"You didn't tell him."
He could understand her perfectly, even though she was speaking around a cigar. He suspected it was a skill honed by practice, making yourself understood even when you had something long and -
No, he really did not want to go there, even in his thoughts. Especially in his thoughts.
He did not really want her to be here.
He had been in love with her once.
Even when she had been alive, or rather, even when she had been manifest, she had never before had a cigar. But now she could make cigars appear out of nowhere. And even though he was at his desk – standing, actually, no longer pacing behind it – and she was leaning in her feigned casual way against the far wall, he could tell from where he was it was Caprican Imperial. Which meant she knew.
This was not a surprise. He would have been disappointed in her – in an odd, detached, way – had she not figured it out. She had probably figured it out weeks ago. His odd fascination with Thrace had come at least that far out of the bottle.
Suddenly he felt exhausted. She was still there, which meant she wanted an answer. Another of their little games did not appeal to him at the moment, but he could never seem to stop them.
"No," he said, drawing up all of his strength. "I did not tell him."
"Why not?" she asked, suddenly accusatory.
Gaius allowed a single hard laugh, almost a cough, to escape. Then he paused, and actually looked at her. "You were there. You know why."
"I know what you told him. I want to know why you did it."
"You really are a fool." Gaius started. Then he stopped. He knew it would drive her mad if he just left it there.
And it did. "You dare to call-"
"No." Gaius said, and it felt freeing."You're worse than that. A fool, at least, understands what he is told." She is looking at him with some alarm, now. The cigar is gone. "A fool does not create complicated lies to disguise his foolishness." She does not understand what he is doing. He feels empowered. "A fool, at least, understands morality." She almost cringes now. She does not quite shrink into the wall, not quite. But he is facing her squarely now. "A fool, at least, has a morality."
She tries to defend herself briefly. She says "I have-"
But he is better than this, for once. He is better than her estimations and her calculations put him down to be. "No!" He says, cutting her off. A sudden burst of strength and adrenaline, and the whole desk, with his computer and his papers, has gone crashing off to a side of the room. "You have no morality." He takes a step forward. "You have a crackpot religion." Another step. "Idiocy you and your toaster brethren invented-" Another. "just so you could get carte blanche for your recklessness." Another. "There is no plan, is there?" Another. "There is no plan," another, "there is no God," another, "and there is no you."
She disappears.
He feels joyful. He has proven, once and for all, that he can be better than her. His whole life is changed. Everything feels better. He turns back from the wall to begin righting the mess of his desk, when he sees Thrace.
She is standing in the doorway, looking at him with a slightly open mouth and fearful eyes, and suddenly all of his joy and rejuvenation is gone, replaced by despair.
And she says "Oh gods" and turns, and runs.
