[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]

Hoshi stares at him in disbelief, then turns and stalks into the little kitchenette.

In silence, he retrieves a dishrag, and returns to the side of the bed, where he crouches down and begins to mop up the spilled coffee with great care.

He's equally careful not to look at Felix; not right now.

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta, meanwhile, has buried his face in his hands. His breath moves in and out in little hitches, the sort that mean he's trying really godsdamn hard not to start crying.

Gods, it used to take so much more than this to make him want to cry.

At his side, the bird lifts its head from his leg, stretching up just enough to nudge his arm. When Gaeta doesn't react, it plocks almost too quietly to be heard and resettles itself closer still.

[faithful_lt]

He finishes mopping up, then folds the rag over his palm, neatly picks up the pieces of the broken coffee mug, and stacks them one on top of the other.

Standing, he returns to the kitchen, dumps the ceramic shards into the trash, then washes out the dishrag and hangs it over the faucet.


... of course, that means he's run out of things to do with his hands. He grips either side of the sink and just stands there, staring down into the drain.

[mr_gaeta]

"Please just tell me what I should have done."

Muffled, and so soft that Louis could be forgiven for not hearing it.

[faithful_lt]

As quiet as it is in the room with the silence between them, Felix's question carries easily.




"You should have told me," Hoshi says, still staring at the sink -- and then he straightens, and turns to face him.

"You should have come to me, Felix. You should have told me. And you shouldn't have led a godsdamned mutiny that cracked the Fleet apart."

"Is that it? Is that what you want to hear?"

[mr_gaeta]

He shakes his head, finally shifting his hands away from his face. Gaeta wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm; they won't stop stinging.

"I want to -- " The words bump into the constriction in his throat, and with an audible effort, he forces them through. "I want options, Louis. Something that would've made him listen, you can't -- you can't just tell me I shouldn't've done it."

[faithful_lt]

"Yes, I can."

A single beat of silence, torn only by Hoshi's drawing a deep, rasping breath.

"Because I've seen what happens afterward."

[mr_gaeta]

He lifts his head, staring.

[faithful_lt]

Hoshi doesn't say anything.

He just looks back at him.

[mr_gaeta]

After a long, silent beat, Gaeta has to rub at his eyes again, blinking hard as he drops his gaze.

"That isn't what I meant," he mutters. "Inaction doesn't frakking count as an option."

[faithful_lt]

He freezes, going perfectly, abnormally still as all color drains from his face.




"I see."

His voice sounds distant in his own ears.

[mr_gaeta]

He's not looking up; he doesn't process anything except the blank flatness to Louis' voice.

"Not for me. Not for something this big."

[faithful_lt]

It's odd, how the ringing in his ears makes Felix's voice sound as though it's echoing down the corridors that he'd known so well on Pegasus; how the words write themselves over his memories of the horrors he'd seen unfolding: what Admiral Cain had ordered done to the civilian ships, the interrogation techniques of Thorne and his cronies, how all of them, every single officer and crew member, had become so much less than they were --

-- and how similar it all feels now, on Galactica, with the aftermath of the mutiny written among them all in bloodstains and broken trust, in --







"Godsdamn you."

His voice is soft, so soft, and colder than it's ever been.

"And godsdamn me, too, I suppose. For my own inaction."

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta jerks back as if struck, his head snapping up to meet Louis' eyes.

There's nothing but complete bewilderment there, like a dog kicked by its owner: I was trying to explain. I was trying to make you understand.

[faithful_lt]

Somehow that only makes it worse. The uncomprehending look on Felix's face twists like a knife in his gut.



"I guess that's the difference between you and me," he continues, his tone still soft and deathly even-- until it begins to waver and shake apart, at the last. "You acted. I didn't. Having been through it both ways, I can't tell you which is right, or even better."


"But if it's any consolation, Felix, Admiral Cain would have understood."

[mr_gaeta]

His mouth falls open.




"What?"

At the mention of Admiral Cain -- the comparison, an insult so deep among the Galactica crew that Gaeta can taste bile in the back of his throat -- the confusion starts to shade into anger.

[faithful_lt]

He holds his ground, and stares Felix right in the eye.

"You heard me."

[mr_gaeta]

As the tension has thickened, the bird's been glancing back and forth between Gaeta and Hoshi with mounting worry, making more tiny, rapid plocks as if to say oh no oh no oh no. This other person, apparently, is Not A Friend of its Nestmate after all. What is it gonna do?

What Gaeta's going to do, meanwhile, is seize his crutches, jab them at the floor, and haul himself off the bed. "You are honest to gods," he says, "comparing me to somebody who frakking murdered and tortured people on her ship.

[faithful_lt]

"Why not? I loved her too!" he lashes back. "I was proud to serve under her, proud to be a part of the Pegasus, back before what we became!"

He takes a step toward Felix, then stops.

"Back before anything, no matter what, was declared to be worth the cost in service of the war. Before Admiral Cain's hatred of the Cylons led her to turn a blind eye - led us to, to..."

The stream of words chokes off there, and he shakes his head, unable to speak at first -- and then, only in a whisper.


"She was wrong. Oh gods, Felix, as incredible as she was, she was wrong. So were we all.

And so were you."

[mr_gaeta]

For all the time they spent together, and as well as Gaeta thought he knew Louis, the other man never really talked about Pegasus. Nobody did; after Cain's death and the battlestar's absorption into the rest of the Fleet, everyone just seemed to want to put it behind them.

Maybe that's part of it. Maybe it's the obvious pain, or not just comparing Gaeta to to the former admiral anymore: comparing him to the entire crew, to Louis himself, no longer singling him out to bear the full weight of his anger.

But by the end of Louis' small speech, his own fury gutters low, curls up, and winks out.



(He's so godsdamn tired. And he knows for certain, now, that he's not the only one.)




Cautiously, he begins to pick his way forward across the tiny room, one awkward half-step at a time.

[faithful_lt]

He sways a little on his feet, as if unsure whether to retreat or move forward, and in the end stays right where he is, wary and uncertain, watching Felix approach.

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta halts a foot away, unable to make himself move any closer.

(The bird, after some hesitation, follows behind him, ready to intervene if things go south again.)




"I'm sorry."

[faithful_lt]

He closes his eyes for a second, having not realized until this moment how badly he'd needed to hear Felix say those words, nor how even such a small step toward mending the abyss gaping between them could be so great a balm.



A ragged breath, and then Hoshi opens his eyes and takes the last step across the physical distance, reaching as he does to wrap one arm around Felix's shoulders, drawing him in.

[mr_gaeta]

He can't return the hug without letting go of his crutches. The best Gaeta can do is lean into the embrace, tucking his chin over Louis' shoulder as he shuts his eyes. He's been drawn out of the fog just enough to see him, and it stoppers up everything else he wants to say.

You never told me. Just as Gaeta never told him.

Not everything was worth the cost; I tried to draw lines. And it didn't do any frakking good.

I'm only sorry I hurt you. I'm not sorry for acting.

The weight that Louis' words transferred away from him is slowly, slowly being replaced by another -- this one much heavier, and so much harder to shake.

[faithful_lt]

He stays quiet and still for what feels like a long time, breathing carefully, not letting himself think about -- well, anything, as much as he can.



Eventually he notices that the bird is watching them with beady-eyed avian suspicion, and shifts a little, preparing to ease back a bit.