BSG Battle Fic: Ground to Dust
Title: Ground to Dust
Pairing: Gaeta/Hoshi
Warnings: Torture happens, although it is not too graphically described and is not related to the sex in any way, shape, or form. Reflections on Gina, but Hoshi was not involved in the actual abuse.
Rating: Adult
Prompt: Hoshi as a Circle member
Summary: When the Cylons attacked New Caprica, Lieutenant Hoshi was on the surface. As an active military member, he was taken as a prisoner of war.
"Oh, Gods." Louis squirmed, grabbing the sheets just for something to hold on to. He felt Felix grin around his cock, and then- frak Felix added another finger. He arched his back, the tips of Felix's fingers hitting their target as he thrust a little deeper into Felix's mouth. Felix responded, opening his throat a little more and taking Louis deeper. His fingers became firmer in their touch, and - "oh Gods, right there," he was coming. He breathed deeply, burying his fingers in Felix's hair, finally warm despite the fact he was naked.
"How was that for payback?" Felix asked, pulling his fingers out and crawling up beside Louis.
"Can't talk now. Recovering," Louis gasped.
Felix chucked and got out of the bed, wincing as he put his bare foot on the cold earth beneath them. Louis looked inquiringly at him, but Felix just shook his head. "I'll be right back," he said. "Don't worry." His smile deepened. "Unless you're going somewhere."
Louis shook his head and closed his eyes. He ran his fingers through the particularly bad haircut he was currently enduring, still trying to get his breath back. He heard water splashing outside the tent as Felix washed his hands, and then eventually came back in and slid into bed.
That snapped Louis out of his post-orgasm stupor.
"Ah! Your feet are freezing!"
"Sorry," Felix said apologetically, curling against Louis's side. "It gets cold down here."
"I'd figured that out."
"Well, when you're up on the nice, warm, comfortable Pegasus-"
"You could be on Galactica," Louis laughed. "Then I wouldn't have to come down to this frozen mudball to see you again."
"Oh, you think you’re going to see me again?"
"After that?" Louis hugged Felix to him. "I'm sure as hell hoping so."
"Yeah, well, give us a few minutes." Felix pulled away again and got out of bed. "Want a drink before round two?"
"You want round two?" Louis laughed. "That had better be coffee."
"It is."
"And you'd better not put your cold feet on my legs."
"Well, then how am I supposed to get back into bed?" Felix laughed. He put the kettle on, and then pulled Louis's duty jacket around his naked body. He sat down on the chair, and Louis propped himself up on one elbow, pulling the blankets around his waist. "Seriously, though," he said, looking more at the desk than at Louis. "You want to see me again?"
"Yes, you goof. I've wanted to see you for a while. Now that I've gotten you into bed, I'd really rather not let you out of it. If that's all right with you."
Felix was smiling. "It's all right with me. It's just…" the smile faded. "I've been kind of… well…"
Louis sighed. "I know about Baltar."
"Oh." Felix was finding the desk fascinating now. "Really?"
"Enough. We can take it slow if you want. We've got all the time in the world."
"We do." Felix reached over and poured the coffee, then padded over and sat down on the bed. He handed Louis his cup and leaned down for a kiss. They lingered, the kiss deepening. Louis set his coffee down, cupping the back of Felix's head with one hand and using the other to keep his balance. It was too soon to do anything yet, but gods… he'd been wanting this pretty much since the Pegasus found the Fleet and he'd been hearing Felix's voice over the wireless.
Felix pulled away long enough to set his own coffee down, and then came back, wrapping his arms around Louis. His own jacket felt rough against Louis's skin, but he hesitated before pushing it off of Felix's shoulders. It was such an intimate gesture… he settled for sliding his hands under the jacket and against the smooth warmth of Felix's skin.
They kissed for a long time, like two teenagers making out. Eventually, Louis's anatomy finally decided it was time to cooperate again. It was slow and it took a while, but his cock finally stiffened. Felix, he noted, had recovered slightly earlier. Well, there was a reason he kind of liked younger men. He laid back, pulling Felix on top of him. They kicked the covers out from between them, but then after consideration Felix reached down and pulled them over his own legs. "Like you said," he murmured against Louis's lips, "it's cold down here."
"Warm me up, then," Louis said.
Felix sputtered with laughter. "That," he said, thrusting his hips against Louis's, "was seriously corny."
"Yup." He arched his back, his erection rubbing against Felix's. "But since the coffee is now officially cold…"
"I see your point." Felix braced himself better, his forearms on either side of Louis, and they began to move together. It felt good, but at the same time, it wasn't particularly comfortable. He stopped for a minute, groping at the bedside table to find the lube they'd used earlier, and Felix stilled obligingly. This time he remembered to warm the damn stuff up between his hands, and he reached down between them, awkwardly managing to grab both their cocks. "Good enough," Felix said, and then began to move again.
It was. The friction of them rubbing together felt amazing. Louis tipped his head back, at first trying to actually be active, but then just losing himself in the sensation. His hips moved against Felix's, but his arms fell against the lumpy mattress.
Eventually their tempo became faster and their breathing became heavier. Louis reached down and grabbed Felix's ass, pulling him against himself harder. Felix moaned, sweat dripping down the side of his face. But what got Louis was the fact that Felix was still wearing his jacket. The fabric brushed against his arms, tickled his chest, and when he opened his eyes to see the way it was hanging open, just revealing Felix's chest with that ridiculous tattoo… that was when he came.
"You're definitely going to have to come down again," Felix agreed, when they were done and they lay together, skin to skin under the covers, Felix's head on Louis's chest and Louis's arms around them.
"I'll put in for leave again as soon as I can," Louis said, yawning. He kissed Felix's hair. "This is definitely the start of something good."
"Definitely," Felix agreed. They fell asleep, wrapped up together.
***
The shuttle back up to the Fleet was due to leave at 1800 hours, and Louis had a lot to do before then. He needed to meet with Xeno Fenner about the tylium mining, and then with a few of the Quorum members about rations for the military, and then Cottle for what he needed from the military… it wasn't going to be a day with much time for relaxation. So much the pity.
But he walked around the settlement with a spring in his step he hadn't felt since before the attacks. Louis wasn't naïve enough to think that this was anything definite. Felix did have issues, and frak, so did he. But then, so did every other frakking human who had survived this long. Sometimes, Louis wondered what the hell they were all hanging on for. Then he remembered times like last night, and he knew. There was still happiness in the universe to be had, and damn it, he was going to have some of it, even if it was only fleeting.
That was what he was thinking when he heard the first of the engines, and when the raiders began to streak across the sky.
***
He arrived at the Raptor out of breath but in control. "What have we got?" he demanded.
Tribble looked up from the ECO console, his face pale. "The Fleet, sir. They're jumping away."
"Frak! We're too-" late, he wanted to say, but Louis cut himself off. He only knew part of the contingency plan himself, and it was best no one else knew it. "All right. Sonar, what kind of arms do we have on board?"
"Not much, LT," the pilot said. He was out of breath himself, and Louis noticed that he was straining the seams of his flight uniform. Things had gotten sloppy- too sloppy. But Sonar opened up the storage compartment and tossed a gun to Louis and another to Tribble.
"All right," Louis said, thinking on his feet "We'll rally those that we can. I'm sure a lot of former marines took souvenirs- jarheads have a very special relationship with their guns. We'll work our way towards the-" he was cut off by the sound of clanging. "Frak." This was it, and his heart was in his mouth. But he'd fired a gun long before he'd been an officer, and he could do it again. "All right," he ordered. "Take cover."
"I wouldn't bother if I was you." A smooth, familiar voice spoke up. Centurions surrounded the Raptor, and Louis realized they were badly outnumbered. A Six stepped forward. She looked so much like Gina he almost had to look away, but he kept his eyes on her, angry and hard and not surrendering.
The Six sighed. "Kill the two grunts if you must," she ordered the Centurions. "But take the officer alive."
"You're not taking any of us alive," Louis said. He raised his gun and fired, hitting the Six square in the chest. She fell. The Centurions opened fire, and Tribble and Sonar both fell. Louis stared down at them, untouched, feeling sick. He'd just lost their lives. But as the Centurions approached him, he raised his chin and pushed his regret aside. Because if he was right about what they were about to do to him, Sonar and Tribble were better off dead.
***
They took him to the Astral Queen, his hands cuffed in front of him. Two Threes, a Four, and a Five, and a One were waiting. One of the Threes was filing her nails, the Four and the Five were arguing about something. But the other Three and the One looked interested as the Centurion brought him in.
"Get rid of the uniform," the One ordered. "And bring me the tags."
"What are we putting the prisoners in?" the Three asked.
"I don't know. Make him sit in the cell in his underwear for all I care. For crying out loud, can't anyone else do anything around here?" the One griped.
The Three rolled her eyes, but as she approached Louis, her expression turned predatory. "Strip," she ordered.
Louis said nothing. He didn't move. He just stared straight ahead.
The predator aspect of her expression deepened. "Oh," she said, smiling darkly. "You're going to be a fun one."
***
He sat in a cell on the Astral Queen, wearing a loose fitting top, loose gray pants, and nothing else. They'd taken his uniform, his underwear, his socks, his dogtags. Every now and then another cell door clanged open and closed, but the Cylons were placing the prisoners too far apart to get a good idea of who was being brought in.
He was sore already, and he knew that the Three had gone lightly on him. Whatever was coming, it was going to be hell.
***
He could hear voices, sometimes. Sometimes they were ones he didn't know, sometimes they held familiarity. He recognized Tom Zarek's voice; he'd heard it often enough over the wireless. He thought he heard Tigh's. And he strained to hear Felix's. He hoped he would, anyway, because if Felix wasn't imprisoned, he was dead.
But more than that, he heard Gina's voice. He saw her face, her mannerisms, her smile, every time a Six passed his cell. At first he felt guilty, but as the days stretched on and as they took him from his cell for interrogation, his only guilt was that he had ever felt sympathy for a woman who'd helped destroy his people.
***
Pain. He thought he knew it, but he'd never really understood until they attached the electrodes, until it coursed through his body, wringing his nerves with fire. Or the time a Five sat down and pulled his fingernails out with a pair of pliers, one by one, and then the pain that woke him from a restless sleep from raw, infected fingertips. Pinches, shocks, cuts, and scratches- he'd had them all in his life, and now they were magnified by ten thousand.
But he didn't break.
They knew his name was Lieutenant L. Hoshi. They knew his serial number was 871076. They'd figured out that he was from the Pegasus, although Louis hadn't given them that information. And that was all they knew.
In his dreams, he saw Admiral Cain smile at him.
***
They moved the prisoners. He had a brief flash of sunlight and fresh air before a bag was pulled over his head, and then he was forced into a truck. But as he sat tight, there was a warm body next to his, thigh against thigh.
"Who are you?" the prisoner said as the truck bounced into gear. A male voice, familiar and rusty. But Louis didn't answer. "Who are you?" the prisoner repeated, and this time he knew the voice. Tigh.
"Lieutenant Hoshi, sir."
"Hoshi, eh?" Their hands were cuffed, but he suddenly felt Tigh's hand awkwardly grab his own. "You fight 'em till you can't, soldier."
"That's what I'm doing, sir."
"Good man."
The truck lurched to a stop, and they both fell silent.
When the hood was ripped off, he was in a small, clay-walled cell, with only a door and a light that never turned off. Louis had never thought that the Astral Queen would be luxury, but now he realized it was.
***
He screamed. If he screamed his throat raw, if he lost his voice, they couldn't question him. Or at least, they couldn't expect him to answer.
That's right, Cain whispered in his ear. Good strategy, lieutenant.
So he screamed until he couldn't talk, even if he wanted to. It helped.
***
Fear. He thought he'd known fear before, when he'd been an enlisted man and faced the angry crowds on Sagittaron, when he'd entered the firefight on Tauron. When the Pegasus had been hit, and all they knew was that everything was destroyed. When Cain shot Belzan, and he wasn’t sure where his Admiral had gone and what had replaced her, only to find out that nothing had- this was her. He'd known fear, but as raw as when Cavil put a bloody eye into his hands.
"Want that to happen to you?"
No answer.
"You'd better start talking, or I'm going to start gouging. You got that?"
No answer.
Behind Cavil, Cain smiled with pride.
***
There was no way to measure the passage of time, although he tried to scratch lines into the walls. But he had no fingernails, and the day came when he had no toenails, either. He could only judge the length of his incarceration by the beard on his face and the hair falling into his eyes and brushing his collar.
***
Every now and then he could hear explosions. Once, it was close enough that his cell rattled and little bits of dried clay rained down on him. He loved those explosions, because it meant that humans were fighting, and he hated them, because it meant that the Cylons would come for him, and the pain would begin again.
It got to the point when he heard them, far off in the distance, he began to cry.
***
Louis slept, in fitful bursts punctuated with pain, hunger, and trembling limbs that wouldn't always obey. When he slept, he dreamed. He saw a river, rushing in front of him. He saw the people he loved on the other side, so far away, so untouchable. And Cain stood beside him.
You'll join us, she told him. Someday. They'll figure out that you can't give them anything anymore, that you have no value. And when they do, they will shoot you, and you'll be with us again. Hold out just a little longer, Lieutenant, and then we can welcome you home.
He woke up with tears streaming down his face and his raw throat swollen and aching.
***
He remembered that last night before the Cylons came. He retreated into it whenever he could, remembering Felix's laugh in his ear and their bodies, together, his jacket hanging on Felix's shoulders and the promise of everything that lay between them.
He thought that Felix must be in this prison, too, bearing the same things Louis was bearing. The idea he might not be alone buoyed him, although it was the visions of Admiral Cain that gave him the real strength to face everything the Cylons threw at him.
***
They began to lose interest in him. Days would pass with no one coming for him. He huddled in his cell, sometimes dragging himself painfully to his feet and pacing, or trying to do something to keep him muscles active. He didn't know why he bothered… death was coming, but he did.
***
The day came. They dragged him from his cell, put him on a truck. This time there was no hood, only the flex cuffs, and he knew that this time he was going to die. He sat, huddled on the truck, blinking in the light. Judging by the looks on the other faces, he must look terrible.
The truck bounced along, and he searched the faces of his fellow prisoners. He didn't recognize any of their faces, and wondered if that was good or not. Probably good, even as it was lonely to die like this. But then, Cain always said everyone died alone.
The truck lurched to a stop. This was it, then, and he climbed off the truck with no small sense of relief. No begging, no pleading… just an end to this torture and the days that had come before it. And when he say the Centurions, he lifted his chin and faced them proudly, ready to cross to the other side,
The bullets meant to end his life never came.
***
They all sat on the ground, bonds cut, meager food supplies being passed down the line. Louis tried not to inhale the woody apple he was eating, or drink too much of the water at once.
"Are you ex-military? No? All right. Are you ex-military? No? All right. Are you ex-military?"
Louis looked up, blinking, trying to place the face in front of him. Galactica's deck chief, he finally remembered. "No," he tried to say, "I'm active duty." The words barely came out a scratch, broken.
The Chief's brow furrowed. "What?" he asked, crouching down. He studied Louis's face. "Are you military?" Louis nodded. Chief extended his hand. Tyrol, that was his name. "Come on, then. You're coming with us."
"All right," Louis tried to say, but again, it didn't come out sounding like anything human.
"How long were you in there?" Tyrol asked, pulling Louis to his feet and steadying him with a discreet arm. Louis stared at him helplessly. "How long?" Tyrol asked.
Louis looked around, and spotted Tom Zarek and Laura Roslin. He remembered, so long ago, hearing Zarek's voice on the Astral Queen, and he pointed. Tyrol followed his gesture and then frowned. "You were in there as long as Zarek? Frak, man, that's four months!"
Four months. Louis closed his eyes and sighed.
"Well, come on," Tyrol ordered, pulling him along. "Let's get you to where you're safe and can clean up, and then we'll bring you up to speed." His face darkened. "There's a lot going on."
***
He stood in front of the mirror, staring. The man who stared back looked nothing like the man he knew. Long hair, a straggly beard, sores and scratches and scars on the sides of his face. Pale white skin, large, haunted brown eyes, and when he lifted his hands, fingernails only a quarter regrown, dark with blood clots underneath them. His body was covered with the remnants of welts and electrical burns, scars and still healing cuts. His voice was still hoarse, but better after Cottle had given him some thick, syrupy liquid to drink.
"Need a razor?"
He looked over his shoulder to see Tigh. Colonel Tigh, who was leaning on a cane, missing an eye. He drew himself up.
"No, sir. I think I'll just leave it for now."
Tigh smiled grimly. "Good man." He came forward and cautiously clapped Louis on the shoulder. His shoulder was thin, brittle. "Everything goes right, and we'll be home this time tomorrow night."
Home. Louis thought of his rack on the Pegasus, of the mess hall and the CIC, of his friends there and of the familiar halls and rivets.
"And if we're not home," Tigh continued, "we'll be dead."
"Either place is better than where we were, sir," Hoshi said.
"You can say that again. Finish up, lieutenant. You look like you could use a drink."
***
The Resistance had dug out the basement that they were huddled in, and Louis hated it. He felt closed in, scared, trapped. He saw the same restless look on Zarek's face, when their eyes met. He noticed that Zarek didn't look quite as bad as he himself did, but decided not to ask about it. He really didn't want to know.
It was when he got a whiff of the night air that he couldn't help asking Tigh. "Sir. What happened to Felix Gaeta?"
Tigh's face darkened. "Oh, that's right. You would know Gaeta," he said. He shook his head, and Louis's stomach began to twist. "He's still sitting there, high up in Colonial One. Hand in hand with those frakkers." Tigh took a drink from the bottle he was pouring from. "You don't even want to get me started there."
"No," Louis said, feeling physically sick. "I don't."
***
Explosions were better when he was outside to witness them himself. Louis ran through the shrapnel and the dust, a gun in his hand and covering the civilians the best he could. It felt good to be active, to protect, to fight those frakkers.
But then he was on the Hitei Khan, escaping into space, and the battle was over far, far too soon.
***
"I need to go to the Pegasus," he croaked to Narcho. Whatever Cottle had given him had worn off.
Narcho's face crumpled in sympathy. "There is no Pegasus anymore, Hosh." He glanced back over his shoulder and waved at someone. Showboat- gods, Showboat- came over, her eyes widening as she saw him. "Captain," he told her. "Lieutenant Hoshi needs a ride to Galactica."
Showboat wrapped an arm around Louis's waist. "Come on," she ordered him. "I'm taking you home myself."
***
Showboat walked him to the quartermaster to get a new uniform and helped him put in his request for new tags. She guided him to the Admiral's study, and when he faced Adama, he at least looked like a soldier again in terms of dress. He saluted and called the man 'sir', and thanked him for getting them off New Caprica. But it wasn't the same.
Adama might have gotten him off New Caprica, but Admiral Cain had gotten him through it.
***
It hurt to walk. He hadn't really noticed that during the escape, but now he noticed, especially since his shoes were a half-size too small. But he limped into the broken CIC, ready to take up his position.
Dualla saw him first. Her eyes lit up, and she crossed the room like she intended to hug him, but something about how he was walking stopped her, and he was glad. He met her in the middle.
"All right. What are we repairing first?"
Dualla got the hint. "Come on," she said, skipping the small talk. "Let's get started with the communications console."
They worked together in silence.
***
"Lieutenant Hoshi."
Hoshi sat back on his heels, cursing the pain in his fingers. "Colonel?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Yes, sir."
"In private."
"Yes, sir." Louis straightened up and followed the Colonel out of the CIC. Tigh watched him oddly.
"What's with you, Lieutenant?"
"Bastards took my toenails, sir."
"Toenails," Tigh said.
"I'm not complaining to you, sir. But you did ask."
"Ripped 'em out?"
"Hurt like hell."
"I'll bet it did. Don't think I want to know what else they did. I know what they did to me, and that's enough. You been to Cottle?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Mm. Well, go when there's time, but not now. Come on. I've got something to show you." Louis followed obediently, and Tigh led him to his quarters.
Inside the quarters, Tigh changed. There was something about his posture that suggested he was slipping out of his military persona and into something else. It was the air of command, Louis realized. It left in here. Tigh rifled through a stack of papers on his desk, and then handed one to Louis.
"What is this?" Louis asked, reading it over.
"President Zarek," Tigh grunted, "wants the worst of the collaborators dealt with quickly and quietly. Fairly, but without a frakking media circus. And he wants it done before Roslin assumes the Presidency again."
"Roslin will-"
"Roslin will insist on a public trial for every last one of those frakking bastards," Tigh growled. "She's too soft. Zarek's right about that. And it's not every collaborator on that list. The ones that played nice to protect themselves or their families… they deserve to be spit on, but I can understand that. It's the ones that actively tried to destroy their own. The ones who took up arms, who locked people away, who helped the Cylons. They're the ones we're after. It's under eighty names."
"And we…"
"We give them a trial, examine the evidence. If they're guilty, we punish them."
Louis looked at Tigh squarely. "Let's be clear about this, sir. If they're guilty, we kill them, right?"
"Right. Out the airlock, clean and simple."
Louis handed the paper back to Tigh, the black crescents of his ruined nails visible, as well as burn scars on the back of his hands. "I'm honored, sir."
***
"Louis."
Louis stopped, feet frozen to the floor. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice harsh. He didn't turn around, but he didn't need to. He'd known that voice for a long time.
"You're alive."
"No thanks to you."
Silence.
He turned around, slowly. Felix was standing there, wearing a suit. His hair was long and wild, there were no bruises on his face, and his hands were unmarked and whole. Louis hated him.
"Louis-"
"Don't call me that," Louis snapped. "In fact, don't even talk to me at all. When I was in that frakking place…."
Felix- no, Gaeta's eyes were wet. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry you were even down there."
"What, you think I was just down there for you?" Louis spat. "Don't flatter yourself, Gaeta. I was down there on orders. That's the one thing I'm not holding against you. But look at you." He gestured angrily. "Life must have been nice working for the Cylons, huh? In a nice cushy office instead of in a cell or a torture chamber. And now you have the nerve to stand there and tell me I'm alive? Like after four months of hell that's a good thing?"
Gaeta shook his head. "I was sure you were dead," he said. "Baltar swore over and over to me that you were dead."
"I wasn't dead," Louis said, "but you should have been! This is what your oath to the Fleet means? This is what honor means to you? This is what humanity means to you? A nice suit and a full stomach? Well, frak you, Gaeta." He started to hobble away. "Don't you ever, ever speak to me again, you frakking coward of a collaborator."
He expected Gaeta to call after him. But to his surprise and relief, Gaeta let him go in silence.
***
He couldn't avoid Gaeta forever. Gaeta walked into the CIC, not like he belonged there, but like he once had. And that was what hurt- he had belonged there. Louis knew that.
He didn't have to say anything, though. Tigh pounced before Louis could say a word. He watched with a vicious sort of glee as Tigh tore Gaeta a new one, and felt a deep and profound respect for the XO.
Once upon a time, he'd been shocked at Cain's treatment of Gina. He didn't think that Felix deserved what Cain did to Gina, but as he stood there in the CIC, remembering that his lover had collaborated with the people who'd tortured and killed him, he understood Cain, right down to his bones.
When Gaeta came over to the communications system, Hoshi left to work on tactical. It was the only way he was going to keep from killing him.
***
"Lieutenant."
Louis looked up from the console he was trying to repair. "Admiral."
Adama barely noticed the salute. He was staring at Louis's hands. "You seen Cottle about those?"
"Not yet, sir. There's work to be done."
Adama nodded. "Get them taken care of when you're ready."
"Yes, sir."
"It's important, lieutenant." Adama's tone was kind, and he clapped Louis on the shoulder. "You've suffered enough." With one last sympathetic glance, he walked on to the next station.
Louis snorted. Admiral Cain never would have said that."
***
When they sentenced Timmens to death, it didn't even hurt. All Louis felt was a stab of vindication, a pinprick of light in a well of pain and darkness. They stood in the airlock control room; himeself, Tigh, Tyrol, Anders, Barolay, and Seelix. He turned the key, Tigh pushed the button. He watched Timmens fly out the airlock, and he wished he could feel some sort of remorse or regret. But he didn't.
They sifted through files, looking at the evidence. It made Louis sick to see the things people were capable of. Timmens had killed seven civilians. Not insurgents- civilians. There were several eyewitness accounts. Kressler had sold names of insurgents to the Cylons in return for extra rations. There were records, done in a neat but human hand. Kevlar had been one of the recruiters for the NCP, and one of the humans who actively brought prisoners to the Cylons for torturing. Simmons had sold out informants, not to save a family or even himself, but for a higher position in the government.
Then he saw the first copy of the death list.
It was in a file for someone named Johr, who had allegedly contributed names to the list, as well as helping to pick up various people who hadn't been in prison. It was neatly typed, and it was clearly an actual office document. Louis studied it carefully
"Where did they get this from?" he wondered.
"We had a contact who was slipping us information," Tyrol told him. Louis nodded. He'd heard something about that before, and anyway, it made sense. "They gave me this. You might want to look it over."
Louis frowned and flipped through the pages, At first he wasn't sure what he was supposed to see, except for the fact that the list was long. He glanced at the fourth page- over two hundred people. A chill ran down his spine. But still, that didn't seem like something Tyrol would point out. He glanced up inquiringly.
"Page three," Tyrol said, and when Louis flipped there, he saw it. There was his name, two thirds down the page. Hoshi, Louis, and under occupation, military. He shivered and pushed the death list away.
"Frak."
"Yeah. Cally's on there, too," Tyrol said.
"And Johr knew about the death lists?"
Barolay took the list from Hoshi and flipped back to the front page, tapping where the NCP captains had been assigned names. "He rounded up twenty five of these people."
Louis hadn't been afraid that day - death had been preferable to continuing his life. But he remembered the fear on other faces, and the word came out easily.
"Guilty."
***
He finally fell into bed around 0200 hours, three hours before he had to get up. His hands and feet were hurting so badly that the pain traveled up his limbs, and he was sure he wasn't going to sleep anyway. He lay on his back in a bunk that wasn't his and would never be his, and he listened to the breathing of other living souls.
There was no forgiveness for what some of these people had done, he told himself. No forgiveness at all.
As he drifted off into an uneasy doze, he dreamed of standing by the glass prison wall, and staring in at Gina lying on the floor.
***
"Next case," Tigh said wearily.
Seelix flipped open the file, and her hand stilled. She swallowed hard, steeled herself, and then read the name. "Felix Gaeta. Charges are collaborating with the enemy, and crimes against humanity."
Louis's mouth dropped open.
"You got a problem, Hoshi?" Barolay asked him.
Unbidden, he remembered lying in Felix's bed the night before the Cylons landed, Felix wearing his jacket as they moved together. He remembered them laughing and talking about how this was the start of something good.
"I…"
But it was Tyrol who spoke up. "Hey, this isn't a kangaroo court, okay? We examine the evidence. It's very possible that any person in here could be innocent. Remember that."
"That's right." Tigh began pulling out documents and passing them around. "Rations orders." He sighed. "And there's Gaeta's name, right at the top. He was copied on this."
Anders looked over Tigh's shoulder. "On the rations cuts? Did he sign off on it?"
"No, the only signature is Baltar's."
"Oh."
"Oh? What's that mean, Sam?" Barolay demanded, narrowing her eyes.
"It means 'oh.' Being copied on something isn't indication of guilt."
"No?"
"No. How do we know he saw it? How do we know when he saw it? They may have given it to him after the order was carried out. They may have put his name on there so Baltar would sign off, thinking that Gaeta could take the blame. He may have said something to the Cylons-"
"He didn't say anything to the Cylons," Tigh growled, "or he would have been tossed into detention."
"He's right," Seelix agreed. Louis didn't say anything.
"Well, what about witnesses?" Sam said. "Anyone see him taking up arms?"
"No, Gaeta never took up arms." That was Tigh. "Not his style. But that doesn't mean he didn't do his share."
"I don't know," Tyrol argued. "I don’t want to-"
"I don't want to do this," Tigh interrupted. "Do you think I like it? I stood beside Gaeta in the CIC for almost four years. He was like family. But the fact remains he was chief of staff to Gaius Baltar. And that alone is enough to convict him."
Anders shook his head. "And I'm saying that on this particular guy, we do not have any hard evidence. We've got no witnesses -- nothing. All we do know is that he worked for Baltar. That's it."
Tyrol nodded. "Yeah, I gotta go with Sam on this one. We need something specific."
Tigh began rifling through the documents. "You want specific? You think Baltar ran things? That guy? He was the public face, but Gaeta -- he was the brains. Everyone knew that. He ran the operation. He did the paperwork. He approved the death lists."
"How do you know that?" Tyrol demanded. "Were you there? Did you see him approve one single death list?"
Tigh found what he was looking for. "He knew Cally was on a death list. Hoshi, too." Louis looked up sharply.
Chief was much more skeptical. "What are you talking about? How do you know that?"
"Look there," Tigh ordered. Louis leaned in as well. "That's a distribution list and there's Cally's name. And there's Gaeta's name." He looked at Louis. "And you're on page three. He saw their executions ordered." He handed the list to Louis, who stared at it.
Baltar swore over and over to me that you were dead. He'd lied to Louis's face to save his own skin. He'd seen this death order. He'd known Louis was alive, and he'd lied.
"The question of the innocence or guilt of Felix Gaeta has been called," Seelix said, jerking Louis back to the conversation. "The Circle will vote. I vote guilty."
"Guilty," Tigh said.
"Guilty," Barolay said. She looked at Anders. "Sam?"
Anders drew back in disgust. "No, don't bother. I'm done."
"We're still voting," Seelix protested.
"I'm not. I'm done. I'm done with this whole thing. War's over for me. I'm sorry." He walked out. The others watched him go.
"Frak," Tigh sighed. "We're gonna need a sixth. Unless either of you are voting no?"
Tyrol hesitated, but Louis spoke up.
"He was a serviceman. He served under Baltar. As far as I'm concerned, it's clear. The frak is guilty." He slammed the list down and left.
***
He went to the observation deck. It was a mess, the furniture routed out and wires exposed, but he needed to be alone. He stared out the windows, looking at the infinity of space.
Justice. It was justice, he knew that. People couldn't hide from the things they did. One by one, it was finding them.
Like Gina shot the Admiral, something in him whispered. Like how Kendra couldn't live with the Scylla. Like Fisk found himself dead, choked with a wire. Like Garner led us into a trap and it cost him his life.
He flexed his fingers, wincing as the pain shot up his arms, and then leaned his forehead against the thick carbonate of the observation window. If this was justice, why did it make him sick to his stomach?
***
They traded Anders for Starbuck, and then the conviction was easy. Louis closed his eyes, and when he did, Cain was smirking at him. And this time, that thought didn't sustain him like it had in detention.
He pushed it from his mind.
***
They got him in a corridor. Louis put the tape over his mouth, and then secured his hands with the ties as Tyrol pulled the hood over Gaeta's head. They dragged him to the airlock between them, and then tossed him down to his knees. Louis reached down and yanked the hood off, and then pulled off the tape.
For a moment, their eyes met, and he regretted this. Then he reminded himself that he only regretted that he had to do this and stepped back, arms crossed.
"Felix Gaeta," Seelix said, "you've been tried and found guilty of crimes against humanity by a circle of your peers, as duly authorized by the President of the Colonies." Gaeta looked confused, scared. "If you have any words to offer in your own defense, now is the time."
Fel- Gaeta didn't say a word.
Tyrol knelt down. "Come on, Felix. Talk. We'll listen."
"Yeah," Louis choked out. "Lie to us a little more. Tell me you thought I was dead, when you saw my name on that frakking death list. Tell me you thought about me at all, instead of just sitting on your ass." Gaeta looked up at him, his eyes wide and hurt, but said nothing.
"Say something," Barolay ordered.
"What's the point?" Gaeta asked. "I already tried to explain it. I'm not gonna beg."
An explanation. Louis wondered what kind of explanation Gaeta could possibly have. But Tigh was glaring at him like he was a worm.
"Too bad you didn't grow that spine four months ago."
Four months. Four months you left me in that prison, after wearing my jacket and thinking that this could be… I knew you were frakked in the head with Baltar. I never thought it was that bad. His hands and feet were hurting, and he just wanted this to be over so he could sit.
"Beg." Starbuck, who had been in a prison cell herself. Louis turned around, watching her intently.
"Beg," she ordered Gaeta, more firmly now. "Beg!" She threw a kick at him. Gaeta rolled with it, but it had to have hurt. Louis took a step towards Kara, wanting to stop her, wanting to help.
"Thrace," Tigh began, but Starbuck was beyond a simple order. She shook him off.
"No! Beg. Come on, Felix. Tell them how you were actually working for the Resistance the entire time. Come on! Tell them all about the important information that you were giving up. Tell them about all the messages and the dog bowl, and everything else. Just tell me about-"
Actually working for the Resistance the entire time. Important information. Louis froze.
Tyrol sprang into action, pushing Starbuck away. "What? What did she just say? What did you say to her? Tell me. What did you say to her?"
Gaeta mumbled something, and as Tyrol pushed him, the words became clear. "There was a yellow dog bowl. It was a signal. It meant there was a message in the garbage dump. I turned it over. It was a signal. And then there was a message in the garbage dump."
We had a contact who was slipping us information. They gave me this. The death list… the death list with his name on it…. Louis took a step back.
"That was you. Oh, my Gods…" Galen immediately pulled out a knife and sawed through the cuffs.
"What are you doing?" Tigh demanded.
"There was a yellow dog bowl," Tyrol said, standing back up. "I used it. You were wondering who the source was, Colonel. There's no other way he could've known. He's the only other one that would know about it. He's the reason we know about the death lists. He's the reason I saved Cally, that Hoshi's standing here. He's the reason we're on this ship. He's the one who gave us the inside information. There's our source, Colonel."
Tigh looked down at Gaeta like he couldn't believe it, but Louis could. Nausea swept over him, and he had to back against the wall to support himself. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe.
"I did what I could," Gaeta said, pulling himself to his feet. "I don't know what else I could've done." He walked out unsteadily, and Louis couldn't watch. He couldn't do anything but stand against his wall, watching through the plate glass as justice was served and the defendant lay bleeding inside.
***
There was no more Circle. It didn't need to be said, it just happened. Louis didn't go to the Admiral; he knew that Tigh and Tyrol would do that. If Adama wanted his account, he'd come find him. There wasn't anyplace he could go. He couldn't bear to be alone, and he couldn't face the CIC. He drifted through the halls, footfalls as silent as a ghost.
He found himself in the infirmary. Cottle looked up when he entered, and sighed. "Well it's about frakking time," he growled. "Get your ass in a bed, lieutenant. I don't care which one."
"Yes, sir."
He removed his clothing and slid in between the crisp, white sheets. The smell of starch was strong, and the beeping of monitors was oddly soothing. He looked down at the mess that was his hands, and then leaned back and closed his eyes.
***
"Lieutenant Hoshi."
Louis was clumsily trying to manage the soup spoon with bandaged hands when the Admiral came in. He set the spoon down. "Sir."
Adama sat down beside his bed. "How are the hands?"
"All right, sir."
"So I hear," Adama said, in a voice that gave away that he knew the truth, but he wasn't going to call Louis out on it. "Doc says you need a day or two to rest up."
"I heard, sir."
Adama sighed. "Actually, he says you need a month and some serious psychological counseling, but I think that's true for everyone."
Louis tried to manage a smile and failed.
Adama leaned in. "Did you hear the President's broadcast?"
"Yes, sir." He looked down at the bowl.
"Good." Adama loaded that one word with so much meaning. He touched Louis's shoulder gently. "Forgiveness is the song of the day," he said. "For everyone."
Louis couldn't look anywhere but the bowl. "Yes, sir."
"Hmm." He felt, more than saw, Adama stand up. "Get better fast, lieutenant. We need you in the CIC."
"Yes, sir."
When Adama left, he tried to pick up his spoon again, but it slipped out of his bandage hands. He looked at the spoon lying on the infirmary floor and burst into tears.
***
Bit by bit, piece by piece, the CIC was reassembled. Louis's hands healed enough for him to take his shifts, and even though the fingernails grew back slowly, Cottle gave him medicine to help with the pain. Tigh didn't return to the CIC; his demons kept him locked in his quarters. But Louis did his job, because it was all he knew how to do right now.
He was given a bunk in the officers' racks, and he learned his way around the Galactica. He learned the names of the commanding officers, the nuances of the old, buggy equipment. He put faces to voices and names in the CIC, some of which he already knew. But he didn't speak much unless spoken to.
He found a refuge in that old, dented, beaten up observation deck. There wasn't much of a view anymore, and he was pretty sure the room wasn't entirely safe. But it was the only place on the overcrowded ship that he could go to be alone, and whenever he was off duty, he went there. It was easier here in the darkness and the silence. He managed to put together something to sit on (he didn't quite call it a bench or a chair) and spent hours staring out at the stars.
A week after the Exodus, he opened his refuge to find someone already there. "Excuse me," he began, but the intruder stilled, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Louis realized who it was.
Felix.
"I'm sorry," Louis said, backing up. "I didn't realize someone was in here."
"No," Felix said, rising to his feet. "I'll go. I knew someone else was using this space, but it just…"
"You don't have to-"
"No, I really should-"
"I-" Louis was about to argue when he heard footsteps and laughter. They looked at each other, both a little panicked, neither wanting anyone else to remember their little sanctuary. He stepped in and pulled the hatch closed. Whoever was out in the corridor had no interest and continued on their way.
"I really should go," Felix said, when the sounds of laughter faded. "I don't want to intrude, and you… you need this place."
"So do you." Louis stared at him. "Oh, frak it. Look. I know there is nothing I can say. Absolutely nothing, and you're right to hate me. But what we did… I thought it was justice. It was meant to be justice. But it wasn't. So, I'm sorry."
Felix stared at him for a long, baffled minute, and Louis tensed, waiting for him to strike. But he didn't say anything; he just sank back down on the bench and turned back to the window.
Louis stood behind him, staring out in silence as well.
***
Felix was there the next time he went to the observation deck, and the time after that. Both times they just sat in silence and the company of their thoughts, but the silence had softened. The third time, Felix came in when Louis was sitting, and sat down beside him. They were close enough that their arms touched, and Felix was warm through the jacket.
"I'm sorry, too," Felix said, and his voice was calmer than Louis ever could have believed.
"You?" Louis snorted. "What do you have to be sorry for?"
"That I left you in that prison."
"You thought I was dead."
"I should have asked someone besides Gaius." Felix shook his head. "There was an Eight… an Eight who was helping me get prisoners released. I should have… I should have asked her."
Louis shrugged. "You think I could live in the debt of a Cylon?"
"Probably not. And every time I mentioned your name, Gaius kept telling me you were dead."
"Did he know about us?"
"He knew." Felix was quiet for a long moment.
"You did save me," Louis finally said. "When you saw my name on the death list."
Felix squirmed. "I never saw your name there," he admitted. "Not because I didn't care, but because your name was so far down. I'd already read enough. It didn't matter that your name was there. It mattered that the list existed in the first place."
"Oh, gods." Louis bent his head forward, resting it on his folded hands. "Just when I think you can't say anything to break me anymore, you go and say something like that."
"Louis… I didn't mean…" There was a gentle, tentative touch on his back. Felix's hand. When Louis didn't shrug it off, the touch became firmer, and Felix began to rub in small circles. "It's all right, Louis. I didn't mean to-"
"No. Of course you didn't." To his horror, he felt tears starting to drip from his eyes. "Because you're a frakking martyr and I'm just-"
The rubbing stopped. "I can't absolve you."
"I'm not asking you to!" He shrugged off Felix's hand and sat up straight, glaring at him. "I killed people, Felix."
"And I collaborated." Felix's spine straightened. "I did it for a damn good reason, and I'm glad I did it, but I still signed their orders and served as their voice and cut people's rations and signed detention orders when I had to. We both did what we had to do."
Louis started. "She would have liked you," he said when he could speak again.
"Who?" Felix asked.
"Admiral Cain."
"Oh." Felix didn't seem to know what to make of that, and he turned back to the window in silence.
***
I'm sorry. I failed you. I left you there.
I'm sorry. I failed you. I didn't ask more.
I nearly killed you, because I didn't ask. I nearly lost you, because-
I nearly lost you.
The words weren't said, but they both felt them.
I nearly lost you.
***
Felix brought a blanket. Louis brought a flask. They sat together, their backs braced against the makeshift bench, their jackets off, and the blanket wrapped around both of their shoulders. They were close together as they passed the flask back and forth.
"You know, I never realized I missed the stars so much," Felix said, leaning his head against Louis's shoulder. "But sitting here, where I can see them… I just remember looking at the night sky on New Caprica and not seeing much of anything because of the nebula."
"Mm. I miss seeing the Pegasus."
"I know. Gods," Felix breathed. "The number of ships-"
Louis wrapped his arm around Felix's shoulders. It should have felt odd, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. "Don't think about it," he said, his lips close to Felix's ear. Felix shivered.
"What should I think about, then?" he asked.
"Nothing," Louis said, daring to nuzzle Felix's neck. "Just this once, nothing at all."
Felix obeyed, tipping his head so that Louis could find easier access. Louis shifted around, pulling Felix into his arms properly, letting the blanket fall to the floor. "I can do that."
"Good." Louis covered his mouth with his own, before either of them said anything to ruin the moment.
Felix still kissed sweetly, his lips gentle and hesitant. Louis smoothed his hand along Felix's cheek, holding him close and refusing to forget how close he'd come- they'd come- no, don't think at all. Just feel. He deepened the kiss.
Felix melded to him, his arms wrapping around Louis's neck. He was trembling slightly, but he kept kissing, and Louis gently pushed him back on the blanket.
They'd been in here enough to know they had some measure of privacy. Louis ran his hands under Felix's tanks, working them off over his head. The skin there was smooth and unscarred, and for a terrible moment he didn't want Felix to see him. But Felix was already working on Louis's tanks, and there was a part of Louis that had no desire to be self-conscious.
Felix froze when he removed Louis's tanks, just for a moment. A lot of the damage to his torso was superficial- small scars that would have healed to nothing had he been in Cottle's care, not a dirty prison scale. But Felix leaned forward and pressed his lips to a particularly nasty one on Louis's shoulder and Louis had to close his eyes and be still.
"Are you all right?" Felix whispered, and with the sound of his voice Louis could open his eyes, could move again.
"I'm all right," he whispered back.
They squirmed out of their pants, and then they were skin to skin, and reservation was gone. Felix's hands roamed down Louis's naked back, and Louis hovered over Felix, kissing him with more fervor. Felix moaned, bucking his hips up against Louis.
"I don't even know what you like," Louis whispered. "What do you want to do?"
"Gods," Felix gasped, his erection rubbing against Louis's as he moved. "I don't care. Anything."
Anything. After everything he'd done, Felix could still say that. Louis crawled down Felix's body, leaving a trail of kisses, taking in his scent. Felix realized what he was doing and lay back fully, letting Louis move. He was on his knees, hunched over in supplication, Felix's thighs beneath his hands, and there was no place he'd rather be. He took Felix into his mouth.
Felix gasped, bucking up just a little, and Louis closed his eyes. But then Felix's hands tangled in his hair. "Wait," he whispered.
"Are you all right?" Louis asked.
"Fine. Just…" Felix pushed Louis away a little, and then turned himself. "Better?" he asked.
"Oh gods. Much be-" and as Felix's mouth closed around him, his voice stopped working. Besides, there were better uses for his tongue than talking, anyway.
He'd done this before with other men, but it had never felt like this. Never this desperation, this closeness, this… this atonement. From one to the other, back and forth, forgiveness and guilt and condemnation and redemption. They curled into each other, and when Louis came it wasn't the white hot burst of pleasure, but something deeper, something that released the worst of him and left him clensed, if only for a short time.
When they were done, Felix turned back around and nestled himself firmly back into Louis's arms. Louis kissed his curls softly, holding him close. Neither of them would say it, but they both knew that this was the resuming of something good. It wouldn’t be easy, it wouldn't be perfect, but it would, without a doubt, be good.
Pairing: Gaeta/Hoshi
Warnings: Torture happens, although it is not too graphically described and is not related to the sex in any way, shape, or form. Reflections on Gina, but Hoshi was not involved in the actual abuse.
Rating: Adult
Prompt: Hoshi as a Circle member
Summary: When the Cylons attacked New Caprica, Lieutenant Hoshi was on the surface. As an active military member, he was taken as a prisoner of war.
"Oh, Gods." Louis squirmed, grabbing the sheets just for something to hold on to. He felt Felix grin around his cock, and then- frak Felix added another finger. He arched his back, the tips of Felix's fingers hitting their target as he thrust a little deeper into Felix's mouth. Felix responded, opening his throat a little more and taking Louis deeper. His fingers became firmer in their touch, and - "oh Gods, right there," he was coming. He breathed deeply, burying his fingers in Felix's hair, finally warm despite the fact he was naked.
"How was that for payback?" Felix asked, pulling his fingers out and crawling up beside Louis.
"Can't talk now. Recovering," Louis gasped.
Felix chucked and got out of the bed, wincing as he put his bare foot on the cold earth beneath them. Louis looked inquiringly at him, but Felix just shook his head. "I'll be right back," he said. "Don't worry." His smile deepened. "Unless you're going somewhere."
Louis shook his head and closed his eyes. He ran his fingers through the particularly bad haircut he was currently enduring, still trying to get his breath back. He heard water splashing outside the tent as Felix washed his hands, and then eventually came back in and slid into bed.
That snapped Louis out of his post-orgasm stupor.
"Ah! Your feet are freezing!"
"Sorry," Felix said apologetically, curling against Louis's side. "It gets cold down here."
"I'd figured that out."
"Well, when you're up on the nice, warm, comfortable Pegasus-"
"You could be on Galactica," Louis laughed. "Then I wouldn't have to come down to this frozen mudball to see you again."
"Oh, you think you’re going to see me again?"
"After that?" Louis hugged Felix to him. "I'm sure as hell hoping so."
"Yeah, well, give us a few minutes." Felix pulled away again and got out of bed. "Want a drink before round two?"
"You want round two?" Louis laughed. "That had better be coffee."
"It is."
"And you'd better not put your cold feet on my legs."
"Well, then how am I supposed to get back into bed?" Felix laughed. He put the kettle on, and then pulled Louis's duty jacket around his naked body. He sat down on the chair, and Louis propped himself up on one elbow, pulling the blankets around his waist. "Seriously, though," he said, looking more at the desk than at Louis. "You want to see me again?"
"Yes, you goof. I've wanted to see you for a while. Now that I've gotten you into bed, I'd really rather not let you out of it. If that's all right with you."
Felix was smiling. "It's all right with me. It's just…" the smile faded. "I've been kind of… well…"
Louis sighed. "I know about Baltar."
"Oh." Felix was finding the desk fascinating now. "Really?"
"Enough. We can take it slow if you want. We've got all the time in the world."
"We do." Felix reached over and poured the coffee, then padded over and sat down on the bed. He handed Louis his cup and leaned down for a kiss. They lingered, the kiss deepening. Louis set his coffee down, cupping the back of Felix's head with one hand and using the other to keep his balance. It was too soon to do anything yet, but gods… he'd been wanting this pretty much since the Pegasus found the Fleet and he'd been hearing Felix's voice over the wireless.
Felix pulled away long enough to set his own coffee down, and then came back, wrapping his arms around Louis. His own jacket felt rough against Louis's skin, but he hesitated before pushing it off of Felix's shoulders. It was such an intimate gesture… he settled for sliding his hands under the jacket and against the smooth warmth of Felix's skin.
They kissed for a long time, like two teenagers making out. Eventually, Louis's anatomy finally decided it was time to cooperate again. It was slow and it took a while, but his cock finally stiffened. Felix, he noted, had recovered slightly earlier. Well, there was a reason he kind of liked younger men. He laid back, pulling Felix on top of him. They kicked the covers out from between them, but then after consideration Felix reached down and pulled them over his own legs. "Like you said," he murmured against Louis's lips, "it's cold down here."
"Warm me up, then," Louis said.
Felix sputtered with laughter. "That," he said, thrusting his hips against Louis's, "was seriously corny."
"Yup." He arched his back, his erection rubbing against Felix's. "But since the coffee is now officially cold…"
"I see your point." Felix braced himself better, his forearms on either side of Louis, and they began to move together. It felt good, but at the same time, it wasn't particularly comfortable. He stopped for a minute, groping at the bedside table to find the lube they'd used earlier, and Felix stilled obligingly. This time he remembered to warm the damn stuff up between his hands, and he reached down between them, awkwardly managing to grab both their cocks. "Good enough," Felix said, and then began to move again.
It was. The friction of them rubbing together felt amazing. Louis tipped his head back, at first trying to actually be active, but then just losing himself in the sensation. His hips moved against Felix's, but his arms fell against the lumpy mattress.
Eventually their tempo became faster and their breathing became heavier. Louis reached down and grabbed Felix's ass, pulling him against himself harder. Felix moaned, sweat dripping down the side of his face. But what got Louis was the fact that Felix was still wearing his jacket. The fabric brushed against his arms, tickled his chest, and when he opened his eyes to see the way it was hanging open, just revealing Felix's chest with that ridiculous tattoo… that was when he came.
"You're definitely going to have to come down again," Felix agreed, when they were done and they lay together, skin to skin under the covers, Felix's head on Louis's chest and Louis's arms around them.
"I'll put in for leave again as soon as I can," Louis said, yawning. He kissed Felix's hair. "This is definitely the start of something good."
"Definitely," Felix agreed. They fell asleep, wrapped up together.
***
The shuttle back up to the Fleet was due to leave at 1800 hours, and Louis had a lot to do before then. He needed to meet with Xeno Fenner about the tylium mining, and then with a few of the Quorum members about rations for the military, and then Cottle for what he needed from the military… it wasn't going to be a day with much time for relaxation. So much the pity.
But he walked around the settlement with a spring in his step he hadn't felt since before the attacks. Louis wasn't naïve enough to think that this was anything definite. Felix did have issues, and frak, so did he. But then, so did every other frakking human who had survived this long. Sometimes, Louis wondered what the hell they were all hanging on for. Then he remembered times like last night, and he knew. There was still happiness in the universe to be had, and damn it, he was going to have some of it, even if it was only fleeting.
That was what he was thinking when he heard the first of the engines, and when the raiders began to streak across the sky.
***
He arrived at the Raptor out of breath but in control. "What have we got?" he demanded.
Tribble looked up from the ECO console, his face pale. "The Fleet, sir. They're jumping away."
"Frak! We're too-" late, he wanted to say, but Louis cut himself off. He only knew part of the contingency plan himself, and it was best no one else knew it. "All right. Sonar, what kind of arms do we have on board?"
"Not much, LT," the pilot said. He was out of breath himself, and Louis noticed that he was straining the seams of his flight uniform. Things had gotten sloppy- too sloppy. But Sonar opened up the storage compartment and tossed a gun to Louis and another to Tribble.
"All right," Louis said, thinking on his feet "We'll rally those that we can. I'm sure a lot of former marines took souvenirs- jarheads have a very special relationship with their guns. We'll work our way towards the-" he was cut off by the sound of clanging. "Frak." This was it, and his heart was in his mouth. But he'd fired a gun long before he'd been an officer, and he could do it again. "All right," he ordered. "Take cover."
"I wouldn't bother if I was you." A smooth, familiar voice spoke up. Centurions surrounded the Raptor, and Louis realized they were badly outnumbered. A Six stepped forward. She looked so much like Gina he almost had to look away, but he kept his eyes on her, angry and hard and not surrendering.
The Six sighed. "Kill the two grunts if you must," she ordered the Centurions. "But take the officer alive."
"You're not taking any of us alive," Louis said. He raised his gun and fired, hitting the Six square in the chest. She fell. The Centurions opened fire, and Tribble and Sonar both fell. Louis stared down at them, untouched, feeling sick. He'd just lost their lives. But as the Centurions approached him, he raised his chin and pushed his regret aside. Because if he was right about what they were about to do to him, Sonar and Tribble were better off dead.
***
They took him to the Astral Queen, his hands cuffed in front of him. Two Threes, a Four, and a Five, and a One were waiting. One of the Threes was filing her nails, the Four and the Five were arguing about something. But the other Three and the One looked interested as the Centurion brought him in.
"Get rid of the uniform," the One ordered. "And bring me the tags."
"What are we putting the prisoners in?" the Three asked.
"I don't know. Make him sit in the cell in his underwear for all I care. For crying out loud, can't anyone else do anything around here?" the One griped.
The Three rolled her eyes, but as she approached Louis, her expression turned predatory. "Strip," she ordered.
Louis said nothing. He didn't move. He just stared straight ahead.
The predator aspect of her expression deepened. "Oh," she said, smiling darkly. "You're going to be a fun one."
***
He sat in a cell on the Astral Queen, wearing a loose fitting top, loose gray pants, and nothing else. They'd taken his uniform, his underwear, his socks, his dogtags. Every now and then another cell door clanged open and closed, but the Cylons were placing the prisoners too far apart to get a good idea of who was being brought in.
He was sore already, and he knew that the Three had gone lightly on him. Whatever was coming, it was going to be hell.
***
He could hear voices, sometimes. Sometimes they were ones he didn't know, sometimes they held familiarity. He recognized Tom Zarek's voice; he'd heard it often enough over the wireless. He thought he heard Tigh's. And he strained to hear Felix's. He hoped he would, anyway, because if Felix wasn't imprisoned, he was dead.
But more than that, he heard Gina's voice. He saw her face, her mannerisms, her smile, every time a Six passed his cell. At first he felt guilty, but as the days stretched on and as they took him from his cell for interrogation, his only guilt was that he had ever felt sympathy for a woman who'd helped destroy his people.
***
Pain. He thought he knew it, but he'd never really understood until they attached the electrodes, until it coursed through his body, wringing his nerves with fire. Or the time a Five sat down and pulled his fingernails out with a pair of pliers, one by one, and then the pain that woke him from a restless sleep from raw, infected fingertips. Pinches, shocks, cuts, and scratches- he'd had them all in his life, and now they were magnified by ten thousand.
But he didn't break.
They knew his name was Lieutenant L. Hoshi. They knew his serial number was 871076. They'd figured out that he was from the Pegasus, although Louis hadn't given them that information. And that was all they knew.
In his dreams, he saw Admiral Cain smile at him.
***
They moved the prisoners. He had a brief flash of sunlight and fresh air before a bag was pulled over his head, and then he was forced into a truck. But as he sat tight, there was a warm body next to his, thigh against thigh.
"Who are you?" the prisoner said as the truck bounced into gear. A male voice, familiar and rusty. But Louis didn't answer. "Who are you?" the prisoner repeated, and this time he knew the voice. Tigh.
"Lieutenant Hoshi, sir."
"Hoshi, eh?" Their hands were cuffed, but he suddenly felt Tigh's hand awkwardly grab his own. "You fight 'em till you can't, soldier."
"That's what I'm doing, sir."
"Good man."
The truck lurched to a stop, and they both fell silent.
When the hood was ripped off, he was in a small, clay-walled cell, with only a door and a light that never turned off. Louis had never thought that the Astral Queen would be luxury, but now he realized it was.
***
He screamed. If he screamed his throat raw, if he lost his voice, they couldn't question him. Or at least, they couldn't expect him to answer.
That's right, Cain whispered in his ear. Good strategy, lieutenant.
So he screamed until he couldn't talk, even if he wanted to. It helped.
***
Fear. He thought he'd known fear before, when he'd been an enlisted man and faced the angry crowds on Sagittaron, when he'd entered the firefight on Tauron. When the Pegasus had been hit, and all they knew was that everything was destroyed. When Cain shot Belzan, and he wasn’t sure where his Admiral had gone and what had replaced her, only to find out that nothing had- this was her. He'd known fear, but as raw as when Cavil put a bloody eye into his hands.
"Want that to happen to you?"
No answer.
"You'd better start talking, or I'm going to start gouging. You got that?"
No answer.
Behind Cavil, Cain smiled with pride.
***
There was no way to measure the passage of time, although he tried to scratch lines into the walls. But he had no fingernails, and the day came when he had no toenails, either. He could only judge the length of his incarceration by the beard on his face and the hair falling into his eyes and brushing his collar.
***
Every now and then he could hear explosions. Once, it was close enough that his cell rattled and little bits of dried clay rained down on him. He loved those explosions, because it meant that humans were fighting, and he hated them, because it meant that the Cylons would come for him, and the pain would begin again.
It got to the point when he heard them, far off in the distance, he began to cry.
***
Louis slept, in fitful bursts punctuated with pain, hunger, and trembling limbs that wouldn't always obey. When he slept, he dreamed. He saw a river, rushing in front of him. He saw the people he loved on the other side, so far away, so untouchable. And Cain stood beside him.
You'll join us, she told him. Someday. They'll figure out that you can't give them anything anymore, that you have no value. And when they do, they will shoot you, and you'll be with us again. Hold out just a little longer, Lieutenant, and then we can welcome you home.
He woke up with tears streaming down his face and his raw throat swollen and aching.
***
He remembered that last night before the Cylons came. He retreated into it whenever he could, remembering Felix's laugh in his ear and their bodies, together, his jacket hanging on Felix's shoulders and the promise of everything that lay between them.
He thought that Felix must be in this prison, too, bearing the same things Louis was bearing. The idea he might not be alone buoyed him, although it was the visions of Admiral Cain that gave him the real strength to face everything the Cylons threw at him.
***
They began to lose interest in him. Days would pass with no one coming for him. He huddled in his cell, sometimes dragging himself painfully to his feet and pacing, or trying to do something to keep him muscles active. He didn't know why he bothered… death was coming, but he did.
***
The day came. They dragged him from his cell, put him on a truck. This time there was no hood, only the flex cuffs, and he knew that this time he was going to die. He sat, huddled on the truck, blinking in the light. Judging by the looks on the other faces, he must look terrible.
The truck bounced along, and he searched the faces of his fellow prisoners. He didn't recognize any of their faces, and wondered if that was good or not. Probably good, even as it was lonely to die like this. But then, Cain always said everyone died alone.
The truck lurched to a stop. This was it, then, and he climbed off the truck with no small sense of relief. No begging, no pleading… just an end to this torture and the days that had come before it. And when he say the Centurions, he lifted his chin and faced them proudly, ready to cross to the other side,
The bullets meant to end his life never came.
***
They all sat on the ground, bonds cut, meager food supplies being passed down the line. Louis tried not to inhale the woody apple he was eating, or drink too much of the water at once.
"Are you ex-military? No? All right. Are you ex-military? No? All right. Are you ex-military?"
Louis looked up, blinking, trying to place the face in front of him. Galactica's deck chief, he finally remembered. "No," he tried to say, "I'm active duty." The words barely came out a scratch, broken.
The Chief's brow furrowed. "What?" he asked, crouching down. He studied Louis's face. "Are you military?" Louis nodded. Chief extended his hand. Tyrol, that was his name. "Come on, then. You're coming with us."
"All right," Louis tried to say, but again, it didn't come out sounding like anything human.
"How long were you in there?" Tyrol asked, pulling Louis to his feet and steadying him with a discreet arm. Louis stared at him helplessly. "How long?" Tyrol asked.
Louis looked around, and spotted Tom Zarek and Laura Roslin. He remembered, so long ago, hearing Zarek's voice on the Astral Queen, and he pointed. Tyrol followed his gesture and then frowned. "You were in there as long as Zarek? Frak, man, that's four months!"
Four months. Louis closed his eyes and sighed.
"Well, come on," Tyrol ordered, pulling him along. "Let's get you to where you're safe and can clean up, and then we'll bring you up to speed." His face darkened. "There's a lot going on."
***
He stood in front of the mirror, staring. The man who stared back looked nothing like the man he knew. Long hair, a straggly beard, sores and scratches and scars on the sides of his face. Pale white skin, large, haunted brown eyes, and when he lifted his hands, fingernails only a quarter regrown, dark with blood clots underneath them. His body was covered with the remnants of welts and electrical burns, scars and still healing cuts. His voice was still hoarse, but better after Cottle had given him some thick, syrupy liquid to drink.
"Need a razor?"
He looked over his shoulder to see Tigh. Colonel Tigh, who was leaning on a cane, missing an eye. He drew himself up.
"No, sir. I think I'll just leave it for now."
Tigh smiled grimly. "Good man." He came forward and cautiously clapped Louis on the shoulder. His shoulder was thin, brittle. "Everything goes right, and we'll be home this time tomorrow night."
Home. Louis thought of his rack on the Pegasus, of the mess hall and the CIC, of his friends there and of the familiar halls and rivets.
"And if we're not home," Tigh continued, "we'll be dead."
"Either place is better than where we were, sir," Hoshi said.
"You can say that again. Finish up, lieutenant. You look like you could use a drink."
***
The Resistance had dug out the basement that they were huddled in, and Louis hated it. He felt closed in, scared, trapped. He saw the same restless look on Zarek's face, when their eyes met. He noticed that Zarek didn't look quite as bad as he himself did, but decided not to ask about it. He really didn't want to know.
It was when he got a whiff of the night air that he couldn't help asking Tigh. "Sir. What happened to Felix Gaeta?"
Tigh's face darkened. "Oh, that's right. You would know Gaeta," he said. He shook his head, and Louis's stomach began to twist. "He's still sitting there, high up in Colonial One. Hand in hand with those frakkers." Tigh took a drink from the bottle he was pouring from. "You don't even want to get me started there."
"No," Louis said, feeling physically sick. "I don't."
***
Explosions were better when he was outside to witness them himself. Louis ran through the shrapnel and the dust, a gun in his hand and covering the civilians the best he could. It felt good to be active, to protect, to fight those frakkers.
But then he was on the Hitei Khan, escaping into space, and the battle was over far, far too soon.
***
"I need to go to the Pegasus," he croaked to Narcho. Whatever Cottle had given him had worn off.
Narcho's face crumpled in sympathy. "There is no Pegasus anymore, Hosh." He glanced back over his shoulder and waved at someone. Showboat- gods, Showboat- came over, her eyes widening as she saw him. "Captain," he told her. "Lieutenant Hoshi needs a ride to Galactica."
Showboat wrapped an arm around Louis's waist. "Come on," she ordered him. "I'm taking you home myself."
***
Showboat walked him to the quartermaster to get a new uniform and helped him put in his request for new tags. She guided him to the Admiral's study, and when he faced Adama, he at least looked like a soldier again in terms of dress. He saluted and called the man 'sir', and thanked him for getting them off New Caprica. But it wasn't the same.
Adama might have gotten him off New Caprica, but Admiral Cain had gotten him through it.
***
It hurt to walk. He hadn't really noticed that during the escape, but now he noticed, especially since his shoes were a half-size too small. But he limped into the broken CIC, ready to take up his position.
Dualla saw him first. Her eyes lit up, and she crossed the room like she intended to hug him, but something about how he was walking stopped her, and he was glad. He met her in the middle.
"All right. What are we repairing first?"
Dualla got the hint. "Come on," she said, skipping the small talk. "Let's get started with the communications console."
They worked together in silence.
***
"Lieutenant Hoshi."
Hoshi sat back on his heels, cursing the pain in his fingers. "Colonel?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Yes, sir."
"In private."
"Yes, sir." Louis straightened up and followed the Colonel out of the CIC. Tigh watched him oddly.
"What's with you, Lieutenant?"
"Bastards took my toenails, sir."
"Toenails," Tigh said.
"I'm not complaining to you, sir. But you did ask."
"Ripped 'em out?"
"Hurt like hell."
"I'll bet it did. Don't think I want to know what else they did. I know what they did to me, and that's enough. You been to Cottle?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Mm. Well, go when there's time, but not now. Come on. I've got something to show you." Louis followed obediently, and Tigh led him to his quarters.
Inside the quarters, Tigh changed. There was something about his posture that suggested he was slipping out of his military persona and into something else. It was the air of command, Louis realized. It left in here. Tigh rifled through a stack of papers on his desk, and then handed one to Louis.
"What is this?" Louis asked, reading it over.
"President Zarek," Tigh grunted, "wants the worst of the collaborators dealt with quickly and quietly. Fairly, but without a frakking media circus. And he wants it done before Roslin assumes the Presidency again."
"Roslin will-"
"Roslin will insist on a public trial for every last one of those frakking bastards," Tigh growled. "She's too soft. Zarek's right about that. And it's not every collaborator on that list. The ones that played nice to protect themselves or their families… they deserve to be spit on, but I can understand that. It's the ones that actively tried to destroy their own. The ones who took up arms, who locked people away, who helped the Cylons. They're the ones we're after. It's under eighty names."
"And we…"
"We give them a trial, examine the evidence. If they're guilty, we punish them."
Louis looked at Tigh squarely. "Let's be clear about this, sir. If they're guilty, we kill them, right?"
"Right. Out the airlock, clean and simple."
Louis handed the paper back to Tigh, the black crescents of his ruined nails visible, as well as burn scars on the back of his hands. "I'm honored, sir."
***
"Louis."
Louis stopped, feet frozen to the floor. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice harsh. He didn't turn around, but he didn't need to. He'd known that voice for a long time.
"You're alive."
"No thanks to you."
Silence.
He turned around, slowly. Felix was standing there, wearing a suit. His hair was long and wild, there were no bruises on his face, and his hands were unmarked and whole. Louis hated him.
"Louis-"
"Don't call me that," Louis snapped. "In fact, don't even talk to me at all. When I was in that frakking place…."
Felix- no, Gaeta's eyes were wet. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry you were even down there."
"What, you think I was just down there for you?" Louis spat. "Don't flatter yourself, Gaeta. I was down there on orders. That's the one thing I'm not holding against you. But look at you." He gestured angrily. "Life must have been nice working for the Cylons, huh? In a nice cushy office instead of in a cell or a torture chamber. And now you have the nerve to stand there and tell me I'm alive? Like after four months of hell that's a good thing?"
Gaeta shook his head. "I was sure you were dead," he said. "Baltar swore over and over to me that you were dead."
"I wasn't dead," Louis said, "but you should have been! This is what your oath to the Fleet means? This is what honor means to you? This is what humanity means to you? A nice suit and a full stomach? Well, frak you, Gaeta." He started to hobble away. "Don't you ever, ever speak to me again, you frakking coward of a collaborator."
He expected Gaeta to call after him. But to his surprise and relief, Gaeta let him go in silence.
***
He couldn't avoid Gaeta forever. Gaeta walked into the CIC, not like he belonged there, but like he once had. And that was what hurt- he had belonged there. Louis knew that.
He didn't have to say anything, though. Tigh pounced before Louis could say a word. He watched with a vicious sort of glee as Tigh tore Gaeta a new one, and felt a deep and profound respect for the XO.
Once upon a time, he'd been shocked at Cain's treatment of Gina. He didn't think that Felix deserved what Cain did to Gina, but as he stood there in the CIC, remembering that his lover had collaborated with the people who'd tortured and killed him, he understood Cain, right down to his bones.
When Gaeta came over to the communications system, Hoshi left to work on tactical. It was the only way he was going to keep from killing him.
***
"Lieutenant."
Louis looked up from the console he was trying to repair. "Admiral."
Adama barely noticed the salute. He was staring at Louis's hands. "You seen Cottle about those?"
"Not yet, sir. There's work to be done."
Adama nodded. "Get them taken care of when you're ready."
"Yes, sir."
"It's important, lieutenant." Adama's tone was kind, and he clapped Louis on the shoulder. "You've suffered enough." With one last sympathetic glance, he walked on to the next station.
Louis snorted. Admiral Cain never would have said that."
***
When they sentenced Timmens to death, it didn't even hurt. All Louis felt was a stab of vindication, a pinprick of light in a well of pain and darkness. They stood in the airlock control room; himeself, Tigh, Tyrol, Anders, Barolay, and Seelix. He turned the key, Tigh pushed the button. He watched Timmens fly out the airlock, and he wished he could feel some sort of remorse or regret. But he didn't.
They sifted through files, looking at the evidence. It made Louis sick to see the things people were capable of. Timmens had killed seven civilians. Not insurgents- civilians. There were several eyewitness accounts. Kressler had sold names of insurgents to the Cylons in return for extra rations. There were records, done in a neat but human hand. Kevlar had been one of the recruiters for the NCP, and one of the humans who actively brought prisoners to the Cylons for torturing. Simmons had sold out informants, not to save a family or even himself, but for a higher position in the government.
Then he saw the first copy of the death list.
It was in a file for someone named Johr, who had allegedly contributed names to the list, as well as helping to pick up various people who hadn't been in prison. It was neatly typed, and it was clearly an actual office document. Louis studied it carefully
"Where did they get this from?" he wondered.
"We had a contact who was slipping us information," Tyrol told him. Louis nodded. He'd heard something about that before, and anyway, it made sense. "They gave me this. You might want to look it over."
Louis frowned and flipped through the pages, At first he wasn't sure what he was supposed to see, except for the fact that the list was long. He glanced at the fourth page- over two hundred people. A chill ran down his spine. But still, that didn't seem like something Tyrol would point out. He glanced up inquiringly.
"Page three," Tyrol said, and when Louis flipped there, he saw it. There was his name, two thirds down the page. Hoshi, Louis, and under occupation, military. He shivered and pushed the death list away.
"Frak."
"Yeah. Cally's on there, too," Tyrol said.
"And Johr knew about the death lists?"
Barolay took the list from Hoshi and flipped back to the front page, tapping where the NCP captains had been assigned names. "He rounded up twenty five of these people."
Louis hadn't been afraid that day - death had been preferable to continuing his life. But he remembered the fear on other faces, and the word came out easily.
"Guilty."
***
He finally fell into bed around 0200 hours, three hours before he had to get up. His hands and feet were hurting so badly that the pain traveled up his limbs, and he was sure he wasn't going to sleep anyway. He lay on his back in a bunk that wasn't his and would never be his, and he listened to the breathing of other living souls.
There was no forgiveness for what some of these people had done, he told himself. No forgiveness at all.
As he drifted off into an uneasy doze, he dreamed of standing by the glass prison wall, and staring in at Gina lying on the floor.
***
"Next case," Tigh said wearily.
Seelix flipped open the file, and her hand stilled. She swallowed hard, steeled herself, and then read the name. "Felix Gaeta. Charges are collaborating with the enemy, and crimes against humanity."
Louis's mouth dropped open.
"You got a problem, Hoshi?" Barolay asked him.
Unbidden, he remembered lying in Felix's bed the night before the Cylons landed, Felix wearing his jacket as they moved together. He remembered them laughing and talking about how this was the start of something good.
"I…"
But it was Tyrol who spoke up. "Hey, this isn't a kangaroo court, okay? We examine the evidence. It's very possible that any person in here could be innocent. Remember that."
"That's right." Tigh began pulling out documents and passing them around. "Rations orders." He sighed. "And there's Gaeta's name, right at the top. He was copied on this."
Anders looked over Tigh's shoulder. "On the rations cuts? Did he sign off on it?"
"No, the only signature is Baltar's."
"Oh."
"Oh? What's that mean, Sam?" Barolay demanded, narrowing her eyes.
"It means 'oh.' Being copied on something isn't indication of guilt."
"No?"
"No. How do we know he saw it? How do we know when he saw it? They may have given it to him after the order was carried out. They may have put his name on there so Baltar would sign off, thinking that Gaeta could take the blame. He may have said something to the Cylons-"
"He didn't say anything to the Cylons," Tigh growled, "or he would have been tossed into detention."
"He's right," Seelix agreed. Louis didn't say anything.
"Well, what about witnesses?" Sam said. "Anyone see him taking up arms?"
"No, Gaeta never took up arms." That was Tigh. "Not his style. But that doesn't mean he didn't do his share."
"I don't know," Tyrol argued. "I don’t want to-"
"I don't want to do this," Tigh interrupted. "Do you think I like it? I stood beside Gaeta in the CIC for almost four years. He was like family. But the fact remains he was chief of staff to Gaius Baltar. And that alone is enough to convict him."
Anders shook his head. "And I'm saying that on this particular guy, we do not have any hard evidence. We've got no witnesses -- nothing. All we do know is that he worked for Baltar. That's it."
Tyrol nodded. "Yeah, I gotta go with Sam on this one. We need something specific."
Tigh began rifling through the documents. "You want specific? You think Baltar ran things? That guy? He was the public face, but Gaeta -- he was the brains. Everyone knew that. He ran the operation. He did the paperwork. He approved the death lists."
"How do you know that?" Tyrol demanded. "Were you there? Did you see him approve one single death list?"
Tigh found what he was looking for. "He knew Cally was on a death list. Hoshi, too." Louis looked up sharply.
Chief was much more skeptical. "What are you talking about? How do you know that?"
"Look there," Tigh ordered. Louis leaned in as well. "That's a distribution list and there's Cally's name. And there's Gaeta's name." He looked at Louis. "And you're on page three. He saw their executions ordered." He handed the list to Louis, who stared at it.
Baltar swore over and over to me that you were dead. He'd lied to Louis's face to save his own skin. He'd seen this death order. He'd known Louis was alive, and he'd lied.
"The question of the innocence or guilt of Felix Gaeta has been called," Seelix said, jerking Louis back to the conversation. "The Circle will vote. I vote guilty."
"Guilty," Tigh said.
"Guilty," Barolay said. She looked at Anders. "Sam?"
Anders drew back in disgust. "No, don't bother. I'm done."
"We're still voting," Seelix protested.
"I'm not. I'm done. I'm done with this whole thing. War's over for me. I'm sorry." He walked out. The others watched him go.
"Frak," Tigh sighed. "We're gonna need a sixth. Unless either of you are voting no?"
Tyrol hesitated, but Louis spoke up.
"He was a serviceman. He served under Baltar. As far as I'm concerned, it's clear. The frak is guilty." He slammed the list down and left.
***
He went to the observation deck. It was a mess, the furniture routed out and wires exposed, but he needed to be alone. He stared out the windows, looking at the infinity of space.
Justice. It was justice, he knew that. People couldn't hide from the things they did. One by one, it was finding them.
Like Gina shot the Admiral, something in him whispered. Like how Kendra couldn't live with the Scylla. Like Fisk found himself dead, choked with a wire. Like Garner led us into a trap and it cost him his life.
He flexed his fingers, wincing as the pain shot up his arms, and then leaned his forehead against the thick carbonate of the observation window. If this was justice, why did it make him sick to his stomach?
***
They traded Anders for Starbuck, and then the conviction was easy. Louis closed his eyes, and when he did, Cain was smirking at him. And this time, that thought didn't sustain him like it had in detention.
He pushed it from his mind.
***
They got him in a corridor. Louis put the tape over his mouth, and then secured his hands with the ties as Tyrol pulled the hood over Gaeta's head. They dragged him to the airlock between them, and then tossed him down to his knees. Louis reached down and yanked the hood off, and then pulled off the tape.
For a moment, their eyes met, and he regretted this. Then he reminded himself that he only regretted that he had to do this and stepped back, arms crossed.
"Felix Gaeta," Seelix said, "you've been tried and found guilty of crimes against humanity by a circle of your peers, as duly authorized by the President of the Colonies." Gaeta looked confused, scared. "If you have any words to offer in your own defense, now is the time."
Fel- Gaeta didn't say a word.
Tyrol knelt down. "Come on, Felix. Talk. We'll listen."
"Yeah," Louis choked out. "Lie to us a little more. Tell me you thought I was dead, when you saw my name on that frakking death list. Tell me you thought about me at all, instead of just sitting on your ass." Gaeta looked up at him, his eyes wide and hurt, but said nothing.
"Say something," Barolay ordered.
"What's the point?" Gaeta asked. "I already tried to explain it. I'm not gonna beg."
An explanation. Louis wondered what kind of explanation Gaeta could possibly have. But Tigh was glaring at him like he was a worm.
"Too bad you didn't grow that spine four months ago."
Four months. Four months you left me in that prison, after wearing my jacket and thinking that this could be… I knew you were frakked in the head with Baltar. I never thought it was that bad. His hands and feet were hurting, and he just wanted this to be over so he could sit.
"Beg." Starbuck, who had been in a prison cell herself. Louis turned around, watching her intently.
"Beg," she ordered Gaeta, more firmly now. "Beg!" She threw a kick at him. Gaeta rolled with it, but it had to have hurt. Louis took a step towards Kara, wanting to stop her, wanting to help.
"Thrace," Tigh began, but Starbuck was beyond a simple order. She shook him off.
"No! Beg. Come on, Felix. Tell them how you were actually working for the Resistance the entire time. Come on! Tell them all about the important information that you were giving up. Tell them about all the messages and the dog bowl, and everything else. Just tell me about-"
Actually working for the Resistance the entire time. Important information. Louis froze.
Tyrol sprang into action, pushing Starbuck away. "What? What did she just say? What did you say to her? Tell me. What did you say to her?"
Gaeta mumbled something, and as Tyrol pushed him, the words became clear. "There was a yellow dog bowl. It was a signal. It meant there was a message in the garbage dump. I turned it over. It was a signal. And then there was a message in the garbage dump."
We had a contact who was slipping us information. They gave me this. The death list… the death list with his name on it…. Louis took a step back.
"That was you. Oh, my Gods…" Galen immediately pulled out a knife and sawed through the cuffs.
"What are you doing?" Tigh demanded.
"There was a yellow dog bowl," Tyrol said, standing back up. "I used it. You were wondering who the source was, Colonel. There's no other way he could've known. He's the only other one that would know about it. He's the reason we know about the death lists. He's the reason I saved Cally, that Hoshi's standing here. He's the reason we're on this ship. He's the one who gave us the inside information. There's our source, Colonel."
Tigh looked down at Gaeta like he couldn't believe it, but Louis could. Nausea swept over him, and he had to back against the wall to support himself. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe.
"I did what I could," Gaeta said, pulling himself to his feet. "I don't know what else I could've done." He walked out unsteadily, and Louis couldn't watch. He couldn't do anything but stand against his wall, watching through the plate glass as justice was served and the defendant lay bleeding inside.
***
There was no more Circle. It didn't need to be said, it just happened. Louis didn't go to the Admiral; he knew that Tigh and Tyrol would do that. If Adama wanted his account, he'd come find him. There wasn't anyplace he could go. He couldn't bear to be alone, and he couldn't face the CIC. He drifted through the halls, footfalls as silent as a ghost.
He found himself in the infirmary. Cottle looked up when he entered, and sighed. "Well it's about frakking time," he growled. "Get your ass in a bed, lieutenant. I don't care which one."
"Yes, sir."
He removed his clothing and slid in between the crisp, white sheets. The smell of starch was strong, and the beeping of monitors was oddly soothing. He looked down at the mess that was his hands, and then leaned back and closed his eyes.
***
"Lieutenant Hoshi."
Louis was clumsily trying to manage the soup spoon with bandaged hands when the Admiral came in. He set the spoon down. "Sir."
Adama sat down beside his bed. "How are the hands?"
"All right, sir."
"So I hear," Adama said, in a voice that gave away that he knew the truth, but he wasn't going to call Louis out on it. "Doc says you need a day or two to rest up."
"I heard, sir."
Adama sighed. "Actually, he says you need a month and some serious psychological counseling, but I think that's true for everyone."
Louis tried to manage a smile and failed.
Adama leaned in. "Did you hear the President's broadcast?"
"Yes, sir." He looked down at the bowl.
"Good." Adama loaded that one word with so much meaning. He touched Louis's shoulder gently. "Forgiveness is the song of the day," he said. "For everyone."
Louis couldn't look anywhere but the bowl. "Yes, sir."
"Hmm." He felt, more than saw, Adama stand up. "Get better fast, lieutenant. We need you in the CIC."
"Yes, sir."
When Adama left, he tried to pick up his spoon again, but it slipped out of his bandage hands. He looked at the spoon lying on the infirmary floor and burst into tears.
***
Bit by bit, piece by piece, the CIC was reassembled. Louis's hands healed enough for him to take his shifts, and even though the fingernails grew back slowly, Cottle gave him medicine to help with the pain. Tigh didn't return to the CIC; his demons kept him locked in his quarters. But Louis did his job, because it was all he knew how to do right now.
He was given a bunk in the officers' racks, and he learned his way around the Galactica. He learned the names of the commanding officers, the nuances of the old, buggy equipment. He put faces to voices and names in the CIC, some of which he already knew. But he didn't speak much unless spoken to.
He found a refuge in that old, dented, beaten up observation deck. There wasn't much of a view anymore, and he was pretty sure the room wasn't entirely safe. But it was the only place on the overcrowded ship that he could go to be alone, and whenever he was off duty, he went there. It was easier here in the darkness and the silence. He managed to put together something to sit on (he didn't quite call it a bench or a chair) and spent hours staring out at the stars.
A week after the Exodus, he opened his refuge to find someone already there. "Excuse me," he began, but the intruder stilled, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Louis realized who it was.
Felix.
"I'm sorry," Louis said, backing up. "I didn't realize someone was in here."
"No," Felix said, rising to his feet. "I'll go. I knew someone else was using this space, but it just…"
"You don't have to-"
"No, I really should-"
"I-" Louis was about to argue when he heard footsteps and laughter. They looked at each other, both a little panicked, neither wanting anyone else to remember their little sanctuary. He stepped in and pulled the hatch closed. Whoever was out in the corridor had no interest and continued on their way.
"I really should go," Felix said, when the sounds of laughter faded. "I don't want to intrude, and you… you need this place."
"So do you." Louis stared at him. "Oh, frak it. Look. I know there is nothing I can say. Absolutely nothing, and you're right to hate me. But what we did… I thought it was justice. It was meant to be justice. But it wasn't. So, I'm sorry."
Felix stared at him for a long, baffled minute, and Louis tensed, waiting for him to strike. But he didn't say anything; he just sank back down on the bench and turned back to the window.
Louis stood behind him, staring out in silence as well.
***
Felix was there the next time he went to the observation deck, and the time after that. Both times they just sat in silence and the company of their thoughts, but the silence had softened. The third time, Felix came in when Louis was sitting, and sat down beside him. They were close enough that their arms touched, and Felix was warm through the jacket.
"I'm sorry, too," Felix said, and his voice was calmer than Louis ever could have believed.
"You?" Louis snorted. "What do you have to be sorry for?"
"That I left you in that prison."
"You thought I was dead."
"I should have asked someone besides Gaius." Felix shook his head. "There was an Eight… an Eight who was helping me get prisoners released. I should have… I should have asked her."
Louis shrugged. "You think I could live in the debt of a Cylon?"
"Probably not. And every time I mentioned your name, Gaius kept telling me you were dead."
"Did he know about us?"
"He knew." Felix was quiet for a long moment.
"You did save me," Louis finally said. "When you saw my name on the death list."
Felix squirmed. "I never saw your name there," he admitted. "Not because I didn't care, but because your name was so far down. I'd already read enough. It didn't matter that your name was there. It mattered that the list existed in the first place."
"Oh, gods." Louis bent his head forward, resting it on his folded hands. "Just when I think you can't say anything to break me anymore, you go and say something like that."
"Louis… I didn't mean…" There was a gentle, tentative touch on his back. Felix's hand. When Louis didn't shrug it off, the touch became firmer, and Felix began to rub in small circles. "It's all right, Louis. I didn't mean to-"
"No. Of course you didn't." To his horror, he felt tears starting to drip from his eyes. "Because you're a frakking martyr and I'm just-"
The rubbing stopped. "I can't absolve you."
"I'm not asking you to!" He shrugged off Felix's hand and sat up straight, glaring at him. "I killed people, Felix."
"And I collaborated." Felix's spine straightened. "I did it for a damn good reason, and I'm glad I did it, but I still signed their orders and served as their voice and cut people's rations and signed detention orders when I had to. We both did what we had to do."
Louis started. "She would have liked you," he said when he could speak again.
"Who?" Felix asked.
"Admiral Cain."
"Oh." Felix didn't seem to know what to make of that, and he turned back to the window in silence.
***
I'm sorry. I failed you. I left you there.
I'm sorry. I failed you. I didn't ask more.
I nearly killed you, because I didn't ask. I nearly lost you, because-
I nearly lost you.
The words weren't said, but they both felt them.
I nearly lost you.
***
Felix brought a blanket. Louis brought a flask. They sat together, their backs braced against the makeshift bench, their jackets off, and the blanket wrapped around both of their shoulders. They were close together as they passed the flask back and forth.
"You know, I never realized I missed the stars so much," Felix said, leaning his head against Louis's shoulder. "But sitting here, where I can see them… I just remember looking at the night sky on New Caprica and not seeing much of anything because of the nebula."
"Mm. I miss seeing the Pegasus."
"I know. Gods," Felix breathed. "The number of ships-"
Louis wrapped his arm around Felix's shoulders. It should have felt odd, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. "Don't think about it," he said, his lips close to Felix's ear. Felix shivered.
"What should I think about, then?" he asked.
"Nothing," Louis said, daring to nuzzle Felix's neck. "Just this once, nothing at all."
Felix obeyed, tipping his head so that Louis could find easier access. Louis shifted around, pulling Felix into his arms properly, letting the blanket fall to the floor. "I can do that."
"Good." Louis covered his mouth with his own, before either of them said anything to ruin the moment.
Felix still kissed sweetly, his lips gentle and hesitant. Louis smoothed his hand along Felix's cheek, holding him close and refusing to forget how close he'd come- they'd come- no, don't think at all. Just feel. He deepened the kiss.
Felix melded to him, his arms wrapping around Louis's neck. He was trembling slightly, but he kept kissing, and Louis gently pushed him back on the blanket.
They'd been in here enough to know they had some measure of privacy. Louis ran his hands under Felix's tanks, working them off over his head. The skin there was smooth and unscarred, and for a terrible moment he didn't want Felix to see him. But Felix was already working on Louis's tanks, and there was a part of Louis that had no desire to be self-conscious.
Felix froze when he removed Louis's tanks, just for a moment. A lot of the damage to his torso was superficial- small scars that would have healed to nothing had he been in Cottle's care, not a dirty prison scale. But Felix leaned forward and pressed his lips to a particularly nasty one on Louis's shoulder and Louis had to close his eyes and be still.
"Are you all right?" Felix whispered, and with the sound of his voice Louis could open his eyes, could move again.
"I'm all right," he whispered back.
They squirmed out of their pants, and then they were skin to skin, and reservation was gone. Felix's hands roamed down Louis's naked back, and Louis hovered over Felix, kissing him with more fervor. Felix moaned, bucking his hips up against Louis.
"I don't even know what you like," Louis whispered. "What do you want to do?"
"Gods," Felix gasped, his erection rubbing against Louis's as he moved. "I don't care. Anything."
Anything. After everything he'd done, Felix could still say that. Louis crawled down Felix's body, leaving a trail of kisses, taking in his scent. Felix realized what he was doing and lay back fully, letting Louis move. He was on his knees, hunched over in supplication, Felix's thighs beneath his hands, and there was no place he'd rather be. He took Felix into his mouth.
Felix gasped, bucking up just a little, and Louis closed his eyes. But then Felix's hands tangled in his hair. "Wait," he whispered.
"Are you all right?" Louis asked.
"Fine. Just…" Felix pushed Louis away a little, and then turned himself. "Better?" he asked.
"Oh gods. Much be-" and as Felix's mouth closed around him, his voice stopped working. Besides, there were better uses for his tongue than talking, anyway.
He'd done this before with other men, but it had never felt like this. Never this desperation, this closeness, this… this atonement. From one to the other, back and forth, forgiveness and guilt and condemnation and redemption. They curled into each other, and when Louis came it wasn't the white hot burst of pleasure, but something deeper, something that released the worst of him and left him clensed, if only for a short time.
When they were done, Felix turned back around and nestled himself firmly back into Louis's arms. Louis kissed his curls softly, holding him close. Neither of them would say it, but they both knew that this was the resuming of something good. It wouldn’t be easy, it wouldn't be perfect, but it would, without a doubt, be good.