I was looking for someone to go a visit Gaeta while he recovered, but all he did it sing in the show (which was gorgeous), so, I decided to write it myself. I don't own any of this, if I did it would be in the show. I like this pairing, I should see more of it.
She watched from behind the thick plastic curtain. She was no stranger to injury or even death. She was definitely familiar with sick bay. With its bright humming lights, cold plastic curtains, and the beeping of machines telling everyone that there patient was still alive, still holding on. But never in all her time in this place had she heard a voice like his. As coping mechanisms go, it was one of the more pleasant ones. Singing, that was all, the same beautiful song over and over, no matter how tired his voice got. When he wasn't sleeping he was singing. She watched him, watched him fight, as long as he was singing, he was fighting. She was working up the courage to come out of her hiding place, she had been for days.
"He's got a fever." A gruff voice behind her said.
"That's bad, isn't it?" She said not turning around. Cottle had been behind her for awhile, she could smell the cigarettes on him while he watches her, as she had continued her vigil.
"No, means he's fighting off infection, it's only bad if it get's too high." He said taking a drag from the cigarette. "Funny how many people stand to the side and watch him, listen to him sing, you, the president, Anders, even the Admiral when he's down here. Not many go in and see him." He said walking away.
"Doc. No ones gone to see him?" she said finally turning towards him, the haunting lament drifting through the air.
"Admiral made an appearance the first day. Sam mainly stands there looking like his guilt might drown him. No one's really sat with him. I think there afraid if they break his song, they will break him even more." Doc said.
"Is there anything you can do to make him more comfortable, more morpha or something?" she said turn to look back.
"He has a constant drip of pain killers. The fever makes things uncomfortable. Its gonna be a long lonely road back to his old life. It's not gonna be easy either, might help if he had someone rather than the song." Cottle explained.
"Yeah…" she said softly.
"Here." He said handing her a bowl of cool water and a towel. "Won't really help the fever but it might make him a little more comfortable." He said as he disappeared into the maze of curtains.
She stood there and let the last dying notes fade away into the ship. Before he could start again, she pushed herself through the opaque barrier.
He stared at her. It wasn't a confused look, or even happy, just sort of blank. Like he wasn't sure what to make of her interrupting what had been his monotonous life. He sang and slept, she was new, and he wasn't clear on how to handle this.
"Hey Felix." She said quietly. She stood there a bowl in her hands, waiting for him to say something. What if he didn't want her here, what if that's why no one saw him? Maybe he didn't want to see anybody. Finally he broke the silence.
"Dee… hi." He said blinking, his brain was beginning to register the change in pace.
"Cottle says you have a fever, I thought…if you wanted I could…" she held up the bowl feebly to try and finish her statement.
"Sure…"he said, slowly. She placed the bowl on the stand next to his bed and pulled the seat to his bedside. She wet the towel and rang the excess water back into the bowl. Not once he noticed did she look at his leg, or lack there of. She gently placed the cloth on his sweating brow and watched as he closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't smile but his face lost some on the tension it had held.
She began to dab, his forehead and face with the cloth, re-wetting it every once in a while. After she dampened his forehead, she blew on it, to make him even cooler.
"Thank you…" he murmured after a few minutes. She paused and smiled, as she shrugged.
"No problem." She said putting the cloth on his forehead.
"No," he said gently grabbing her wrist. He opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. "Thank you for not being afraid to see me, or look disgusted at the broken man, I've become." He told her.
"Felix, you're not disgusting, you can get better, you can get past this, and I will help you." She said taking hold of his hand.
"If you say so, then I'll believe you." He said keeping hold of her hand. She went back to dabbing his face with the cool cloth.
"Dee?" he said a couple minutes later. She looked back to see his eyes, filled with so much pain, and anguish, but there was something new, a pleading.
"Hmm?" She murmured, staring back curiously at him.
"I'm gonna ask you a stupid question." He told her. This was going to be interesting, she thought to herself and at the same time realizing the she would do anything he asked her too.
"What?" She responded, she realized that she had almost let 'Anything' slip out of her mouth.
"Will you sing to me? I'm tired of my voice." He asked her eyes pleading with her. He was tired; he wanted to hear more of her voice. She was soothing, he liked it.
"Umm, sure, did you want something specific?" She asked, silently hoping she didn't embarrass herself. He shook his head.
"Anything." He said. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Ok…" she said, and thought about it. She remembered a song she used to hear her mother sing to her father, while he was sleeping.
You'll walk unscathed through musket fire,
No ploughman's blade will cut thee down,
No cutlass wound will mark thy face
And you will be my ain true love,
And you will be my ain true love.
As she sang she began to stroke his hand, she could see more of the tension leave his face. His entire body began to relax, as she began to sing the next part she heard his soft voice join hers. She smiled and continued to sing with him.
And as you walk through death's dark veil,
The cannon's thunder can't prevail,
And those who hunt thee down will fail,
And you will be my ain true love,
And you will be my ain true love.
She continued to sing and stroke the hair out of his eyes and forehead, where it had matted with water and sweat. The touch of her hand against his bare skin silenced him. More tension left his body.
Asleep inside the cannon's mouth,
The captain cries, "Here comes the rout,"
They'll seek to find me north and south,
I've gone to find my ain true love.
He began to sing again and opened his eyes to look at her. They're fingers twine together. There was still pain in the shadows of his eyes, but there was less, like it had been replaced by something else.
The field is cut and bleeds to red.
The cannon balls fly round my head,
The infirmary man may count me dead,
When I've gone to find my ain true love,
I've gone to find my ain true love
As the song ended, they're voiced drifted off into the shadows of the ship. She couldn't seem to look away from him, and all she could do was smile. She felt his hand at her neck pulling her down, she allowed it, and they're lips meet in a chase kiss. It wasn't wanting, or even passionate, or awkward. It was thanks, and love, it was wonderful, and innocent. It last forever and seconds. When the came apart she was smiling as was he. It was the first time they had both really smiled in years. They weren't thinking about Cylon's, wars, being homeless, cramped missions on a sewage ship, failed marriages, losses, nothing except the comfort of one another. They stayed hands entwined, her head resting above his heart, and feeling the vibrations as he hummed the song again, his hand stroking her hair. They were oblivious to the two people watching them from the shadows.
"Did you know that was going to happen?" Roslin asked the older doctor standing next to her.
"I had a feeling, thought I'd have a little fun." He said shrugging lighting another cigarette.
"You're playing Cupid, Cottle. You really are a big softy." She said smiling at him.
"Don't tell anyone, or I'll take away your chamalla." He warned her. She walked away laughing. "You're next." He said exhaling. The two kids in the other room where easy for him to diagnose; he'd seen that one coming for months. The way she was when he was away, the looks they shared in the hall. More then a few times, he had found them talking late at night on some part of the ship or another. They were easy. The two leaders of the fleet however kept dodging his well aimed arrows.
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