BSG fic: Standing in the Mud (pg)
This is an off-the-top-of-my-head ficlet written for ingrid_m's Gaeta ficlet challenge. The instant I read the title of the song from the BSG s2 soundtrack, this popped into my head. It's unbetaed, so I'm sorry about the lack of refinement, but Felix didn't seem to mind so... ;)
Title: Standing in the Mud
Author: me
Rating: PG ('cause of Gaius)
Word count: 222
Spoilers: Lay Down Your Burdens 2
Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine. I won't harm them. Much. And I certainly won't make a profit.
Gods, how did I ever sink so low? Feeling as though he were mired in clinging muck, Felix waited, forcing himself to remain calm as three sets of eyes stared at him from the couch in the President’s office. In spite of the fact he had just burst into the room shouting for Gaius, walking the fine line between panic and urgency, Gaius and his “companions” were barely awake and aware. What the frak was I thinking? I should have let President Roslin steal the election. The room reeked of stale cigar smoke, stale sex, and things even less pleasant.
Finally, Gaius’ red eyes showed a glimmer of intelligence. “Yeah, what is it?” Felix wished that it were more than just a glimmer.
“The Cylons just jumped into orbit and the fleet’s jumped away.” The screams of the Raiders as they descended into New Caprica’s atmosphere and flew low overhead sent a chill down Felix’s spine, even as the walls of what was once Colonial One shuddered.
He had hoped that such news might prompt the President to… well, to act like the President, but instead Gaius made his way to a window to watch the wheeling Raiders and then looked over his shoulder at the Presidential desk.
Felix shook his head, despair sinking into his gut as he thought, Judgment day…
Feedback is love, even for such a tiny thing as this. ;)
Title: Standing in the Mud
Author: me
Rating: PG ('cause of Gaius)
Word count: 222
Spoilers: Lay Down Your Burdens 2
Disclaimer: I only wish they were mine. I won't harm them. Much. And I certainly won't make a profit.
Gods, how did I ever sink so low? Feeling as though he were mired in clinging muck, Felix waited, forcing himself to remain calm as three sets of eyes stared at him from the couch in the President’s office. In spite of the fact he had just burst into the room shouting for Gaius, walking the fine line between panic and urgency, Gaius and his “companions” were barely awake and aware. What the frak was I thinking? I should have let President Roslin steal the election. The room reeked of stale cigar smoke, stale sex, and things even less pleasant.
Finally, Gaius’ red eyes showed a glimmer of intelligence. “Yeah, what is it?” Felix wished that it were more than just a glimmer.
“The Cylons just jumped into orbit and the fleet’s jumped away.” The screams of the Raiders as they descended into New Caprica’s atmosphere and flew low overhead sent a chill down Felix’s spine, even as the walls of what was once Colonial One shuddered.
He had hoped that such news might prompt the President to… well, to act like the President, but instead Gaius made his way to a window to watch the wheeling Raiders and then looked over his shoulder at the Presidential desk.
Felix shook his head, despair sinking into his gut as he thought, Judgment day…
Feedback is love, even for such a tiny thing as this. ;)