The next morning was a gray one, but Dee couldn't think of a day so far that hadn't been overcast. The climate on this planet was moderate, but still not pleasant. A perpetual mild winter hung over New Caprica and she didn't protest when Gaeta tossed her a woolen cap and black scarf to wear. Partly as warmers, partly as a disguise upon their first venture out into the streets where the watchful eyes of Cylons - human models and Centurions both - methodically scanned everyone and everything within their field of inspection.
Pulling the scarf up and the cap down low over her forehead, Dee kept close to Gaeta as they walked out of the house toward the center of town. He tapped her back, signaling her to stop slouching, as that was obviously more conspicuous than a regular gait. He was right, she looked like a fugitive, so she straightened up and walked normally, glancing around as any person might on their way to work or wherever it was these poor people were going. Not too many were wandering aimlessly as it was obvious the Cylons frowned upon perceived idleness, if their treatment of the striking union workers was any example to go by.
The night before Gaeta had given her a quick sketch of the changes the Cylons had implemented and the breaking of the unions by the cruelest force imaginable was one of the most shocking. The Chief had been one of the first to rebel and run to the hills, along with most of his former engineering mates and for this Dee was glad. Getting Chief back to the Galactica was of the utmost priority, along with anyone else who could assist in bringing the battlestars out of the state of disrepair they'd fallen into over the past year.
They continued to walk side by side through the streets, with newly-paved sidewalks glistening beneath their muddy shoes. Depression and a simmering resentment hung in the air and was outlined on almost every face Dee saw, except for the children, who, like children always have, adapted to this strange new way of life with the youthful resiliency they were famous for. They laughed and played Hide and Seek, with a few of the very little ones hiding behind the terrifying silver legs of a Centurion, who ignored them, as a deadly predator might ignore the buzzing of an insect around its nose.
Where are their parents, Dee wondered, horrified, before she remembered that these children were likely orphans and to them, the Cylons were just as good caretakers as anyone else. This sent a terrible chill down her spine -- once the older humans died out, the Cylons would then be the "parents" of the entire human race, presiding over every generation to come, infecting pliable minds with their twisted philosophies until the Colonial way of life faded away entirely, relegated to histories back pages as legend, or worse, a pack of foolish and wicked lies.
This thought made Dee's stomach churn with nausea, but it strengthened her resolve as well. Her mission was even more imperative, not only to save lives, but to save the very memory of their beloved Colonies from obliteration.
Beside her, Gaeta kept a hawk's eye view on their surroundings, his face set in what Dee used to call 'blank-slate mode', an old officer's school trick, something he'd no doubt been trained to do for use during combat situations when a mere look of fear or confusion on a commander's face could destroy morale to the point of disaster. Admiral Adama was a great believer in this tactical poker face; no doubt Gaeta had been emulating him as a survival technique in a world where looking at someone the wrong way at the wrong time could mean a speedy trip to a detention camp ... or worse.
His look of serenity was so convincing, Dee grew careless as she gawked, stopping only when she bumped right into someone.
Someone who looked very much like a Cylon model she'd once known. A Cylon she used to call 'friend'.
A Cylon named Boomer.
Panic tingled through Dee's scalp in hot waves, but Gaeta's hand was immediately on her elbow and squeezing it to the point of pain, forcing her to stay rooted to the spot. Faint with fear, Dee wondered if the Cylon could sense her terror or hear the pounding of her heart, and gods, if this was the actual Boomer, her cover was blown to hells and back.
But luckily for them, this one appeared to be nothing more than a copy. "Mr. Gaeta, I'm glad to see you today," the Cylon said with a strange enforced politeness. "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?"
Of course, it would be nice weather to a Cylon, who only felt cold and heat when they wanted to, but Gaeta simply responded with that same blank cheerfulness he always did when addressing a superior. "Thank you, Number Eight. It's certainly not too hot this morning, which is a good thing."
The Cylon smiled grimly. "There'll be a meeting with President Baltar today at one o'clock. You'll be there, I trust?"
"Of course," Gaeta replied, his own smile as brittle as Dee had ever seen it. "I wouldn't miss a chance to assist in the progress of our new society."
"I'm glad to hear that," Number Eight said. She looked just about to turn around and go on her way, when, to Dee's great horror, the Cylon stopped to examine her more closely, leaning in as if to get a good look beneath her scarf and hat. "Mr. Gaeta, I don't believe you introduced me to your companion here."
"Forgive me," Gaeta said, his face set as if in stone. "This is Babylonia, our new latrine maintenance manager."
Dee blinked. Was that what it said on her ID card? Obviously she should have read the thing first. "Hi," she said shyly, forcing herself to grin beneath her scarf.
The Cylon wrinkled her nose. "Oh. The latrine manager. Well, carry on, Mr. Gaeta. Good day to you, Babylonia."
"Bye," Dee mumbled with a little wave. Once the Boomer model was gone, Dee turned to Gaeta. "Babylonia? The latrine manager?"
"It was the only feasible ID left, except for Scylla, the sex-worker," he said, gently pulling her along after him. "Besides, Cylons have a distinct distaste for human waste elimination and the people who take care of it. It appears they don't do it themselves, except when undercover as agents. They normally get their food from lying in a tub and absorbing it right into the bloodstream."
"So Cylon shit really doesn't stink, huh? Great," Dee muttered. "No wonder they think they're so superior to us."
"Careful now. We're heading into the Cylon Main Space," Gaeta warned, as they reached the center of town, designated so by a large open square, that might have been a park or town hall, if they'd been on Caprica, but here there was little more than a functional space, outlined by stolid metal barriers, polished to a dull glow. It was cold and uninviting, nothing like the green flowering spaces of her home world or the ones she'd visited on vacations, so long ago.
Also unlike a park or meeting square, this area was studiously avoided by most pedestrian traffic, which confused Dee. "Why is everyone going out of their way to sidestep this place? Are only Cylons allowed here?"
Gaeta shook his head. "No, everyone's welcome here, but no one wants to be here. This is where they hold the public executions."
Dee nearly fell down at this revelation, but Gaeta's hand on her back kept her steady. "Public executions," she breathed, hardly daring to say the words.
Such barbarism had been outlawed in the Colonies centuries before. Yes, certain Colonies still carried out the death penalty, but on the whole it was considered a punishment for only the most extreme cases and certainly, no execution was ever done publicly. "But why?"
"They think it's a good deterrent. They might be right. It certainly makes me think twice about things."
Dee had to swallow past a choking lump in her throat, which grew larger when they passed a high stage, which could be seen from any vantage point in the square. Obviously, this was where the executions were held and she had to look away, her heart pounding with fear ... and rage. How dare the Cylons do this, on top of everything else and by the gods, if she survived this ... if humanity survived this ... there would be a day of reckoning for the Cylons, the likes they'd never dreamed of.
They would pay for these brutal actions. Someday ... she and the rest of humanity would make sure of it.
Behind them, Dee could hear the distant beat of drums, but not the kind played by humans. This was a mechanical sounding drumbeat and Gaeta's false composure crumbled at the sound of it. "Come on," he hissed, pulling her away from the stage, toward the far corners of the square. The panic in his voice was palpable. "Hurry!"
She ran with him and wasn't alone. Everyone took off, as Centurions marched in formation down the path leading to the square, surrounding a hapless prisoner, no doubt walking their final mile. Dee strained to see who it was, but the tall machines blocked her view, along with the pushing and shoving crowd that had materialized behind her, seemingly out of nowhere.
Morbid bastards, she thought, pushing them back. Besides her, Gaeta complexion slowly paled to a sickly shade of white. "Oh, gods ..." he murmured, as the Cylon troop climbed the stage, then parted, revealing their doomed prisoner. "It's Cally."
"But…" Dualla began. But Cally was just a girl, just her age, who wanted to be a dentist of all things. She wasn't a hardened criminal. The last she had heard, Cally was pregnant. Pregnant girls didn't get executed. She hadn't looked pregnant though, and one of the Sharons was carrying a squalling infant. Gaeta's look silenced her in an instant. As the crowd swirled around them, he pulled her close.
"Listen to me very carefully," he whispered. " I have to watch. If I leave, questions will be asked. If you don't want to see this…" He took a deep breath. " It's going to be ugly. Eight… Sharon… has been asking for this for a while. You could slip out."
The look on his face, more than the warning, made her want to take his advice. She had no doubts that he had seen things. He didn't talk about that, but Col. Tigh had dropped hints. And Felix didn't sleep as lightly as he thought. She had awakened the night before to find him curled up on the floor in the throes of a nightmare. She hadn't dared to wake him.
On the other hand, it wasn't right. The people were suffering, and they weren't going to be easily rescued. She had to know what was going on, what was happening. The longer the people were ground under the boot heels of the Cylons, the more difficult it would be to rescue them. "I'm staying."
Gaeta shook his head. " You're not going to like what you see." He entwined his hand with hers and moved them to a place up against the courtyard wall. "If you can't keep watching, look down at your feet. Don't try to leave." He looked around the crowd nervously. " They're requiring everyone over the age of twelve to attend. It will be bad."
They waited as the courtyard filled. She could see the crowd was dully frightened. The Centurions were circling around, while the human appearing Cylons went through the crowd, with Eights predominating. There was an Eight on the dais, holding a baby. " Oh gods… is that Cally's baby? They aren't going to…." She couldn't even say it.
"Probably not," Gaeta said softly. " I've never seen them punish children before. Usually they've already spent a lot of time teasing the prisoner with that, but…"
Dualla watched as Cally fell to her knees and began to sob. They weren't close enough to hear but she knew what begging looked like. " What will happen to the baby?"
Gaeta shrugged. " Sharon wanted it. To raise." The drums pounded to a crescendo and the crowd grew unnaturally quiet. "Don't make a sound, and remember to look down." He squeezed her hand for reassurance.
Number Eight went to the microphone stand. Unlike the other Number Eight, this one seemed… different. It wasn't just an Eight… It was Sharon, the first Sharon, the Sharon that Cally had gunned down. Dualla almost cringed as the attractive Cylon looked out over the crowd with a smirk on her face.
" People of New Caprica! We are saddened to announce that this traitor," and Sharon viciously kicked Cally, " has refused to renounce her ties to the rebels. This traitor has been given many chances to become a productive citizen."
" That's a lie," Gaeta muttered in Dualla's ear. " She couldn't run. She was eight months pregnant. She was locked up almost as soon as someone turned her in for knowing Tyrol." She wasn't surprised. There were angrier, and louder, whispers going on, and more than one woman was worried about the baby.
Sharon allowed the whispers for a moment and then held up her hand. It was obviously a well known signal as everyone immediately grew silent. Sharon handed the baby to one of the Six's, who cooed at the baby as she took it. Sharon kicked Cally again. " By order of the Cylon Council, and by decree of President Gauis Baltar, Jane Cally, you are found guilty of sedition. You are also guilty of murder." Sharon unsheathed a long, wicked looking knife. She glared at Cally, and it was obvious that she was saying something meant only for Cally's ears. Judging by Cally's expression, it was more than just a taunt. Trust Sharon to be wickedly cruel, Dualla thought darkly. She watched as Cally's face took on an even more horrified expression.
Cally screamed. " You'll never win!" and then made a desperate lunge for her baby. The Cylons all snickered and then Sharon swung the knife. She made a practiced slash and there was red on the knife and on Cally's shirt.
For an instant, Dualla thought that the cut hadn't been deep. Then Sharon dropped the knife and grabbed Cally. She punched the now silent woman and Dualla watched in shock as blood and….things spilled out of Cally's abdomen. The woman's intestines spilled to the ground. Some even fell off the dais. Cally looked down and numbly began to pick up the bleeding organs. Then she began to scream.
It wasn't until she felt Felix pull her back that she realized that she had started to move. " Stop it," he hissed, squeezing her arm so hard that there would be bruises for weeks. " Stop moving, look down at your feet. There's nothing you can do except get killed. For nothing."
Dutifully, she looked down and tried to close her eyes to the inarticulate shrieks. He was right, Cally couldn't be saved, not even if she had more than just Gaeta to help her storm the podium and get the woman to a doctor.
They're going to pay, she vowed.
0o0o0o0o0
Dee had no idea how they got back to the house. She simply stumbled after Gaeta, holding onto his hand like a lifeline as he pushed through the terrified crowd. Slowly, the mob thinned and they were walking quickly down the streets ... not running ... no, that would be too dangerous, but Gaeta could move fast when he wanted to and Dee had to struggle to keep up.
This was made even more difficult by the images that refused to stop revolving around her brain. Like some sick horror film, the vision of Cally's last desperate lunge toward her child, coupled with her bloody execution ... the sheer cruelty of it boggled Dee's mind.
Sickening. These monsters are sickening, she thought, as Gaeta quickly led her inside the house, slamming and locking the door behind her. He strode through the rooms, quickly locking the windows and yanking curtains closed, his face ashen. "This isn't safe," he muttered over and over again. "They're always on heightened alert after an execution. If they do a spot check ..."
"Should I leave?" Dee asked, suddenly dizzy with dread. Her hands were clammy, she felt sick and when she nearly fell trying to sit down, Gaeta turned to her with a surprised look.
"No, of course not," he said, reaching over to steady her. Biting his lip, he glanced around. "Maybe the bedroom is safer. There's only one small window and if anyone comes to the door, you'll have time to hide. Come on."
He led her there, holding onto her elbow, waiting patiently as she stopped in the door frame, clutching it for a moment. She wanted to retch, she wanted to run and knew she couldn't do either. Officers were better than this, braver than this and gods, she was so ashamed when she crawled into the poor bed, crying, with her fist pressed against her mouth to stifle the miserable sounds.
Gaeta peered at her, his face softening with concern. "I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but I promise it's going to be all right. You're going to survive this and get back to the Galactica. I'm going to make sure of it."
She shook her head. If only needing to escape from this filthy planet was the real problem. True, she was lost but not in the way he thought ... her entire life had spiraled out of control and this helpless feeling, it was more than scary. It was terrifying. Dee had never felt so alone ... abandoned, and the thought made her sob all the harder. "Please stay," she murmured, reaching out to his blurry form, wavering in and out of her aching vision. "Just ... stay with me."
There was a long moment of silence. Dee thought back to the months that had passed since they'd said a kind word to one another and gods, who was she to ask him for anything, after all that had passed. But Felix had always been there for her, as a friend and right now, she needed him, as a friend ... as comfort ... as an escape, at least for a few precious moments.
To her surprise, he took the hand she offered, locking their fingers together before gingerly climbing into the bed beside her. He allowed her to cling to him, tightly wrapping his arms around her in a protective gesture. His breathing sounded shaky and she pressed her hand over his heart, wondering at its fast beat before tucking her head beneath his chin, slowly regaining her composure ... her sanity ... breath by breath.
"I dream about you," he said quietly, after some time had passed. "When I dare to dream."
What a strange confession, she thought, looking up to smile weakly at him. She brushed a finger against his cheek and he closed his eyes against the touch, sending a spark of warmth down her body. Touched his lips and when he turned her palm up to kiss it, she didn't pull away. This is wrong, she thought, the wrong time, the wrong man -- at least, it supposed to be the wrong man, but she didn't resist when he turned over to kiss her, tenderly, as if she were something precious and rare, a treasure discovered.
Impossible to resist, and she quickly batted away his trembling hands, undoing buttons for him -- his and hers -- arching into his touch. It was reverent, maybe a little too reverent and she took over, enjoying his yelp of surprise when she unzipped him and took him in hand, urging him on. "Come on ..." she hissed, wriggling out of her pants, not caring about the bits that snagged on her ankle, yanking down his just far enough to let him move. "Hurry."
He caught on quickly, pulling off his shirt and she closed her eyes as he pressed himself atop her, letting his hard warmth shield her. Once inside her, he whispered as he moved, strange things about how he wouldn't mind dying now, like this, using words like love and need and please.
Oh gods, please...
Raising her hips, she bit back a scream when he roughly pulled her up to him, pumping into her hard. She spurred him on, meeting him thrust for thrust, losing herself in the sensation; a perfect escape. An escape that was over all too soon as the familiar spasms racked her body, wave after wave and she floated on them, enjoying a few seconds of warm, blessed freedom.
Head bowed, he kept moving, gasping her name as he came. Seconds after it was over, he glanced up at her and his expression was such a mixture of terror and embarrassment, she couldn't help but press another kiss to his mouth, which he returned, somewhat guiltily.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, pushing himself up and grabbing his clothing, pulling most of it on in a few awkward motions. "I ... this was wrong. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."
"You took advantage of me? Felix ..."
"I did," he said quickly, swallowing hard before ducking into his overshirt. "And ... I'm sorry, Dee. We should forget it happened."
Seconds later, he was completely, if haphazardly, dressed and Dee felt strange, as if there was an undercurrent of emotion here she didn't quite understand. Yes, maybe they shouldn't have wasted precious time like this and she was still with Lee ... theoretically ... but taking advantage of her?
"If that's what you want," she replied carefully. "But you didn't take anything that wasn't freely offered. If anything, Felix, I was the one ..."
"Please," he begged, his eyes huge and beseeching. "We can't get sidetracked. I have to attend that meeting soon and if they suspect there's someone here, I don't doubt they kill us both. They're obviously upping the stakes, executing Chief's wife. It means they're worried about things and a nervous Cylon is a dangerous Cylon. They don't deal well with any kind of resistance, even emotional. I ... I can't take these risks, not now. I have to get you out of here and if I get distracted ..."
"I understand." She pulled the blankets up protectively to her chest, drawing herself up to look directly at him. "Are you sure attending this meeting is a good idea?"
He laughed humorlessly. "It's not like I have a choice."
Dee looked down at her lap and they sat like that for a long while, in silence, the clock ticking the minutes away. Finally, it was time to go and with a heavy sigh, Felix took her hand and squeezed it. "Stay here. Don't be tempted to roam around without me. Sleep if you can; I have a feeling we'll be on the run sooner rather than later, so it's better you rest now. And above all, don't worry. I'm going to make this work ... somehow."
"You make it sound so easy. But, whatever you say ... sir."
Jokingly, and she was heartened to see a ghost of a smile cross his face. "Thanks, Dee." He bent down to press a clumsy kiss to the top of her head. "For everything."
She watched as he left, closing the door softly behind him. Listened to the click of the front door being locked and gathering the sheets around her, she tiptoed to the window, peeking out over the street outside, watching as he walked away. A stab of worry filled her, but she pushed the feeling aside.
He could take care of himself. Everything would be fine. He said it would be and she had to learn to trust him.
No matter how difficult that was.
0o0o0o0o0
It was wrong, he told himself forcefully as he strode down the corridor of the Colonial One, it was wrong and you have to stop thinking about it. Felix forced himself to slow down his fast walk. She was just upset, it didn't matter who had been with her. She would have responded the same way to a woman, or to any man, because she was upset. No, he told himself, she was shocked, horrified at Cally's death.
He wondered if she realized that it wasn't the worst death he'd seen in the last four months. No, Dee had no idea that there were worse ways to die, that something as innocuous as a sharpened stick could be a tool of torture. Or that a person could live for days without skin. He hadn't known. He had every intention of keeping her ignorant of such facts. When he had spoken to Kara, and that felt so long ago even though it was just less than twenty four hours earlier, she had agreed to assist him. There would be people waiting, tonight and tomorrow, for Dualla to slip through the sentries and escape.
Gods, how he wanted her safe. He knew she was with Lee Adama, and as much as he didn't particularly like or respect Lee, he didn't want to be the person that drove them apart. It was too late for him to even consider making a play for her, he was no fool about that. Col. Tigh could joke about it but he wasn't competition for Lee Adama. He wasn't even competition for Billy Keikeya, who had been a far better match for Dee than he or Lee would ever be. The best thing, the best thing about the whole horrid day, was that he had every intention of getting Dee out that night. At 2am, the guard patrols would be conferring with their leaders and the Cylons considered it a safe time to pull most of the guards for instruction on the next day's events.
He was going to take her to the fence on the southwest side of town and get her through, even if he has to die doing it. Kara didn't want that, she had repeated the same thing that Tigh had, that it was time for him to leave, but he didn't agree. He couldn't agree. There were still people who needed his help. There were still people who needed to get out…. It was wrong to leave while people were desperate to get out, even if the majority of useful military people had already been assisted with escape.
No, it was for the best that he stayed. That kept Dee safe. He hugged his jacket around himself, feeling the pill bottle of antibiotics in his pocket. It was ironic beyond belief, he thought as he strode towards the meeting room, but he actually felt better. The IV the day before had helped, he wasn't enough of a romantic to disregard it, but he also hadn't been vomiting for the past few days. Of course his stomach was rolling in anticipation of the meeting, but not nearly as bad as it had been.
And that just made him feel worse. He had taken advantage of her, used her to feel better for just a few minutes, to indulge in the fantasy that she really wanted him. Oh it wasn't rape, she had wanted it and he wasn't fool enough to think he had somehow forced her. But forcing wasn't the same thing as taking advantage and that he had done, because he had always wanted her. On the Galactica, there had been no chance to be more than friends. He couldn't have gotten away with even trying to date Dualla, even if she had wanted him. And she hadn't, and once she was safely off New Caprica, she would go back to Lee. When she had time to reflect, she might realize that he had wanted her. But he doubted it. That was just how his life went. He was in love, and had been in love, with a woman who was never going to be more than a friend.
Focus, he told himself harshly as he walked down the corridor. Afternoon meetings, especially after an execution, were usually tense. Bad things could happen. He was Baltar's aide and that had certain protections but he had to be sharp. Or else.
When he entered the conference room, he realized immediately that it was going to be more than bad. Baltar wasn't there, and that meant that things could get out of control. The Cylons weren't subtle, not by a long shot, but they generally held off actively torturing people in front of Gauis. Gauis Baltar was not the man he had thought, and hoped, that he was, but the Cylons knew better than to require him to see people being hurt. Baltar didn't handle it well, not at all, and often insisted it be stopped.
Not that it mattered in the long run. The victim rarely escaped their fate… They were usually escorted to the punishment camp and the situation was dealt with. Felix usually found himself taking terse notes when such things happened. But with Baltar absent, anything could happen.
There was only a Three in the small room, and she had apparently cowed the small group of presidential staff into silence. That was not a good thing. He knew Three as D'anna Biers, although he wasn't sure if it was that particular version in the room. She had interviewed him, so long ago on the Galactica but since the invasion he had learned to be very careful around her. He glanced at the clock. He wasn't late, and yet when he stepped over to his customary place for the briefing, he knew without a doubt that he was Three's target. Three had a temper. All the Threes had a temper. She glared at him and he didn't sit down. He was the only man in the room, which meant very little. Baltar preferred female staff over male. Gaeta didn't know whether to be pleased or offended by that, but as time had worn on, he often felt like the only man in the harem. Three didn't discriminate but her last few victims had been women. Lords of Kobol, he thought swiftly, if you're real, do with me what you will, but let Dee get out of here alive.
"Mr. Gaeta! Come over here!" Three glared at him even more harshly. Resigned, he walked to the front of the room. He was in for it, but it was better to take the punishment than to protest. It was possible to survive being targeted, he had taken his fair share of beatings but Three… unlike Six or Twelve or Five, Three had a well known tendency to lose control.
She eyed him up and down and he was uncomfortably aware that she was actually larger than he was. " Mr. Gaeta, while everyone was working yesterday, you were absent. Why were you not at your duties?"
" I was…" He didn't get to finish. Three punched him in the face and then in the stomach. Cover your head, he thought numbly as he curled into a ball on the floor. Three sometimes lost interest, although the rapid fire way she silently rained blows on him suggested that she had just been waiting for an opportunity. Once he was on the floor, she let loose with her feet, kicking him savagely. He realized too late that she was intent on making an example of him, to teach the rest of Baltar's staff a lesson about attendance. If he raised a hand, if he even looked like he was going to fight, she would kill him out of hand. Still, as she continued to rain blows upon him, he realized that she meant to kill him. Dimly he thought he heard a startled protest but that was drowned out by the sickening pain and the rushing in his ears.
It was disconcerting to come back to awareness and realize that he was in a different position than the last one he remember. Someone had rolled him onto his back and straightened him out and every inch of his body burned with pain. Again, he had the disassociated sense that people were touching him and talking over him, only this time it was mind numbing pain that was keeping him from opening his eyes.
" You know this was unjust!" That was Baltar, and while he sounded drunk, he also sounded pissed off. " Felix was away from work yesterday on my orders and yours. He was ill and the doctor verified that!"
" Fortunately," and he recognized the cool, collected voice of Six, " This appears to be mostly cosmetic damage. However, Three, you were informed that Mr. Gaeta has been designated as a prime candidate for my genetics project and therefore any physical punishment was to be approved by me before it was enacted. And President Baltar is quite correct. This was unnecessary."
"You know there's a leak on the staff," snarled the Three.
"I assure you, the leak is most certainly not Felix." That was Baltar and for just a moment, Felix allowed himself to feel a small rush of affection. Baltar was a pathetic excuse for a human being, but it was risky even for him to go to the defense of a suspected leak.
Still, it did nothing to help the pain. He struggled to open his eyes, but that seemed to send daggers of pain into his head and his consciousness dimmed again.
When he came back to awareness again, he knew it couldn't have been very long, but even before he opened his eyes, he knew that the Cylons had left. There was a wet cloth on his face, which was solicitously removed. By Baltar, which surprised him, but he was more startled by the blood on the cloth. Baltar helped him sit up and he was painfully aware of just how stiff and bruised he felt. There were welts on his arms that were just starting to turn red. They weren't even going to bruise for days, and as he carefully touched his face, he knew the puffy numb feeling was just the precursor to a lot more pain.
"Try not to move just yet," Baltar said gently. " You probably have a concussion."
It was… disconcerting to see Baltar sitting on the floor of the conference, like someone who actually cared. Then again, even a drunken, drugged monster still had feelings and Baltar had, as of late, been surprisingly concerned about the staff. Not the average minion of New Caprica, of course, and Felix was quite certain that Baltar had no idea that there had been an execution in the square, but he had gotten quite attached to the staff. " I didn't do anything…."
" No, you didn't. Three was worried about the possibility of a leak, and overreacted. She didn't know you had permission to miss work." Baltar stood up and helped him to his feet. " This should not have happened… Now, if you think you can walk, I've got Playa making up a bed here for you tonight."
No, Felix thought, that wasn't a good idea. If he didn't return home, Dee was going to worry. " No, I'm all right."
" You're not all right, Felix." Baltar was insistent and concerned. And the very fact that Gauis Baltar was acting concerned meant that he must look bad indeed.
That meant he needed to act a lot better than he felt. And he felt pretty awful, truth be told. He took a few tentative steps, taking great care to keep himself from falling. " I'm all right," he said again as he slowly turned to face Baltar. " It must look worse than it is. I'll be fine. I might… I might want a day off though…" Because he had a feeling that he wasn't going to get back up once he sat down. At the same time, he couldn't help but realize that Six was right. There was nothing broken except maybe some ribs. He was going to look spectacularly bruised, there were some cuts, no, some gouges in his skin that were still bleeding a little, and he could feel his eyes puffing up, but he was lucky. He had seen much worse. On the other hand… Baltar was eyeing him with real worry on his face. " I am all right, really. I hate sleeping here. It's cold and noisy, and Playa is probably upset too and putting her out of her bed is mean." He began to step to the door.
Baltar reached out to stop him. " Do you think I don't know that you're in pain? Felix… I am not letting you go to that pathetic little shack you call a house and leave you there alone. You're bleeding from your ears. You can't spend the night alone." As he stepped in closer and took Felix by the arm, Felix picked up a strong whiff of alcohol. Baltar was drunk, and that wasn't much of a surprise except the man tended to be a lot more indulgent to others when drunk. That usually made him less likely to notice things, as well. Baltar was a smart man, but he only saw the ugly things around him when he wanted to. And he rarely noticed much about his underlings.
" I wouldn't be alone," he said quickly. " My girlfriend… Babylonia… she was coming over tonight." Baltar barely ever noticed Dualla, Felix reasoned, and he had a very bad feeling about how safe his position really was. Three suspected him. It was only a matter of time before he was interrogated. Six would probably see to it that he survived… It was a question of what kind of life that would be. There was more than one previously dangerous, intentionally damaged, drooling janitor in the punishment camp. He fought off a shudder. It was chancy, but if he didn't get back to Dualla, she would go looking for him.
And that would be much worse than taking a beating.
Baltar's eyes widened in surprise. " A girlfriend? Well… Still, I'm going to walk you home, and you will have the next three days off. And I will make sure that everyone is informed. Now, let's get you to your bed."
