[Road to Najmi]

[mr_gaeta]

Once they're out on a road not pockmarked with stones and potholes -- or, at least, dotted with fewer of them -- the constant jostle of the cart settles into an easy, rolling rock from side to side.

Given his usual lack of sleep the night before, it isn't terribly surprising that that's enough for Gaeta to slip into a light doze, leaning against the back wall with his bag bunched up like a pillow.

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[mr_gaeta]

If Kaya weren't there, he could shrug it off with another lie, saying, all I know are the impolite songs. His fingers work at his knee, as if anticipating a deeper hurt.

"There is one," he says, quiet, cautious. "I...can't remember where I learned it. I think it's something I heard when I was a kid."

[road2najmi_npcs]

Azimar studies him for a moment.

Then, very quietly: "I'd be honored and grateful if you'd teach it to me."

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta's eyes slip closed. It nearly looks, for a moment, as if he's dozed off again.

And then his hand unconsciously tightens on his right leg, and he begins to sing.

"Alone she sleeps in the shirt of man
With my three wishes clutched in her hand..."

(It fills the entire cart. He may not claim to be much of a musician, but Gaeta undoubtedly sounds like one.)

"The first that she be spared the pain
That comes from a dark and laughing rain
When she finds love, may it always stay true
This I beg for the second wish I made too..."

As the song gains momentum, so does his voice, building to a sweeping crescendo on the final lines.

"But wish no more
My life you can take
To have her please just one day wake
To have her please just one day wake
To have her please...

Just one day wake."

[road2najmi_npcs]

Kaya's hunkered down in her nest of sacks again, listening, sober and attentive. She's heard the song before; very softly, too softly to be heard, she's humming along.

Before the first verse is quite through, Azimar has lifted himself from the half-reclining position, eyes widening; by the end of the second, he's sitting very straight, leaning forward, his lips parted just slightly.

When Gaeta finishes singing, he lets out a long, low breath.

[mr_gaeta]

It's no longer a phantom pain he can't do anything about, thank the gods; those disappeared when he died. But as Gaeta opens his eyes, he continues to knead what's left of his right leg.

"That's about all I know besides the soldier songs," he murmurs, meeting Azimar's gaze.

[road2najmi_npcs]

"It's beautiful," he says, soft, almost reverent. "A love song?"

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta nods. "I'd assume so," he says. "I don't know what else it could be."

[road2najmi_npcs]

"Does it have a name?"

He's wholly unguarded in admiration, and in something else: something like yearning.

[mr_gaeta]

He rubs the back of his neck, mulling it over.

Gaeta doesn't expect any revelation to appear -- he's spent enough time trying to figure out what the song is, and where it's from, and how he knows it. But it would be nice to have answers for a change.

Eventually, though, he's forced to shake his head. "I can't remember it," he admits, rather rueful. "To be honest, I don't know anything about it, it just...popped into my head one day."

[road2najmi_npcs]

Again that small wordless sigh.

"May I?" he asks, as though asking a parent for permission to hold an infant.

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta considers him. A beat later, a ghost of a smile appears: a touch sad, but far more accepting.

"Sure."

[road2najmi_npcs]

"You'll correct me if I get it wrong?" he says, and without waiting for an answer, draws breath and starts to sing.

His voice is deeper than Gaeta's, and he's singing slower, more tentatively; a few times he stops to correct himself, and once stops to look at Gaeta for the next line.

[mr_gaeta]

"May it always stay true," he supplies, swift and a bit less polished.

Just to be certain Azimar has the right of it, he continues to sing as the bard goes on. It's much softer: something meant for support, not performance.

[road2najmi_npcs]

Azimar flashes him a quick smile between lines at his joining in, and his own voice takes on a little extra certainty with the added support.

"But wish no more; my life you can take..."

[mr_gaeta]

"To have her please just one day wake -- "

Taking something this personal and painful out beyond Galactica's sickbay, where anyone can hear it or sing it for themselves...it's why Gaeta told the truth, when he said he rarely sang in public.

But as he continues, Azimar's voice clear and fine and Gaeta's laying an unobtrusive platform beneath it, something eases below his sternum. It's a strange feeling; not because he hasn't felt it before, but because he has.

"To have her please just one day wake..."

In fact, it reminds him of nothing so much as his last night on Galactica, chain-smoking with Gaius and telling -- confessing -- everything, from the most mundane childhood events to his quiet fears. Not of what waited for him the next morning, but of what he'd be leaving behind.

Against his stump, his hand loosens its grip.

[road2najmi_npcs]

On the final repetition of the line, Azimar's voice climbs unexpectedly to a descant harmony, over Gaeta's voice singing the melody:

"To have her please ... just one day wake."

He lets the last note die away, and once again lets out a slow breath.

[mr_gaeta]

Caught by surprise, Gaeta almost tunes into Azimar's voice and follows him up before he catches himself. He's expected to hold his own here; he does, giving more strength to final line as it swells and fades like a rolling tide.

For a moment, it's completely quiet save the squeak of the cart wheels.

Gaeta finds that he's smiling.

[road2najmi_npcs]

So's the bard.

"And you don't sing often?" he says, in some disbelief.

[mr_gaeta]

He shakes his head. "I've only done it a few times before now. And I didn't even start until about six months ago."

[road2najmi_npcs]

Azimar shakes his head, still smiling. "I've no idea whether to call that a tragedy or a gift of the gods. Friend Felix, your voice is a wonder. And consider, if you will," he adds, raising a finger, "who tells you so."

[mr_gaeta]

"I'm honored, sir," he says, dryly amused. "Even if..."

Another small shift, this time to draw his metal leg a few inches closer.

"I wouldn't call it a tragedy or a gift."

[road2najmi_npcs]

"Then what would you call it?" he asks with ready curiosity.

(Kaya's gone completely quiet, still watching but hoping they'll forget she's there.)

[mr_gaeta]

"Happenstance."

Gaeta tips his head back, resting it against the cart wall.

Softer, "Or healing, maybe."

[road2najmi_npcs]

"I'm no great believer in happenstance," Azimar says thoughtfully. "But that music can heal ... well. No true bard could ever doubt that."

[mr_gaeta]

He's watching the sway of the canvas ceiling now, lost in thought.

(Gaeta has indeed, for an instant, forgotten that Kaya's there.)

"It's how I got through losing my leg," he murmurs. "I'd..." And then he lifts his head, curious. "Have you met anyone else who had this happen to them, too? Did they tell you about it?"