Title: Last Winter
Author:
kappamaki33Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Gaeta, Hoshi, Sarah, and Jesse; Gaeta/Hoshi, Sarah/Jesse
Word Count: ~3,750
Warnings: Character death
Summary:
lls_mutant's "Space Between Us" 'verse. After many happy years in Atlantis, death finally claims one of the four dear friends who live on the stream at the edge of the city. The three left behind cope with the loss.
Author’s Notes: Thank you,
lls_mutant, for letting me play in this lovely ‘verse.
Last Winter
Felix woke slowly, so warm and content nestled in their down comforter that before he even opened his eyes, he had already decided against getting up until it was absolutely necessary. He was mildly surprised to see watery morning sunlight coming in through the window above the kitchen sink. They moved their bed into the kitchen during the winter, because it was easier to heat just the one room at night. This late in the year, they were usually up before dawn, even without an alarm.
He snuck a hand out from under the covers long enough to turn the clock on the nightstand. His eyebrows rose. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Louis had managed to sleep in past eight.
One of the many things Felix didn’t appreciate about getting older was how, even though he still needed about seven hours of sleep, it was impossible to get them all in one shot anymore. Even if it weren’t for his internal clock annoyingly insisting he rise with the sun, he had to piss an embarrassing number of times every night. Worse yet, Felix could slip out of bed without waking Louis. But since Louis slept with his back against the wall and with Felix hugged to his chest, every time Louis had to get up, Felix did, too.
Nights had gotten even harder lately. After the time Louis fell and broke his wrist, Felix insisted on walking with him to the bathroom at night. It took forever for Felix to get his prosthetic on and cane situated, then to get them both hoisted out of bed. It likely would have looked ridiculous to an outsider watching them try to steady themselves against each other. At least they usually laughed about it, and about how they spent more time shuffling back and forth from the bed to the bathroom and back again than they did sleeping anymore.
“I think we should leave the bed in the kitchen this spring,” Felix said, thinking out loud. He hoped Louis was awake to hear, but if he was still sleeping, it was no big deal to repeat it again later. “It’s less of a hassle. And it’s nice to have you close on your bad days when you have to stay in bed. It’s silly, but I get lonely working in the kitchen without you.”
He thought for a moment, then took a deep breath and pushed on to the issue most likely to stir up an argument. “I think we should talk to Sarah and the new doctor about your tremors again, too. Sarah said we should if they got any worse. Louis?”
When he got no response, Felix turned over slowly, carefully. There was no specific thing about Louis that he could pinpoint as wrong or off or different. Still, he knew Louis was gone even before he felt for a pulse.
“Oh gods,” he choked.
His fingers moved from Louis’s neck to stroke his cheek. He wasn’t cold. Felix pushed himself up in bed a little more so he could smooth Louis’s hair and straighten his pajamas. He heard himself making strangled noises with each breath, but that felt very far away. He kissed Louis’s lips, which didn’t feel right at all, and then his forehead, which did.
Felix knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t move. He knew that as soon as he climbed out of their bed, it was really over; he’d never hold Louis again. Maybe it was selfish or stupid, but Felix gave himself a few more minutes, just a few more. He curled up beside him again and lay his hand on Louis’s chest, remembering how many nights he’d fallen asleep to the feel of the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
~*~*~
Jesse had always thought kitchens were the hearts of homes. Even Louis had said that Jesse’s “I love it when the heart of my home is full of family” was an incredibly sappy way of saying “I like cooking for my grandkids.” Louis had smiled when he said it, though. Not even in the indulging way Sarah had. Both he and Louis really were hopeless romantics.
The heart of Jesse’s home was full of family that morning, though it was a lot more hectic than usual. Normally when there were grandkids around, he had help with child-wrangling at least while he cooked. But Gabriel and his wife had gone out to visit a family at one of the farms a few miles from Atlantis, leaving the kids with Grandpa and Grandma for the day. Sarah was sleeping in, such a rare occurrence that Jesse didn’t have the heart to wake her. That all meant he was left trying to keep two little girls entertained and non-destructive, all while not burning the pancakes.
“What’re we doing after breakfast, Grandpa?” Melodie asked. She was already eating a bowl of porridge because she claimed she was too hungry to wait for pancakes. Jesse had little doubt she’d eat them, too. He remembered Gabriel at that age, how picky he was about what he ate but how he’d inhale however much of any favorite food they put in front of him.
“It’s too cold to play outside,” Jesse said as he flipped the last pancake onto the stack and brought the plate to the table. “I thought maybe we could walk over and visit Uncle Felix and Uncle Lou.”
“Unc’ Lou, Unc’ Feli’, Unc’ Lou Lou Lou,” Gracie sang. Her favorite new activity was making up songs with no discernable melody about anything and everything. Jesse couldn’t help but smile and ruffle her hair.
“Cool,” Melodie said. “Last time Uncle Lou promised us he’d tell us all about Saturday morning cartoons. Did you have Saturday morning cartoons when you were a kid, Grandpa?”
Jesse laughed, though it was a little awkward. “Grandma and I weren’t ever really kids the way you and Gracie are, remember? So I want to hear all about these cartoon things, too.”
“Car-car, car-tee-toons, too-oo-ny toos,” Gracie sang as Jesse cut her pancake up into little bites.
A gust of cold wind ruffled the back of Jesse’s shirt. Before he could turn around to look at the kitchen door, Melodie stood and leaned around him to see.
“Uncle Felix, where’s your leg?”
Jesse was out of his seat so fast he nearly knocked it over. Felix stood in the doorway in only his pajamas, leaning heavily on his cane and no prosthetic in sight. His face was grayer than the blanket of clouds outside. “Felix? What’s wrong? Is it Louis-does he need help?”
Jesse was intimately familiar with grief, but he could only remember one time before when he’d seen an expression so hollow and sad: the day he’d hung Sarah’s picture on Galactica’s Memorial Wall and met a man doing the same for his beloved.
Felix only shook his head. Jesse knew.
Jesse felt a tug at his shirt tail. “Grandpa, what’s going on?” Melodie whispered, standing behind him. “Why is Uncle Felix eating my pancakes?”
Felix had collapsed into Jesse’s vacant chair and was eating from the plate in front of him like he was on autopilot. He stared out the window, his thoughts clearly miles away.
Jesse said quietly, “Don’t worry about the pancakes, dear. Run upstairs and wake Grandma. Tell her Uncle Lou has passed, all right?”
Melodie looked up at him with big, worried eyes, but she nodded curtly and turned on her heel. Jesse knew she was afraid, but he also knew she liked being useful, that it made her feel more secure. Sending her on a little mission was the best he could do for her right now.
It was an awful time for Gabriel to be in the country, Jesse thought to himself as he watched Felix cut pieces of pancake and mechanically shove them in his mouth. He’d have to send a messenger out after them. Louis had told him a year ago what he wanted for the service, so that would be simple enough. They’d have to find some strong younger people to move the body-maybe the Martins boys down the road, and Helena Orrin...
Jesse shook his head. Here he was, his best friend besides Sarah dead and his friend’s husband in shock in his kitchen, and all he could think about were practicalities. Maybe it was an occupational hazard; he’d dealt with so many grieving families and funerals over the years. Or maybe he and Melodie were a little too alike in their need to do something in the face of pain that can’t really be salved.
Gracie snapped Jesse out of his reverie. “Where Unc’ Lou?” she asked, crawling out of her booster seat and into Felix’s lap before Jesse could gather himself enough to stop her.
Jesse’s heart sank, and he could see the same realization dawn in Felix, too. Uncle Lou was Gracie’s favorite person after her parents. She understood death in terms of butterflies and birds and livestock, like all children in Atlantis did, but that was worlds away from understanding it with a person, let alone one she loved as dearly as Louis.
Felix stared down at her, mouth quivering. “He’s gone,” he finally managed to say. The tears finally came, running down his cheeks and even falling on his plate. He hugged Gracie with one arm as he sobbed.
Gracie reached up and patted his wet cheek. “Don’t cry. We find him.”
He watched Felix’s heart break again. Gracie started to cry, too, confused about what was going on but understanding sadness when she saw it.
Jesse believed with his whole heart that Louis was with God, was safe and warm and free of the pain that had plagued him for the past few years. Maybe that would be a comfort later, but he knew it did nothing to help the ache of he’s gone that wracked the old man and the little girl sitting at his kitchen table. And he knew that tonight, when the body was prepared and the service was planned and Felix was taken care of, when he was alone with Sarah in their room and there was time for him to feel rather than to take care of others, it wouldn’t be enough to hold back tears for him, either.
~*~*~
Sarah leaned on the bridge’s railing as she walked across slowly. It was still slick with rain from that morning, and the gray clouds hanging overhead threatened to bring a real storm. The wind ruffled the dull surface of the stream. Felix was waiting on the stone bench that sat between the stream and Louis’s garden. He was tucked tight against one armrest as if he were saving room for someone else to sit down beside him. She was fairly certain he didn’t see her approach, since he was gazing in the other direction, far downstream.
She and Jesse had a matching stone bench on the other side of the stream. They had set the benches up like that so they would be close enough that Sarah and Jesse could see and call out to Felix and Louis and vice versa, yet far enough apart that they could have private conversations without the other couple overhearing.
Sarah thought about the view from her and Jesse’s bench as she carefully took the last few steps across the bridge. Felix and Louis’s house had started out looking very similar to Jesse and Sarah’s home. Over the years, the two homes had taken on very different personalities. While theirs grew rambly but lovely as additional rooms followed additional children, Louis and Felix’s house had stayed compact and tidy and beautiful in its own way. She and Jesse had swings and Jesse’s carefully-crafted hand-made slide where Louis had his vegetable and flower patch.
Though she had wondered what Felix and Louis’s home would have looked like if they had had children, Sarah understood the reasons why they didn’t and had never felt sorry for them, until today. Every time she tried to imagine what Felix must be feeling, Sarah thanked God for the fact that if she were in his position today, at least one of her children would no doubt have been sitting on her bench beside her.
“As your doctor, I should chew you out for being outside in the cold with only a light jacket,” Sarah said as she approached.
Felix didn’t look at her, but his lips quirked. “I thought you were retired.”
She sat down beside him, her own old bones protesting at the cold. “Only from diagnosis and treatment. Not from pointing out foolishness when I see it.” She pulled up Felix’s jacket collar to block the wind, hoping he’d show a little life and bicker with her. He remained still and silent. “Jesse told me you wanted to see me,” she said.
“I did. Thank you,” he said softly. He took her hand in his and squeezed as he stared out over the stream. His hand was so cold.
“Have you decided where to spread his ashes?” she asked. It was the only thing she could think of that Felix would ask her to help with and not Jesse. Sarah had never gotten any better at small talk. It was an acceptable deficiency for a doctor, now that she’d learned to temper her forthrightness with empathy, but it could be quite the impediment to being a good pastor’s wife.
Felix smiled tightly but still didn’t look at her. “There’s this hill on the outskirts of Atlantis. We sat there the night before we started work on the house, when we.... It’s got a nice view of the city, and of our house.”
He didn’t move. His expression didn’t even flicker. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to figure out that that wasn’t what he’d asked Sarah out here for. She sat quietly and waited.
“Jesse did a lovely job with the service,” Felix said with little emotion.
“What did you want to talk to me about, Felix?”
Felix finally met her eyes. “Pardon?”
“You asked for me specifically. I’m not any good at guessing these things. Tell me what you need, and we’ll work on it.”
Felix laughed. “Oh, Sarah.” Then his eyes started to shine with a film of tears. “I thought I understood the hell we must have put Louis and Jesse through when we were captured. Now I know I was so wrong.”
That hit Sarah unexpectedly hard. Felix took a deep, shaky breath. “I wanted to talk to you about the afterlife.”
Sarah started to lift herself off the bench. “No, you don’t. You want Jesse for that. That’s part of his job, after all.”
“Sarah, sit,” he said, placing his hand on her arm. It took him awhile to continue, because he couldn’t speak until he got through a bad coughing fit. “I want to talk to you about it.”
Sarah sat back down, but she didn’t get comfortable. “Why? Jesse is much better at it.”
“That’s in part why I want to talk to you. I know he says he’s had doubts and fears-and I don’t believe he’s lying or anything like that-but it just sounds so easy and smooth from him. You’re different.” It still struck her as odd, but Sarah understood what Felix was saying, in a way. “So, how are you so sure of what you believe?”
Now it was Sarah’s turn to pretend to watch the stream lap against its banks. “You have more reason to believe in the afterlife than almost anyone I know. You saw the angel-or your friend-on the Colony.”
Felix shrugged. “I’ve thought about that. Maybe I was hallucinating, or maybe it was something but not divine, or not her. I-I don’t know.”
Sarah kicked at the gravel around the bench. She hadn’t thought this conversation would be that easy, but she had hoped. “Okay,” she said after a few moments of thought. “It was hard to question the existence of an immortal soul in the face of resurrection technology. Something definitely left the body and made its way to a resurrection ship or the hub to be captured again in a new body.”
“But how do you know that whatever that consciousness is still exists now that there’s no resurrection? That it doesn’t just dissipate if there’s nothing there to catch it? And even if it does still exist, where does it go? Does it wander the universe aimlessly, forever? Not to mention, there’s no way of knowing if the same rules apply to humans,” Felix said, throwing his hands up in frustration. Then his voice gentled again. “I don’t think there’s a way for logic to prove this, but it’s my first instinct to try it that way, too. The two of us think alike in so many ways. I need to understand how you can be so certain, so I can understand why I’m not.”
They sat in silence for a long time, though not at all uncomfortable. Sarah thought, and Felix waited.
Finally, she said, “The Cylons proved that we need mortality.” She looked at Felix again. He met her gaze with a look of equal parts open-mindedness and healthy skepticism. Classic Felix. “Maybe it’s possible to evolve beyond needing death, but the Cylon and human races are nowhere near mature enough to handle it in this world. So, the existence of a good and loving God and the reality of death aren’t antithetical.”
Felix closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m still following,” he said, though he didn’t look any more persuaded.
“And yet,” Sarah said. “And yet. I look at the things I’ve played a part in creating. My children. All the babies I’ve helped deliver, for that matter. All the patients I’ve treated. Atlantis. Even this house. And I think, if I can hardly bear the thought of the things I’ve created passing away into nothingness, a God who has a hand in creating everything wouldn’t want it to pass away completely, either. I have faith He’d find a way to make it all work, somehow. I recognize the logical weakness of assuming God thinks and feels according to the same psychology that a Cylon like me does, but it’s the best I can do.”
Felix smiled at her. “I like that. It’s very you.”
“You’re not convinced,” she said.
“No,” Felix said calmly. “I didn’t think I would be. That’s not what I asked you for. Thank you.”
Sarah had known Felix long and well enough to know she wouldn’t get anything more out of him than that. That frustrated her. Usually, it wouldn’t have mattered, since normally she could guess at what was going on in her friend’s head if she worked at it. But she was too far out of her element here.
He squeezed her hand again. “I miss him so much. Last night alone in bed was the longest night of my life. Every time I’d finally fall asleep, I’d think I heard him, and then I’d wake up to help him get out of bed.” Felix opened his mouth to say something more, but then he shut it and shook his head.
“What?”
“It’s stupid,” Felix said.
“I don’t mind.”
Felix rolled his eyes, but Sarah knew he appreciated it. “Not to be a romantic sap, but I wish the last thing we said to each other hadn’t been a silly three-a.m. conversation about possible propulsion systems for a trolley from the bed to the bathroom.”
Sarah couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not to be a sap, but it’s very you two.”
“What, it’s ‘I love you’ in geek-speak?” Felix deadpanned.
“Essentially, yes,” Sarah said. “It’s not like you needed flowery professions of love, anyway. You both knew. You both lived it.” Then she said much less certainly, not at all sure if it was what he was looking for, “You know you always have a place with Jesse and me, if you want it. We’ve got plenty of spare rooms.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m staying here as long as I possibly can.” Felix looked over his shoulder, back up the bluff at his house. “Like you said, it’s hard letting go of things you’ve created. We created this place. We had a good life here. Not always easy, but very good.” He stared at the house for a long time before he finally turned and looked Sarah square in the eyes. “I’m tired, Sarah.”
“Need help getting back inside?” Sarah asked, deliberately misconstruing. She knew that look. She’d seen it in the eyes of many patients over the years, mostly elderly ones. Some might call it ‘resignation,’ but that wasn’t it. It was the look of someone who had evaluated the life they could look forward to and decided that the life that lay behind them was enough.
“No. I’m tired, Sarah.” Felix stared at her until he was sure she understood. Then his eyes lost focus, as if he were far away. “I think I’ve been seeing her lately. Dee, I mean. Just out of the corner of my eye. Every time I turn to get a better look, she’s already gone.”
When Sarah had seen that look in her patients’ eyes, she had still done her job as their doctor, but she had done her best to respect their decision, too. But today, with Felix, she couldn’t. This was sounding too much like goodbye, and whether or not Felix was ready, she wasn’t yet.
“We just found out Gabriel and Irina are going to have a boy,” Sarah said.
“Congratulations,” Felix said, though he was clearly confused at where the conversation was going.
“They’re thinking of naming him after someone in the family.” Felix’s brow furrowed. Sarah continued, “Irina really likes the name ‘Felix.’”
“Does she, now?” His voice had a bite of sarcasm to it, but his eyes were soft. Sarah could tell Felix saw the ploy for what it was, but she could also tell he was thinking about holding a baby in his arms. He coughed again, then reached for his cane. “I suppose I should get back inside and sit by the fire. Or at least get a scarf. Doctor’s orders.”
But they didn’t go anywhere, not yet. They sat hand in hand for a little bit longer, watching the stream roll past them.