"Ember in the Ashes" (Baltar/Gaeta, PG-13)

Mar 09, 2008 00:35

Title: Ember in the Ashes
Pairing: Gaius Baltar/Felix Gaeta
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of sex and adult situations
Prompt: #20, Caprica
Length: 1,690 words
Summary: Hope is such a precious thing. And one so easily taken for granted.
Notes: set in the missing year on New Caprica; real spoilers only for S2 but with implications of downright anvil-icious irony for events in S3


“What is it that you miss the most?”

The question startles Felix Gaeta from his reverie and he looks away from the window, blinking.

“Sorry?”

Gaius Baltar (President Baltar, he thinks with no mild self-satisfaction) frowns slightly in irritation where he lays outstretched on his bed.

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?” he demands huffily.

“No,” Felix confesses, ducking his head, too serious; still not used to this yet. “I’m sorry, Mr. President.”

Gaius chortles.

“So very formal.” He leans back, propped up on one arm, the cigarillo poised between his fingers trailing lazy smoke signals towards the ceiling. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned, giving Felix an unobstructed view of the length of flesh he kissed his way along only moments before.

He fixes Felix with a smug, almost haughty look. “I think we’ve moved a bit past that, don’t you?”

Felix ducks even lower, warmth creeping across his cheeks as he remembers. He nods.

“Sorry,” he says yet again. “I’ll try to remember, Mister Presi-…I mean, Gaius.”

He says the name shyly, almost breathless. Not entirely unlike the way he moaned it, a short time before.

“You were saying something?”

“Mmm.” Gaius makes a distracted sound, bringing the cigarillo to his lips and drawing a quick puff. “I was just thinking, is all. This is our new beginning, our chance to start over; at rebuilding the glory of the Colonies.”

“A chance at getting back what we lost,” Felix offers.

“Precisely. This world is, after all, called New Caprica for a reason.” Gaius exhales thru his nose, almost too quickly. His eyes are practically gleaming. “So, tell me: what is it about Caprica that you miss most?”

“Um.” Felix frowns, shifts and looks uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Why would it matter?”

“Oh come now, there must be something.” Gaius sits up and moves so that he’s kneeling closer to him, staring insistently on hands and knees. “Consider it a matter of administration import, if you must.” He smiles derisively. “After all, we must know what we should focus on first, when we set to the task of building our new civilization.”

“Wouldn’t a public opinion poll be a better way of deciding that?” Felix points out. Gaius scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, frak the polls.” He puts the cigarillo back to his mouth and keeps it there, dragging heavily in disgust.

“Don’t you mean,” and here Felix smirks mildly, finally deciding to play along, “frak the poll-taker?”

Gaius is taken aback for a moment, and then chuckles in approval.

“Oh, clever. I like it.” He leans forward, elbow on the arm of Felix’s chair so their faces are only inches apart. He says, teasingly: “But you still haven’t answered my question, have you?”

“I don’t know what to say.” Felix shrugs.

He fidgets again: his civilian clothes always seem to hang oddly on him, still out of place without his uniform. (No matter, thinks Gaius. He’ll get used to it in time.)

“I grew up on Virgon. I never really…” He sighs. “It was just the place where I went to officers’ school. Where I kept my apartment. I never really thought of Caprica as home, I guess. I wasn’t born there, like you.”

Gaius coughs, clearing his throat as he pulls back.

“Yes, well.” He speaks quickly. “I suppose I can see how that may be the case. But,” he presses, “still, there must be something. Caprica was the center of our world: the hub for science, politics, theater, art-”

“The parks,” Felix finally says. “The garden park in Caprica City.” Gaius watches him intently and he looks down at his hands, not used to the attention. “I miss that, I guess. It was beautiful there. Whenever I came back on leave, I’d always have lunch there when the weather was nice.”

Gaius considers this.

“Interesting. We’ll have to do something about that, then.” He smiles, nodding to himself. “Yes, put that at the top of the itinerary, won’t you? Build a lovely park, right over…oh, say there.” He gestures towards the expanse outside the Colonial One windows, an indolent flick of his wrist. “With a statue. And a fountain.”

“That’s where the medical center is supposed to go,” Felix reminds him. “Besides, I think the people would probably prefer if we focused on housing and utilities first.”

“If you say so. Although frankly, I wouldn’t be so certain,” Gaius replies. “After all, that first wave of early complaints was quashed rather sufficiently when we gave them the space for the pyramid court.”

He glances at his cigarillo and offers it to Felix, who shakes his head.

“No thank you.”

“Oh, but come now,” Gaius persists. “Don’t you know you’re always supposed to smoke after sex?” He smirks indulgently. “Particularly very good sex.”

Felix rolls his eyes slightly but takes it anyway, drawing a single short puff before handing it back. Gaius leaves him alone, satisfied.

“What about you?” Felix asks. He looks out the window again. There’s not much to see; the huddled tents and ramshackle buildings set up to hurriedly shelter the refugees of a lost world. But in the morning light it seems full of potential, already shining with the society they will create. “What do you miss?”

“Oh, more a sense than any real thing, I suppose,” Gaius says, offhand. “Of belonging, and pride, and grandeur. Sometimes I’d walk around the Archival District, just to look at the buildings. Beautiful architecture: the library, the playhouse. Oh, and the art museum. I do miss that, as well.”

“I never went there,” Felix admits. “I didn’t have time.”

Gaius lies back down, carelessly, relaxing with one hand folded behind his head.

“Yes, well, I’d always heard-” More hurried: “I mean, they had one of the most spectacular collections of works by the classical masters. Truly magnificent.” He sighs. “Shame it’s all gone now.”

“It’s…art, Gaius. Art won’t feed the people or put roofs over their heads.”

“Oh no.” Gaius scoffs, irritated. “Are we honestly back to this again?”

He looks up at his aide, disbelieving that he could want to talk policy and figures. As if Gaius hadn’t laid him down on his bed and frakked him senseless such a short time before.

“You really do need to lighten up.” Gaius rolls his eyes, taking another heady breath of smoke. “Learn to take a little pleasure before your business.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to ruin the mood.” He rubs at the skin under his neck, as if grasping for something. “But I’m getting a little concerned. It hasn’t been three months and already we’re behind schedule.”

“Obviously, you’ve never participated in a massive government project before,” Gaius replies, unconcerned. “These things always fall behind, especially at the beginning. It all gets done eventually. You can take my word for it.”

“I guess.” Felix looks distantly down at his hands.

Gaius thinks about the bottle of good ambrosia in his desk that’s just waiting for a special occasion. He contemplates going over to Felix, putting a hand on his thigh, parting those lips with his tongue to get at the sweetness inside. But he decides he isn’t in the mood for another quite so soon.

“Just think of it, Felix,” he finally says. “Picture what this planet will look like once we’re done. All of the glory and wonder of the old world recaptured…improved, even.” Gaius smiles in triumph, as if the marvel of the society he’s imagining is built already: streets already paved with marble, the city blocks lined with glass towers stretching towards the sky.

“An entire civilization, nurtured to life by our hands. Government, and art, and science. New Caprica is…is like a phoenix. Yes, a phoenix.” He nods to himself, pleased by his own symbolism.

“A phoenix of triumph and accomplishment, rising from the ashes of Caprica to begin anew.” Softly, more to himself: “As if nothing ever happened.”

“You know, I always wondered about that,” Felix says curiously. “That metaphor, I mean.” Gaius casts him an odd glance.

“What about it?”

“Well, the phoenix is supposed to be this symbol of hope. But it starts out as just an egg, a chick, buried in a pile of debris.” He rubs his hands together, musing. “Imagine if it didn’t rise after all. If it just died there as soon as it hatched, smothered in the ashes.”

Felix smiles wryly.

“That’d be horrible, wouldn’t it? It’d be worse than having no hope at all: hope dying just as soon as it began.”

There’s a pause and then Gaius snorts, dismissively.

“What a depressing, maudlin thought.” He stamps out his cigarillo in the ashtray, shaking his head with a faint incredulous smile. “There’s no need to over-think it. It is just a metaphor, after all. Meaningless poetry.”

“I know.” Felix folds his arms over his back, stretching. “It’s just a thought.”

Gaius considers him for a moment, thoughtful.

“You know, I think you should let your hair grow out a bit more,” he decides abruptly. “It’d look good on you.”

Felix frowns slightly, flinching.

“I guess.” He runs a hand over his hair uncertainly.

“Think about it,” Gaius says and then adds, with mock sternness, “and get out of my office.” He reclines on his back.

“After all that exercise, I fancy a bit of a nap.”

“Um, sir,” Felix begins, “you still have an entire week’s worth of reports to go over.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Gaius yawns, his eyes already closed. “I think I deserve a bit of a break.” He waves a hand at Felix half-heartedly. “You can do it for me, can’t you? It’s just paperwork.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Felix says reluctantly. Gaius opens his eyes to look at him.

“Please? Just this once.” He gives him a conspiratorial wink. “I promise I’ll get right back to the boring business of running the office tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Felix smiles back, shy and somehow honored. “Just this once.”

He gets to his feet and, as he reaches the door, calls softly:

“Sleep well, Mister President.”

Gaius light-heartedly blows him a kiss. Then he rolls over, falling fast asleep.

event: blind ficathon, fic: baltar/gaeta

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