The Deposition, by geekbynight
Title: The Deposition
Author: geekbynight
Summary: “There’s nothing I can offer for Doctor Baltar’s defense,” Resentment begins to well up inside him. He never had a trial; that luxury wasn’t afforded to him.
Characters: Felix Gaeta, Romo Lampkin
Pairings: mentions of Gaeta/Baltar and Gaeta/Caprica
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Title, Author and URL of original story: Hostile Witness by millari http://millarific.livejournal.com/5443.html#cutid1
Beta Thanks: Thanks a bunch to lorrainemarker !
On the wall beside Felix’s bed are photos of people he’s never met. Weathered and torn, they’re patched together with tape from Colonial One that he hadn’t realized was still in his coat pocket. He’d debated on placing Jammer and other’s who’d gone “missing” during the time the Circle was active up with them, but instead hung them on Memorial Wall. He wanted them to see; when they went on duty, when they came off duty, when they went out to battle or routine runs, to look at those thirteen faces and wonder. These days Felix’s victories are few and far between. He'll take them where he can get them, no matter how hollow they prove to be.
In essence the photos by his bed probably belong there as well but apart from making sure they stayed up Felix hasn’t been able to bring himself to touch them, fingers always shakily pulling away just short. It would be easy to spread them about Memorial Wall, knowing they’d gradually be covered by other photos. Wash his hands of them and put them out of the forefront of his mind. Easy but not right. No, he does the same thing he hopes Tigh, Tyrol and the others do. Stares at their faces and wonders.
Felix knows he’s damaged goods now, unsuitable for Cylons and most humans as well. He watches the day to day life of his fellow soldiers like an outsider. Recently he’s seems to have been branded as approachable now; word of his meeting with Gaius travelling throughout Galactica. Still the bitterness remained, amplified by his failure to finish the job where Gaius was concerned. Felix has yet to decide whether he’s happy about the man’s survival or not.
In the privacy of his rack he’d been contemplating just that when a marine entered informing him he was to be escorted to an interview with Gaius’ new attorney Romo Lampkin. Something he hadn’t been expecting until at least a few more weeks from now. Felix could have refused to meet him at this time, tried to assert a measure of control. It’s late, he’s off duty after long shifts, it won’t be in a formal interview room, there were numerous legitimate explanations at his disposal. But if he goes now it will give off the appearance that he has nothing to hide or rehearse further so Felix complies.
When he enters Lampkin’s quarters he’s sitting at a small table. He acknowledges Felix with the proper greeting, but otherwise doesn’t move. On impulse Felix leans across the table and offers his hand, a force of habit and one that he regrets the instant it happens, but Lampkin takes his hand before he has a chance to withdraw. This was a lawyer, Baltar’s lawyer, not a superior officer. He shouldn’t be the one adjusting himself to make the other man comfortable. Maybe this was a mistake. Agitation wells up inside him and he breaks contact before finishing the handshake and takes his seat. Clasping his hand together Felix gives the lawyer ample time to start the conversation himself. When that doesn’t happen he takes the reins.
“I’m not sure why you want to speak with me,” He’s too tense, he can feel it.
There’s a pregnant pause following his admission. Felix can tell the other man is staring at him even with the sunglasses covering his eyes. Since New Caprica he’s felt enough unseeing stares to know that he’s being scrutinized at the moment.
Lampkin still doesn’t speak a word and the silence is quickly becoming unbearably discomforting. Felix decides to speak again.
“There’s nothing I can offer for Doctor Baltar’s defense,” Resentment begins to well up inside him. He never had a trial; that luxury wasn’t afforded to him.
Did that make him more of a traitor?
As quickly as the thought enters his mind Felix pushes it away. No, there are bigger, more important matters in the Fleet than Felix Gaeta. Gaius Baltar is only one of many. The last thing he needs is to allow Gaius to dominate this interview without even being present.
“I visited the Cylon woman today,” Lampkin finally says, casually.
Felix blinks, not seeing the relevance or the trap behind that statement. But he has a nagging feeling it’s a prelude to a topic he does not want to discuss. “So?”
His fingers are tapping the table. Inwardly Felix curses at himself; non-verbal gestures speak louder than words and he doubts that the dull thud of his index finger impacting with the table isn’t reflecting his unease.
“You were on New Caprica, so I’d venture to say you saw them together repeatedly,” Lampkin continues, ”How would you characterize their relationship?”
And he was correct. Felix felt himself hardening at the question and the memories it brought up. “Frakked up.”
“Go on.”
“Baltar is a very…selfish man,” Felix leaves it at that because he doesn’t want to reveal too much about his own relationship with Gaius. Throwing out bits and pieces of information as casually as he would trash diminish its significance. But Lampkin doesn’t respond and the silence is back in until Felix adds, “And they argued a lot.”
“About what?”
Of all the people to be asking…Felix tilts his head slightly and tries to force down his bitterness, “ I wouldn’t know. It’s not as though they ever talked to me.” And he’d never wanted them to. After playing hosts to one of their arguments, the last thing he desired was to listen to Caprica basically echo the very same complaints he had months earlier.
“She’s carrying a lot of anger,” Lampkin . Felix stops himself short of using the “her and the entire Colonial Fleet” response that comes to mind, looking away and then back at Lampkin when he continues, “She’s disappointed him”
“Is she?” Felix asks, the question sounding too eager to him even though he keeps his voice flat. This time however he sees the trap when Lampkin begins to explain why. How has he managed to see so much about him?
“Are we going to start my deposition now?” He snaps, the smile Lampkin gives him in response only adding to his annoyance.
“Of course. Let’s start with the basics. How did you end up working as Baltar’s chief of staff?”
“He asked me,” he almost frowns, “Ask him if you want to know why.”
“I already have.” Felix stares at him, contemplating. Deliberately he lays his hands flat on the table and asks, ”And what did he say?” Lampkin doesn’t answer him right away, Felix can't tell whether he’s debating the merits of doing so or just stalling. After a long moment he responds, “To tell you the truth he refuses to talk about you at all. In fact the one time I brought you up he told me to leave you alone.”
There’s no way he can respond to that without revealing too much so Felix lets his hands fall into his lap and says nothing. It doesn’t appear to affect the other man, he continues, “Do you recall how you felt when my client asked you to be his chief of staff?”
Felix allows a casual shrug before answering, “Not really,” but his mind wanders off and he adds, “Not anymore at least,” without thinking about it. He doesn’t realize that mistake until Lampkin manages to coax him to a genuine admission of how difficult the choice was.
At that moment Felix is struck by just how thoroughly Gaius and this trial are unraveling everything he’s struggling to keep together. Since the trial had been announced Roslin made sure to have him coached by the prosecution for testifying every day. It was the only time he’d freely allow himself to think of Gaius. Weeks had gone by. Yet here he is with only Lampkin as his audience, making one mistake after another. He hasn’t absorbed a word.
The timing of this knowledge couldn’t have been worse. Felix can’t help but bristle, “How exactly does this relate to my testimony?”
Lampkin babbles some sort of apologetic explanation that Felix half listens to. His hand touches Felix’s shoulder and he flinches away instantly. Uncomfortable as it is becoming Felix tries to recover, keep his posture as upright and still as possible. His every move is under scrutiny since that day in the cell with Gaius. He can’t even flinch. If this room wasn’t bugged he wouldn’t be here now and no doubt the marines observing the footage will think he’s ready to snap and lash out. They may be right.
Lampkin nods in agreement, “You’re right, back to the matter at hand.” There’s a newfound sense of urgency in his words that makes Felix relax a bit. The atmosphere in the room shifts a bit, an air of professionalism coming down.
“Why did you accept my client’s job offer on New Caprica?”
A question so familiar to him that by now Felix doesn’t have to consider his answer. Nonsense about exploring new areas, seeing the sky, being a part of something important. He intones it as though he was reciting from the command manual, unable to feign any authentic emotion into it. Even now the reality is still too raw. From his belief in the man he’d followed there, the administration he’d worked so hard to keep together, to his grandiose ambitions of starting over, creating something that would last; everything about New Caprica had proved to be a lie, a farce, or a lost cause. And it takes effort not to cringe at the knowledge that the sentiment behind those words used to be genuine.
But Lampkin seems to become more engaged, inclining his head slightly and Felix thinks he may have pulled this one off. “How did you like the job?”
He pauses for a moment, because this distinction matters, “ At first?” Lampkin nods and he continues, “ It was a lot of work, but it was exciting. Building something that lasts from the ground up, we had many creative choices available.”
By we Felix mainly meant himself, Zarek and everyone in the administration except for the president. But Lampkin is his defense attorney and Felix is forced to admit that at the beigning Gaius was a part of that as well. Until the problems began, the infighting, the complaints. Gaius completely lost interest in political matters. Soon between the drugs, and the parties and the sex Felix could rarely have a genuine professional conversation with Gaius.
“That must have been frustrating,” Lampkin offers. Felix lets his silence speak for itself but when he mentions how people regarded him as the one doing most of the heavy lifting Felix can admit it was difficult.
“After the Cylons invaded why did you keep your job?”
The question makes Felix feel more indignant than he was anticipating. Inside information, it was obvious that was the only thing that would make a difference when it came to getting off New Caprica. Apparently Lampkin, and most of the Fleet knows about his work. He supposes he should feel a sense of pride, triumph but it burns more for the knowledge that he’s still playing the scapegoat than anything else. He wasn’t courageous or a hero, his everything hadn’t been close to enough. He was a fool who was desperately trying to right his wrongs. Wrongs he was reminded of every time a civilian came to him asking for help. All of this he tells Lampkin, hoping it satisfies the lawyer to no avail.
“Is that all? There’s nothing else that made you stay?”
Felix looks at him sharply, voice tight with suspicion, “ What are you suggesting?” And by the time he grits the demand out there’s hostility and a shade of danger creeping into his voice. Lampkin isn’t phased though.
“Did you not want to leave him?” He asks simply.
“What?” Felix blanches. Does his face make it that easy to tell? Or is it everything about him? It’s an embarrassing thought, so he files it back into his mind for later. He’ll need to correct it later but now it’s too late with Lampkin. Felix feels more than a little shaken; reminded too much of his experience with the shrink Cottle had sent him to after the Circle. Without him realizing it both he and Lampkin had dissected, analyzed, and would soon discard of him. Lampkin not only knows about the extent of Gauis’ relationship with Caprica but Felix as well. He brings his hands together in his lap, squeezing hard so the tremors will die down.
“Why did you stab him?” By now Felix doesn’t try to conceal his shock; the question so abrupt it catches him completely off guard, he goes with most technical answer he can think of, “I’m not sure I’m obligated to talk to you about that. “
Lampkin is smiling at him again. Not a kind or ironic smile, more like a cat that’s trapped a mouse, “Neither am I. Shall we wait for the judges to decide in court?”
Felix wets his lips, “I’d rather not,” his voice too quiet.
The smile widens, “So let’s get it out of the way now. Why’d you do it? Gaius certainly doesn’t know why.”
“Oh he knows why,” and Felix can’t help spitting the words out, “He knows very well.”
Lampkin follows up with another question, pressing hard but Felix isn’t with him at all now. He’s back in that cell with Gaius, fingers locked so tightly around the pen that his knuckles are white. Adrenaline surging through every fiber of his body. More alive than he’s felt in months. Gaius’ eyes, dark and wide with shock pleading with him at the same time they asked, “what have I done to make you treat me this way-
Lampkin’s voice breaks through for a moment, “Is he protecting you?”
It’s such a laughable, ludicrous suggestion that Felix can’t bring himself to really answer it. A dark, disgusted snort is only response he gives the man. For the first time Lampkin appears at a loss, only blinking, brow knitting in a manner that Felix, for all the thirty minutes he has known the man thinks is uncharacteristic of him. If not he probably would have missed it.
Hopefully then this interview will be finished soon and Felix can leave to more or less be interviewed again by Roslin, the Admiral, the Chief Prosecutor, or all of them at once. Resentment flared back with full force. He was a priority now that he had something they didn’t believe they could do without
Some people were irreplaceable but everyone was still disposable. What mattered was who you were irreplaceable to. Felix was beginning to understand this intimately.
Since the interrogation, Roslin herself had been nothing but sympathetic and considerate towards him. Because she wanted something from him. When she promoted him to “Felix” out of nowhere any doubt was sufficiently erased. The subject of the death lists emerged soon afterwards. None one had to inform Felix on what was expected of him as a witness; it hung at the forefront of every coaching session he went through.
Casually he unfolded his hands in his lap, left hand drifting into his pocket and searching out for what may be his one constant companion. They brush against the cold slender pen and Felix is able to collect himself. He’s still angry, that emotion lurks just beneath surface within him day and night. But it has a single source once more, a target. Just as with the photos beside his bed he won’t allow himself to forget. Felix had resolved earlier to check his pocket for it whenever he leaves his rack.
He’s knows what the Chief Prosecutor will ask him and he knows what his response will be. He’ll be going against his own strict code of morals and ethics, but it’s for the good of the men and women of the Fleet and by now Felix is growing used to making sacrifices in his service to them. It’s a fact of his life he’s experienced before, the only thing that changes is the magnitude of his sacrifices. Everything else remains business as usual.
Author: geekbynight
Summary: “There’s nothing I can offer for Doctor Baltar’s defense,” Resentment begins to well up inside him. He never had a trial; that luxury wasn’t afforded to him.
Characters: Felix Gaeta, Romo Lampkin
Pairings: mentions of Gaeta/Baltar and Gaeta/Caprica
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Title, Author and URL of original story: Hostile Witness by millari http://millarific.livejournal.com/5443.html#cutid1
Beta Thanks: Thanks a bunch to lorrainemarker !
On the wall beside Felix’s bed are photos of people he’s never met. Weathered and torn, they’re patched together with tape from Colonial One that he hadn’t realized was still in his coat pocket. He’d debated on placing Jammer and other’s who’d gone “missing” during the time the Circle was active up with them, but instead hung them on Memorial Wall. He wanted them to see; when they went on duty, when they came off duty, when they went out to battle or routine runs, to look at those thirteen faces and wonder. These days Felix’s victories are few and far between. He'll take them where he can get them, no matter how hollow they prove to be.
In essence the photos by his bed probably belong there as well but apart from making sure they stayed up Felix hasn’t been able to bring himself to touch them, fingers always shakily pulling away just short. It would be easy to spread them about Memorial Wall, knowing they’d gradually be covered by other photos. Wash his hands of them and put them out of the forefront of his mind. Easy but not right. No, he does the same thing he hopes Tigh, Tyrol and the others do. Stares at their faces and wonders.
Felix knows he’s damaged goods now, unsuitable for Cylons and most humans as well. He watches the day to day life of his fellow soldiers like an outsider. Recently he’s seems to have been branded as approachable now; word of his meeting with Gaius travelling throughout Galactica. Still the bitterness remained, amplified by his failure to finish the job where Gaius was concerned. Felix has yet to decide whether he’s happy about the man’s survival or not.
In the privacy of his rack he’d been contemplating just that when a marine entered informing him he was to be escorted to an interview with Gaius’ new attorney Romo Lampkin. Something he hadn’t been expecting until at least a few more weeks from now. Felix could have refused to meet him at this time, tried to assert a measure of control. It’s late, he’s off duty after long shifts, it won’t be in a formal interview room, there were numerous legitimate explanations at his disposal. But if he goes now it will give off the appearance that he has nothing to hide or rehearse further so Felix complies.
When he enters Lampkin’s quarters he’s sitting at a small table. He acknowledges Felix with the proper greeting, but otherwise doesn’t move. On impulse Felix leans across the table and offers his hand, a force of habit and one that he regrets the instant it happens, but Lampkin takes his hand before he has a chance to withdraw. This was a lawyer, Baltar’s lawyer, not a superior officer. He shouldn’t be the one adjusting himself to make the other man comfortable. Maybe this was a mistake. Agitation wells up inside him and he breaks contact before finishing the handshake and takes his seat. Clasping his hand together Felix gives the lawyer ample time to start the conversation himself. When that doesn’t happen he takes the reins.
“I’m not sure why you want to speak with me,” He’s too tense, he can feel it.
There’s a pregnant pause following his admission. Felix can tell the other man is staring at him even with the sunglasses covering his eyes. Since New Caprica he’s felt enough unseeing stares to know that he’s being scrutinized at the moment.
Lampkin still doesn’t speak a word and the silence is quickly becoming unbearably discomforting. Felix decides to speak again.
“There’s nothing I can offer for Doctor Baltar’s defense,” Resentment begins to well up inside him. He never had a trial; that luxury wasn’t afforded to him.
Did that make him more of a traitor?
As quickly as the thought enters his mind Felix pushes it away. No, there are bigger, more important matters in the Fleet than Felix Gaeta. Gaius Baltar is only one of many. The last thing he needs is to allow Gaius to dominate this interview without even being present.
“I visited the Cylon woman today,” Lampkin finally says, casually.
Felix blinks, not seeing the relevance or the trap behind that statement. But he has a nagging feeling it’s a prelude to a topic he does not want to discuss. “So?”
His fingers are tapping the table. Inwardly Felix curses at himself; non-verbal gestures speak louder than words and he doubts that the dull thud of his index finger impacting with the table isn’t reflecting his unease.
“You were on New Caprica, so I’d venture to say you saw them together repeatedly,” Lampkin continues, ”How would you characterize their relationship?”
And he was correct. Felix felt himself hardening at the question and the memories it brought up. “Frakked up.”
“Go on.”
“Baltar is a very…selfish man,” Felix leaves it at that because he doesn’t want to reveal too much about his own relationship with Gaius. Throwing out bits and pieces of information as casually as he would trash diminish its significance. But Lampkin doesn’t respond and the silence is back in until Felix adds, “And they argued a lot.”
“About what?”
Of all the people to be asking…Felix tilts his head slightly and tries to force down his bitterness, “ I wouldn’t know. It’s not as though they ever talked to me.” And he’d never wanted them to. After playing hosts to one of their arguments, the last thing he desired was to listen to Caprica basically echo the very same complaints he had months earlier.
“She’s carrying a lot of anger,” Lampkin . Felix stops himself short of using the “her and the entire Colonial Fleet” response that comes to mind, looking away and then back at Lampkin when he continues, “She’s disappointed him”
“Is she?” Felix asks, the question sounding too eager to him even though he keeps his voice flat. This time however he sees the trap when Lampkin begins to explain why. How has he managed to see so much about him?
“Are we going to start my deposition now?” He snaps, the smile Lampkin gives him in response only adding to his annoyance.
“Of course. Let’s start with the basics. How did you end up working as Baltar’s chief of staff?”
“He asked me,” he almost frowns, “Ask him if you want to know why.”
“I already have.” Felix stares at him, contemplating. Deliberately he lays his hands flat on the table and asks, ”And what did he say?” Lampkin doesn’t answer him right away, Felix can't tell whether he’s debating the merits of doing so or just stalling. After a long moment he responds, “To tell you the truth he refuses to talk about you at all. In fact the one time I brought you up he told me to leave you alone.”
There’s no way he can respond to that without revealing too much so Felix lets his hands fall into his lap and says nothing. It doesn’t appear to affect the other man, he continues, “Do you recall how you felt when my client asked you to be his chief of staff?”
Felix allows a casual shrug before answering, “Not really,” but his mind wanders off and he adds, “Not anymore at least,” without thinking about it. He doesn’t realize that mistake until Lampkin manages to coax him to a genuine admission of how difficult the choice was.
At that moment Felix is struck by just how thoroughly Gaius and this trial are unraveling everything he’s struggling to keep together. Since the trial had been announced Roslin made sure to have him coached by the prosecution for testifying every day. It was the only time he’d freely allow himself to think of Gaius. Weeks had gone by. Yet here he is with only Lampkin as his audience, making one mistake after another. He hasn’t absorbed a word.
The timing of this knowledge couldn’t have been worse. Felix can’t help but bristle, “How exactly does this relate to my testimony?”
Lampkin babbles some sort of apologetic explanation that Felix half listens to. His hand touches Felix’s shoulder and he flinches away instantly. Uncomfortable as it is becoming Felix tries to recover, keep his posture as upright and still as possible. His every move is under scrutiny since that day in the cell with Gaius. He can’t even flinch. If this room wasn’t bugged he wouldn’t be here now and no doubt the marines observing the footage will think he’s ready to snap and lash out. They may be right.
Lampkin nods in agreement, “You’re right, back to the matter at hand.” There’s a newfound sense of urgency in his words that makes Felix relax a bit. The atmosphere in the room shifts a bit, an air of professionalism coming down.
“Why did you accept my client’s job offer on New Caprica?”
A question so familiar to him that by now Felix doesn’t have to consider his answer. Nonsense about exploring new areas, seeing the sky, being a part of something important. He intones it as though he was reciting from the command manual, unable to feign any authentic emotion into it. Even now the reality is still too raw. From his belief in the man he’d followed there, the administration he’d worked so hard to keep together, to his grandiose ambitions of starting over, creating something that would last; everything about New Caprica had proved to be a lie, a farce, or a lost cause. And it takes effort not to cringe at the knowledge that the sentiment behind those words used to be genuine.
But Lampkin seems to become more engaged, inclining his head slightly and Felix thinks he may have pulled this one off. “How did you like the job?”
He pauses for a moment, because this distinction matters, “ At first?” Lampkin nods and he continues, “ It was a lot of work, but it was exciting. Building something that lasts from the ground up, we had many creative choices available.”
By we Felix mainly meant himself, Zarek and everyone in the administration except for the president. But Lampkin is his defense attorney and Felix is forced to admit that at the beigning Gaius was a part of that as well. Until the problems began, the infighting, the complaints. Gaius completely lost interest in political matters. Soon between the drugs, and the parties and the sex Felix could rarely have a genuine professional conversation with Gaius.
“That must have been frustrating,” Lampkin offers. Felix lets his silence speak for itself but when he mentions how people regarded him as the one doing most of the heavy lifting Felix can admit it was difficult.
“After the Cylons invaded why did you keep your job?”
The question makes Felix feel more indignant than he was anticipating. Inside information, it was obvious that was the only thing that would make a difference when it came to getting off New Caprica. Apparently Lampkin, and most of the Fleet knows about his work. He supposes he should feel a sense of pride, triumph but it burns more for the knowledge that he’s still playing the scapegoat than anything else. He wasn’t courageous or a hero, his everything hadn’t been close to enough. He was a fool who was desperately trying to right his wrongs. Wrongs he was reminded of every time a civilian came to him asking for help. All of this he tells Lampkin, hoping it satisfies the lawyer to no avail.
“Is that all? There’s nothing else that made you stay?”
Felix looks at him sharply, voice tight with suspicion, “ What are you suggesting?” And by the time he grits the demand out there’s hostility and a shade of danger creeping into his voice. Lampkin isn’t phased though.
“Did you not want to leave him?” He asks simply.
“What?” Felix blanches. Does his face make it that easy to tell? Or is it everything about him? It’s an embarrassing thought, so he files it back into his mind for later. He’ll need to correct it later but now it’s too late with Lampkin. Felix feels more than a little shaken; reminded too much of his experience with the shrink Cottle had sent him to after the Circle. Without him realizing it both he and Lampkin had dissected, analyzed, and would soon discard of him. Lampkin not only knows about the extent of Gauis’ relationship with Caprica but Felix as well. He brings his hands together in his lap, squeezing hard so the tremors will die down.
“Why did you stab him?” By now Felix doesn’t try to conceal his shock; the question so abrupt it catches him completely off guard, he goes with most technical answer he can think of, “I’m not sure I’m obligated to talk to you about that. “
Lampkin is smiling at him again. Not a kind or ironic smile, more like a cat that’s trapped a mouse, “Neither am I. Shall we wait for the judges to decide in court?”
Felix wets his lips, “I’d rather not,” his voice too quiet.
The smile widens, “So let’s get it out of the way now. Why’d you do it? Gaius certainly doesn’t know why.”
“Oh he knows why,” and Felix can’t help spitting the words out, “He knows very well.”
Lampkin follows up with another question, pressing hard but Felix isn’t with him at all now. He’s back in that cell with Gaius, fingers locked so tightly around the pen that his knuckles are white. Adrenaline surging through every fiber of his body. More alive than he’s felt in months. Gaius’ eyes, dark and wide with shock pleading with him at the same time they asked, “what have I done to make you treat me this way-
Lampkin’s voice breaks through for a moment, “Is he protecting you?”
It’s such a laughable, ludicrous suggestion that Felix can’t bring himself to really answer it. A dark, disgusted snort is only response he gives the man. For the first time Lampkin appears at a loss, only blinking, brow knitting in a manner that Felix, for all the thirty minutes he has known the man thinks is uncharacteristic of him. If not he probably would have missed it.
Hopefully then this interview will be finished soon and Felix can leave to more or less be interviewed again by Roslin, the Admiral, the Chief Prosecutor, or all of them at once. Resentment flared back with full force. He was a priority now that he had something they didn’t believe they could do without
Some people were irreplaceable but everyone was still disposable. What mattered was who you were irreplaceable to. Felix was beginning to understand this intimately.
Since the interrogation, Roslin herself had been nothing but sympathetic and considerate towards him. Because she wanted something from him. When she promoted him to “Felix” out of nowhere any doubt was sufficiently erased. The subject of the death lists emerged soon afterwards. None one had to inform Felix on what was expected of him as a witness; it hung at the forefront of every coaching session he went through.
Casually he unfolded his hands in his lap, left hand drifting into his pocket and searching out for what may be his one constant companion. They brush against the cold slender pen and Felix is able to collect himself. He’s still angry, that emotion lurks just beneath surface within him day and night. But it has a single source once more, a target. Just as with the photos beside his bed he won’t allow himself to forget. Felix had resolved earlier to check his pocket for it whenever he leaves his rack.
He’s knows what the Chief Prosecutor will ask him and he knows what his response will be. He’ll be going against his own strict code of morals and ethics, but it’s for the good of the men and women of the Fleet and by now Felix is growing used to making sacrifices in his service to them. It’s a fact of his life he’s experienced before, the only thing that changes is the magnitude of his sacrifices. Everything else remains business as usual.