well, I ended up taking the concept of a “remix” somewhat literally. In music, a “recapitulation” is essentially a sub-division of a movement with a certain type of structure. Working from the musical theme of “recapitulation” and the word “remix” itself, I ended up writing the symphony in which trovia’s original fic fits, with a little mixing and tweaking to keep everything in tune.
Also, this is a songfic, of sorts. The structure is roughly based on Franz Josef Haydn’s “‘Farewell’ Symphony.”
Farewell Symphony
I. Dee-Allegro Assai
Dee shook her head as she marched down the corridor to the bunkroom. Thank goodness Felix was still too drugged to register how eagerly she’d leapt up and nearly run out of the cubicle when Felix asked if someone would bring down some of his clothes. Ishay had been in the middle of saying she’d be happy to retrieve them since her shift was almost over, so Dee and Louis wouldn’t have to leave, but Dee had quickly cut her off with a muttered “it’s no problem, really” as she slid between Ishay and the heart monitor. Louis had looked even more confused, barely managing a strangled “thank you, Dee,” before she was out the infirmary door.
She simply wasn’t any good at sickrooms, Dee told herself. She needed to be doing something, to be active and useful. Usefulness was the best way to battle helplessness. And yet, there was that nagging voice in the back of her mind that reminded her she’d sat by Lee’s bedside after Cloud Nine. She’d clutched the Old Man’s hand when he was shot, prayed prayers she’d thought she’d forgotten years ago. Felix was different. She had known what to give Lee and the Admiral because they had been silent; all they needed were whispered pleas to the gods and warm fingers entwined with theirs. But Felix, he was flinging his own delirious message in the gods’ faces, a beautiful, horrible song that was half supplication, half curse.
But wish no more; my life you can take-
No, don’t think like that, don’t think like that, she ordered herself. You can’t think like that if you’re going to keep it together. Dee took a deep breath and put her thoughts in order. She had to think of what Felix needed: socks, underwear, tanks, sweats. He must have standard-issue sweats somewhere, even though he never wore them. She found them balled up in the back of the drawer under his bunk, not folded neatly like everything else. She pulled the pants out first and noticed the elastic around the ankles. She really should cut the right pant leg off for him, get it out of the way, Dee thought. As she reached for her father’s knife in her pocket, though, she realized she probably shouldn’t do it yet, since it might be a terrible waste, since Cottle had said Felix was by no means out of the woods yet, and if he didn’t-no, stop it, don’t cry, don’t cry, you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry.
She yanked the sweatshirt out much less carefully, mussing the tanks and boxers and civilian clothing resting in front of it. But when she unfurled the shirt to shake the wrinkles out, a single sheet of paper slid out of its folds and floated lightly to the floor.
She picked it up. Dee didn’t know anything about music, and she’d always assumed the same was true of Felix; in fact, she’d never even had reason to think about it. But here it was in her hands: tangible proof of the song she’d heard in the infirmary a few minutes ago, crumpled and torn around the edges as if it had been shoved away in the darkness and forgotten for a very long time. The words she recognized, though they began and ended abruptly in mid-sentence; clearly it wasn’t a first page. The rest was a mystery. A few characters looked like they were almost recognizable, like mathematical symbols, but that false familiarity made them all the more frustrating. Black notes tumbled over each other, catching on the straight parallel lines and gliding down marks that looked like lopsided parentheses or playground slides, chasing each other in some elaborate game to which she didn’t know the rules. The only thing she could tell about the notes was that there were far too many for just one voice.
When she and Louis had finally made it down to the infirmary, Cottle had been in examining Felix, so they’d had to wait outside his cubicle for a few minutes. While they stood there, Louis leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing, Dee had overheard President Roslin speaking to one of the nurses on the other side of the room.
“So you didn’t know, either?” she’d said. “I don’t get it. I’ve always known the Galactica crew to be so close to one another. How can a voice like that stay a secret for five years?”
That had been a knife to the gut. Dee and Felix had served together for nearly seven years, and yet she’d never suspected. He never talked about music, never sang in the shower, only occasionally hummed in the CIC, usually the days after he’d gotten laid-so of course she’d always wheedled and teased him about his latest assignation, not where he’d learned to carry a tune so well. Nobody could have guessed, Dee told herself. Somehow, that justification wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.
Dee hurriedly pulled tanks and underwear out of the drawer and dumped them in a heap on top of the sweats. She crumpled the paper again, thrust it under a random stack of clothing, and shoved the drawer shut, hard. She rubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands, even though she was fairly certain there weren’t any tears to wipe away, just in case.
Don’t think like that. Dee knew she was being silly, acting as if she were already in mourning for the man who taught her how to run the tactical station and also how to read everyone’s tells when they played Triad, who gave her away at her wedding and took her out for drinks the night she left her husband for good. And yet-and yet, the man in the infirmary had a voice she’d never heard before and hurled words at the heavens whose meaning she was afraid of understanding. They had been running from the Cylons for years, yet still, she had thought they had time. She hadn’t thought she’d known all there was to know about Felix Gaeta, but she had thought they had time.
Dee scooped the pile of clothing up in her arms and marched resolutely toward the hatchway, but she lost her purposeful rhythm half-way across the room. The music had been there with him all along; there was proof. She just hadn’t known it before. Maybe, then, there’s still time, still hope. Dee went back to Felix’s bunk and set the clothing down. She slid the drawer open, found the sheet again and smoothed it out. She folded it neatly and tucked it in her pocket, picked Felix’s clothes up again, and stood up straight: shoulders back, chin up, comforting smile firmly in place. Felix was waiting for her.
II. Gaeta-Adagio
“Felix! Gods, no!”
Felix slowly twisted toward the hatch and looked up, surprised to see Louis rushing at him, clearly panicking.
“Felix, are you all right?” He nodded, and Louis started breathing normally again, though Felix could still hear a slight hitch in his exhale. “Gods, for a moment, seeing you sitting sort of slumped on the floor like that, I thought you’d-” Louis glanced up at the side of the bunk, where a dull brown halo still stained the metal. “I thought you’d fallen,” Louis tried to cover, but it was too late.
“No,” Felix murmured, staring vacantly at his prosthetic leg propped up against a bunk on the other side of the room. “It’s just easier to do it down here.”
Louis nearly tripped over the open crate sitting in front of Felix. “What are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell?” Felix said, flicking his finger against the plastic container, making a hollow thunk reverberate through the empty bunkroom. “I had to stand up to get her stuff off the top shelf, of course, but for the bottom shelves…stooping doesn’t work that well for me.”
Louis looked up. Dee’s locker was open and nearly empty. He looked down at Felix again, then shook his head and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Felix, why the frak are you doing this?” he asked tiredly.
“Lee Adama,” Felix said in a tone he usually reserved for the name “Gaius Baltar.” He took a deep breath. “I was with her in the morgue when he came down to see her. He asked me to send her personal effects over to him on Colonial One on the next shuttle. I think he was trying to get rid of me. Also, I think he might be pissed he can’t give me orders anymore.”
“Like you said, he can’t give you orders anymore, so let him haul his self-righteous ass over here and take care of it himself.”
“No,” Felix mused quietly, fingering an odd little orange figurine before putting it in the box. “It’s not about Lee, not really.”
The truth was, Felix didn’t want to let go of Dee’s things yet. While her locker and the shelves in her rack were still full, he could half-way pretend she was on duty or in the mess-that she’d be walking through the hatch and climbing into the rack next to his any minute. Coming back to the bunkroom and finding all traces of her gone would be too much. At least this way, Felix felt like he had some measure of control and certainty.
Louis leaned back against the bunk and shook his head. But instead of chastising Felix, Louis slid down until he was seated on the floor next to him, resting his chin on his knees. He peered into the box.
“Oh, I remember this,” said Louis, pulling out a photo. “The party for Helo’s one-thousandth landing. Do you remember how Breckler dared you to do shots with him, and you got so drunk that Dee had to get a dolly from the hangar deck and load you onto it to get you back to your rack?”
“No, I don’t, really,” Felix said curtly. “Perhaps that was because I was nearly passed-out drunk. Were you even there?”
“Doesn’t matter. I know the story. It was one of Dee’s favorite Felix Stories.”
“‘Felix Stories’?” Felix snorted incredulously, but he knew what Louis was doing. Felix was sure it wasn’t going to help, but Louis meant well.
“You’re lucky she had a lot of other stories about you, too. I wouldn’t have gone on a date with a lush, no matter how cute you are.” Louis placed his hand over Felix’s hand clutching the lip of the box. He couldn’t say the contact was comforting or even pleasant, but it was warm and solid. “Actually, the way Dee talked about you when she and I were on the Pegasus…it sounds corny, but she made me feel like I knew you before we even really met.”
Louis rooted around in the box, and Felix bit his tongue. He’d worked very hard to put everything away in order, and Louis was messing the box all up. “Dee collected elephants?” Louis asked.
Felix must not have been hiding his crossness as well as he’d thought, he realized, because Louis’s smile faltered for a moment. But he apparently recovered quickly and turned toward the almost-empty locker.
“What’s this?” Louis asked, picking up a thick stack of bound papers at the very bottom of the locker. “Aw, it’s a gift: ‘To Dee, With Love, From Felix.’” Louis’s smile morphed into a crooked grimace as he read on. “‘The Raunchy Romps of Drill Sergeant Candy: Around the Fleet in Eight Fraks, by Donald Perry.’”
Felix couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I bought that for her at Chuckles’s wake-auction. Chuckles was a pilot, died before your time. Surprisingly good writer. Very inventive. He had a whole series with Drill Sergeant Candy, and there was another series with Major Dik. I wonder who ended up with the copies of A Hard Man is Good to Find…”
“Back up a minute,” said Louis, brandishing the document. “I’m still trying to process you giving Dee this as a gift.”
Felix shrugged. “What’s there to explain?”
“You have to remember, she was my XO for a long time,” said Louis. “I know we were all friends, and it’s not like you giving Colonel Tigh porn or anything, but you have to admit-”
“Colonel Tigh?” Felix gagged. “Porn? Gods, Louis, are you trying to scar me for life?”
Felix was surprised to hear his own laughter mingling with Louis’s. Before, even a grin had somehow felt disrespectful, but now, he felt no guilt.
“Felix?” Louis asked when they quieted down again. “You and Dee. Were you ever… Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” Louis said, not in that mildly passive-aggressive way he had of deliberately bringing things up and then merely pretending not to care, though still fully expecting an answer. This time, his voice was firm but gentle, genuinely ending the inquiry. He reached into Dee’s locker and picked up a stray sheet of paper. “What’s this, more porn? No.”
Felix took the paper from Louis’s hands and stared at it a long time before what he was seeing clicked in his mind. Not that he didn’t recognize what it was instantly-it was that this thing couldn’t possibly be where it was.
The first that she be spared the pain that comes from a dark and laughing rain...
The song itself had never really left him, but Felix had forgotten about his aborted attempt to arrange it for a full choir and orchestra, until now. It was so strange, finding such an unexpected piece of himself here, his scribbled notes and breath marks amongst Dee’s hairbrushes and old photos. He had noticed the past few weeks that there had been something different about the way Dee talked to him sometimes, how she’d asked him odd questions about the music on the wireless, given him funny, sad smiles whenever she caught him humming. At the time, he’d barely thought about it, and if he wondered at all, he’d chalked it up to her being curious after hearing him sing in the infirmary but too kind to bring up that day again. But this-this was such an easy way to broach the subject, solid evidence of that missing piece of his life that she had of late shown so much interest in. It didn’t make any sense. Why didn’t anything make any sense anymore?
He held the page over the box for a long moment before he let it go. The paper landed gently on top of the stack of her elephant figurines. Why hadn’t she just asked him about the music straight out, the way she’d always done with him? He wished, not for the first time that day, that he could ask her that question now.
“Felix?” Louis said, leaning in close. Felix hadn’t even noticed Louis’s hand on his back until now.
“I know it sounds stupid,” Felix said slowly, “and I know Lee wouldn’t understand, but…Dee deserves an auction.”
“Yeah?”
Felix struggled to find words. “It’s part of the process, tradition…and she-she would want to be useful, or-for her things to be useful, for people who need her…I just-I don’t want her to be boxed up and forgotten in somebody’s closet like this.”
Felix expected Louis to say something about material things not mattering, something that was true but that wouldn’t be of any help. Instead, Louis sat in thought for a moment and then slid forward. He pulled the box to him. “What am I bid for bidder’s choice of one item from this collection? C’mon, Felix, raise your hand,” Louis said, trying to maintain a straight face, even though his eyes were bright.
Felix rolled his eyes and raised his hand, but he silently thanked the gods or fate or chance or whoever might be listening for the man sitting beside him.
“I have you, sir. Any more bids? Anyone? Going once, going twice-” Louis tapped on the box “-sold, to the incredibly handsome young officer in the front row.” He tipped the box toward Felix so he could see its contents better. “What will it be, sir? Or…” he reached back and picked up Chuckles’s book. “Or may I recommend this lovely reading material?”
Felix took the papers from Louis’s hands. “Nah.” He tossed the manuscript into the box with a satisfying thump. “Lee should have that. Make him wonder a little.”
Felix leaned forward and picked carefully through the box. Hairbrushes and makeup, a couple elephant figurines, her father's knife, a book, photos from home, photos from Galactica. At first, he fingered the sheet of music he’d written, but he let it go. It felt better to leave it there, to know that there had still been a part of him with her to the end.
The glint of a silver chain caught his eye. He gently tugged it free. It was the locket, the one Dee never wore but always kept hanging next to her mirror, the one that had been on the hook with her dog tags and wedding ring when they’d found her. Felix had never seen the picture inside before, so he opened it. There were places for two photos, but only one spot was filled. It was an older man with Dee’s eyes and chin. Even though he’d never met the man, Felix could tell instantly it was Dee’s father.
Felix didn’t have any photos of his parents anymore. He’d never been one to keep a lot of pictures around in the first place. He’d hung the only photo he had of his mother and father in the Memorial Hall not long after the attacks, but when he decided to leave Galactica for New Caprica, he’d taken it down with him to the planet. When the evacuation of New Caprica finally happened, there hadn’t been time to go back to his tent for any of the belongings he’d brought down with him.
Felix looked up at Louis. He could tell from Louis’s expression that he didn’t understand Felix’s choice, but Felix didn’t feel like giving an explanation, and Louis didn’t ask for one.
Felix tucked the necklace into his pocket and sighed. “Help me up?” he said to Louis. He forced a smile. “Last shuttle to Colonial One leaves in twenty minutes. It’s time we got moving.”
Part Two
author: kappamaki33
Summary: Saying goodbye is never easy.
Characters: Dee, Gaeta, Helo, Tyrol, Hoshi, Romo, Hotdog
Rating: PG
Title, Author, and Original URL: Recapitulation, by trovia
Beta Thanks: Thank you so very, very much to my wonderful beta brennanspeaks!
Author Notes: Well, I ended up taking the concept of a “remix” somewhat literally. In music, a “recapitulation” is essentially a sub-division of a movement with a certain type of structure. Working from the musical theme of “recapitulation” and the word “remix” itself, I ended up writing the symphony in which trovia’s original fic fits, with a little mixing and tweaking to keep everything in tune.
Also, this is a songfic, of sorts. The structure is roughly based on Franz Josef Haydn’s “‘Farewell’ Symphony.”
Farewell Symphony
I. Dee-Allegro Assai
Dee shook her head as she marched down the corridor to the bunkroom. Thank goodness Felix was still too drugged to register how eagerly she’d leapt up and nearly run out of the cubicle when Felix asked if someone would bring down some of his clothes. Ishay had been in the middle of saying she’d be happy to retrieve them since her shift was almost over, so Dee and Louis wouldn’t have to leave, but Dee had quickly cut her off with a muttered “it’s no problem, really” as she slid between Ishay and the heart monitor. Louis had looked even more confused, barely managing a strangled “thank you, Dee,” before she was out the infirmary door.
She simply wasn’t any good at sickrooms, Dee told herself. She needed to be doing something, to be active and useful. Usefulness was the best way to battle helplessness. And yet, there was that nagging voice in the back of her mind that reminded her she’d sat by Lee’s bedside after Cloud Nine. She’d clutched the Old Man’s hand when he was shot, prayed prayers she’d thought she’d forgotten years ago. Felix was different. She had known what to give Lee and the Admiral because they had been silent; all they needed were whispered pleas to the gods and warm fingers entwined with theirs. But Felix, he was flinging his own delirious message in the gods’ faces, a beautiful, horrible song that was half supplication, half curse.
But wish no more; my life you can take-
No, don’t think like that, don’t think like that, she ordered herself. You can’t think like that if you’re going to keep it together. Dee took a deep breath and put her thoughts in order. She had to think of what Felix needed: socks, underwear, tanks, sweats. He must have standard-issue sweats somewhere, even though he never wore them. She found them balled up in the back of the drawer under his bunk, not folded neatly like everything else. She pulled the pants out first and noticed the elastic around the ankles. She really should cut the right pant leg off for him, get it out of the way, Dee thought. As she reached for her father’s knife in her pocket, though, she realized she probably shouldn’t do it yet, since it might be a terrible waste, since Cottle had said Felix was by no means out of the woods yet, and if he didn’t-no, stop it, don’t cry, don’t cry, you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry.
She yanked the sweatshirt out much less carefully, mussing the tanks and boxers and civilian clothing resting in front of it. But when she unfurled the shirt to shake the wrinkles out, a single sheet of paper slid out of its folds and floated lightly to the floor.
She picked it up. Dee didn’t know anything about music, and she’d always assumed the same was true of Felix; in fact, she’d never even had reason to think about it. But here it was in her hands: tangible proof of the song she’d heard in the infirmary a few minutes ago, crumpled and torn around the edges as if it had been shoved away in the darkness and forgotten for a very long time. The words she recognized, though they began and ended abruptly in mid-sentence; clearly it wasn’t a first page. The rest was a mystery. A few characters looked like they were almost recognizable, like mathematical symbols, but that false familiarity made them all the more frustrating. Black notes tumbled over each other, catching on the straight parallel lines and gliding down marks that looked like lopsided parentheses or playground slides, chasing each other in some elaborate game to which she didn’t know the rules. The only thing she could tell about the notes was that there were far too many for just one voice.
When she and Louis had finally made it down to the infirmary, Cottle had been in examining Felix, so they’d had to wait outside his cubicle for a few minutes. While they stood there, Louis leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing, Dee had overheard President Roslin speaking to one of the nurses on the other side of the room.
“So you didn’t know, either?” she’d said. “I don’t get it. I’ve always known the Galactica crew to be so close to one another. How can a voice like that stay a secret for five years?”
That had been a knife to the gut. Dee and Felix had served together for nearly seven years, and yet she’d never suspected. He never talked about music, never sang in the shower, only occasionally hummed in the CIC, usually the days after he’d gotten laid-so of course she’d always wheedled and teased him about his latest assignation, not where he’d learned to carry a tune so well. Nobody could have guessed, Dee told herself. Somehow, that justification wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.
Dee hurriedly pulled tanks and underwear out of the drawer and dumped them in a heap on top of the sweats. She crumpled the paper again, thrust it under a random stack of clothing, and shoved the drawer shut, hard. She rubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands, even though she was fairly certain there weren’t any tears to wipe away, just in case.
Don’t think like that. Dee knew she was being silly, acting as if she were already in mourning for the man who taught her how to run the tactical station and also how to read everyone’s tells when they played Triad, who gave her away at her wedding and took her out for drinks the night she left her husband for good. And yet-and yet, the man in the infirmary had a voice she’d never heard before and hurled words at the heavens whose meaning she was afraid of understanding. They had been running from the Cylons for years, yet still, she had thought they had time. She hadn’t thought she’d known all there was to know about Felix Gaeta, but she had thought they had time.
Dee scooped the pile of clothing up in her arms and marched resolutely toward the hatchway, but she lost her purposeful rhythm half-way across the room. The music had been there with him all along; there was proof. She just hadn’t known it before. Maybe, then, there’s still time, still hope. Dee went back to Felix’s bunk and set the clothing down. She slid the drawer open, found the sheet again and smoothed it out. She folded it neatly and tucked it in her pocket, picked Felix’s clothes up again, and stood up straight: shoulders back, chin up, comforting smile firmly in place. Felix was waiting for her.
II. Gaeta-Adagio
“Felix! Gods, no!”
Felix slowly twisted toward the hatch and looked up, surprised to see Louis rushing at him, clearly panicking.
“Felix, are you all right?” He nodded, and Louis started breathing normally again, though Felix could still hear a slight hitch in his exhale. “Gods, for a moment, seeing you sitting sort of slumped on the floor like that, I thought you’d-” Louis glanced up at the side of the bunk, where a dull brown halo still stained the metal. “I thought you’d fallen,” Louis tried to cover, but it was too late.
“No,” Felix murmured, staring vacantly at his prosthetic leg propped up against a bunk on the other side of the room. “It’s just easier to do it down here.”
Louis nearly tripped over the open crate sitting in front of Felix. “What are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell?” Felix said, flicking his finger against the plastic container, making a hollow thunk reverberate through the empty bunkroom. “I had to stand up to get her stuff off the top shelf, of course, but for the bottom shelves…stooping doesn’t work that well for me.”
Louis looked up. Dee’s locker was open and nearly empty. He looked down at Felix again, then shook his head and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Felix, why the frak are you doing this?” he asked tiredly.
“Lee Adama,” Felix said in a tone he usually reserved for the name “Gaius Baltar.” He took a deep breath. “I was with her in the morgue when he came down to see her. He asked me to send her personal effects over to him on Colonial One on the next shuttle. I think he was trying to get rid of me. Also, I think he might be pissed he can’t give me orders anymore.”
“Like you said, he can’t give you orders anymore, so let him haul his self-righteous ass over here and take care of it himself.”
“No,” Felix mused quietly, fingering an odd little orange figurine before putting it in the box. “It’s not about Lee, not really.”
The truth was, Felix didn’t want to let go of Dee’s things yet. While her locker and the shelves in her rack were still full, he could half-way pretend she was on duty or in the mess-that she’d be walking through the hatch and climbing into the rack next to his any minute. Coming back to the bunkroom and finding all traces of her gone would be too much. At least this way, Felix felt like he had some measure of control and certainty.
Louis leaned back against the bunk and shook his head. But instead of chastising Felix, Louis slid down until he was seated on the floor next to him, resting his chin on his knees. He peered into the box.
“Oh, I remember this,” said Louis, pulling out a photo. “The party for Helo’s one-thousandth landing. Do you remember how Breckler dared you to do shots with him, and you got so drunk that Dee had to get a dolly from the hangar deck and load you onto it to get you back to your rack?”
“No, I don’t, really,” Felix said curtly. “Perhaps that was because I was nearly passed-out drunk. Were you even there?”
“Doesn’t matter. I know the story. It was one of Dee’s favorite Felix Stories.”
“‘Felix Stories’?” Felix snorted incredulously, but he knew what Louis was doing. Felix was sure it wasn’t going to help, but Louis meant well.
“You’re lucky she had a lot of other stories about you, too. I wouldn’t have gone on a date with a lush, no matter how cute you are.” Louis placed his hand over Felix’s hand clutching the lip of the box. He couldn’t say the contact was comforting or even pleasant, but it was warm and solid. “Actually, the way Dee talked about you when she and I were on the Pegasus…it sounds corny, but she made me feel like I knew you before we even really met.”
Louis rooted around in the box, and Felix bit his tongue. He’d worked very hard to put everything away in order, and Louis was messing the box all up. “Dee collected elephants?” Louis asked.
Felix must not have been hiding his crossness as well as he’d thought, he realized, because Louis’s smile faltered for a moment. But he apparently recovered quickly and turned toward the almost-empty locker.
“What’s this?” Louis asked, picking up a thick stack of bound papers at the very bottom of the locker. “Aw, it’s a gift: ‘To Dee, With Love, From Felix.’” Louis’s smile morphed into a crooked grimace as he read on. “‘The Raunchy Romps of Drill Sergeant Candy: Around the Fleet in Eight Fraks, by Donald Perry.’”
Felix couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I bought that for her at Chuckles’s wake-auction. Chuckles was a pilot, died before your time. Surprisingly good writer. Very inventive. He had a whole series with Drill Sergeant Candy, and there was another series with Major Dik. I wonder who ended up with the copies of A Hard Man is Good to Find…”
“Back up a minute,” said Louis, brandishing the document. “I’m still trying to process you giving Dee this as a gift.”
Felix shrugged. “What’s there to explain?”
“You have to remember, she was my XO for a long time,” said Louis. “I know we were all friends, and it’s not like you giving Colonel Tigh porn or anything, but you have to admit-”
“Colonel Tigh?” Felix gagged. “Porn? Gods, Louis, are you trying to scar me for life?”
Felix was surprised to hear his own laughter mingling with Louis’s. Before, even a grin had somehow felt disrespectful, but now, he felt no guilt.
“Felix?” Louis asked when they quieted down again. “You and Dee. Were you ever… Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” Louis said, not in that mildly passive-aggressive way he had of deliberately bringing things up and then merely pretending not to care, though still fully expecting an answer. This time, his voice was firm but gentle, genuinely ending the inquiry. He reached into Dee’s locker and picked up a stray sheet of paper. “What’s this, more porn? No.”
Felix took the paper from Louis’s hands and stared at it a long time before what he was seeing clicked in his mind. Not that he didn’t recognize what it was instantly-it was that this thing couldn’t possibly be where it was.
The first that she be spared the pain that comes from a dark and laughing rain...
The song itself had never really left him, but Felix had forgotten about his aborted attempt to arrange it for a full choir and orchestra, until now. It was so strange, finding such an unexpected piece of himself here, his scribbled notes and breath marks amongst Dee’s hairbrushes and old photos. He had noticed the past few weeks that there had been something different about the way Dee talked to him sometimes, how she’d asked him odd questions about the music on the wireless, given him funny, sad smiles whenever she caught him humming. At the time, he’d barely thought about it, and if he wondered at all, he’d chalked it up to her being curious after hearing him sing in the infirmary but too kind to bring up that day again. But this-this was such an easy way to broach the subject, solid evidence of that missing piece of his life that she had of late shown so much interest in. It didn’t make any sense. Why didn’t anything make any sense anymore?
He held the page over the box for a long moment before he let it go. The paper landed gently on top of the stack of her elephant figurines. Why hadn’t she just asked him about the music straight out, the way she’d always done with him? He wished, not for the first time that day, that he could ask her that question now.
“Felix?” Louis said, leaning in close. Felix hadn’t even noticed Louis’s hand on his back until now.
“I know it sounds stupid,” Felix said slowly, “and I know Lee wouldn’t understand, but…Dee deserves an auction.”
“Yeah?”
Felix struggled to find words. “It’s part of the process, tradition…and she-she would want to be useful, or-for her things to be useful, for people who need her…I just-I don’t want her to be boxed up and forgotten in somebody’s closet like this.”
Felix expected Louis to say something about material things not mattering, something that was true but that wouldn’t be of any help. Instead, Louis sat in thought for a moment and then slid forward. He pulled the box to him. “What am I bid for bidder’s choice of one item from this collection? C’mon, Felix, raise your hand,” Louis said, trying to maintain a straight face, even though his eyes were bright.
Felix rolled his eyes and raised his hand, but he silently thanked the gods or fate or chance or whoever might be listening for the man sitting beside him.
“I have you, sir. Any more bids? Anyone? Going once, going twice-” Louis tapped on the box “-sold, to the incredibly handsome young officer in the front row.” He tipped the box toward Felix so he could see its contents better. “What will it be, sir? Or…” he reached back and picked up Chuckles’s book. “Or may I recommend this lovely reading material?”
Felix took the papers from Louis’s hands. “Nah.” He tossed the manuscript into the box with a satisfying thump. “Lee should have that. Make him wonder a little.”
Felix leaned forward and picked carefully through the box. Hairbrushes and makeup, a couple elephant figurines, her father's knife, a book, photos from home, photos from Galactica. At first, he fingered the sheet of music he’d written, but he let it go. It felt better to leave it there, to know that there had still been a part of him with her to the end.
The glint of a silver chain caught his eye. He gently tugged it free. It was the locket, the one Dee never wore but always kept hanging next to her mirror, the one that had been on the hook with her dog tags and wedding ring when they’d found her. Felix had never seen the picture inside before, so he opened it. There were places for two photos, but only one spot was filled. It was an older man with Dee’s eyes and chin. Even though he’d never met the man, Felix could tell instantly it was Dee’s father.
Felix didn’t have any photos of his parents anymore. He’d never been one to keep a lot of pictures around in the first place. He’d hung the only photo he had of his mother and father in the Memorial Hall not long after the attacks, but when he decided to leave Galactica for New Caprica, he’d taken it down with him to the planet. When the evacuation of New Caprica finally happened, there hadn’t been time to go back to his tent for any of the belongings he’d brought down with him.
Felix looked up at Louis. He could tell from Louis’s expression that he didn’t understand Felix’s choice, but Felix didn’t feel like giving an explanation, and Louis didn’t ask for one.
Felix tucked the necklace into his pocket and sighed. “Help me up?” he said to Louis. He forced a smile. “Last shuttle to Colonial One leaves in twenty minutes. It’s time we got moving.”
Part Two