For a long while, Dee paced the floor of Gaeta's cottage. She felt trapped by its dreary walls, unable to shake the claustrophobic feeling that time was running out on her and her mission. Eventually, she calmed down and took careful stock of her surroundings. Not being above a little snooping, she rifled through what she could find among Felix's papers, telling herself she was doing this for the mission, but inside, she knew she only wanted to get a hold of what exactly had gone wrong with him.

She found nothing that gave her any answers and the silent questions continued.

Why was he such a shadow of his former self? So beaten down, so ...frightened. Yes, occupation under Cylon rule was a terrifying thing, but she'd known him for years, seen him under pressure much greater and far from cracking, he'd sprung to life, spinning FTL jumps one after the other for six days straight and looking little the worse for wear from it.

He'd held it together during the Commander's shooting, more or less, and was virtually magnificent during the battle against the Resurrection Ship, a battle she nearly fell apart during, when Lee had refused to answer her call. Yes, he'd been sad and disillusioned after the election fraud, and mourned the loss of his military career, but he was a brilliant man who'd come so far in his short life -- and whatever was destroying him now couldn't have been just from a few months of enemy occupation. It had to have started earlier, but Dee couldn't imagine him simply not leaving his job as Baltar's aide if it was that repulsive, especially after the fool surrendered to the Cylons without a fight. Unless ...

Unless there was some other reason for him staying there. Something imperative, something that had nothing to do with Baltar, but ...

Dee slowly sat down. Something else was going on with Felix, something draining and dangerous. He was up to something, but what?

Still, whatever the cause for his mental instability, she had to take it into account when being guided by him. It was too important, getting those pilots back. For humanity, for herself ... for Lee.

Nervously, Dee rubbed her thumb over her bare ring finger. Over a year now, and nothing from the man she'd sacrificed so much for, except a vague promise or two about soon or someday. Even his father had hinted that now might be the time to make things official, but Lee had mumbled and bristled at the mere suggestion, pushing the notion aside every time it was mentioned, even in jest.

No one had brought it up again.

That was six months ago and the distance between them had widened, deepening with every call ... as well as every extended period of silence ... from Kara Thrace. Kara Anders, actually, Dee thought with a strange feeling of smug bitterness. At least Starbuck got her man to marry her, but how hard could that have been? Kara was infamous for getting what she wanted when she wanted it, even at the cost of others' lives.

Maybe Dee should have been grateful Kara apparently hadn't wanted Lee, but part of her wondered if this were truly the case, as well as what would happen on the day Starbuck decided she did. Dee would find it hard to kid herself that she could really stand in the way of that relationship for any length of time.

Dee closed her eyes. They were stinging but no tears fell, not anymore. Maybe she'd known it all along, that Lee was never truly hers, as much as she had once belonged to him.

Once, because time had faded a few of the roses from her eyes as well. The blind hero worship was gone, along with the first wild surges of romantic adoration. Only vestiges of that all-consuming love remained, but her loyalty was still strong and she would not let him down. She had other things to prove besides love -- competence, dedication, her commitment to the survival of what was left of the human race. She would not shame herself or her rank as an officer, no matter how it had been acquired.

If anything, she needed to be taken seriously. For her own sanity, as well as her future, whether Lee would be part of that or not.

That's why she was here and that's why she was going to complete that mission, no matter what anyone believed about her as a woman or as an officer. Respect, as her father told her more than once, was earned. And she intended to earn it, no matter the cost.

Outside the window, the sun was setting. She grew nervous again, hoping Felix would come back soon. Dee decided to make the time go faster with a little cooking and making sure the kitchen blinds were shut, she began to thaw and heat various things found in the freezer, being careful not to let anything smoke, choosing to boil some homemade soup instead.

It was distracting, so much so she didn't hear Felix enter the front door and she jumped when she saw him standing in the doorway, looking even paler than when he'd left that morning, holding a brown sack of what appeared to be groceries, with a smaller clear, plastic bag balanced on top, containing a pill bottle.

"Smells good," he said quietly, putting down the bag. "Did anyone see or hear you?"

She shook her head and took a covert peek at the bag's contents, small tins, all of them labeled "Protein Supplements". "No. How did your day go?"

Gods, she sounded just like a housewife. How ironic, even more so when Gaeta pulled off his coat and took a seat by the kitchen table, looking for all the world like a weary husband returned from a day at the factory. "I obtained the materials for an ID for you. I had to feign drunkenness to grab the paperwork and notary stamps without people getting suspicious, but I think I was able to obtain most, if not all of it."

"You had to pretend you were drunk? Weren't they annoyed that you were trashed during working hours?"

Gaeta snorted tiredly. "The Cylons and ... other ministers ... thought it was funny. They commented on how Old Tightass finally loosened up. Guess they didn't know me in my wild days aboard the Galactica"

Dryly, and Dee couldn't help but smile at that reference. Gaeta had been known as Old Tightass aboard the ship as well, except for one night he'd decided that getting shitfaced drunk on ambrosia and smoking up a storm while getting a singularly ugly cat tattoo was the way to go.

His flirtation with debauchery lasted exactly half a night longer, until the cigarettes ran out and his hangover "cure" of yet more ambrosia had turned into a disastrous night of vomiting all over the head and moaning in Dee's arms, swearing he'd never, ever be a bad boy again.

He'd kept that promise as far as Dee knew, even while under Baltar's employment, where supposedly the wine and women flowed freely, if the rumors filtering back to the Galactica were true. It was an interesting statement on just how much -- or rather, how little -- power Gaeta held in his position as aide to the President and Dee suddenly realized that he was just as much a prisoner, practically, as anyone else.

Perhaps there were certain nods given to his position -- better food, nicer house, more medical attention -- but if he had to feign inebriation just to snatch some papers ...

Obviously he had much less control over the general situation than Dee had at first supposed. A wave of guilt overcame her at her acidity toward him earlier, followed by a wash of pity. It must have been terrible for him here, yet he kept slogging on, against all odds. Even now, he was putting himself in serious jeopardy for her, for reasons she couldn't really fathom. Surely, there weren't many people on New Caprica who'd put themselves out for her like that, not at such risk to their positions and lives.

"Thank you, Felix," she said softly, staring at the counter. "And I'm ... I'm sorry about how I spoke to you this morning. That was out of line."

"Forget it," he said abruptly, his cheeks reddening. "The sooner you get out of here, the better. The situation is growing increasingly unstable. Not that it was very stable to begin with, but I have a feeling there are ... changes ... on the horizon."

"What kind of changes?"

"Nothing I really want to talk about. The less you know about what's going on in this hell-hole, the better. Your fate lies outside of this place," he said staunchly. "And I'm going to make sure you get out of here in one piece."

"I thought that was impossible."

"I'm going to make it possible," he replied, the old fire lighting his dark eyes. For a second, Dee could see shadows of the determined officer she once knew, but that look faded as quickly as it came, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. He was tired and it made her ache to see him so. Making him feel a little better was the least she could do, and besides, he would be of no help to anyone dead.

"You're hungry," she said firmly. "And you're going to eat, whether you like it or not and it's not going to be whatever horrible stuff that's in those 'protein supplements'. Why did you bring those? There's tons of real food in the freezer."

Gaeta's normally olive complexion paled considerably. "The, uh, doctors thought I was a bit undernourished."

"Dr. Cottle?" Dee asked, watching his face carefully.

"No. The Cylon doctors." Hesitantly. "They seem to be great believers in preventive medicine." He shrugged. "Something in their religion, the body being a temple to the soul and how it has to be taken care of at all times."

Something about that didn't sound quite right, but Dee merely nodded. "I see."

His face turned hard again. "I just do what they order and if that's drink protein shakes, that's what I do." He quickly shoved the unmarked pill bottle into his jacket pocket. "And take vitamins. It could be worse, so let's not discuss this anymore, please?"

"All right," Dee said, choosing not to press the issue further. She knew he wasn't telling the entire truth, but now wasn't the time for interrogations. She'd find out what was going on, sooner or later. "Speaking of dinner, are you ready for my gourmet veggie soup? Hope so, because there's plenty of it."

Gaeta shook his head in refusal, but she threw a "do not argue with me" glance his way. "I said, you're going to have some soup ... sir." She scooped some soup into a clean bowl and brought a large piece of freshly toasted bread out of the oven, buttering it with wide strokes of a knife and placed that besides the bowl.

He stared at the steaming meal warily for a moment or two, but noticing Dee's crossed arms, he gingerly took a sip, then a bite. Pretty soon, the soup was slowly disappearing and she joined him at the table with her own plate, surprised at how hungry she suddenly was. They ate in companionable silence until the soup was mostly gone and shared the dishwashing chores, standing side by side at the sink, washing and drying in the same perfect sync they used to when working together aboard the Galactica.

Dee was unable to stop from sliding him a little grin when he handed her a cup, handle-out, with his usual thoughtful efficiency. "I used to make fun out of you for this kind of precision. Remember?"

"Hard to forget," he grinned back. The smile, while weak, still made him look a little more like the friend she used to know. "I then got to reprimand you. Remember that?"

"You never reprimanded me," she scoffed. "Not once."

"I always reprimanded you. You just never listened to me."

"Then you should have reprimanded me for that instead."

He carefully rinsed the final dish. "Maybe I should have ..."

She looked down at her hands, flicking away the gathered soap. "You know, the day you left, there were so many things I wanted to say to you, but I was so angry, I couldn't see straight."

"I don't blame you. I should have kept my mouth shut."

She shook her head. "No, you were just being honest. But honesty wasn't what I wanted at that moment. I ... I know I wasn't exactly suited for the position I received, but that was the last thing I wanted to hear. And no, I shouldn't have been promoted after participating in the fraud while you were punished, but things were so backwards and insane, it kind of made sense at the time. We should have just let the dice roll where they would, things would have worked out exactly the same way, except we wouldn't have this loss ... this lack of integrity hanging over our heads. It gave Baltar more ammunition in the long run. It gave the Cylons the upper hand in a way we never could have suspected."

Gaeta sighed, before shrugging helplessly. "I read it said somewhere that we're all nothing more than the playthings of fate. Fighting against it is pointless. I never believed that, but lately, I can't help but wonder if that's really the case."

Dee's breath caught in her throat at the hopelessness in his voice. "Felix," she began brokenly, but in the end all she could do was gather him into her arms and hold on tightly, for them ... for everyone.

He curled in close, his forehead nestled against the nape of her neck and she could feel warm, shaky breaths against her skin. He was shaking all over, a tremble throughout his slight frame and she wrapped her arms more tightly around him, as if she could make them both disappear away from this terrible place with wishes alone.

When they finally broke apart, he looked at her with red, watery eyes. "I have to work on that ID card for you -- right now. You're not safe in the slightest until I get at least that much done."

She sniffled, then nodded. "I'll finish in here."

There wasn't really all that much to do, but Dee forced herself to stay at a distance while Gaeta began his forgery work in the main living area. He laid out everything in methodical order and Dee was shocked at how complicated the entire process looked. There was even a magnetic strip of some sort to deal with and Gaeta did it with the same precision he'd always showed aboard the Galactica, cutting through the delicate metal with razor sharp slides of a shaving blade before gluing it to a bar-coded plastic card. There were papers that went along with it, and he wasn't carefree with those either, holding them up to the light to make sure his "edits" matched up exactly with the true wording of the originals.

He looked almost done, if the relieved look on his face was anything to go by and Dee was just about to go over and see his progress when there was a sharp rap at the door. Gaeta jumped, looking like a deer in the headlights, before waving Dee away. She could see his hands shaking when he reached into his bookcase and pulled out a small arms pistol and stepped up to the door, standing at its side, waiting to shoot.

Her heart thudded violently in her chest as he called out, "Who is it?"

A rusty-sounding voice replied: "It's Tigh. Let me in, Gaeta. It's important!"

0o0o0o0o0

For one long moment, the edges around Gaeta's vision grayed out. It's just Tigh, he told himself as he lowered the gun, it's Tigh and Tigh knows and isn't going to tell. He stuffed the gun into his waist band at the small of his back, and opened the door. Don't faint, he told himself. It's no big deal. You know why Tigh is here. He could even see it in the older man's eyes as he opened the door.

Except that he could never really be sure of anyone's motivations. Not on New Caprica. Most likely, Tigh was there for his wife. Tigh had a drinking problem, and that had never been much of a secret. Half of Gaeta's job on the Galactica before the invasion had been managing the colonel, and that had not slacked off at all with the arrival of Ellen Tigh on the Galactica. But Tigh could have managed under the Cylon rules, while Ellen was slowly collapsing.

Alcohol wasn't forbidden on New Caprica. He had even seen Cylons imbibe, although that was generally in the company of the more willing sycophants like Baltar and some of the government crowd. It was, however, strictly regulated. An adult could get one bottle of ambrosia a week, or about six beers. He could, as a member of Baltar's staff, get extra rations. Alcohol was the last thing he wanted or needed, though. And Tigh, to his credit, had gotten his problem somewhat under control, enough that he was giving Ellen the lions share of his alcohol. It simply wasn't enough for Ellen. Her drinking had always been out of control. The colonel had come to him months earlier, desperate for a favor. Desperate enough to come to him, and Gaeta couldn't deny that he'd been tempted to grind Tigh's face in his past abuse.

Being a gentleman, his father had told him, was more than minding one's manners. It meant truly being a gentle man. There was power in destroying things, and he knew without a doubt that he could have destroyed Tigh and no one would have questioned his reasons. Colonel Tigh was the reason his career was destroyed, that he was stuck under the Cylons rule. But a better man, a gentle man, could let such opportunities pass by.

Instead, he gave Tigh the alcohol he was rationed. The two bottles, with Tigh's rations, usually kept Ellen pacified. It wasn't going to work forever, Ellen's habits were eventually going to be uncontrollable, and he didn't envy Tigh in the slightest. It was not going to be pretty. The Cylon detox methods were…. unpleasant.

" It's not a good idea for you to come here so late," he said, nervously looking over Tigh's shoulder. Tigh had a night pass id like he did, mostly because Gaeta had seen to it. There were certain people that were prioritized to get out, and as he slowly worked down the list, he had to prep the remaining people waiting. Still, it made him nervous. Tigh already knew that Dualla was there, and Ellen's condition made Gaeta worry that Tigh just might have realized that turning in a traitor and a fugitive would be a better deal.

He hated thinking that way, because he thought that way about everybody now.

Tigh frowned grimly and pushed past him, entering the small living area. " It'd be worse if I didn't come. I'm out. I would waited here for you to get off last night but…" He looked around. " Where's Dee?"

That was a good question, but answered in seconds as Dualla stepped out from behind the kitchen doorway. "Hi, Colonel Tigh."

Oddly, Felix thought as he watched Tigh and Dualla hug, it was almost nice to have people over. It had been a long time since he spent any time socializing with anyone other than the Cylons or Baltar or Baltar's various sexual partners. He fought off the warm feeling. It was not the time to get complacent. Besides, with Tigh there, Dualla would be distracted. He could head up into the tiny attic where he stored the alcohol and the special wireless set that he used to contact the resistance with. The wheels had to start turning if Dualla was going to get out. " I've got some ambrosia for you. Let me get it."

0o0o0o0o0

Gaeta jogged up the tiny staircase quickly, deliberately passing by the closet holding the ambrosia, straight to the small crawlway leading to the attic. A two-second scramble gained him access into the cramped area, which was less an attic than it was a tiny, accidental alcove created by a lucky slant of the roof.

But there was room enough for what he'd set up there. A covered box, used as storage and table for a homemade transistor set, a hand-held electronic datebook and calculator he'd been granted as a Presidential aide, now turned into a channel tuner and a worn headset, which he quickly put on, his hands already fumbling with the tuner and transistor knobs.

It was taking his life into his hands every time he zoned into a supposedly secure channel, but he had no choice. The Cylons were too busy to monitor every band and Gaeta could only pray that tonight wouldn't be the night his luck ran out. After months of covert communications with the Resistance, the irony - not to mention the terrible punishment - would be too much to bear.

Noise coming over the headset crackled in his ear. Sweat rolled down his cheeks until, finally, the line cleared and a familiar voice -- Kara Thrace's - rasped over from the other end.

"The life that I have is all that I have," she said slowly, reciting a part of the ancient poem they'd been using as code since the beginning of the Resistance, in the hope on the off-chance the Cylons heard the transmission they'd think it was just some poetry lover spouting lines over the airways for whatever reason.

Not a great cover, but it was better than nothing, as the Cylons knew every formal Colonial military cypher inside and out and this was the only thing both Kara and he knew well enough to turn into code, oddly enough. Still shaky with nervousness, Gaeta wiped his forehead dry with the back of his hand before responding.

"And the life that I have is yours." Gaeta here. I have news.

Kara quickly responded. "The love that I have of the life that I have, is yours and yours and yours." Thrace here. Ready for orders.

"A sleep I shall have, a rest I shall have ..." Will be sending an important ally over to the camp after nightfall soon. Be on alert for arrival. There was a noise from downstairs and Gaeta started. Tigh, it's just Tigh getting impatient, he thought with annoyance, turning his concentration back to the message.

"Yours and yours and yours," Kara repeated. Please continue...

Gaeta inhaled shakily. "Yet death will be but a pause." This will be an extremely dangerous meet-up for everyone involved. "For the peace of my years in the long green grass, will be yours and yours and yours." But if successful, it might mean salvation for all of us.

There was a static-filled pause at the other end, until she softly repeated. "For the peace of my years, I will be yours and your and yours." Got it. We're ready, let's do it.

There was no need to say anything more than that, he thought, letting the line go dead. Gaeta pulled off the headset and steadied himself against the box before carefully repacking the communications set, making sure it was as well-covered as he could manage. His legs ached, his head was killing him, but a flicker of excited hope filled his heart.

Kara and the Resistance were alerted and ready. If he could get Dee safely to the camp, it might mean escape, at least for the pilots, maybe even salvation for the rest of humanity.

With that somewhat pleasant thought in mind, Gaeta crawled out and retrieved the bottles for Tigh, making sure to brush the dust away from his knees before heading back downstairs.

0o0o0o0o0

He looks sick, Tigh thought as he watched Gaeta slip upstairs. It was a bad sign. There were things happening, rumors of things, and Saul Tigh had put a few things together. Things he kept very quiet. It wouldn't do for Ellen to put things together. Ellen… was beginning to scare him. There had always been a tiny bit of self control about the drinking. Lately though… he worried that she would do something hideous in order to feed her habit.

That was why he had brought Dualla to Gaeta. Ellen would have turned Dualla in, he knew it. And Gaeta…. The kid had a streak of decency that Baltar's cronies hadn't been able to stub out. And he had his suspicions about Gaeta. He kept those to himself, of course.

It was better to keep quiet on the patterns of mistakes that occurred in the president's office. Better still to not mention just how familiar that pattern was, except in reverse. Bill Adama had said once, in better days, that every commander should have a Felix Gaeta to watch over them. Things got done, without complaint, and without asking. Plans were thoughtfully modified, with no credit asked. Baltar was a fool for the most part, Saul Tigh had always thought that, but he had shown good sense in asking for Gaeta as his military attaché. Because things got done, and Gaeta had a ferret's instincts for covering up personal indiscretions and putting positive spin on almost anything. Tigh had no doubt that the settlement on New Caprica had functioned as well as it had because Gaeta had been behind the scenes fixing things.

And the things that had gone wrong since the Cylons had come. They all had a certain feel, a certain efficient, quiet feel to them. Like someone was carefully screwing things up in a way that couldn't be traced back to anyone. The way certain people escaped just before they were rounded up for traitorous activity, or how the resistance fighters always seemed just a little too knowledgeable about things. The Cylons had a tendency to indulge Baltar and his crowd and Tigh often wondered if Gaeta's competence helped mask what would have been blamed on spies or worse.

But he kept those thoughts to himself. " Is everything all right with you two?" he asked as he took a seat at the table, willfully ignoring the bits and pieces of things that shouldn't be on anyone's table.

" Everything's fine. Felix is doing me a favor. Would you like some coffee?" Dualla quickly set a cup in front of him and took a seat. He could hear Gaeta rummaging and banging about in the attic space. She smiled tightly. " This is awkward."

"It's safer here than anywhere else." Tigh said after a moment. " Not nicer, but safer. Gaeta doesn't let his position go to his head." Unlike some of the others who had taken cushy positions as guards in the punishment camp. Some of them liked to flaunt their privileges.

Dualla nodded, and looked down at her hands. " I… get the impression that a lot of things aren't what they seem here."

"It's difficult. Harder for the ones who ran." Not that he hadn't been tempted but Ellen wouldn't have lasted ten minutes. " I didn't get a chance to ask before… how's the old man? You and that kid of his married yet?"

" He's worried about… the situation. And no." Her face darkened. Tigh wasn't surprised. Of course Bill was worried. And of course Lee hadn't bothered to grab what was right in front of him. A shame really. Dualla was a good woman, smart and attractive. She deserved someone who wanted her. Lee Adama didn't.

She looked up as the ceiling rattled. " I'm worried about the mission and… I'm worried about what's going on with Felix. He's not... not exactly telling me a lot."

And that was no surprise. Once again, Tigh regretted the aftermath of the election. Adama needed a tactical officer and he had nothing. Scratch that, he had worse than nothing, he had his son who somehow had mastered the passive aggressive art of whining like a champion, Helo who wasn't even that good of a Raptor pilot, and Dee, who was someday going to be a good officer but right now was in over her head.

" He's under a lot of pressure. One wrong move, one mistake too many and…" He didn't finish the thought. He did wonder though… Dualla and Gaeta had always been friendly but it had never gone anywhere. At the same time, he had never heard Dee call Gaeta anything but sir before. It almost made him smile. In another time, he would have been pushing the two together.

" I can tell…" She didn't say anything more. He didn't blame her. The fact was, he didn't want to know anything. That happened a lot. More than he liked.

Gaeta strode into the room, carrying a large brown paper bag. " I've got what you need here." He looked drenched with nervous sweat. " It's getting late. Even with a night pass, you'll get in trouble if someone catches you."

That was true, although it was unlikely there would be much trouble. But Ellen was waiting and that meant there was no time to chat. But, perhaps there was time for a little advice. He took the bag and walked to the door." Mr. Gaeta, a word, if you don't mind. Outside."

It pleased him how quickly Gaeta nodded and followed him out onto the small porch. " I don't want to know what is going to happen," he said as they walked down the short sidewalk to the street. " But let me give you a piece of advice. Whatever you're planning, include yourself."

Gaeta looked at him and then up at the sky. " I wish that was possible, but it's not."

"Make it possible. I'm not asking to know anything. But I know she won't make it out of here on her own, and she needs someone to help her and I don't think there's a lot of candidates left here." It hadn't escaped him that people who did escape were usually assisted somehow, and were escaping in order of usefulness.

The younger man shrugged. " I was thinking it would be you."

" I couldn't leave Ellen. Put that idea out of your head." He said it more gruffly than he planned, but it was true. " You're smart. Come up with something. Don't let her go alone. And remember something. You're both officers now. Stop letting things get in the way."

"What does that mean?"

Tigh almost laughed. It felt good to put a quizzical look on Gaeta's face. " That means, she's an officer now, Lee Adama isn't the competition you think, and Billy Keikeya is with the gods." He held up the bag. " I appreciate the favor. Good luck."

They were going to need luck, he thought, but for once he didn't worry.