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'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."

He nods, casting his eyes to the dirt beneath their feet. Gaeta lays the pen flat against the notebook and presses his thumb over it to hold it in place.

Through the thin walls of the tent, he can hear the muffled babble of the students' voices.

"Well."

She puts her glasses back on, then directs a look at him over the top of their frame.

"Do you know why? In particular, I mean?"

"No, ma'am."

He lets both notebook and pen fall into his palm, lowering his hand to his side. He looks up.

"I'm sorry. But if I do manage to find out more information..."

"Thank you, Felix. I appreciate it."

She holds his gaze for a moment before glancing away, looking around the room as though to fix it in memory.

"It must be difficult for you."

Simon Tam said much the same thing not too long ago.

He answers in much the same way, quieter than before: "I'm just trying to do what I can."

"Still."

She trails her fingertips over the back of one of the chairs before looking back at him.

"How is President Baltar holding up?"

Silence.

Gaeta's expression shifts, subtle but noticeable: away from the quiet and weary sympathy, back to the calm mask of professionalism from before.

Calm, and a touch harder.

"As well as he can, I suppose."

She smiles at that.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Baltar is a topic he shouldn't discuss...and, frankly, Gaeta doesn't want to discuss it at the moment. He gives a terse nod in response before glancing away.

And while it never left his mind, thinking of Simon -- and now Colonial One -- pushes him to bring up the other reason he came to see Roslin. He glances back, lowers his voice further.

"There's...something else you should be aware of, too."

Her smile fades, slowly.

"Is there?"

Unconsciously, her hand tightens on the back of the chair, to the point where her knuckles whiten.

"Then I'd better hear it, hadn't I?"

"Yes."

He essays a careful breath.

"One of the Sixes knows about Milliways."

Every bit of color drains from her face. Laura Roslin looks as if she's just been shot.

"No."

If he lets himself notice the expression on her face, Gaeta knows it'll be that much harder to make it through this report. He goes on.

"She's known about it for a few months now; she didn't clarify whether that meant she found a door just prior to her arrival on New Caprica, or just after. She also claims she's the only one -- both of her model and the Cylons as a whole -- who knows about it."

"A few months."

She's taking it all in as quickly as she can; absorbing, thinking, adjusting.

"You haven't seen any of the rest. Or heard about it, I presume."

It's not a question, that's clear. It's a safe bet, given that he's here now, telling her this.

"If they all were aware -- I can't imagine that they, they wouldn't..."

She shuts her eyes.

Breathes in. Breathes out.

"We've got to warn him."

"President Baltar?"

(But that doesn't make much sense -- he doesn't know about the bar, as far as Gaeta's aware, and even if he was, what would he bother to do? -- )