mr_gaeta | (no subject)

(no subject)

Just over a year ago, Gaeta made an implicit promise to Laura Roslin: keep an eye on Milliways.

There's been idle talk among some of the Ones -- always bitter, always the least likely to behave as if this is cohabitation and not occupation -- about shutting down the school; he can hope that it stays idle, but Gaeta knows that he ought to prepare for the possibility that it may not be. That could mean collecting data in an attempt to convince them otherwise.

That could mean visiting the school.

He keeps his head down for the entire walk to the tent, and it has less to do with the cold than one might assume.

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It had been a shock to her to realize just how much she'd missed this.

Never mind that this classroom, this school, is more than a little unconventional -- from time to time, she's able to set aside everything else and simply enjoy the process of teaching, no more or less than that.

"Very good," she says now, to her youngest students. "Now, who can tell me the names of all Twelve Colonies?"

Cautiously, Gaeta brushes one of the tent flaps aside, just enough to peer inside and assess whether or not he'd be interrupting.

It seems he would be: he stays put.

Inside, a few hands in the front row shoot up.

Her gaze flickers to the tent door, but no more than that; she's in the middle of something, and Laura Roslin has never been one to let distraction overly affect her work.

She nods to one of the students, smiling. "Go ahead, Jennifer."

"Um, Aerilon, Gemenon, Tauron," the child starts. "Canceron, Aquaria?" She looks to her teacher for confirmation, and receives another nod and an encouraging smile.

"Picon, Leonis, Sagittaron... Virgon, Scorpia... Libran... and New Caprica!" she finishes, enthusiastically.

The girl looks very young, like she couldn't have been more than two or three when the bombs fell.

Gaeta closes his eyes.

(Not for the first time, either, he thinks of Nicky Tyrol, and the handful of other children who never saw the Colonies at all.)

"That's very good, Jennifer," Roslin praises her. It's gentle, and absolutely sincere. "You got all but one of them right."

"New Caprica is where we live now. It was named after the colony of Caprica, which is where many people used to live, before the war."

It's probably not a good idea to keep letting in the cold air. Gaeta pushes the flap a little farther -- again, no more than he needs -- to ease himself inside and let it fall closed.

(He also makes an abrupt decision: should the topic of Milliways come up, he is not going to mention Caprica by name.)

Keeping to the side, just by the doorway, he folds his hands behind his back and continues to wait.

Another child's hand goes up, this one belonging to a boy maybe a year or so older than Jennifer.

"Miss Roslin? Are we still at war?"

She doesn't hesitate.

"What do you think, Moshe?"

He frowns over the question for a second or two.

"The war was with the Cylons... but there are Cylons here...."

We are.

Behind Gaeta's back, his hands tighten by a fractional amount.

The next thought comes more quietly, but with far more vehemence to make up for it: We should be.

"That's true," she agrees.

It's a fine line to walk.

She's walked thinner ones.

"Sometimes when people have been fighting, it takes a while to be friends, even if the fight's over."

Roslin smiles, and gestures to the back of the room. As the students turn in their seats to see what she's indicating, she says,

"Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Gaeta?"

Gaeta stills -- freezes, really -- for the briefest of instants. Then the flicker of surprise smooths over, and he inclines his head toward Roslin.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, voice poised carefully neutral.

She nods back to him in turn.

"Children, say hello to Mr. Gaeta," Roslin tells them. "Mr. Gaeta is our government's Chief of Staff. He works with President Baltar."

"Hello, Mr. Gaeta!" the classroom choruses.

He smiles to the kids, no less practiced and professional. "Hello," he says. "It's very nice to meet all of you."

Gaeta's gaze shifts back to Roslin then, as he adds -- very slightly pointed -- "Miss Roslin, if you'd prefer for me to wait outside until your lesson's done...?"

"Oh, not at all," she assures him, and then turns toward the other side of the room. "Maya, could you...?"

Maya nods, and leaves the group of older children that she's been quietly tutoring in order to join Roslin at the front of the classroom. "I'll take over." She smiles. "Isis is sleeping right now anyway, so I can handle both classes at once."

There's a cradle next to the chair that Maya had been sitting in; she gives it a fond look as she says this.

Roslin also glances at the cradle, then nods. "All right. I shouldn't be long."

She steps back as Maya calls the younger students to attention once more, then walks along the side of the tent to Gaeta.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Roslin asks, smiling.

Gaeta lowers his voice. "There were a couple of things I wanted to discuss with you, first and foremost being the school."

He resists the urge to glance toward Maya.

"Would you be able to assist in providing data about enrollment, curriculum, and attendance?"

"Mmm," she says. "Oh, I'm sure I could, but I think the rather more important question is why you'd want them."

"It's...a precautionary measure." He unclasps his hands, brings them around in front of himself. "While I don't know yet if it'll amount to anything, there have been casual discussions about closing down the school, and -- if it does become less than casual, and if I can provide statistics that would justify keeping it open -- "

"Closing down the school." Her lips compress into a thin, tight line. "I see."

Roslin signals quickly to Maya, then indicates the tent flap.

"If you would be so good as to accompany me?"

"Of course." Quiet.

Sparing a last glance to the classroom, he follows Roslin outside.

This isn't likely to be a conversation that either of them will want witnessed.

She leads the way alongside the school tent until they reach an adjacent entrance. Roslin opens this flap and walks inside, into what looks to be a small room used as a makeshift storage space of some sort.

"We keep supplies here," she remarks, moving past a stack of three boxes and toward a metal utility table. There are a few chairs made in the same style set nearby, one of which is currently supporting three stacked boxes. "It gets a little crowded sometimes, but we're fortunate to have the space."

Gaeta nods, unbuttoning his jacket enough to fish out a small notebook and pen from the inner pocket.

"The, ah, supplies are still lasting?"

"We've tried to be economical," she agrees. "Just as well, I suppose."

Roslin gives a look to his note-taking apparatus and raises her eyebrows at him.

He sighs.

"Laura, I'm sure anything you can tell me would be helpful. I know the setup's as viable as anyone can make it; I don't want this to happen any more than you do."

"Who does?"

Which is, after all, the point.

"Who doesn't want the school to continue, Felix?"

A second's worth of hesitation.

"Some of the Ones," he admits at last. "Like I said -- I don't know if it'll amount to anything, this isn't the first time they've talked about taking more...extreme measures than some of the other Cylons. But I'd like to be prepared for the possibility."

She sighs, then removes her glasses for a moment and rubs at the bridge of her nose. Roslin looks weary.

"Of course."