"I don't understand why this isn't working. We've recalibrated the sensor twice, but it's landed almost exactly the same distance from the target each time." Beetee pushed his super-magnifying glasses up onto his forehead and looked at his companion. "I'm not sure how we're going to get this thing working."

She didn't respond, but then again, she usually didn't unless he asked a direct question. Instead, she stared up at the ceiling, where a new hole no larger than the head of a nail had appeared since yesterday. She hated it. There had been 144 of them for the last seven weeks, and 144 belonged to both the set of perfect squares and the Fibonacci sequence. Beautiful. No, gorgeous. It made 145 look very ugly indeed.

"Do you have any idea what's wrong?"

"Yes."

"Glad you're awake. I thought you might have left me for a minute there. You have it figured out?" When no reply came, he traced her gaze up to the ceiling and continued, "They changed the holes on us again, didn't they?"

Wiress' lips trembled as she nodded. It shouldn't matter this much; the reasonable part of her knew that. But she'd had so little to cling to since the Games, and it felt beyond cruel for them, whoever they were, to take those little joys from her. They'd stolen one of the two constants that made her life worth living.

The other wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body flush against his. Wiress buried her face against his chest. This way, she couldn't see the offending tile. She still knew it was there, but warm and safe with Beetee, she could almost ignore it. "It'll be all right. C'mon, the two of us can fix it. Shhh, it'll be alright." She hadn't realized she was crying until she turned her head and felt the damp spot she'd created on his shirt. "I'll get up on the chair and drill them myself. Just tell me how many more you need to have another beautiful number."

She giggled.

"What's so funny?" Beetee grinned. She could almost see the calculations being carried out in his brain. He shook his head. "Sending me on an impossible task, are we?"

Wiress smiled up at him, and the image of short little Beetee standing on his stool, drilling millions, billions of holes into the ceiling tiles trying to reach an impossible number just to make her happy flipped some unseen switch inside her. She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and kissed his lips, eliciting a quick, surprised half-step backwards before Beetee drew her in close and deepened the kiss.

She smiled against his lips. He was sweet and so very smart, her perfect foil.

Foil. First, outside, inside, last. Acceleration's second-power term. They'd rounded too early and found the incorrect roots. "Oh."

Any thoughts of kissing and forever abandoned her as she hurried for the computer. Beetee swallowed and stared at the ground for a moment before following her.

.oOo.

A/N: Written for Day 3 of Caesar's Palace Shipping Week and using the prompt static.