BSG FIC: Youth's Final Luxury (Part 5/6)
Title: Youth's Final Luxury (Part 5/6)
Author: lls_mutant
Rating: PG-13-ish
Characters: Felix Gaeta and Tom Zarek
Pairings: Gaeta/Skulls, Gaeta/Baltar, unrequited Zarek/Roslin
Story Summary: Tom Zarek and Felix Gaeta didn't have much to do with each other, until they were both working for President Gaius Baltar.
Chapter Summary: There's a price to be paid for everything.
Spoilers: This part through Collaborators, but through 4.10 eventually.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
The wind was as cold and bitter as it had ever been, but it felt worse tonight. Felix propped up the collar of his jacket and pulled a hat on, partly for protection from the cold and partly to hide the curls that were too characteristic. And, if he was being honest, it was best to hide from people in general. He really didn't feel like being spit on tonight.
Jake was out, head between his paws, watching him mournfully. His bowl was tipped up the right way, water in it. His contact must have gotten the note about Baltar skipping graduation, although it had done no good.
Suicide bombers.
He knelt down and scratched Jake's ears, and the dog thumped his tail eagerly.
The idea of suicide bombers bothered him, because for once it was an issue where he didn't know what to think. Before the occupation, he would have called it murder. Now, he called it desperation.
He flipped open the drawer, map in hand, and started as he saw an envelope already there. He put the map in and slipped the packet into his coat and hurried back to his tent. In the faint light and the dank smell of earth and mold, he opened the envelope. The note was simple:
Tell detainees to be ready.
Felix began to tremble as the meaning sank in. Be ready.
Admiral Adama was coming for them.
***
The food was meager, half-spoiled and shoved through the door in a bowl with no utensils. Tom ate it anyway, hunger overcoming revulsion.
Not for the first time, he wondered how this was going to end. A public execution to make a point? Dying in the torture chamber when the Cylons finally went too far? A painful, dirty, and quiet death from the conditions he was living under? He rather hoped for the first. Not just because it would be noble, not just because it would be honorable, but because then he would feel the sunlight on his face one more time before he died.
***
Boomer had an office on Colonial One. Felix wasn't completely sure what she did there, but he knew that she did something with the Detention Ministry. He waited until he was sure she was alone and then knocked on her door.
"Yes?" Boomer looked up from something she was writing. "Gaeta. Come on in."
"Thanks."
"What's up?" she asked, setting aside her pen and folding her hands.
He'd rehearsed this in his head. There were so many things he couldn't say, couldn't ask about or begin or mention, because she'd be on to him. "I have the paperwork on the rations for the detention center for you," he began, extending it.
"Thank you."
"There was also something else I wanted to ask you about." He tried not to look so uneasy. "Before the Cylons came to New Caprica, about the only way I could get anything done around here was with Zarek's help."
Boomer grinned. "Is Felix Gaeta finally admitting that the great Dr. Baltar is human after all?"
"Yeah, well, I-" he was saved from having to answer, but his salvation came in the form of Caprica Six knocking on the door. She nodded to Gaeta, but he looked right past her, his already nervous stomach a roiling mass of anger and acid just at the sight of her. She shook her head and turned to Boomer.
"Cavil's calling a meeting," she said.
"I'll be there in just a minute. Mr. Gaeta, you were saying?"
He had to finish, even with Caprica Six standing there. "Just… I was wondering if I could talk to him. Maybe I could convince him to help out, to see reason."
Boomer shook her head. "That won't be possible."
"Is he… alive?"
"You know I can't answer that," she said, nodding her head very slightly.
Felix sighed. "Well, thank you. I think I'll head home, if that's all right with you?"
"Good night, Gaeta," Boomer said. Caprica Six echoed her, but he ignored her and walked away. When he left Colonial One and was safe in his tent, he allowed himself to finally breathe.
***
"He wanted to see Tom Zarek?" Cavil asked. "That's not good. That's not good at all."
"Why not?" Boomer asked. "They worked together. I think it's perfectly reasonable a guy like Gaeta would want to know what's become of his co-worker. And he can't do it all by himself."
"He's not doing it all by himself," a Two said. "There's an entire administration."
"Well, we can always put Gaeta on the list," D'Anna suggested.
"That's an idea," Cavil agreed.
"No," Caprica Six said firmly.
Cavil raised his eyebrows. "I would think you'd be happy to get rid of your… rival."
"Please, he's not my rival." She rolled her eyes. "But if you put him on the list, Gaius won't sign it."
"Baltar will sign it," a Four said in a bored voice. "We'll see to it, no matter who's on it."
"He is useful," Simon said, glancing at his copy that had spoken. "He does more work than anyone around here."
"It's not necessary," Boomer insisted. "He just wanted to see a friend."
"And you trust that?" Cavil asked skeptically.
Boomer lifted her chin. "You don't know Gaeta. I do. He's honest. And he's doing his best to help us."
"He's still getting too uppity," Cavil muttered.
"Put Zarek on," D'Anna suggested. "It sends a message- not only to Baltar and the people, but to Gaeta."
Caprica Six nodded. "We agree."
***
The door opened, letting sound into the cell. Tom turned over to face it, squinting to see the intruder. Two people in masks stood in the doorway wearing greenish uniforms. Humans, he realized with a start, and the thought made him utterly sick.
"Come with us," the one on the left said.
To his surprise, he was led to the showers, and even given a razor. There were a few other people in there, some who looked just as thin and ragged as he felt. He smiled at one in solidarity. They weren't given soap and only had a few minutes, but he did the best he could. This was either really good or really bad, and he honestly wasn't sure which.
They dressed and were led outside. If nothing else, whatever coming was worth it just for that. Tom closed his eyes and tipped his face skyward, just for a second, before he was grabbed, cuffed, and shoved up onto a truck.
To his surprise, Laura Roslin was sitting right there. "Need a lift, Mr. Vice President?" she asked.
If there was anything that could make him smile, it was the sight of her. He hadn't thought that much about her while he was in detention, but seeing her again was even better than seeing the sun. "Guess so," he managed. It hurt to talk, he discovered; his throat was rough with disuse.
Laura was staring at him, and he wondered just how badly he looked. "Haven't seen much of you lately," she said. "Been busy these days?"
That said a lot about information in the occupation right there. He shrugged. "Well, not much to do in detention."
"How long have you been held?" she asked.
"Four months, I think. I told Baltar I wouldn't have any part of collaborating with the Cylons. And he got a little pissed."
Roslin indicated her own zip cuffs. "I think he's a little pissed at me, too."
Tom laughed, and the trucks lurched into motion. "Tell me, Laura," he said, pitching his voice low and leaning into her ear, "what's been going on? I take it Baltar's still alive?"
Laura's lips twisted into an ugly form of a smile. "Yes, Baltar is still alive," she said. "Did you expect anything else?"
"Not really. I see there are a lot of detainees. I take it people aren't just buckling under the Cylon rule?"
"Not all of them."
"Good." He lifted his hands and scratched at his ear; his fingers came away flecked with dried blood. "How about the rest of the administration?"
"Collaborators," Laura spat. "A few were put in detention and the Cylons shot a couple, but for the most part they've been working with the Cylons."
The truck hit a pothole, and Tom realized he had no idea where they were going or how much time he had before he got there. With numb lips, he asked the one question that mattered to him. "What about Felix Gaeta?"
"Gaeta? He's been right up there in Colonial One, Baltar's right hand man." The pain he felt in his stomach was so real that Tom had to bend over, burying his head between his knees. Laura touched his leg tentatively. "Tom?"
He drew deep breaths, pushing away the memories and the feeling of a young man's curls under his hand. He felt like the bottom of the world had dropped out from under him and something important had been ripped away.
"Tom?" Laura asked again. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." He sat back up, pulling himself together. "It's just…."
"I know." Her eyes were sympathetic.
There wasn't much else to say. He fixed his gaze on the floorboards as the truck jostled and rumbled, occasionally straining against the zip tie cuffs more out of principle than because he thought it would have any sort of effect. Laura sat back as well, lost in her own thoughts and fears. Her thigh was warm and solid against his, and reassuring. No matter what he was facing, at least he wasn't facing it alone anymore.
***
After he'd put the death list in the dead drop, Felix ran after the trucks, heart in his throat and unable to breathe. Two hundred names on that list… two hundred people being put to death and he couldn't stop it.
He couldn't find Cally, and he didn't spot Tom. And there was the horrible, terrible knowledge that even if he'd found either of them, there was nothing he could do. If he'd cried out, told Cavil to stop, told him to let even just one of them go, Cavil wouldn't just say no, but he wouldn't hesitate to put Felix on the truck himself.
And he hated himself then, because in that moment it felt like Galen was right. He wasn't doing anything.
***
The truck lurched to a stop, and one of the masked humans was pounding on the back. "Let's go. All right, everybody out. Five minute rest break. Come on, move! Everybody out!" He looked at Laura, who shrugged, and then jumped out of the truck.
The first sign that something was wrong was that they weren't anyplace that Tom recognized. No one was around; there were no signs of human or mechanical life. There was nothing to indicate that forced labor- no tools being unloaded and no cuffs were being cut. But at the same time, nothing else was happening, either.
The enchantment of the sun on his face had long since faded. Tom looked at the bleak, untouched landscape with a sinking heart. Laura was still next to him, looking around with the same not-wanting-to-know look.
"Tell me something, Laura," he said. "Last year? You tried to steal the election, didn't you?"
Laura smiled ruefully. "Yes, I did, Tom."
He couldn't help it- he had to laugh. "Oh. I wish you'd gone through with it."
"Me too." Laura admitted.
He was about to ask her what stopped her when the Centurians crested the hill. And that was the second sign that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Laura froze, watching them, and Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the front of the group. Then the sound of gunshots exploded, and Laura pushed him to the ground. They hit hard, rolling over a small ledge and through grit and over small woody plants, until he wasn't sure if he'd escaped or if he'd been shot.
They lay there for a long moment, both of them bruised and shaken, but neither of them dying. And as Tom looked up the bluff, he realized that somehow- some way- the execution had been averted. He started to sit up, not quite able to believe it.
Laura eased herself up as well. "You all right, Tom?"
"Yeah. Been a while since I had a woman throw me to the ground. Not quite as much fun as I remember." He heard a scream, but it was only one, not echoed by other humans, and his heart leapt. Suddenly, the grays took on new colors, and the stiff breeze had a hint of warmth.
"You all right down there?"
They both looked up to see Galen Tyrol grinning at them, Cally by his side. Laura's body relaxed in relief. "Oh, my Gods. It's good to see you, Chief." Tom could only agree whole-heartedly.
"Good to see you too, ma'am."
"What happens now?" Tyrol's wife asked, and Tom noticed she was wearing gray prison rags as well. "Where do we go from here?"
"We're going home," Tyrol told her. "We're going home. Admiral Adama's on his way. We're getting off this rock. We're going back to Galactica."
And there were no words for the gratitude that flooded his soul.
***
Felix couldn't concentrate. He sat staring at the work on his desk, trying to process the information and completely unable.
He looked at the clock. Three hours since the trucks had left. Five hours and thirteen minutes since that death list had landed on his desk. He tried to swallow, but the muscles wouldn't move. He didn't know what he'd say when he saw Galen, didn't know what he'd say when he had to face the forty thousand people of New Caprica.
He pushed the paperwork away and sat staring out the window, trying not to remember when he'd gazed at the same view with pride. His city, his civilization, his world.
For a second, he could taste the champagne Gaius had poured for him when he'd climbed off that Raptor over a year ago. For a long moment, he remembered Gaius's arm around his shoulders, his toast that because of Felix Gaeta's honor and honesty and scrupulous attention to detail, New Caprica could become a reality.
Because of him. Because of his honor and honesty and scrupulous attention to detail, New Caprica was a grim nightmare of a reality.
He sat there, unable to move, as the sun crossed the sky and shadows lengthened and darkness began to fall. Finally, his legs fell asleep and his bladder wouldn't be ignored, and the needs of his body overcame the emptiness in his soul enough for him to move. But as he stood, the noise in the hallway froze him. One of the Ones was coming in- Cavil, it sounded like- and he was angry.
Very angry.
Awkwardly, numb feet screaming in protest, Felix edged his way to the door. He could hear voices, the familiar voices of Cylons, meeting in the President's office. He snatched a few random files off his desk and made his way down the hall, ears perked up.
"They decimated the Centurians," Cavil was saying, "and the New Caprica Police Force that you're so proud of was useless. The insurgents were not only there, they were expecting us. The detainees all escaped."
The feeling returned to his legs in sharp, shooting pains, pains that stretched up his spine and through his limbs as life returned back to him. Felix held his breath, waiting to hear if they wondered how the insurgents knew, but Cavil seemed more intent on his own personal ethical issues. He let his breath out slowly and edged away, his gait becoming less awkward as the blood pounded through his veins.
He'd done it.
But as he left, he heard Doral say, "Your detainees escaped, perhaps. But our group did not. At least one of us carried out the plan."
His knees gave out and he fell against the wall, and for a moment he couldn't see. Around a hundred people he'd saved, and a hundred people who'd died. Somehow, they didn't balance out.
***
"You can stay here tonight," Tyrol told Tom. "Not much in the way of a bed, but I can get you some blankets."
"Thanks," Tom said. "Believe me, I can make do."
"I believe it, Mr. Vice President, sir," Tyrol said with a grim smile, and he clapped him on the shoulder that Tom recognized as pride. He managed a smile back, and then retreated to a corner.
He had blankets, food that wasn't rotting, clean water, and the use of some facilities. He had a warm floor and the darkness and relative safety of the tunnels the insurgency was using. Tyrol had sat down at the computer and the soft typing sounds were hypnotic, a gentle blue glow filling the room. But although every muscle in his body was crying out for rest, Tom couldn't sleep. He sat up, his back against the rough dirt wall, staring into space.
Tomorrow it would all be over, and if everything went as planned they'd be off this planet and back on the ships. And yet, somehow Tom couldn't help but feel that it was only the beginning of the end.
***
Felix couldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep, couldn't work, could only walk through the streets with a frenetic energy jerking his limbs. A few people scuttled here and there, with frantic whispers and downcast faces. He wished… oh, Gods knew what he wished. The list was far too long to enumerate.
"Gaeta?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jammer."
He hadn't seen much of Jammer since that day he'd first gotten information to pass, but he'd seen his name on his desk several times, most recently this morning. He'd wanted to hate him, and he did hate him… but no more than he hated himself.
"It's almost curfew," Jammer said. "What are you doing out?"
"I… I just needed to walk. Clear my head." His voice trembled as he spoke.
Jammer studied him for a long moment and then nodded. "Yeah. Same here."
Jammer fell in beside him, and their footsteps sounded over the packed dirt with a military cadence. "Bad day today?" Felix asked.
"Yeah," Jammer said. "You too?"
"Yeah."
"It could have been worse."
"I know."
Jammer laughed, his breath a puff of fog in the cold night air. "Remember when we could say what we actually meant?"
Felix rubbed at his eyes. "No," he said. "Not anymore."
"It's just… I wanted to do something right. I wanted to help, get the Cylons off the streets. And somehow, it all went to shit."
"Yeah. I know."
They stopped and looked at each other, and Felix saw the frustration, anger and hate he felt reflected on Jammer's face. And suddenly he was very, very tired, body and soul.
The wind blew, and a chain rustled. Jammer turned his head, and improbably, a smile ghosted over his face. "Come on," he said. "I'll race you."
He was off, sprinting towards a playground that had been constructed over a year ago. A part of Felix's mind gaped at the sight, but his own feet were moving, trying to catch up, running until he flung himself onto a swing. The metal was ice cold under his hands, but he pulled on the chains and kicked out his feet, and then he was flying next to Jammer.
"You know what I miss?" Jammer said as they swung. "I miss chocolate."
"Never a chocolate person, but I miss caramel," Felix admitted.
"I miss beer. Real beer."
"I miss scotch. The good stuff like my father used to drink, not the rotgut that's left."
"I miss reading. I've read every thriller I can get my hands on, but that's maybe ten since the attack."
"I miss going to the movies. I used to go every week, before I was assigned to Galactica."
"I miss music. It's been so long since I've heard good music." Jammer said, and then laughed bitterly. "My mom was a singer."
"Yeah?" Felix closed his eyes and tipped back even further, and the swing set shook as his swing went higher.
"Yeah," Jammer said. "She used to sing to herself all the time…" He pulled harder on the chains of his swing and began to sing an old lullabye. He had a good voice, soothing and sure, and Felix found himself picking up the harmony, weaving the music together, their voices climbing as they swung in unison.
"Mr. Gaeta. Captain Lyman." They both stopped swinging suddenly, coming back down to earth as an angry Cavil and an amused Leoben stared at them. "What in the world are the two of you doing? You represent this administration, and you're behaving like children."
"Sorry, sir," Jammer said, and Felix echoed him.
"That's all very well and good, but get off those swings and act like a captain and a Chief of Staff before I really lose my patience and toss you both in detention for breaking curfew."
"Right away, sir." Jammer pulled a mask and an armband from his pocket, and the warmth Felix had begun feeling drained away. Cavil shook his head and stormed off, muttering at Leoben about discipline.
Leoben turned before he left. "I liked the music," he said. "Truly, you were both blessed by God to create something so beautiful."
"He really creeps me out," Jammer said, putting his armband on. He pulled the mask over his face. "Come on. I'll walk you home so you're not in trouble."
"Thanks."
They walked through the streets again, silent until they reached Felix's tent. "Thanks," Felix said awkwardly.
"You're welcome." Jammer hesitated. "Do you know what's going on? I mean, has anyone thought to tell you?"
A great sadness swept over him then, because no, no one had actually told him. His contact had given him enough information that he could figure it out, but had wisely given no specifics. But all he did was shrug and say, "Yeah."
"Okay." Jammer nodded. "See you there."
"Yeah. See you there."
He watched Jammer go, thinking of how the deckhand had been on the Galactica and thinking of what his life had become now. What all of their lives had become since- no, not just since the Cylon attack, but since they landed on New Caprica, and like a bolt from the blue, his course of action became clear to him.
For the first time since the occupation began, Felix felt some measure of peace. He went inside and found his old sidearm.
He'd been trying to run from the thought of what New Caprica had become, both before and after the Cylon occupation. But tonight, seeing what Jammer had become and… he ground his teeth and forced himself to say it- what he had become… and what they had both once been, he couldn't run from it any more. He'd never expected paradise, but he'd never expected Hell, either.
He'd betrayed his commanding officers, his people, his dreams, and himself. He'd betrayed humanity, handing them over to the man who couldn't fight, couldn't defend them- no. Wouldn't defend them. Gaius should have died today, should have made a stand.
He loaded the pistol and then put it in his coat. When he saw his chance, Felix was going to make it right.
***
Felix knew it was coming, but he hadn't expected it would be that day. He didn't know the details of the plans. So when the explosions began, he didn't even have to fake shock and horror; he just rose to his feet in awe.
"Oh my Gods," he said, and it had the tone of a prayer.
His contact hadn't been explicit, but he hadn't really needed to be; Felix knew what he needed to do. He jumped to the phone and began calling the water reclamation plant, the mines, the places where humans were working and ordering evacuations. Get them away from the Cylons and out to places where they could run for cover. Get them out of buildings before they could be corralled and slaughtered. Sound official, sound trustworthy, sound important… and all the time the gun burned in his coat pocket.
He heard the rumble as the sky split open in flame, and the familiar sounds of Vipers and Raptors soaring overhead. Explosions and screaming, death and chaos and escape. Cylons shouting, in confusion and anger as what they called a dream blew up all around them.
And in the corner, there was Gaius, standing helplessly, not sure what side he was on.
An interminable time later, he was able to slip away. He ran to the controls of Colonial One, prepping them as best he could without the launch key so take off would involve a minimum of time. He double and triple checked, but the controls blurred in front of him. Out the window, he could see small fires and large clouds of soot and dust.
His city, gone.
Gunfire crackled, and he heard human screams- the screams of the dying. It was always hard to hear those sounds as he listened to the pilots in the CIC; here, it was a million times worse. He stared out the window and then lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders and pulling out the gun.
Colonial One was nearly silent as he walked back through it; the Cylons had fled. But somehow… somehow he knew Baltar hadn't, that he would be here dragging out the drama and convincing himself he was right.
"Gaius, we should go," he heard Caprica Six say, and he knew he was right.
"I just want to sit here and die," Gaius responded, dropping his head into his hands.
If he was worried he'd back out, that statement assuaged his fears. Die? Gaius wanted to die? Then he should have done that yesterday and made a stand instead of signing an execution order. He moved forward and cocked his gun.
"You're gonna get your wish, Gaius."
Gaius looked up, completely shocked, and that only made it worse. He had no idea? No idea at all? Felix knew he wasn't that difficult to read… if someone took the time to do so. "I believed in you," he ground out.
"Whoa. Whoa, Gaeta," Caprica Six began, and he trained the gun on her. He hadn't planned on it, but suddenly he knew he was going to shoot her right after. The thought bothered him not at all.
"I believed in the dream of New Caprica," he said.
Caprica Six interrupted. "Gaeta, we all did."
"No!" he shouted, because they weren't talking about the same dream. "No. Not him. He believed in the dream of Gaius Baltar. The good life. Booze, pills, hot and cold running interns. He lead us to the apocalypse, and-- and I--I turned out to be-"
His throat closed, and he couldn't continue.
"An idealist," Gaius said gently. "There's no sin in that. Everything you say about me is true. Every word. But you have to listen to me. The Cylons have a nuke in this complex. Nobody... and I mean nobody is getting off this planet alive unless I stop D'anna."
That froze him; he hadn't planned for that.
Caprica Six shook her head. "Gaius, she'll kill you."
"Then she'll kill me. Or it'll be down to Mr. Gaeta. Either way, the human race dies with me." He stepped forward, his chest flush against the barrel of the gun. "Go ahead, shoot. What are you waiting for? Do it." He grabbed the gun and wrested it towards his chin. "Please. Please. I'm begging you to please -"
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Gaius was supposed to cry, to beg, or to not care. He'd been prepared for any of those. He hadn't been prepared for this, hadn't planned for the hope that welled up in him one last time as Gaius told him he'd save them all.
His eyes met Gaius's, and in them he could see the nights they'd spent together, the love he'd felt for so long, the trust and the joy and the long, slow downward spiral to where they were now. He remembered seeing honor and brilliance, and once more, he couldn't believe it was gone.
"You have one chance to put things right," he heard himself saying. "Do you understand me? Get the frak out of here! Stop that nuke! Go!"
Caprica Six dragged him out, and as she did, he turned back one last time, and Felix whispered, "Goodbye."
***
The explosions were tapering off, the ships were jumping away. "I think we've got most everyone," Tigh said, limping as quickly as he could into the Raptor. "And there are still two more Raptors on the ground. We'll give it five more minutes, and then we'll jump."
Tom nodded, wiping the sweat and blood off his brow. Five more minutes. He could survive five more minutes.
"Look!" One of the young block captains pointed out the Raptor. "I'll go help him." Tom leaned out and saw Dr. Cottle running as fast as he could, carrying a woman. A dog was nipping at his heels. The block captain met them halfway and Cottle thrust a bag into his hands. They made it to the Raptor, and Tom shifted people aside so that Cottle could lay the woman out.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Gunshot wound in the stomach," Cottle said. "Get something to cover her- she's going into shock." Tom stripped off his own jacket and began rooting around. The tall ECO swung back and reached up over Tom's head, handing him the medical emergency kit. "Thanks," Tom gasped, opening the box. The woman was unconscious and white, and Cottle's face was extremely serious.
The ECO nodded and headed back towards the front, but as he passed the door he looked out. "Felix," he said, and Tom's heart dropped into his stomach.
"Gaeta?" Tigh said, peering out. "Leave him. Frakking collaborator."
"What do you mean?" the ECO asked.
"He stayed Chief of Staff to Baltar the entire time," Tigh scowled. "It's only fitting."
"Zarek, hand me the morpha in that kit," Cottle demanded. Tom complied, but as he did he heard himself saying, "I'm with Tigh."
"No," the ECO said, although he looked a lot less sympathetic. "He's coming up. The Admiral can sort it out."
"Racetrack," Tigh growled, "control your ECO." The ECO jumped out of the Raptor.
"Sorry, sir, Skulls is right. Admiral's orders- everyone alive gets off the planet. Even if we found Baltar."
"Zarek!" Cottle shouted. "Get over here now!"
As he darted back to the patient, he saw the ECO jump down and pull Gaeta up onto the Raptor. He was pale and shaking, but Tom noticed he was the same weight as when he'd last seen him, and his clothing looked like it was in good condition. He turned away in disgust and went back to following Cottle's directions as best he could. He had no clear idea as to who the patient was, but he was pretty sure she was more deserving of his attention than Gaeta was.
"We're losing her," Cottle said.
The thrusters started and the Raptor took off. Tom braced for the jump, and then they were away. He closed his eyes in relief and whispered a prayer of thanks.
Under his hands, the woman stiffened and drew in a strangled breath.
Cottle pushed him out of the way and began CPR, but even as he watched Tom knew it was futile. The Raptor was silent, only the beeping of the instruments and the sounds of a frantic effort from Cottle. But finally the doctor sat back. "She's gone," he said.
Tigh removed his hat. Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Gaeta, staring at the woman with wide eyes and a white face, his hands idly fondling her dog's ears. He looked guilty and scared, and Tom hoped like hell he stayed that way.
***
Felix didn't expect a warm welcome when he got back to the Galactica, so he wasn't surprised when the Marine assisting people off their Raptor turned his back and silently refused to help him. He wasn't shocked that Tigh wouldn't look him in the face, that a few people whispered and pointed, but that most ignored him. He knew that no one would greet him with a hug, or tell him they were glad he was safe. Even Skulls pulled away, because the evidence that he was a collaborator was written on him in shoes that didn't have holes and a jacket that didn't have patches.
But that didn't mean he didn't wish it could be different.
***
Tom waited to leave the Raptor. Ostensibly, it was because Cottle needed the help. But really, he just didn't want to speak to Gaeta. Not now, not after everything.
When he did disembark, the place was still chaos, although the wild chanting and applause had died down. A serviceman in an orange jumpsuit was calling out for all former military to report to their previous quarters. Another one was yelling for people who had previously been aboard various ships to report to different places on the hangar deck. Hastily lettered signs marked the points where people were meant to meet. Tom stood still, suddenly realizing that, unless Baltar was alive and in this throng (and probably still even then), he was not just Vice President, but President.
A realization that came storming home as Adama approached him. "Mr. Vice President," he said gravely, deliberately.
"Admiral." Tom summoned a smile. "I have to say it, I'm glad to see you."
"Good to see you, too," Adama said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I know you've only just gotten on the ship, but I would like to speak with you immediately."
"Of course." Tom lifted his head up and made his way through the crowd. People were watching him warily, which didn't surprise him. Their administration hadn't been popular before the Cylons attacked, and judging by Laura's reaction in the trucks, his whereabouts for the occupation were not common knowledge.
Adama's quarters were rather spacious. Tom wondered how he'd justify that with the undeniable crunch on living space. "Water?" Adama offered, "something stronger?"
"Something stronger would be good," Tom admitted. Adama poured them each a whiskey and then sat down.
"There's a lot to be done, and I'm sure you're eager to get back to your ship and get to work," Adama said. "So we'll just get right to the point. Do you know if Gaius Baltar made it back up to the Fleet?"
"I honestly don't," Tom said, meeting Adama's eye. "I hope he didn't."
"Really."
"I spent the last four months in a Cylon detention cell because I refused to collaborate. I only escaped yesterday, after your men foiled an execution. The only reason I can think of to hope that Baltar isn't dead is because I wouldn't mind pushing the airlock button myself, although I'm not sure Laura Roslin would let me have the honor."
Adama's eyes sparked at that. "Roslin's alive?" he confirmed.
"As far as I know. Last I saw her she was running for Colonial One."
"Good. I am aware that you are the Vice President, and that means should anything happen to the President, that job title becomes yours."
"Yes, it does," Tom said, meeting his eye challengingly.
"However, in light of the ineffectiveness of Baltar's administration and your involvement with a known Cylon collaborator, I think it's best if you step down."
"What?" Tom set his drink down firmly. "Baltar collaborated. I did not! I went back to prison rather than work with the Cylons. And believe me, they made it extremely attractive." He pulled his hair back so Adama could see a half-healed scar above his ear. "Where do you get off telling me that I need to step down?"
"I am the Admiral of this Fleet," Bill said levelly.
"The Admiral who jumped away as soon as the Cylons landed and let our people suffer under them for four months!"
"You do not want to go down that path, Zarek," Adama warned, "or we can drop you right back on that rock that we just rescued you from."
It almost worked, but Tom gritted his teeth. "Oh, no you don't. You don't use my gratitude- because believe me, I feel it- to guilt me into stepping down. The Articles clearly state-"
"We need to do what's best for this Fleet. After the disaster that was Baltar's regime and the past four months, anyone associated in any way with Baltar is not what's best."
"Laura Roslin is what's best for this Fleet?" Tom sneered.
"Yes."
The thing was, although it wasn't legal, there was a truth to what Adama was saying, too, in what people's perceptions were. People needed a change, needed to erase Baltar from the memories. Suddenly, Tom felt very, very tired.
"And what would you do if I fought you on this?" he asked, more for the form of it.
"I'm sure there was something you did sometime on New Caprica that wasn't strictly legal," Adama said. "Right now, I don't care. If you fight me, I will."
"And you want to put in a woman who tried to steal the election?" Tom asked. "Not arguing," he said, holding up his hands as Adama's face got steely. "Just wondering at the way your mind works. Fine. I'll step down. But not like this."
"What do you mean?"
Tom considered it. "I will not allow you to so cavalierly override the Articles. We will go forward as if I intend to take the Presidency. I will swear in the Quorum, reform the basics… and then put Laura's name in as my Vice President. At that point, I will step down, saying that in the past few days I've found that my time in a Cylon detention center on New Caprica has made it difficult for me to concentrate on my duties. After all, a job as demanding as the Presidency is best filled by someone who has not suffered in that capacity."
Adama considered it. "Done," he said in a short, clipped tone. He stood up. "Mr. President…."
With his head held high and a sly smile on his lips, Tom left the quarters. He didn't allow himself to start shaking until the door slammed shut behind him.
***
"Mr. Gaeta? Is Gaeta in here?" Helo's voice rang out above the general babble, which fell silent as everyone processed the name. "Gaeta, are you in here?"
Felix came awake, rubbing at his eyes and pulling back the curtain of his rack. He had a feeling it was very telling that his rack was still available. "I'm here," he muttered, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was managing to watch him and act like they were ignoring him at the same time.
"The Admiral wants to see you," Helo told him.
Felix nodded and slid out of the bed and then pulled on the suit he'd taken off only hours before. He wished he had time to do something about his hair, which looked like a rabid poodle to his eyes, but there was nothing to be done for it. He slipped into his shoes and followed Helo out of the room, hoping he wouldn't come back to find his rack short-sheeted or studded with razors or something.
They walked in silence, and Felix cast about for a topic of conversation. Before he could think too deeply, he heard his mouth saying, "I heard you got married. Congratulations."
It should have been the right thing to say. But he could see Helo's speculation… Felix thought marrying a Cylon was a good thing. Oops.
"Thank you," Helo said, when the silence had stretched too long. He looked like he might say something else, but they'd reached the Admiral's quarters. Helo knocked, and then opened the door.
"Mr. Gaeta, sir," he said.
Admiral Adama physically looked the same as the last time that Felix saw him, but his face was so angry. Felix flashed back to his childhood and hiding under the bed because he knew he wasn't supposed to touch his father's drafting tools and he'd broken one of them, and he was going to be in for it when his father got home. He shuddered and shook himself, beginning a salute and then aborting it. "Sir," he finally said, helplessly.
"Sit down, Mr. Gaeta." Felix obeyed. "I don't have a lot of time today, with everything that needs to be done. But what I do need to know is if you know of the whereabouts of Gaius Baltar."
Felix glanced at Helo, but Helo was standing with his arms crossed, face blank. "The last I saw him, sir, he was leaving Colonial One with the Cylon they call Caprica Six. I… I assume he's either dead or still on the planet."
"When did you last see him?"
"Right before I went to the shipyard, sir. I was…" and he stopped, because what was he going to say? That he had Baltar under his gun and didn't shoot him, because he wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, this one last time Gaius could make things right?
"You were what, Mr. Gaeta?"
Felix swallowed. "I was getting Colonial One ready for take-off, sir. As much as I could do without the launch key."
"And you got off Colonial One and ran to a Raptor?"
"Yes, sir."
He could tell Admiral Adama didn't believe him, but at the same time he could tell that he didn't want to follow up on it right now, because it wasn't worth following up on. Adama looked down at his glass. "I've heard you remained as Baltar's Chief of Staff after the Cylons attacked?"
"Yes, sir. I… I thought it best."
"You thought it best?" Adama jumped in as Felix swallowed to wet his throat.
"Yes, sir. I thought that if I stayed in my position, I could gather information, pass it to others, I could…" he trailed off, because Adama's face didn't light with any recognition, didn't offer any hope.
"When things settle down, Mr. Gaeta, you and I are going to sit down and have a very long talk," Adama said. "I think you've told me what I need to know right now."
"Sir." Felix got to his feet, and followed Helo towards the door. But the words tore out of him before he could escape. "Sir? I know the Galactica must have taken some hits during the battle. If you need me to help repair the communications systems…"
Adama's eyes pierced his soul again, and Felix met them. "Captain Agathon," Adama said, "Mr. Gaeta will be reporting to the CIC after he's reported to sickbay to be cleared for work."
"Yes, sir."
"Gentlemen." Helo left. "Mr. Gaeta?"
"Yes, sir?"
"When we have that talk, you'd better have an extremely good story to tell me," Adama said. "Otherwise, I'd be looking for a lawyer if I were you."
"Yes, sir."
He caught up with Helo. "Sickbay?" he asked.
"The Admiral wants everyone to have a cursory exam before returning to work," Helo said with a shrug. "People went through a lot."
"I know." Felix was silent for a moment. "He didn't believe me about passing information." It wasn't a question, and Helo didn't treat it as such. "Do you?"
Helo stopped. "Look," he said, "maybe you did. If you could answer a few questions, I'd believe it. But Gaeta, every single person who worked in Baltar's administration is going to be passing off the same story. We've already heard three people say the same thing."
"Oh," Felix said, hope draining out of him as he saw the path he was going to be taking. "Oh, frak."
"Look," Helo said, and for a moment Felix saw sympathy flare in his eyes, "worse comes to worse, you'll go on trial, and they'll be able to ferret it out. If you did pass the information, it will all come out, and people will understand. And if you didn't…" he shrugged, and then turned and walked away towards the CIC.
With a sigh, Felix headed towards sickbay.
***
His meeting with Roslin went far better than the one with Adama, and indeed, far better than Tom had expected. But then, Laura had seen him on the trucks, she knew that he was telling the truth and what he'd paid.
A price, he might add, he never should have had to pay.
Now that he was safe on Colonial One, back in his old office, he could afford to be angry. He could let the emotions rise up in him and threaten to suffocate him, let his mind realize the horror, not only of his long days of prison and torture but of what every human being had to go through on that planet.
And now, it was time for the people who did deserve it to pay.
There was a discreet knock on his door. He scrubbed his face with his hands, smoothed his hair, and sat back, composed and collected. "Come in, Tory," he called.
***
"So this is the list we have of the New Caprica Police," Tory said, pulling it out. "It's over two hundred people."
"Let's go through it and find the worst, Tory." Tom looked at the list, shuddering. "And by worst I mean people who killed or contributed directly to the deaths of others. I don't like it, but I can understand people collaborating to protect their families, or even to protect themselves. And they'll forever have to live with what they did, knowing that they gave away a part of their humanity. But the ones who killed their own… they're the ones that are the traitors."
Tory nodded. "I've already got Bob and Jane collecting some witness testimony," she said. "And you have the commendations." She pulled those out of the stack that she'd brought with her. "What about Baltar's administration?"
Tom ground his teeth together, the gun pressed against his back again as he was marched off to the Astral Queen. "Put them on the list," he said. "There's no excuse."
Tory eyed him respectfully, and then nodded. And then she began to write.
***
"Seventy one names," she said, hours later. "Seventy one."
"It's a good number," Tom said. "I think that will be the worst of the worst, the ones who most deserve to die for their crimes. Get it over, get it done, get it off Laura's hands…"
And on to mine. Laura wasn't the one who deserved revenge, not like this. Laura had been betrayed, but no more than the rest of them. Tom was the one who'd paid. And when he picked his jury, he'd make sure they'd all paid a higher price than most, too.
***
"Mr. President?" Tory said, knocking on the door. "I have the… the papers."
"Thank you. Put them here, I'll sign them."
"Yes, sir."
She left the room, and he began to work through them. He read each one and then signed at the bottom, completely cognizant of what he was doing, who he was sentencing to death. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't easy, but it was justice, plain and simple. Quiet justice, but justice all the same.
Stroud. Martin. Dodson. Johr. Trinh. Ali. Inish. Westerfeld. Weis. Gray. Pullman. Alexander. Lyman. Chadwick. Gaeta.
Gaeta.
He hesitated, his pen above the space where he should sign. The charges were collaborating with the enemy and crimes against humanity. He closed his eyes, cold wind on his face and the smell of Laura Roslin's joints in the air, brown eyes in front of him, asking for advice. The memories shattered into pieces, because if anyone should have resisted, if anyone should have died for his convictions, it was Gaeta.
With a signature bolder than for any of the others, Tom signed the death warrant.
***
Felix managed to walk out of the airlock and down the hall, and then he collapsed, his legs no longer able to support him because he was shaking so hard. He pushed himself back against the wall, hidden between boxes, out of sight and out of the way of any other people bent on vengeance.
He buried his face between his knees, wishing the darkness could swallow him. Even though they hadn't hit the release, he felt like they had, and a part of him had gone hurtling out to space.
Starbuck's insults didn't bother him. He'd never liked Starbuck, and she'd never liked him. Not really. And even Tigh… but Galen.
Galen should have known.
If Galen was the one getting those messages, why hadn't it occurred to him? Why hadn't he figured out that if someone from Baltar's administration gave him frakking jamming frequencies that maybe, just maybe it was Felix Gaeta, former officer of the watch? He and Cally had been considering naming him godfather to Nicky, for crying out loud. And yet-
"So they finally figured it out."
Felix looked up to see Doc Cottle sitting on a box, smoking a cigarette. "What?"
Cottle extended a cigarette, and Felix took it with a shaking hand. "Seelix came to see me just now," Cottle said in tones that passed for extreme kindness for him. "She told me what happened. Said you might need medical treatment."
"No. I don't think so." Felix took a drag on the cigarette and then began to cough. His side was extremely sore, and it felt like someone stabbing him when he breathed deeply.
Good.
Cottle stood up slowly and extended a hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you back to sickbay."
Felix got to his feet and stumbled; his legs had fallen asleep. "What time is it?" he asked.
"It took me a good hour to find you, if that's what you're asking," Cottle answered. "I'm not a psychologist."
"You said…" Felix began, walking haltingly. Cottle walked right next to him, giving him a shoulder to lean on. "You said they finally figured it out?" he managed. "You knew?"
"No one told me," Cottle said, "and I didn't ask. But when we got off that planet, I figured there must have been help from the inside. There's no way we had the firepower to do it any other way. And who else made sense?"
Felix closed his eyes, because Cottle was not the sort of person you cried in front of. "The doctor," he said finally. "The doctor that died in the Raptor. Who was she?"
"Her name was Adrienne Reynolds."
"Do you have a picture of her?"
"I'm sure there's one somewhere. Why?"
Felix swallowed. "Unless someone else has done it, I want to make sure she gets put up in the Memorial Hall. She's the one who helped me set it up."
Cottle looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
***
Cottle was wrapping a bandage around Felix's torso when Admiral Adama walked in. "Well?" Adama asked.
"Hairline fracture to the ribs, a few bruises and scrapes. Nothing time and rest won't cure," Cottle said significantly. He finished and attached the bandage. "Leave that on except when you're showering. If you need help getting it back on, come down and someone will help you. And see Yolen about three days worth of painkillers on your way out. I'll give him the prescription."
"Yes, sir," Felix said.
"Admiral." Cottle slipped out of the cubicle, but somehow, Felix had the sense he hadn't gone far. Adama handed him his shirt, and he pulled it on gratefully.
"Saul Tigh and Galen Tyrol came to see me," he said. "I guess we should have had that talk sooner." Felix wasn't sure how to answer that, so he just stayed silent. "I want you to know, Mr. Gaeta, that what happened was in no way sanctioned by myself or by President Roslin. After we received another report of a missing person, we confronted Tom Zarek, and this is his doing."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Felix said before he could stop it. He sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just that the… Vice President?"
"Vice President is apparently the correct title," Adama said, not hiding his displeasure. "It's all right. The President mentioned you would be upset by that." A distant part of Felix's mind was amused by the fact Adama had already reinstated Roslin as President. But he knew better than to say anything. "But we greatly underestimated you, Lieutenant Gaeta, and I owe you an apology."
"Thank you, sir." Then the rank hit him. "Sir?"
"I'll expect you to resume your duties as soon as you are able. Congratulations, Lieutenant." Adama saluted.
Stunned and pathetically grateful, Felix saluted back.
***
"Mr. Vice President?"
Tom stood up from his desk. "Madame President," he said, still stiff and formal.
Laura smiled. "You're not happy with me."
"Not entirely, no." He sat back down and sighed. "Intellectually, I understand why you did it, why you pardoned everyone. But in my gut, I can't let it go."
Laura sat down as well, and pulled out a photograph from her pocket. "I understand that, Tom. You may not believe it, but I do." She tapped the picture against her palm. "You know, I've been thinking about it a lot this afternoon. Billy's been dead for over a year, but I wondered how I would felt if we'd been down on that hellhole and he'd collaborated. And first I thought I might forgive him, but then I thought no. His sin would be so much worse because he should know better. He should be better than that."
"Where are you going with this?" Tom asked, but he knew. And he was right. Laura put the picture down on his desk. It was one that was taken on New Caprica on Founder's Day, of him and Gaeta standing together. "I don't want this," he said, pushing it back.
"You might, after you hear what I have to say. I saw Adama this morning. Felix Gaeta was tried and convicted by the Circle. He was sentenced to death for crimes against humanity and collaborating with the enemy. And believe me, Tom, I hoped Adama was going to tell me they flushed him out the airlock." She smiled, but her smile was twisted and bitter. "But then he told me that Gaeta had been gathering information from the Cylons and passing it to the Resistance. He got us the coordinates for the map system, information on positions and internal organization, security plans…" she shook her head. "But most importantly to humanity, he was the one who provided us with the jamming frequencies that allowed us to make contact with Galactica.. And most importantly to you and me, he's the one who got news to Chief Tyrol about the death lists, information that allowed them to stop our execution."
The blood drained from Tom's face, and he was sure his limbs had frozen. "No," he whispered. "It can't be… you're wrong."
"Adama is quite sure that he's right." Laura pushed the picture back over to Tom. "I'll leave you to yourself, Tom," she said, touching his shoulder with surprising sympathy.
He sat on for hours, staring at the picture in front of him.
On to Part 6
Author: lls_mutant
Rating: PG-13-ish
Characters: Felix Gaeta and Tom Zarek
Pairings: Gaeta/Skulls, Gaeta/Baltar, unrequited Zarek/Roslin
Story Summary: Tom Zarek and Felix Gaeta didn't have much to do with each other, until they were both working for President Gaius Baltar.
Chapter Summary: There's a price to be paid for everything.
Spoilers: This part through Collaborators, but through 4.10 eventually.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
The wind was as cold and bitter as it had ever been, but it felt worse tonight. Felix propped up the collar of his jacket and pulled a hat on, partly for protection from the cold and partly to hide the curls that were too characteristic. And, if he was being honest, it was best to hide from people in general. He really didn't feel like being spit on tonight.
Jake was out, head between his paws, watching him mournfully. His bowl was tipped up the right way, water in it. His contact must have gotten the note about Baltar skipping graduation, although it had done no good.
Suicide bombers.
He knelt down and scratched Jake's ears, and the dog thumped his tail eagerly.
The idea of suicide bombers bothered him, because for once it was an issue where he didn't know what to think. Before the occupation, he would have called it murder. Now, he called it desperation.
He flipped open the drawer, map in hand, and started as he saw an envelope already there. He put the map in and slipped the packet into his coat and hurried back to his tent. In the faint light and the dank smell of earth and mold, he opened the envelope. The note was simple:
Tell detainees to be ready.
Felix began to tremble as the meaning sank in. Be ready.
Admiral Adama was coming for them.
***
The food was meager, half-spoiled and shoved through the door in a bowl with no utensils. Tom ate it anyway, hunger overcoming revulsion.
Not for the first time, he wondered how this was going to end. A public execution to make a point? Dying in the torture chamber when the Cylons finally went too far? A painful, dirty, and quiet death from the conditions he was living under? He rather hoped for the first. Not just because it would be noble, not just because it would be honorable, but because then he would feel the sunlight on his face one more time before he died.
***
Boomer had an office on Colonial One. Felix wasn't completely sure what she did there, but he knew that she did something with the Detention Ministry. He waited until he was sure she was alone and then knocked on her door.
"Yes?" Boomer looked up from something she was writing. "Gaeta. Come on in."
"Thanks."
"What's up?" she asked, setting aside her pen and folding her hands.
He'd rehearsed this in his head. There were so many things he couldn't say, couldn't ask about or begin or mention, because she'd be on to him. "I have the paperwork on the rations for the detention center for you," he began, extending it.
"Thank you."
"There was also something else I wanted to ask you about." He tried not to look so uneasy. "Before the Cylons came to New Caprica, about the only way I could get anything done around here was with Zarek's help."
Boomer grinned. "Is Felix Gaeta finally admitting that the great Dr. Baltar is human after all?"
"Yeah, well, I-" he was saved from having to answer, but his salvation came in the form of Caprica Six knocking on the door. She nodded to Gaeta, but he looked right past her, his already nervous stomach a roiling mass of anger and acid just at the sight of her. She shook her head and turned to Boomer.
"Cavil's calling a meeting," she said.
"I'll be there in just a minute. Mr. Gaeta, you were saying?"
He had to finish, even with Caprica Six standing there. "Just… I was wondering if I could talk to him. Maybe I could convince him to help out, to see reason."
Boomer shook her head. "That won't be possible."
"Is he… alive?"
"You know I can't answer that," she said, nodding her head very slightly.
Felix sighed. "Well, thank you. I think I'll head home, if that's all right with you?"
"Good night, Gaeta," Boomer said. Caprica Six echoed her, but he ignored her and walked away. When he left Colonial One and was safe in his tent, he allowed himself to finally breathe.
***
"He wanted to see Tom Zarek?" Cavil asked. "That's not good. That's not good at all."
"Why not?" Boomer asked. "They worked together. I think it's perfectly reasonable a guy like Gaeta would want to know what's become of his co-worker. And he can't do it all by himself."
"He's not doing it all by himself," a Two said. "There's an entire administration."
"Well, we can always put Gaeta on the list," D'Anna suggested.
"That's an idea," Cavil agreed.
"No," Caprica Six said firmly.
Cavil raised his eyebrows. "I would think you'd be happy to get rid of your… rival."
"Please, he's not my rival." She rolled her eyes. "But if you put him on the list, Gaius won't sign it."
"Baltar will sign it," a Four said in a bored voice. "We'll see to it, no matter who's on it."
"He is useful," Simon said, glancing at his copy that had spoken. "He does more work than anyone around here."
"It's not necessary," Boomer insisted. "He just wanted to see a friend."
"And you trust that?" Cavil asked skeptically.
Boomer lifted her chin. "You don't know Gaeta. I do. He's honest. And he's doing his best to help us."
"He's still getting too uppity," Cavil muttered.
"Put Zarek on," D'Anna suggested. "It sends a message- not only to Baltar and the people, but to Gaeta."
Caprica Six nodded. "We agree."
***
The door opened, letting sound into the cell. Tom turned over to face it, squinting to see the intruder. Two people in masks stood in the doorway wearing greenish uniforms. Humans, he realized with a start, and the thought made him utterly sick.
"Come with us," the one on the left said.
To his surprise, he was led to the showers, and even given a razor. There were a few other people in there, some who looked just as thin and ragged as he felt. He smiled at one in solidarity. They weren't given soap and only had a few minutes, but he did the best he could. This was either really good or really bad, and he honestly wasn't sure which.
They dressed and were led outside. If nothing else, whatever coming was worth it just for that. Tom closed his eyes and tipped his face skyward, just for a second, before he was grabbed, cuffed, and shoved up onto a truck.
To his surprise, Laura Roslin was sitting right there. "Need a lift, Mr. Vice President?" she asked.
If there was anything that could make him smile, it was the sight of her. He hadn't thought that much about her while he was in detention, but seeing her again was even better than seeing the sun. "Guess so," he managed. It hurt to talk, he discovered; his throat was rough with disuse.
Laura was staring at him, and he wondered just how badly he looked. "Haven't seen much of you lately," she said. "Been busy these days?"
That said a lot about information in the occupation right there. He shrugged. "Well, not much to do in detention."
"How long have you been held?" she asked.
"Four months, I think. I told Baltar I wouldn't have any part of collaborating with the Cylons. And he got a little pissed."
Roslin indicated her own zip cuffs. "I think he's a little pissed at me, too."
Tom laughed, and the trucks lurched into motion. "Tell me, Laura," he said, pitching his voice low and leaning into her ear, "what's been going on? I take it Baltar's still alive?"
Laura's lips twisted into an ugly form of a smile. "Yes, Baltar is still alive," she said. "Did you expect anything else?"
"Not really. I see there are a lot of detainees. I take it people aren't just buckling under the Cylon rule?"
"Not all of them."
"Good." He lifted his hands and scratched at his ear; his fingers came away flecked with dried blood. "How about the rest of the administration?"
"Collaborators," Laura spat. "A few were put in detention and the Cylons shot a couple, but for the most part they've been working with the Cylons."
The truck hit a pothole, and Tom realized he had no idea where they were going or how much time he had before he got there. With numb lips, he asked the one question that mattered to him. "What about Felix Gaeta?"
"Gaeta? He's been right up there in Colonial One, Baltar's right hand man." The pain he felt in his stomach was so real that Tom had to bend over, burying his head between his knees. Laura touched his leg tentatively. "Tom?"
He drew deep breaths, pushing away the memories and the feeling of a young man's curls under his hand. He felt like the bottom of the world had dropped out from under him and something important had been ripped away.
"Tom?" Laura asked again. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." He sat back up, pulling himself together. "It's just…."
"I know." Her eyes were sympathetic.
There wasn't much else to say. He fixed his gaze on the floorboards as the truck jostled and rumbled, occasionally straining against the zip tie cuffs more out of principle than because he thought it would have any sort of effect. Laura sat back as well, lost in her own thoughts and fears. Her thigh was warm and solid against his, and reassuring. No matter what he was facing, at least he wasn't facing it alone anymore.
***
After he'd put the death list in the dead drop, Felix ran after the trucks, heart in his throat and unable to breathe. Two hundred names on that list… two hundred people being put to death and he couldn't stop it.
He couldn't find Cally, and he didn't spot Tom. And there was the horrible, terrible knowledge that even if he'd found either of them, there was nothing he could do. If he'd cried out, told Cavil to stop, told him to let even just one of them go, Cavil wouldn't just say no, but he wouldn't hesitate to put Felix on the truck himself.
And he hated himself then, because in that moment it felt like Galen was right. He wasn't doing anything.
***
The truck lurched to a stop, and one of the masked humans was pounding on the back. "Let's go. All right, everybody out. Five minute rest break. Come on, move! Everybody out!" He looked at Laura, who shrugged, and then jumped out of the truck.
The first sign that something was wrong was that they weren't anyplace that Tom recognized. No one was around; there were no signs of human or mechanical life. There was nothing to indicate that forced labor- no tools being unloaded and no cuffs were being cut. But at the same time, nothing else was happening, either.
The enchantment of the sun on his face had long since faded. Tom looked at the bleak, untouched landscape with a sinking heart. Laura was still next to him, looking around with the same not-wanting-to-know look.
"Tell me something, Laura," he said. "Last year? You tried to steal the election, didn't you?"
Laura smiled ruefully. "Yes, I did, Tom."
He couldn't help it- he had to laugh. "Oh. I wish you'd gone through with it."
"Me too." Laura admitted.
He was about to ask her what stopped her when the Centurians crested the hill. And that was the second sign that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Laura froze, watching them, and Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the front of the group. Then the sound of gunshots exploded, and Laura pushed him to the ground. They hit hard, rolling over a small ledge and through grit and over small woody plants, until he wasn't sure if he'd escaped or if he'd been shot.
They lay there for a long moment, both of them bruised and shaken, but neither of them dying. And as Tom looked up the bluff, he realized that somehow- some way- the execution had been averted. He started to sit up, not quite able to believe it.
Laura eased herself up as well. "You all right, Tom?"
"Yeah. Been a while since I had a woman throw me to the ground. Not quite as much fun as I remember." He heard a scream, but it was only one, not echoed by other humans, and his heart leapt. Suddenly, the grays took on new colors, and the stiff breeze had a hint of warmth.
"You all right down there?"
They both looked up to see Galen Tyrol grinning at them, Cally by his side. Laura's body relaxed in relief. "Oh, my Gods. It's good to see you, Chief." Tom could only agree whole-heartedly.
"Good to see you too, ma'am."
"What happens now?" Tyrol's wife asked, and Tom noticed she was wearing gray prison rags as well. "Where do we go from here?"
"We're going home," Tyrol told her. "We're going home. Admiral Adama's on his way. We're getting off this rock. We're going back to Galactica."
And there were no words for the gratitude that flooded his soul.
***
Felix couldn't concentrate. He sat staring at the work on his desk, trying to process the information and completely unable.
He looked at the clock. Three hours since the trucks had left. Five hours and thirteen minutes since that death list had landed on his desk. He tried to swallow, but the muscles wouldn't move. He didn't know what he'd say when he saw Galen, didn't know what he'd say when he had to face the forty thousand people of New Caprica.
He pushed the paperwork away and sat staring out the window, trying not to remember when he'd gazed at the same view with pride. His city, his civilization, his world.
For a second, he could taste the champagne Gaius had poured for him when he'd climbed off that Raptor over a year ago. For a long moment, he remembered Gaius's arm around his shoulders, his toast that because of Felix Gaeta's honor and honesty and scrupulous attention to detail, New Caprica could become a reality.
Because of him. Because of his honor and honesty and scrupulous attention to detail, New Caprica was a grim nightmare of a reality.
He sat there, unable to move, as the sun crossed the sky and shadows lengthened and darkness began to fall. Finally, his legs fell asleep and his bladder wouldn't be ignored, and the needs of his body overcame the emptiness in his soul enough for him to move. But as he stood, the noise in the hallway froze him. One of the Ones was coming in- Cavil, it sounded like- and he was angry.
Very angry.
Awkwardly, numb feet screaming in protest, Felix edged his way to the door. He could hear voices, the familiar voices of Cylons, meeting in the President's office. He snatched a few random files off his desk and made his way down the hall, ears perked up.
"They decimated the Centurians," Cavil was saying, "and the New Caprica Police Force that you're so proud of was useless. The insurgents were not only there, they were expecting us. The detainees all escaped."
The feeling returned to his legs in sharp, shooting pains, pains that stretched up his spine and through his limbs as life returned back to him. Felix held his breath, waiting to hear if they wondered how the insurgents knew, but Cavil seemed more intent on his own personal ethical issues. He let his breath out slowly and edged away, his gait becoming less awkward as the blood pounded through his veins.
He'd done it.
But as he left, he heard Doral say, "Your detainees escaped, perhaps. But our group did not. At least one of us carried out the plan."
His knees gave out and he fell against the wall, and for a moment he couldn't see. Around a hundred people he'd saved, and a hundred people who'd died. Somehow, they didn't balance out.
***
"You can stay here tonight," Tyrol told Tom. "Not much in the way of a bed, but I can get you some blankets."
"Thanks," Tom said. "Believe me, I can make do."
"I believe it, Mr. Vice President, sir," Tyrol said with a grim smile, and he clapped him on the shoulder that Tom recognized as pride. He managed a smile back, and then retreated to a corner.
He had blankets, food that wasn't rotting, clean water, and the use of some facilities. He had a warm floor and the darkness and relative safety of the tunnels the insurgency was using. Tyrol had sat down at the computer and the soft typing sounds were hypnotic, a gentle blue glow filling the room. But although every muscle in his body was crying out for rest, Tom couldn't sleep. He sat up, his back against the rough dirt wall, staring into space.
Tomorrow it would all be over, and if everything went as planned they'd be off this planet and back on the ships. And yet, somehow Tom couldn't help but feel that it was only the beginning of the end.
***
Felix couldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep, couldn't work, could only walk through the streets with a frenetic energy jerking his limbs. A few people scuttled here and there, with frantic whispers and downcast faces. He wished… oh, Gods knew what he wished. The list was far too long to enumerate.
"Gaeta?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jammer."
He hadn't seen much of Jammer since that day he'd first gotten information to pass, but he'd seen his name on his desk several times, most recently this morning. He'd wanted to hate him, and he did hate him… but no more than he hated himself.
"It's almost curfew," Jammer said. "What are you doing out?"
"I… I just needed to walk. Clear my head." His voice trembled as he spoke.
Jammer studied him for a long moment and then nodded. "Yeah. Same here."
Jammer fell in beside him, and their footsteps sounded over the packed dirt with a military cadence. "Bad day today?" Felix asked.
"Yeah," Jammer said. "You too?"
"Yeah."
"It could have been worse."
"I know."
Jammer laughed, his breath a puff of fog in the cold night air. "Remember when we could say what we actually meant?"
Felix rubbed at his eyes. "No," he said. "Not anymore."
"It's just… I wanted to do something right. I wanted to help, get the Cylons off the streets. And somehow, it all went to shit."
"Yeah. I know."
They stopped and looked at each other, and Felix saw the frustration, anger and hate he felt reflected on Jammer's face. And suddenly he was very, very tired, body and soul.
The wind blew, and a chain rustled. Jammer turned his head, and improbably, a smile ghosted over his face. "Come on," he said. "I'll race you."
He was off, sprinting towards a playground that had been constructed over a year ago. A part of Felix's mind gaped at the sight, but his own feet were moving, trying to catch up, running until he flung himself onto a swing. The metal was ice cold under his hands, but he pulled on the chains and kicked out his feet, and then he was flying next to Jammer.
"You know what I miss?" Jammer said as they swung. "I miss chocolate."
"Never a chocolate person, but I miss caramel," Felix admitted.
"I miss beer. Real beer."
"I miss scotch. The good stuff like my father used to drink, not the rotgut that's left."
"I miss reading. I've read every thriller I can get my hands on, but that's maybe ten since the attack."
"I miss going to the movies. I used to go every week, before I was assigned to Galactica."
"I miss music. It's been so long since I've heard good music." Jammer said, and then laughed bitterly. "My mom was a singer."
"Yeah?" Felix closed his eyes and tipped back even further, and the swing set shook as his swing went higher.
"Yeah," Jammer said. "She used to sing to herself all the time…" He pulled harder on the chains of his swing and began to sing an old lullabye. He had a good voice, soothing and sure, and Felix found himself picking up the harmony, weaving the music together, their voices climbing as they swung in unison.
"Mr. Gaeta. Captain Lyman." They both stopped swinging suddenly, coming back down to earth as an angry Cavil and an amused Leoben stared at them. "What in the world are the two of you doing? You represent this administration, and you're behaving like children."
"Sorry, sir," Jammer said, and Felix echoed him.
"That's all very well and good, but get off those swings and act like a captain and a Chief of Staff before I really lose my patience and toss you both in detention for breaking curfew."
"Right away, sir." Jammer pulled a mask and an armband from his pocket, and the warmth Felix had begun feeling drained away. Cavil shook his head and stormed off, muttering at Leoben about discipline.
Leoben turned before he left. "I liked the music," he said. "Truly, you were both blessed by God to create something so beautiful."
"He really creeps me out," Jammer said, putting his armband on. He pulled the mask over his face. "Come on. I'll walk you home so you're not in trouble."
"Thanks."
They walked through the streets again, silent until they reached Felix's tent. "Thanks," Felix said awkwardly.
"You're welcome." Jammer hesitated. "Do you know what's going on? I mean, has anyone thought to tell you?"
A great sadness swept over him then, because no, no one had actually told him. His contact had given him enough information that he could figure it out, but had wisely given no specifics. But all he did was shrug and say, "Yeah."
"Okay." Jammer nodded. "See you there."
"Yeah. See you there."
He watched Jammer go, thinking of how the deckhand had been on the Galactica and thinking of what his life had become now. What all of their lives had become since- no, not just since the Cylon attack, but since they landed on New Caprica, and like a bolt from the blue, his course of action became clear to him.
For the first time since the occupation began, Felix felt some measure of peace. He went inside and found his old sidearm.
He'd been trying to run from the thought of what New Caprica had become, both before and after the Cylon occupation. But tonight, seeing what Jammer had become and… he ground his teeth and forced himself to say it- what he had become… and what they had both once been, he couldn't run from it any more. He'd never expected paradise, but he'd never expected Hell, either.
He'd betrayed his commanding officers, his people, his dreams, and himself. He'd betrayed humanity, handing them over to the man who couldn't fight, couldn't defend them- no. Wouldn't defend them. Gaius should have died today, should have made a stand.
He loaded the pistol and then put it in his coat. When he saw his chance, Felix was going to make it right.
***
Felix knew it was coming, but he hadn't expected it would be that day. He didn't know the details of the plans. So when the explosions began, he didn't even have to fake shock and horror; he just rose to his feet in awe.
"Oh my Gods," he said, and it had the tone of a prayer.
His contact hadn't been explicit, but he hadn't really needed to be; Felix knew what he needed to do. He jumped to the phone and began calling the water reclamation plant, the mines, the places where humans were working and ordering evacuations. Get them away from the Cylons and out to places where they could run for cover. Get them out of buildings before they could be corralled and slaughtered. Sound official, sound trustworthy, sound important… and all the time the gun burned in his coat pocket.
He heard the rumble as the sky split open in flame, and the familiar sounds of Vipers and Raptors soaring overhead. Explosions and screaming, death and chaos and escape. Cylons shouting, in confusion and anger as what they called a dream blew up all around them.
And in the corner, there was Gaius, standing helplessly, not sure what side he was on.
An interminable time later, he was able to slip away. He ran to the controls of Colonial One, prepping them as best he could without the launch key so take off would involve a minimum of time. He double and triple checked, but the controls blurred in front of him. Out the window, he could see small fires and large clouds of soot and dust.
His city, gone.
Gunfire crackled, and he heard human screams- the screams of the dying. It was always hard to hear those sounds as he listened to the pilots in the CIC; here, it was a million times worse. He stared out the window and then lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders and pulling out the gun.
Colonial One was nearly silent as he walked back through it; the Cylons had fled. But somehow… somehow he knew Baltar hadn't, that he would be here dragging out the drama and convincing himself he was right.
"Gaius, we should go," he heard Caprica Six say, and he knew he was right.
"I just want to sit here and die," Gaius responded, dropping his head into his hands.
If he was worried he'd back out, that statement assuaged his fears. Die? Gaius wanted to die? Then he should have done that yesterday and made a stand instead of signing an execution order. He moved forward and cocked his gun.
"You're gonna get your wish, Gaius."
Gaius looked up, completely shocked, and that only made it worse. He had no idea? No idea at all? Felix knew he wasn't that difficult to read… if someone took the time to do so. "I believed in you," he ground out.
"Whoa. Whoa, Gaeta," Caprica Six began, and he trained the gun on her. He hadn't planned on it, but suddenly he knew he was going to shoot her right after. The thought bothered him not at all.
"I believed in the dream of New Caprica," he said.
Caprica Six interrupted. "Gaeta, we all did."
"No!" he shouted, because they weren't talking about the same dream. "No. Not him. He believed in the dream of Gaius Baltar. The good life. Booze, pills, hot and cold running interns. He lead us to the apocalypse, and-- and I--I turned out to be-"
His throat closed, and he couldn't continue.
"An idealist," Gaius said gently. "There's no sin in that. Everything you say about me is true. Every word. But you have to listen to me. The Cylons have a nuke in this complex. Nobody... and I mean nobody is getting off this planet alive unless I stop D'anna."
That froze him; he hadn't planned for that.
Caprica Six shook her head. "Gaius, she'll kill you."
"Then she'll kill me. Or it'll be down to Mr. Gaeta. Either way, the human race dies with me." He stepped forward, his chest flush against the barrel of the gun. "Go ahead, shoot. What are you waiting for? Do it." He grabbed the gun and wrested it towards his chin. "Please. Please. I'm begging you to please -"
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Gaius was supposed to cry, to beg, or to not care. He'd been prepared for any of those. He hadn't been prepared for this, hadn't planned for the hope that welled up in him one last time as Gaius told him he'd save them all.
His eyes met Gaius's, and in them he could see the nights they'd spent together, the love he'd felt for so long, the trust and the joy and the long, slow downward spiral to where they were now. He remembered seeing honor and brilliance, and once more, he couldn't believe it was gone.
"You have one chance to put things right," he heard himself saying. "Do you understand me? Get the frak out of here! Stop that nuke! Go!"
Caprica Six dragged him out, and as she did, he turned back one last time, and Felix whispered, "Goodbye."
***
The explosions were tapering off, the ships were jumping away. "I think we've got most everyone," Tigh said, limping as quickly as he could into the Raptor. "And there are still two more Raptors on the ground. We'll give it five more minutes, and then we'll jump."
Tom nodded, wiping the sweat and blood off his brow. Five more minutes. He could survive five more minutes.
"Look!" One of the young block captains pointed out the Raptor. "I'll go help him." Tom leaned out and saw Dr. Cottle running as fast as he could, carrying a woman. A dog was nipping at his heels. The block captain met them halfway and Cottle thrust a bag into his hands. They made it to the Raptor, and Tom shifted people aside so that Cottle could lay the woman out.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Gunshot wound in the stomach," Cottle said. "Get something to cover her- she's going into shock." Tom stripped off his own jacket and began rooting around. The tall ECO swung back and reached up over Tom's head, handing him the medical emergency kit. "Thanks," Tom gasped, opening the box. The woman was unconscious and white, and Cottle's face was extremely serious.
The ECO nodded and headed back towards the front, but as he passed the door he looked out. "Felix," he said, and Tom's heart dropped into his stomach.
"Gaeta?" Tigh said, peering out. "Leave him. Frakking collaborator."
"What do you mean?" the ECO asked.
"He stayed Chief of Staff to Baltar the entire time," Tigh scowled. "It's only fitting."
"Zarek, hand me the morpha in that kit," Cottle demanded. Tom complied, but as he did he heard himself saying, "I'm with Tigh."
"No," the ECO said, although he looked a lot less sympathetic. "He's coming up. The Admiral can sort it out."
"Racetrack," Tigh growled, "control your ECO." The ECO jumped out of the Raptor.
"Sorry, sir, Skulls is right. Admiral's orders- everyone alive gets off the planet. Even if we found Baltar."
"Zarek!" Cottle shouted. "Get over here now!"
As he darted back to the patient, he saw the ECO jump down and pull Gaeta up onto the Raptor. He was pale and shaking, but Tom noticed he was the same weight as when he'd last seen him, and his clothing looked like it was in good condition. He turned away in disgust and went back to following Cottle's directions as best he could. He had no clear idea as to who the patient was, but he was pretty sure she was more deserving of his attention than Gaeta was.
"We're losing her," Cottle said.
The thrusters started and the Raptor took off. Tom braced for the jump, and then they were away. He closed his eyes in relief and whispered a prayer of thanks.
Under his hands, the woman stiffened and drew in a strangled breath.
Cottle pushed him out of the way and began CPR, but even as he watched Tom knew it was futile. The Raptor was silent, only the beeping of the instruments and the sounds of a frantic effort from Cottle. But finally the doctor sat back. "She's gone," he said.
Tigh removed his hat. Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Gaeta, staring at the woman with wide eyes and a white face, his hands idly fondling her dog's ears. He looked guilty and scared, and Tom hoped like hell he stayed that way.
***
Felix didn't expect a warm welcome when he got back to the Galactica, so he wasn't surprised when the Marine assisting people off their Raptor turned his back and silently refused to help him. He wasn't shocked that Tigh wouldn't look him in the face, that a few people whispered and pointed, but that most ignored him. He knew that no one would greet him with a hug, or tell him they were glad he was safe. Even Skulls pulled away, because the evidence that he was a collaborator was written on him in shoes that didn't have holes and a jacket that didn't have patches.
But that didn't mean he didn't wish it could be different.
***
Tom waited to leave the Raptor. Ostensibly, it was because Cottle needed the help. But really, he just didn't want to speak to Gaeta. Not now, not after everything.
When he did disembark, the place was still chaos, although the wild chanting and applause had died down. A serviceman in an orange jumpsuit was calling out for all former military to report to their previous quarters. Another one was yelling for people who had previously been aboard various ships to report to different places on the hangar deck. Hastily lettered signs marked the points where people were meant to meet. Tom stood still, suddenly realizing that, unless Baltar was alive and in this throng (and probably still even then), he was not just Vice President, but President.
A realization that came storming home as Adama approached him. "Mr. Vice President," he said gravely, deliberately.
"Admiral." Tom summoned a smile. "I have to say it, I'm glad to see you."
"Good to see you, too," Adama said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I know you've only just gotten on the ship, but I would like to speak with you immediately."
"Of course." Tom lifted his head up and made his way through the crowd. People were watching him warily, which didn't surprise him. Their administration hadn't been popular before the Cylons attacked, and judging by Laura's reaction in the trucks, his whereabouts for the occupation were not common knowledge.
Adama's quarters were rather spacious. Tom wondered how he'd justify that with the undeniable crunch on living space. "Water?" Adama offered, "something stronger?"
"Something stronger would be good," Tom admitted. Adama poured them each a whiskey and then sat down.
"There's a lot to be done, and I'm sure you're eager to get back to your ship and get to work," Adama said. "So we'll just get right to the point. Do you know if Gaius Baltar made it back up to the Fleet?"
"I honestly don't," Tom said, meeting Adama's eye. "I hope he didn't."
"Really."
"I spent the last four months in a Cylon detention cell because I refused to collaborate. I only escaped yesterday, after your men foiled an execution. The only reason I can think of to hope that Baltar isn't dead is because I wouldn't mind pushing the airlock button myself, although I'm not sure Laura Roslin would let me have the honor."
Adama's eyes sparked at that. "Roslin's alive?" he confirmed.
"As far as I know. Last I saw her she was running for Colonial One."
"Good. I am aware that you are the Vice President, and that means should anything happen to the President, that job title becomes yours."
"Yes, it does," Tom said, meeting his eye challengingly.
"However, in light of the ineffectiveness of Baltar's administration and your involvement with a known Cylon collaborator, I think it's best if you step down."
"What?" Tom set his drink down firmly. "Baltar collaborated. I did not! I went back to prison rather than work with the Cylons. And believe me, they made it extremely attractive." He pulled his hair back so Adama could see a half-healed scar above his ear. "Where do you get off telling me that I need to step down?"
"I am the Admiral of this Fleet," Bill said levelly.
"The Admiral who jumped away as soon as the Cylons landed and let our people suffer under them for four months!"
"You do not want to go down that path, Zarek," Adama warned, "or we can drop you right back on that rock that we just rescued you from."
It almost worked, but Tom gritted his teeth. "Oh, no you don't. You don't use my gratitude- because believe me, I feel it- to guilt me into stepping down. The Articles clearly state-"
"We need to do what's best for this Fleet. After the disaster that was Baltar's regime and the past four months, anyone associated in any way with Baltar is not what's best."
"Laura Roslin is what's best for this Fleet?" Tom sneered.
"Yes."
The thing was, although it wasn't legal, there was a truth to what Adama was saying, too, in what people's perceptions were. People needed a change, needed to erase Baltar from the memories. Suddenly, Tom felt very, very tired.
"And what would you do if I fought you on this?" he asked, more for the form of it.
"I'm sure there was something you did sometime on New Caprica that wasn't strictly legal," Adama said. "Right now, I don't care. If you fight me, I will."
"And you want to put in a woman who tried to steal the election?" Tom asked. "Not arguing," he said, holding up his hands as Adama's face got steely. "Just wondering at the way your mind works. Fine. I'll step down. But not like this."
"What do you mean?"
Tom considered it. "I will not allow you to so cavalierly override the Articles. We will go forward as if I intend to take the Presidency. I will swear in the Quorum, reform the basics… and then put Laura's name in as my Vice President. At that point, I will step down, saying that in the past few days I've found that my time in a Cylon detention center on New Caprica has made it difficult for me to concentrate on my duties. After all, a job as demanding as the Presidency is best filled by someone who has not suffered in that capacity."
Adama considered it. "Done," he said in a short, clipped tone. He stood up. "Mr. President…."
With his head held high and a sly smile on his lips, Tom left the quarters. He didn't allow himself to start shaking until the door slammed shut behind him.
***
"Mr. Gaeta? Is Gaeta in here?" Helo's voice rang out above the general babble, which fell silent as everyone processed the name. "Gaeta, are you in here?"
Felix came awake, rubbing at his eyes and pulling back the curtain of his rack. He had a feeling it was very telling that his rack was still available. "I'm here," he muttered, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was managing to watch him and act like they were ignoring him at the same time.
"The Admiral wants to see you," Helo told him.
Felix nodded and slid out of the bed and then pulled on the suit he'd taken off only hours before. He wished he had time to do something about his hair, which looked like a rabid poodle to his eyes, but there was nothing to be done for it. He slipped into his shoes and followed Helo out of the room, hoping he wouldn't come back to find his rack short-sheeted or studded with razors or something.
They walked in silence, and Felix cast about for a topic of conversation. Before he could think too deeply, he heard his mouth saying, "I heard you got married. Congratulations."
It should have been the right thing to say. But he could see Helo's speculation… Felix thought marrying a Cylon was a good thing. Oops.
"Thank you," Helo said, when the silence had stretched too long. He looked like he might say something else, but they'd reached the Admiral's quarters. Helo knocked, and then opened the door.
"Mr. Gaeta, sir," he said.
Admiral Adama physically looked the same as the last time that Felix saw him, but his face was so angry. Felix flashed back to his childhood and hiding under the bed because he knew he wasn't supposed to touch his father's drafting tools and he'd broken one of them, and he was going to be in for it when his father got home. He shuddered and shook himself, beginning a salute and then aborting it. "Sir," he finally said, helplessly.
"Sit down, Mr. Gaeta." Felix obeyed. "I don't have a lot of time today, with everything that needs to be done. But what I do need to know is if you know of the whereabouts of Gaius Baltar."
Felix glanced at Helo, but Helo was standing with his arms crossed, face blank. "The last I saw him, sir, he was leaving Colonial One with the Cylon they call Caprica Six. I… I assume he's either dead or still on the planet."
"When did you last see him?"
"Right before I went to the shipyard, sir. I was…" and he stopped, because what was he going to say? That he had Baltar under his gun and didn't shoot him, because he wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, this one last time Gaius could make things right?
"You were what, Mr. Gaeta?"
Felix swallowed. "I was getting Colonial One ready for take-off, sir. As much as I could do without the launch key."
"And you got off Colonial One and ran to a Raptor?"
"Yes, sir."
He could tell Admiral Adama didn't believe him, but at the same time he could tell that he didn't want to follow up on it right now, because it wasn't worth following up on. Adama looked down at his glass. "I've heard you remained as Baltar's Chief of Staff after the Cylons attacked?"
"Yes, sir. I… I thought it best."
"You thought it best?" Adama jumped in as Felix swallowed to wet his throat.
"Yes, sir. I thought that if I stayed in my position, I could gather information, pass it to others, I could…" he trailed off, because Adama's face didn't light with any recognition, didn't offer any hope.
"When things settle down, Mr. Gaeta, you and I are going to sit down and have a very long talk," Adama said. "I think you've told me what I need to know right now."
"Sir." Felix got to his feet, and followed Helo towards the door. But the words tore out of him before he could escape. "Sir? I know the Galactica must have taken some hits during the battle. If you need me to help repair the communications systems…"
Adama's eyes pierced his soul again, and Felix met them. "Captain Agathon," Adama said, "Mr. Gaeta will be reporting to the CIC after he's reported to sickbay to be cleared for work."
"Yes, sir."
"Gentlemen." Helo left. "Mr. Gaeta?"
"Yes, sir?"
"When we have that talk, you'd better have an extremely good story to tell me," Adama said. "Otherwise, I'd be looking for a lawyer if I were you."
"Yes, sir."
He caught up with Helo. "Sickbay?" he asked.
"The Admiral wants everyone to have a cursory exam before returning to work," Helo said with a shrug. "People went through a lot."
"I know." Felix was silent for a moment. "He didn't believe me about passing information." It wasn't a question, and Helo didn't treat it as such. "Do you?"
Helo stopped. "Look," he said, "maybe you did. If you could answer a few questions, I'd believe it. But Gaeta, every single person who worked in Baltar's administration is going to be passing off the same story. We've already heard three people say the same thing."
"Oh," Felix said, hope draining out of him as he saw the path he was going to be taking. "Oh, frak."
"Look," Helo said, and for a moment Felix saw sympathy flare in his eyes, "worse comes to worse, you'll go on trial, and they'll be able to ferret it out. If you did pass the information, it will all come out, and people will understand. And if you didn't…" he shrugged, and then turned and walked away towards the CIC.
With a sigh, Felix headed towards sickbay.
***
His meeting with Roslin went far better than the one with Adama, and indeed, far better than Tom had expected. But then, Laura had seen him on the trucks, she knew that he was telling the truth and what he'd paid.
A price, he might add, he never should have had to pay.
Now that he was safe on Colonial One, back in his old office, he could afford to be angry. He could let the emotions rise up in him and threaten to suffocate him, let his mind realize the horror, not only of his long days of prison and torture but of what every human being had to go through on that planet.
And now, it was time for the people who did deserve it to pay.
There was a discreet knock on his door. He scrubbed his face with his hands, smoothed his hair, and sat back, composed and collected. "Come in, Tory," he called.
***
"So this is the list we have of the New Caprica Police," Tory said, pulling it out. "It's over two hundred people."
"Let's go through it and find the worst, Tory." Tom looked at the list, shuddering. "And by worst I mean people who killed or contributed directly to the deaths of others. I don't like it, but I can understand people collaborating to protect their families, or even to protect themselves. And they'll forever have to live with what they did, knowing that they gave away a part of their humanity. But the ones who killed their own… they're the ones that are the traitors."
Tory nodded. "I've already got Bob and Jane collecting some witness testimony," she said. "And you have the commendations." She pulled those out of the stack that she'd brought with her. "What about Baltar's administration?"
Tom ground his teeth together, the gun pressed against his back again as he was marched off to the Astral Queen. "Put them on the list," he said. "There's no excuse."
Tory eyed him respectfully, and then nodded. And then she began to write.
***
"Seventy one names," she said, hours later. "Seventy one."
"It's a good number," Tom said. "I think that will be the worst of the worst, the ones who most deserve to die for their crimes. Get it over, get it done, get it off Laura's hands…"
And on to mine. Laura wasn't the one who deserved revenge, not like this. Laura had been betrayed, but no more than the rest of them. Tom was the one who'd paid. And when he picked his jury, he'd make sure they'd all paid a higher price than most, too.
***
"Mr. President?" Tory said, knocking on the door. "I have the… the papers."
"Thank you. Put them here, I'll sign them."
"Yes, sir."
She left the room, and he began to work through them. He read each one and then signed at the bottom, completely cognizant of what he was doing, who he was sentencing to death. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't easy, but it was justice, plain and simple. Quiet justice, but justice all the same.
Stroud. Martin. Dodson. Johr. Trinh. Ali. Inish. Westerfeld. Weis. Gray. Pullman. Alexander. Lyman. Chadwick. Gaeta.
Gaeta.
He hesitated, his pen above the space where he should sign. The charges were collaborating with the enemy and crimes against humanity. He closed his eyes, cold wind on his face and the smell of Laura Roslin's joints in the air, brown eyes in front of him, asking for advice. The memories shattered into pieces, because if anyone should have resisted, if anyone should have died for his convictions, it was Gaeta.
With a signature bolder than for any of the others, Tom signed the death warrant.
***
Felix managed to walk out of the airlock and down the hall, and then he collapsed, his legs no longer able to support him because he was shaking so hard. He pushed himself back against the wall, hidden between boxes, out of sight and out of the way of any other people bent on vengeance.
He buried his face between his knees, wishing the darkness could swallow him. Even though they hadn't hit the release, he felt like they had, and a part of him had gone hurtling out to space.
Starbuck's insults didn't bother him. He'd never liked Starbuck, and she'd never liked him. Not really. And even Tigh… but Galen.
Galen should have known.
If Galen was the one getting those messages, why hadn't it occurred to him? Why hadn't he figured out that if someone from Baltar's administration gave him frakking jamming frequencies that maybe, just maybe it was Felix Gaeta, former officer of the watch? He and Cally had been considering naming him godfather to Nicky, for crying out loud. And yet-
"So they finally figured it out."
Felix looked up to see Doc Cottle sitting on a box, smoking a cigarette. "What?"
Cottle extended a cigarette, and Felix took it with a shaking hand. "Seelix came to see me just now," Cottle said in tones that passed for extreme kindness for him. "She told me what happened. Said you might need medical treatment."
"No. I don't think so." Felix took a drag on the cigarette and then began to cough. His side was extremely sore, and it felt like someone stabbing him when he breathed deeply.
Good.
Cottle stood up slowly and extended a hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you back to sickbay."
Felix got to his feet and stumbled; his legs had fallen asleep. "What time is it?" he asked.
"It took me a good hour to find you, if that's what you're asking," Cottle answered. "I'm not a psychologist."
"You said…" Felix began, walking haltingly. Cottle walked right next to him, giving him a shoulder to lean on. "You said they finally figured it out?" he managed. "You knew?"
"No one told me," Cottle said, "and I didn't ask. But when we got off that planet, I figured there must have been help from the inside. There's no way we had the firepower to do it any other way. And who else made sense?"
Felix closed his eyes, because Cottle was not the sort of person you cried in front of. "The doctor," he said finally. "The doctor that died in the Raptor. Who was she?"
"Her name was Adrienne Reynolds."
"Do you have a picture of her?"
"I'm sure there's one somewhere. Why?"
Felix swallowed. "Unless someone else has done it, I want to make sure she gets put up in the Memorial Hall. She's the one who helped me set it up."
Cottle looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
***
Cottle was wrapping a bandage around Felix's torso when Admiral Adama walked in. "Well?" Adama asked.
"Hairline fracture to the ribs, a few bruises and scrapes. Nothing time and rest won't cure," Cottle said significantly. He finished and attached the bandage. "Leave that on except when you're showering. If you need help getting it back on, come down and someone will help you. And see Yolen about three days worth of painkillers on your way out. I'll give him the prescription."
"Yes, sir," Felix said.
"Admiral." Cottle slipped out of the cubicle, but somehow, Felix had the sense he hadn't gone far. Adama handed him his shirt, and he pulled it on gratefully.
"Saul Tigh and Galen Tyrol came to see me," he said. "I guess we should have had that talk sooner." Felix wasn't sure how to answer that, so he just stayed silent. "I want you to know, Mr. Gaeta, that what happened was in no way sanctioned by myself or by President Roslin. After we received another report of a missing person, we confronted Tom Zarek, and this is his doing."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Felix said before he could stop it. He sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just that the… Vice President?"
"Vice President is apparently the correct title," Adama said, not hiding his displeasure. "It's all right. The President mentioned you would be upset by that." A distant part of Felix's mind was amused by the fact Adama had already reinstated Roslin as President. But he knew better than to say anything. "But we greatly underestimated you, Lieutenant Gaeta, and I owe you an apology."
"Thank you, sir." Then the rank hit him. "Sir?"
"I'll expect you to resume your duties as soon as you are able. Congratulations, Lieutenant." Adama saluted.
Stunned and pathetically grateful, Felix saluted back.
***
"Mr. Vice President?"
Tom stood up from his desk. "Madame President," he said, still stiff and formal.
Laura smiled. "You're not happy with me."
"Not entirely, no." He sat back down and sighed. "Intellectually, I understand why you did it, why you pardoned everyone. But in my gut, I can't let it go."
Laura sat down as well, and pulled out a photograph from her pocket. "I understand that, Tom. You may not believe it, but I do." She tapped the picture against her palm. "You know, I've been thinking about it a lot this afternoon. Billy's been dead for over a year, but I wondered how I would felt if we'd been down on that hellhole and he'd collaborated. And first I thought I might forgive him, but then I thought no. His sin would be so much worse because he should know better. He should be better than that."
"Where are you going with this?" Tom asked, but he knew. And he was right. Laura put the picture down on his desk. It was one that was taken on New Caprica on Founder's Day, of him and Gaeta standing together. "I don't want this," he said, pushing it back.
"You might, after you hear what I have to say. I saw Adama this morning. Felix Gaeta was tried and convicted by the Circle. He was sentenced to death for crimes against humanity and collaborating with the enemy. And believe me, Tom, I hoped Adama was going to tell me they flushed him out the airlock." She smiled, but her smile was twisted and bitter. "But then he told me that Gaeta had been gathering information from the Cylons and passing it to the Resistance. He got us the coordinates for the map system, information on positions and internal organization, security plans…" she shook her head. "But most importantly to humanity, he was the one who provided us with the jamming frequencies that allowed us to make contact with Galactica.. And most importantly to you and me, he's the one who got news to Chief Tyrol about the death lists, information that allowed them to stop our execution."
The blood drained from Tom's face, and he was sure his limbs had frozen. "No," he whispered. "It can't be… you're wrong."
"Adama is quite sure that he's right." Laura pushed the picture back over to Tom. "I'll leave you to yourself, Tom," she said, touching his shoulder with surprising sympathy.
He sat on for hours, staring at the picture in front of him.
On to Part 6