[Room 372]

[mr_gaeta]

[After this.]

"Okay," says Gaeta -- out of breath, as always, from the climb up the stairs -- as he shoulders open the door. The bird immediately weaves around him and darts in, plocking happily at its return to its new nest.

Once it became obvious that Gaeta would be a permanent resident, Bar kindly supplied a few additions and expansions to his room: a kitchenette, a couch and TV, a small bookshelf, a wooden partition to separate his bed from everything else. It looks more like a studio apartment now than the hotel atmosphere of most Milliways rooms.

Stepping aside as best he's able, he holds the door so Louis can come in.

Comments

[faithful_lt]

"Sure," he repeats, and steps to the side to let Felix lead the way back across the room.

[mr_gaeta]

By then, the bird's hit the floor and is scampering over to take up its post next to Gaeta. Fluffing up its tailfeathers, it spins back around once it pulls even with him, keeping pace for the whole walk (well, hobble) back to the bed.

As soon as he lowers himself to the mattress with a groan, the bird takes a seat by his foot, right underneath the stump of his right leg.

[faithful_lt]

He hesitates, but not for long before he sits beside Felix on the edge of the bed.

(Besides, there's nowhere else to sit, and there's no point in trying to distance himself physically.)

Silently, he offers one of the coffee mugs.

[mr_gaeta]

Too late, he realizes that this might be a fraught place to sit; maybe they should move to one of the couches, or back to the kitchen table, or --

-- but then Louis is offering him one of the mugs, and it becomes most definitely too late.

"Thank you," he murmurs again, wrapping both hands around the mug as he takes it from him. He doesn't drink just yet.

[faithful_lt]

"You were the one who made it," he points out, with the ghost of a smile. "Thank you."

[mr_gaeta]

"I was glad to," he says, and glances up from the steam curling out of his mug. "Anytime."

It could be an invitation, of sorts.

[faithful_lt]

He nods, and looks down at his own mug.

Despite the bird's helpful attempts, his hair's still mussed; tiredness is still visible in the lines of his body, even if less than it was.





"I don't know what to say."

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta presses his lips together. He lifts the mug; takes a sip, ignoring how it's still a little too hot to drink.

"I'm not sure I do, either," he admits at last, very quiet. "I don't want to make it worse."

[faithful_lt]

A rough gasp of laughter escapes him; harsh, somehow scraped raw, and yet undeniably real.

"I don't think we have to worry about that, at least."

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta doesn't laugh, doesn't even smile; all he does it shrug, turning his attention back to the coffee.

"You never know."

He didn't think it could get worse after they found Earth.

[faithful_lt]

And just like that, the laughter's gone.

"No."

This time, the single word comes out flat; devoid of any resonance at all.

"I guess I don't, do I."

[mr_gaeta]

Just like that.

Gaeta's silent -- like he should have stayed when this whole frakking conversation started -- and doesn't look up.

[faithful_lt]

"Felix."

Still low, still level, but with hints of some tension he can't entirely hide.

"Don't do this. Don't... don't hide from this."

[mr_gaeta]

"I don't know what else to do."

He curls a hand in front of his mouth, as if, too late, he's trying to stop the words from coming out.

[faithful_lt]

His unsteady breathing is the only sound between them for several long seconds.






"Why?"

[mr_gaeta]

"Because it's just -- "

Gaeta moves again, this time to wrap both hands around the mug, reminding himself of the warmth there. He's shaking his head, slow and steady.

"I don't know. I just can't..."

[faithful_lt]

"... be honest with me?"

[mr_gaeta]

"No. It's not that. Louis -- "

He finally looks up, his fingertips blanching against the mug.

"I'm trying to deal with this and I don't know how."

[faithful_lt]

He draws in a long breath, and lets it out slowly.


"Well," he says, "that makes two of us."

A beat, and another breath.

"But you don't have to do it alone, do you?"

[mr_gaeta]

He blinks, hard.

Carefully -- and a little wobbly, as if walking on a tightrope -- "I don't. And I don't want you to go. But some of it..."

(didn't you see them)

"I don't have a choice. I died because of this and you're still going and I don't know what to do."

It was always so much easier, just following orders.

[faithful_lt]

He swallows against a suddenly dry throat. If he tries to lift his coffee now, he's not sure he'll be able to hold on to it.

"You died because of this," Hoshi repeats, carefully.


"Felix. I don't understand. I don't--"


"-- what about this was worth you dying for?"

[mr_gaeta]

I'm still here, he said, and Louis asked, did you mean not to be?

He doesn't have the heart to reiterate it. All he can do is shake his head, falling mute again.

[faithful_lt]

Hoshi studies him in silence for several long moments.





"Or was it just a way for you to die?"

[mr_gaeta]

Instant, desperate with the denial: "Of course it wasn't."

Louis has no frakking reason to believe him, he realizes dimly. Hell, Gaeta barely even believes himself anymore.

[faithful_lt]

He lets out a ragged breath, nods, and takes a sip of coffee to buy himself time.

"Okay." A beat. "Okay," he repeats. "Okay. That's something."

The gods only know what, but it's something.