Chapter 118 Three Of Five

Galen jerked as he felt something hard press into his back. The harsh voice behind him didn't leave him time to guess what it was before the gun's owner spoke.

"Get in there," the man growled, adding a shove with the weapon to direct Galen towards the open hatch of the parts room. His feet carried him forward before the shock of recognition even had a chance to register. Another push caused him to stumble a couple more feet before he regained his balance and spun to face his attacker.

"What the hell, Colonel?" he demanded, eyes flicking from the service revolver still leveled at him to the XO's single-eyed glare.

"What the frak did you do to me!" Saul Tigh barked.

"Sir?" Confused, Galen searched his memory of the past few days and realized he'd hardly seen the officer at all. He hadn't given it much thought, figuring that the man had probably spent too much time at the bottom of a bottle again and had made himself scarce. It wouldn't have been the first time since New Caprica.

The hand holding the gun trembled slightly as Tigh took a step nearer and the alcohol vapors that wafted from the XO seemed to confirm Galen's suspicions. He looked past the Colonel's shoulder to the still open hatch and suddenly wished someone would come along, not wanting to face down the obviously drunk man on his own.

"Don't frak with me!" The muzzle of the weapon rose higher and Galen's focus was abruptly narrowed to the dark circle of its mouth as Tigh continued. "Thought you could get away with it? Didn't think I'd know it was you that put the crazy in my head?"

A sickening feeling of understanding twisted his gut as Galen remembered that moment of connection they'd experienced three days ago.

Oh shit! No!

"You're a Cylon, too?" his words slipped out without conscious thought.

"Too?" Tigh snapped triumphantly. Then, "I knew it. You and Boomer were in it together. She shot the Old Man and now you've frakked with my head." Galen recoiled at the accusation, but before he could defend himself, "I oughta shoot you right now, filthy skinjob!" and Galen held his breath, the certainty that he was about to die reflected in the other man's enraged expression. But then the Colonel seemed to choke back his anger until it only registered in the tick of the muscle in his cheek.

"Can't yet, though." The XO's voice, usually gruff, sounded strangled now as he bit out, "Need you to make it go away. Whatever you did, take it back," the gun's angle lowered slightly. "…or by Gods, I'll start with your feet and make my way up until you do."

Trying to work some moisture back into his mouth, Galen swallowed, not doubting the man's threat, but at a loss as to what to say that wouldn't just make matters worse. Then, as he saw Tigh's hand flex on the pistol's grip, "Colonel, I swear—" he desperately began, but a movement at the hatch caught his eye. A flutter of material, someone's sleeve, was just visible through the door's hinge-seam. "Look, Sir, by the hatch!" he frantically said, anything to distract the man long enough to maybe disarm him.

Tigh's speed alone should have been impossible for someone his age—or anyone human at all—Galen distantly thought as the older man wheeled and covered the few strides to the hatch and into the hall beyond.

"Stop!" The menace in that one word froze Galen's own initial step even though the gun wasn't pointed in his direction anymore. "Get your frakking ass inside. Go!" Tigh took a pace back and waved his weapon, signaling a person Galen still couldn't see to enter the storeroom. His brows lifted in surprise as the President's Aide, Tory, fearfully slid past the Colonel and sidled to one side of the room as if to put as much distance between her and the two men.

"I don't kn—" her protest was cut off by a warning scowl from the Colonel before he pulled the hatch closed behind him, purposefully spinning the wheel to lock them in together.

With the pistol aimed in the space between them now, Tigh raked the woman with a disgusted look before he spat, "Civilians! Pah?" Then, added, "Always pushing in where you oughtn't." And when his gaze settled on Tyrol again, "Well, girl, you're here now. You like to listen? Good. You can witness his confession. Tell the Old Man so this smarmy bastard can't talk his way out. Not this time!"

A glance at the woman showed Galen that he couldn't look to any help there. Then he did a double-take, noting just how strung out the aide looked. Dark circles marked her eyes, her hair looked like fingers had been raked through it instead of a brush and there was a quiver to her chin that spoke of barely restrained panic. Not that he could blame her, not with the way the Colonel was acting. As his gaze shifted from the woman to the XO and back, an intuition pushed a question forward.

Directed to the woman, "What were you doing down here?" he asked, and saw the Colonel's attention narrow to her.

"Good question," said Tigh, his hand swinging towards her as he snapped, "Answer him."

"I-I-I was looking for Chief Tyrol," she stuttered out, flicking a desperate look to Galen. His natural inclination was to reassure the distraught woman, but suddenly the memory of their last encounter halted his half-formed thought.

Though barely a whisper, "Gods, all three of us?" his abashed words exploded like a bomb in the midst of them.

"Are you frakkin' crazy?"

"Wait! No, I just was looking for you!"

Like shrapnel, their simultaneous protests pelted him, and he held up his hands to halt their barrage.

"Hey! Just wait! Listen to me!" As they fell grudgingly silent, he rushed on, "I know what you're feeling, ok."

Voice rising, "You're lunatics. Both of you," Tory shrilled. "I'm leaving," stalking towards the hatch.

Tigh moved to block her. "No one frakking leaves till I get answers." With the gun, he waved her back…and Tory reluctantly retreated to her former spot. As the man's cyclopic glare turned on him, Galen swallowed and gathered his tumbling thoughts.

"Sir, I didn't do anything to you," he began, then, as Tigh opened his mouth, Galen rushed to continue, "I mean, yes, I felt something. A-a-a shock…or something when we touched, but I didn't make you a Cylon, Sir!"

"Like hell you didn't," Tigh snapped back.

"No. Think about it. If you're a Cylon, you've always been one," he stated with as much conviction he could force past his tight throat. "Someone doesn't 'turn' you into one. You're born that way…or created," he faltered, "…or whatever."

"That's a damn lie! I was born on Picon. Flew Vipers in the First War, and served with the Old Man for years!" Despite the vehemence of his protest, an uncertainty flickered in the baleful glare he leveled at Galen.

Hurrying to build on the glimpse of doubt, "I know, Sir. Me too," said Galen. "But we were obviously planted years ago." The XO was shaking his head, but his certitude had visible chinks now. "Colonel, I swear, I don't want this any more than you do," his declaration fervent, "but this is good, Sir. Us knowing is good, that is. They can't use us if we know. Galactica's my home, Sir. I won't let them make me betray her!"

When Tigh lifted a hand and wearily scrubbed at his stubbled cheek, Galen held his breath, nearly sure that he'd gotten through to the man. He slowly exhaled as the Colonel reluctantly shoved the pistol into the service holster at his hip with a resigned grunt.

"Forty years in the Service." Tigh began a slow pace before them. "Forty years. Two wars. Combat." His voice spiking with bitterness, "Locked in that dungeon on New Caprica," he ground out. Then his visible eye widened. "Ellen! My Gods, what about Ellen?" anguish wrung his words out dry.

Galen could see the guilt of killing his wife start to push Tigh's denial forward again. "Sir, it's true. We're Cylons," he flatly said. "And we have been from the start."

Tory stirred again, pulling Galen's attention to where she stood, dark eyes like the wounds of an animal backed, bleeding into a corner.

"No! You're both crazy. I just came to speak to the Chief," her protest spined with fear and pleading.

"About what?" the XO harshly demanded. "And how'd you end up down here anyhow?"

Biting off the desire to tell the man to back off, Galen kept his gaze locked with the woman's, refusing to let hers drop. He could practically see her trying to find some excuse they might believe. The moment she gave up was marked by the slump of her shoulders.

"I—" she licked her lips and tried again, "I had to speak to you. What happened when we touched…what I remembered later. I waited by the hanger bay and was going to follow you," her eyes flickered to Tigh before returning to Galen's, "but, then I saw him trailing behind you. And-and he had his gun," again her gaze slid towards the other man. "He pushed you in here, so I decided to listen," she finished in a rush, then blurted, "Oh Gods, what're we going to do?"

As the XO straightened and proclaimed, "My name is Saul Tigh. I'm an officer in the Colonial Fleet," Galen heard the resolution in his voice and felt it resonate within his own chest as the older man continued, "Whatever else I am, whatever else it means, that's the man I want to be. That's who I choose to be." The words felt like an oath and Galen echoed them in his heart.

He followed the Colonel from the room with only a brief, assessing glance at Tory. Her own alarm seemed to have also been calmed, though not silenced, by the granite purpose of the Colonel's declaration.

At the junction of the corridor, by unspoken agreement, the three split off along different paths to each return to their duties.

They had responsibilities they intended to honor.

A/N: Sorry this chapter's so short. After the previous extra-long one, I needed time to catch up so didn't include a second POV section as I usually would have. I will continue to post as close to weekly as possible, but I'm now trying to write & edit all within a week and you can expect some delays.

So many thanks for those still coming by to read & review :)