Yeah, my parody needed two chapters
Deus Ex Asteroid: A Tragicomedy of Errors
Or, What the Frak Was Up With 4.5?
Chapter 2 of 2.
Part one
“Gaius? Are you listening?”
“Hm?” Gaius jerked out of his thoughts of Caprica and her final round of therapy and looked up to see Tory rolling her eyes.
“I said, give me the plot devices.”
“Plot devices?”
She shot a look to the heavens, as though beseeching the One True God for help. “Yes, Gaius,” she said slowly, as though speaking to a particularly dull puppy, “the plot devices. The ones Ellen and I requested. So we could have the breathtaking, world-shattering revelation sequences about the backstory of the Five and how the frak we lived on Earth, culminating in a moment of such perfection that no one will ever notice that we were only chosen as Cylons because we rock-paper-scissored for it?”
Gaius stared at her blankly, and then a slow dread began to work its way through his body. That sounded horrifically like something he had…
“…You didn’t forget, did you, Gaius?” she asked dangerously.
“No, no, of course not, of course not, how could you even ask me that?” he blustered, trying to cover.
“Ok then. So hand them over.”
“Erm, well, you see, the thing is-”
“Gaius.”
“I just thought… it might be more effective as dialogue,” he said at random, wondering whether he would be able to pull out his TravelBook before Tory had time to break his arms and throw him out an airlock.
“…Dialogue.”
“Yes, you know… Give Ellen and the Sam-Generic more screentime.”
“You know what else would give them more screentime? Scenes. With meaning. And plot. And past-life characterizations. Explanations, Gaius, would give them more screentime.”
“You know what? It sounds like you have everything under control. You have a, a perfectly fine handle on the situation. Oh, well, what do you know, I have a call on the footnoterphone, I really should take this, I have to go, I’ll see you around, yes? Yes. Very good.” He scurried away, ignoring her as she called his name. He ducked down a rarely used corridor, cursing his own absentmindedness. Dialogue. He shook his head. Well, Tory was resourceful. He was sure she’d come up with something.
An actual call came through his footnoterphone, and as he listened to the voice on the other end, he felt quite suddenly sick. He turned and ran for the infirmary as fast as his feet would carry him.
***
Gaius held Caprica’s hand as Cottle continued to speak. “Look, we knew this was a risk of the therapy. The baby was too young to handle that much characterization that quickly. Hell, he hadn’t even been born yet. It was too much for his developing system to handle. I’m sorry.” Cottle gave them a respectful nod before pulling the curtains closed behind him and allowing them some privacy.
Caprica stared at her lap, tears in her eyes. Gaius felt helpless. He knew she was going through something very painful, but he couldn’t help being grateful that the adjective treatments had worked and that she had been fully restored. Looking at her, he knew that that wouldn’t bring her comfort right now. For once in his life, he decided against speaking and just sat with her, letting her mourn.
“He was supposed to be the future of the Cylon race, Gaius,” she said numbly.
Gaius brushed her hair away from her face, at a loss. The curtain rustled, and he looked up to see Tory.
“I just heard. I’m glad you made a full recovery, and I’m very sorry for your loss.” Caprica nodded, and Tory turned her attention to Gaius. “I need to talk to you.”
Giving Caprica’s hand a squeeze, he followed Tory into the main area of the infirmary. “What is it?”
She gave him an annoyed glance. “‘What is it?’ Are you serious? Gaius, what are we supposed to do now? We were counting on that kid to pull through. How the frak are we supposed to explain this?”
Anger reared up in him. “I cannot believe you are thinking about the damn script right now!”
“Well, somebody has to!”
“Yes, well, clearly that somebody is you. That’s what you’re implying, isn’t it? That I’ve been neglecting my duties?”
She crossed her arms. “Well, you have. You have been absolutely no help whatsoever with any of the Cylon mythology. You think I can just figure this out on my own? It’s not like any of the original Seven gave me anything to work with. Hell, thanks to Ellen, it has been pointed out that there should be a Number Seven, and you and I both know we don’t have the budget to follow through on that. We cannot have another gun that doesn’t fire. If you don’t give me some input right now, I’m going to draw ideas out of a hat and run with them.”
“You know what? There is only one Cylon I give a frak about right now, and she is sitting alone in that cubicle. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” Tory walked away in disgust, and he glared after her before returning to Caprica’s side.
***
Nostalgia overcame Felix as he wandered the corridors of Galactica. Turning into the Remembrance Hall, he saw that Dee’s picture had been put up and touched it sadly. It depressed him that of all the characters who had died in the grammasite attacks, she was the only one who would get her picture here. He wondered if the Council of Genres would allow their names to be placed on the Boojumorial. They had given their lives in service to Jurisfiction, and he thought that ought to be honored in some way.
He took a moment to reflect on the Generics in their places. Though technically they had taken over the roles and had been given their predecessor’s names, he couldn’t bring himself to think of them as anything but replacements. He had come up with his own personal nicknames for them.
Almost-Athena. Nearly-Lee. Strangely-Sober-Saul. Kind-of-Kara. Loosely-Laura.
For the most part, they had done well, and most of them were getting better as time passed. He held out hope that the Outlanders who portrayed them to the nonfictional world would be able to continue their excellent work and keep them true to the characters he had known. And in retrospect, Felix was touched that Gaius had been so insistent about finding a Generic dedicated to keeping Felix’s core characterizations intact. He only wished Gaius had been more diligent about…
He clenched his jaw when he thought about the thing that had taken Adama’s place. Felix had gone back through the pre-mutiny scripts, trying to figure out why Tom had chosen him, of all people, to be the instigator. What he had found had caused his blood to run cold, and he had understood. That hadn’t been Adama. It had been an imposter.
The Imposter. That’s how he now thought of the Generic who wandered the corridors drunkenly, toothbrush in hand, wearing the Admiral stars. Meeting his eyes out of script, Felix had known that the Imposter had no regard for the hard work and dedication William Adama had put into his character and was determined to ride a wave of ever-increasing inebriated angst right to the very end, frak the effect it had on rest of the show.
Felix almost wished he could go back to the mutiny and have the Imposter shot down right there in the CIC. It would have torn his own characterization to pieces, but at least the Old Man would have been spared this sickening fate. It was the only thing he would change about the way his Generic had handled the situation.
Well, that, and possibly not ranted about New Caprica. Really, of all the truly relevant points the rebellion had had to make… He shook his head. Generics.
***
“You’re frakking out of line!”
“Frak you, motherfrakker! That only frakking works in the frakking script!”
Gaius winced, meeting Felix’s eyes across the table. He and Hoshi had agreed to meet him for lunch with Caprica. He’d been hoping it would be a calm, uneventful way to help her ease back into unscripted life after what she had been through. Having Generics wander into the mess, screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, certainly hadn’t been part of the plan.
“Frak off, Thrace!”
“No, you stupid frak, do not frakking walk away from me!”
“Well, they sure seemed to pick up on that easily enough, didn’t they?” Felix murmured, narrowing his eyes as the Kara and Adama Generics faced each other down.
Gaius was grateful that Felix was keeping his cool. There had been talk of some unpleasant altercations centering on the fact that the Adama replacement had no intention of letting bygones be bygones and be friendly with any of the mutineers out of scene. Carrying character grudges into unscripted interactions was hardly unheard of, but scuttlebutt had it that this particular Generic had taken it too far.
He hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Felix exactly what had happened, but from what he heard from gossip, the new Adama had taken out some of his misplaced rage on Hoshi and prevented him from getting in some characterizations Felix had been trying to help him with. Judging by the way Hoshi reached over and placed his hand on Felix’s arm, it was taking all of Felix’s control to sit in the man’s presence.
“I know you stole it, you sick frakking bastard, so give it back!”
“I have no idea what the frak you’re talking about,” Adama growled.
“Don’t lie to me! I know all about you and your freakish dental hygiene obsession. No one on this frakking show can find their frakking toothpaste anywhere! I just had my Outland contact bring me a brand-new frakking tube of Crest, and it’s gone. I certainly didn’t use it all already!”
Hoshi was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable, and Caprica clenched her hands on the table. This is ridiculous, Gaius thought. Was it really so much to ask for a quiet, normal lunch aboard this stupid ship? He stood.
“Could you two please take this someplace else? Some people are trying to hold conversations here.”
“Frak you!” they replied in unison. They began shouting at each other again, accusations and denials overtaking the entire room.
“Hey, have some frakking consideration!” Felix said angrily, and both Generics turned to glare at him.
“This motherfrakker has stolen all the toothpaste! All of it. You wanna talk consideration, frakking talk to him!”
“If it’s that big a deal, make it a damn plotpoint and leave the rest of us in peace, why don’t you?” Gaius snapped.
The Generics glared at him, then glared at each other, then stalked irritably out of the mess.
Awkward silence fell over the room. Finally, Hoshi turned to Gaius and asked, “Should you tell them you were being sarcastic?”
Gaius scoffed. “Of course not. They’re not completely stupid.” He turned to Caprica, determined to keep this a good time. “How’s your soup, love?”
***
Sitting in the conference room of Colonial One, Gaius looked around at the other surviving characters. Some of the more minor players were present, but mostly they sat staring at him, Ellen, and Karl, waiting for them to produce something brilliant. Gaius had the feeling they were soon to be disappointed.
He rubbed his temples, remembering how he’d gotten to this place.
Scripting came to a dead halt. The Final Five had been in the middle of transferring Resurrection technology to the Colony, when suddenly Tory threw out a Random, Violent Death device- the second of its kind in a very short time. The CIC had erupted into chaos, and then come to a standstill, as everyone wondered- What the frak happens now?
“What are you doing?” Gaius asked, looking from Tory to Boomer, both staring him down with arms crossed.
“I’m getting the frak out, Gaius,” Tory replied, looking around the CIC and shaking her head in disgust.
“And what are we supposed to do without you?” Hysteria started creeping into his voice at this point, causing Tory to roll her eyes.
“What was going to happen if I stuck around?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, because honestly, he didn’t know.
“Exactly. You were expecting me to have something figured out. I have been telling you for weeks that I don’t know what I’m doing, and you’ve ignored me the whole time. Let me say it once more: I’ve got nothing. I’ve gotten you this far, and now I’m done.”
Gaius glanced at Boomer, accusing. “You two planned this!”
“A brilliant deduction, Doctor.”
Before Gaius could reply, Boomer pulled out her TravelBook and Tory placed a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, Gaius, good luck. You’re going to need it.”
And then they’d vanished.
“Maybe we should just let the damn ship explode,” Karl said in frustration.
“No, we can’t do that,” Ellen protested. “Everyone dies, the end? What kind of conclusion is that? No. Absolutely not.”
All eyes fell on him, and he looked at his hands. When it became clear that he had nothing to add, silence fell over the room. Heavy. Suffocating.
Romo sighed. “Alright, frak it.” He stood and reached into his pocket. “I’ve been keeping this on me just in case… I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but it seems we’re all out of ideas.” Producing a plot device, he placed it on the table before him where everyone could see.
Awestruck, Gaius stared at the small crystal-like sphere. Ellen gingerly picked it up, turning it over in her hands wonderingly. “How did you get this? I didn’t think plotsmiths even manufactured these anymore.”
“They don’t,” Romo replied. “I lifted it from Oedipus when I defended him a few years back- he was charged with having Macbeth’s Syndrome. The bastard was clearly guilty, but I got him off on the technicality that Macbeth hadn’t actually been written yet. I was going to keep it for its worth as a collector’s item, but… I think the script needs it more than I do.”
One by one, Romo met the eyes of everyone at the table, and they all nodded in slow agreement. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. Romo looked to Gaius last, and after a moment, Gaius sighed his assent.
Deus Ex Machina it was, then.
***
To Felix’s pleasant surprise, Gaius had actually followed through on his request to give Hoshi lines- he’d even gone so far as to threaten a dental floss embargo in order to make the Imposter cooperate. Felix had accompanied his lover to the setting and was waiting for him to finish his last scene. He was happy for Hoshi, really, he was, but…
Felix looked around the plains dubiously. The sound of approaching footsteps caused him to turn, and he saw Tom walking up to him, looking just as skeptical as Felix felt.
“So after all this time, the plan is really for humanity to abandon all modern comforts, technology, and medicine… and live as cavepeople?” Tom asked, making a face.
“Apparently.” Felix shook his head.
“Do you find that that a little ironic, and somewhat contradictory, seeing as they are settling down with a race of the most advanced robots the universe has ever seen?”
Felix snorted, darkly amused. He met Tom’s eyes and asked dryly, "And after being executed for opposing collaboration, you expected... what, exactly?"
Tom nodded. "Fair enough." He gestured around at the prehistoric setting where those who had survived the series were planning on rewriting evolution for the sake of plot convenience. “Are you still mad at me for getting you killed in the mutiny?”
“Not. At. All,” Felix replied. “Compared to this…” He wrinkled his nose. “No wonder we rebelled. The Generic in Lee’s place has no foresight, does he?”
With a sigh, Tom put his hands in his pockets. "I really never thought I'd say this, but I find myself missing that kid. And Roslin. Gods, now there was a woman. We could never agree on the time of day, but at least she never backed down. She would have fought this thing tooth and nail. Not even impending death could defeat that one."
Felix remembered the way the President had faced down the grammasites that fateful day and he had to agree. "I'm actually beginning to think it was a pity you couldn't have made the mutiny last longer. How many of the last six episodes were actually necessary?"
"What would have been the point?" Tom asked. "You couldn't drag something that dramatic out with Generics in those roles. It would have been awful."
"More awful than this?" Felix looked pointedly across the horizon at the absolute lack of everything.
Tom acknowledged his point with a shrug, but remained firm. "It wasn't worth the risk."
At that moment, something small latched on to Felix's good leg. Startled, he looked down to meet a giant pair of brown eyes. "Hey, Hera," he said affectionately.
She smiled at him. "Hi Uncle Felix."
"What are you doing out here on your own?" Felix inquired, noting that no other adults were anywhere to be seen.
"Noooothing." She reached up, and Felix grabbed her underneath the arms and hauled her onto his shoulders.
Craning his head around to look at her, Felix asked, "Where's your dad?"
She shrugged, and Felix turned to Tom. "I should try and get her back to Helo. He's probably having a fit wondering where she is."
They parted ways amicably, and Felix started in the direction of Helo's last scene, singing kid's songs with Hera to keep the child entertained.
After the sixth round of "Skinnamarink," Felix finally spotted Karl on the horizon. He waved to get his attention, and Helo came toward him with relief in his eyes. Felix grinned as he got close. "You really ought to put her on a leash. Give her a microchip. Something."
"I'm beginning to seriously consider it," Helo told him ruefully.
Chuckling, Felix lifted Hera from his shoulders and set her down in the grass. "Can you be a good girl and stay right here while your dad and I talk for a minute?"
Hera nodded and plopped herself down on the ground, getting dirt all over her dress and becoming instantly absorbed in some game involving flowers and her dad's shoelaces.
"Oh, great, now she does what she’s told."
"I just have the touch, I guess."
"Then I may have to conscript you into babysitting duty."
Felix raised an eyebrow as Karl shifted his weight further to his good leg. "Nice stick," he said, amused.
"Shut up," Karl replied with no real malice.
"Karma's a bitch, huh?"
"I said shut up." Karl threatened to whack him with the makeshift cane and Felix chuckled.
"At least you only have a few scenes with that stupid thing." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper covered in neat rows of writing. Handing it to Helo, he explained, "When I found out, I put together a comprehensive list of sci-fi shows that were helpful to me after the Demetrius. I'm not sure which will be the most useful for you since you still have the leg, but it's a place to start."
"Thanks." Helo scanned the show names. "Dark Angel?” He raised an eyebrow at Felix. "Really?"
"Hey, they had that thing that let the hot paraplegic walk again. It even gave him super-strength.”
“Felix, it was for a back injury. Nothing was wrong with the guy’s legs.”
“Ok, you caught me, I just wanted to check out the hot paraplegic. But really, it was a pretty cool piece of technology for a post-apocalyptic world.”
"It's kind of crazy that we have machines so evolved that they can reproduce with humans, but we have nothing useful to speak of as far as healing nerve damage or advanced prosthetics."
Felix shrugged. "Welcome to my world for my last seven episodes."
Carefully refolding the paper, Helo placed it in his pocket. “Well, thanks for the advice. I've only had one scene like this and I'm already pretty tired of it."
"Daddy, I want crayons," Hera declared, tugging on Karl's pants.
"Ok sweetie, just a second," Helo said patiently. Turning to Felix, he asked, "I'll see you when the Outlanders start filming?"
"Of course. I'll be with Hoshi."
"Ah, young love." He met Felix’s eyes. “Appreciate it while you have it,” he said sadly, and Felix nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. Karl shook himself and scooped up his daughter, awkwardly pulling out his TravelBook. "What do you say, kiddo? Ready to jump?"
Hera nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck as Helo started reading. Slowly, Hera and Karl began to blur and fade, becoming translucent. And then they were gone.
***
Hoshi strode toward him, looking proud and remarkably handsome in the hot African sun.
"Admiral," Felix greeted him with a grin, wrapping his arms around his neck.
"Back to Lieutenant. Actually, do I even have a rank anymore?"
"Who knows. Doesn't matter. I like calling you Admiral," Felix replied suggestively. "The windswept look suits you," he added, running his fingers through his hair.
Hoshi leaned in and kissed him, and it quickly started to deepen. Felix heard a little voice in his ear and purposefully ignored it. Hoshi brought his hand up behind Felix's head, fingers tangling in his curls, and the voice came again. Groaning, Felix pulled back. "Frak. Baltar is on the footnoterphone. He won't stop calling. Give me a second."
Reluctantly, Hoshi released him, and Felix moved a few steps away and answered the call impatiently. "What do you want, Gaius? I'm busy." He listened for a moment. "Both of us? Why?" After another few seconds, Felix held up his hands in surrender. "Ok ok ok ok, fine, we'll be there. Yes. Goodbye, Gaius."
"What was that about, baby?" Hoshi asked when Felix turned back to him.
"He wants to see us about something. I don't know. He was talking so fast." Felix rolled his eyes. "You know how he is."
"Is it urgent?" Hoshi inquired, placing his hands on Felix's hips.
Felix smiled as Hoshi pulled him closer. "Oh, I think he can wait."
***
“What kept you so long?” Gaius demanded when Felix and Hoshi strolled into the conference room half an hour later.
They looked at each other with amused, knowing eyes. “He was a little tied up,” Hoshi offered, and Felix grinned at his lover.
Gaius rubbed his temples. “Yes, yes, ill-hidden sexual innuendo, wonderful, but really, this is important.”
“What’s wrong, Gaius? Jealous? Caprica still insisting she only tops?” Felix ribbed good-naturedly as he took a seat.
“So is that how you like it?”
Felix looked over to the Eight sitting at the table- clearly a low-ranked Generic, C-grade at best. He hadn’t noticed her until now, but she had a pen and paper ready and was watching him with intent eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Bondage. Is that how you enjoy sex?”
Hoshi and Felix looked at each other, slightly weirded out. “Uh… sometimes?” She made a note, and Felix deliberately returned his attention to Gaius. “So, what’s this all about?”
“Well, I had thought I might try and do something nice for you,” Gaius said, huffy. “But by all means, if a romp between the sheets-”
“Sheets require a bed,” Hoshi interjected cheekily, and Felix suppressed a smile and shushed him.
“-is more important to you than character development,” Gaius continued irritably, “then don’t let me stop you.”
“Character development? Gaius, what are you talking about? Have you been into Roslin’s stash? The show is over. The last scenes just got scripted? Remember? All that’s left is the giant flashback feature where the Cylons desperately try to clear up four seasons of fuzzy motives. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a Cylon.” He paused. “Anymore.”
Gaius sat up straighter. “And I’ve apologized for that many times over. In fact, the whole purpose of this meeting is to… well, not make it up to you, but… anyway, if you would just listen for a moment, I’ll explain.” Felix nodded politely and Gaius continued. “I have just been informed that our Outlanders have a slight surplus in budget. This gives us room to tell one last story. I wanted to give it to you.”
“Gaius, I’m dead. You were there.”
Gaius waved a hand in dismissal. “But the rest of the Outland doesn’t know that yet. I’ve put some things together, and I think I’ve come up with a way to emphasize your painful downward spiral from a man still clinging desperately to his idealism to a completely broken, tragic figure… as well as explain why you stabbed me.”
Gods, amidst all the chaos of the last ten episodes, Felix had completely forgotten they hadn’t addressed that. “And you think we can do this… how?”
“Webisodes, naturally.”
Felix considered it. Well, he was always up for more misery. It might be fun to get to script himself in more turmoil. Just going through and tweaking the mutiny arc his Generic had set up had been exhilarating. Running through the emotional gamut was always a thrill for any character, especially visiting the darkest places of the human soul, but this… He was skeptical of whether it would work. He had returned to find himself unexpectedly an antagonist, and he had just started to accept that. Adding more to it now…
“So… why am I here?” Hoshi asked.
This was a very good question. Felix turned to Gaius, who looked quite pleased with himself. “I want to confirm the two of you as a couple.”
Felix and Hoshi alternated between staring at each other and staring at Gaius. “Wait, wait… How would that work? We interact all of once before the mutiny, and then I have him locked up, and-”
“Clearly you would have to break it off at the end. Protect him from the backlash and whatnot. But that just adds to the tragedy, don’t you see? You finally get something good and are too broken to be content with it.”
Part of Felix wanted to fight, to say no, because after his execution the Imposter had prevented any scripted mention of his name among the crew, and something this big required some follow-through. He wavered, torn between continuity and the temptation of more woe.
Hoshi looked a Gaius and tentatively asked, “Would I get… a first name?”
Gaius smiled magnanimously. “But of course.”
It was the puppy-eyed, hopeful way Hoshi looked at him that made Felix’s decision. “Frak it, I’m getting executed either way. Let’s do it.”
Hoshi leaned in and kissed him right there, and Felix cupped his cheeks, glad he could do this thing if only for his sake. He remembered his own delight when he and Dee had found out they were getting given names, how they had stayed up all night trying to decide what suited their characters best. Felix grinned into the kiss at the thought of the look on the Imposter’s face when he realized the entire Outland would know he had made the traitor’s lover Admiral.
“So, are you exclusively into men? Or is that negotiable?”
They broke apart and stared at the Cylon, who had looked up from her notes and was watching them with that same creepy intensity.
“Ok, seriously, Gaius, what’s with the Eight?”
***
“I think you went a little overboard with the staircases.”
Felix turned from where he was making omelets and looked up at Hoshi. Louis. They had spent many long hours mulling over the decision of what his name should be, and Louis had been beyond excited when Felix finally said it in script. He grinned at Louis as he descended the steps. “You can never have too many staircases.”
“Felix, there were six between here and our bedroom. If that doesn’t qualify as ‘too many,’ I don’t know what does.”
Ok, maybe that was a tiny bit excessive, but he didn’t relent. “You could always just bookjump if it’s that bad.”
“I just don’t understand why I should have to bookjump from one room to another in my own home,” Louis grumbled, reaching for the coffee.
“Because I like them and you love me,” Felix informed him cheerily.
Louis made a noncommittal noise and stirred some sugar into the mug. Felix added some cheese to the skillet, not taking offense. Louis was always a little grumpy until he got some caffeine into his system.
“Here, taste this.” Felix offered him a bite, and Louis nodded appreciatively.
“It’s good.”
That pleased Felix to no end. In the time since Battlestar Galactica had stopped filming, he had taken it upon himself to learn some new skills. Architecture had been at the top of his list, and he had picked up on it quickly. There had been other pursuits since then, some more successful than others (Louis still laughed at him whenever he tried to dance) and he had just started on cooking.
Ok, so maybe eggs and toast wasn’t a particularly impressive feat, but he was still learning. A few days ago he’d almost burned the kitchen down, and while that would have given him an excuse to redesign the room, Louis had been giving him dubious looks every time he’d approached the stove ever since. He was proud that he’d managed to make breakfast without supervision.
They sat down to eat together, and Felix scanned the Bookworld Chronicle idly. A small article toward the back caused him to freeze, fork halfway to his mouth. “No frakking way…”
“Baby? What is it?” Louis was looking at him with concern, and Felix pushed the paper toward him. It only took Louis a few seconds to find the article, and he frowned.
“They’re having the charges dropped from Character Assassination to Character Defamation!” Felix knew Louis could read for himself, but he simply couldn’t believe it.
“It says here it’s because he stayed in character in his scenes with Roslin.”
Felix threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t care! This- this is ridiculous! Louis, even the Outlanders noticed! You know something’s wrong if the Outlanders noticed!”
“Hey, it’s going to be ok.”
“No it’s not! How can you say that? You saw what he did to the Old Man. He even made him a useless drunk in the flashbacks. That was supposed to be the chance for the Generics to shine, to show how well they’d gotten into their roles, to bring the audience back onto the side of characters they’d cared about for so long! And all the Imposter did was harass Boomer and puke all over himself! How is that anything less than Character Assassination?”
“Felix, calm down.” Louis put a hand on his leg. Felix knew he was being hysterical, but he couldn’t help it. When he’d heard that the Imposter was actually going to be tried for his crimes against Adama, he’d been hopeful that justice was actually going to be served. But Defamation…
“Gods, if I could, I’d reduce him to text myself,” he muttered angrily.
“Felix, look at me.” Reluctantly, Felix complied. “Listen to me. He’s not getting off for this. You said it yourself, the Outlanders noticed. The Council of Genres doesn’t look kindly on anything that draws attention to the existence of the Bookworld. A few angry fan reviews, on top of your testimony-”
“But what if they bring up the perjury?” he asked desperately. “What if they try to say my testimony can’t be trusted?”
“That was character development and everyone knows it. Besides, Karl is also a witness for the prosecution. He’s been a Goody-Two-Shoes from the beginning. Even if they try to discredit you, what can they possibly say about him? It was right there for all to see when the Imposter refused to allow him to search for Hera. All the judge will need to do is look at the scripts the real Adama was in to know that what the Imposter did made no sense. It’s going to be ok.”
“But what if he’s tried before the Queen of Hearts? She’d accept the defense’s claims that his True Enduring Love for Laura was meant to be the real story, anyway!”
“In that case I’ll just testify myself that he had my lover executed and callously never gave me a chance to mourn,” Louis insisted firmly. “Felix, don’t stress yourself out about this. He’s getting convicted. Don’t worry.”
Felix sighed. “I can’t help it. I don’t think I’d be able to have faith in anything ever again if he gets off somehow.”
“He won’t.”
The quiet certainty in Louis’s voice helped calm him. Felix forced a smile and took another bite of his omelet. Louis was right, he knew he was. The Imposter was blatantly guilty. He was getting himself worked up over nothing. Defamation could end with a permanent sentence to some poorly-written pilot that would languish in the Well of Lost Plots, never to see the light of day. He took comfort in the knowledge that the Imposter would never be able to do to any other character what he had done to William Adama.
They finished their meals in comfortable silence. Louis took his hand. “You better now?”
“Yeah, I am. Thanks.” He gave Louis’s hand a squeeze to reassure him he was telling the truth.
Louis searched his face and was apparently satisfied. “So are we going to talk about all these staircases?”
“As in, talk about how much you love me and are willing to indulge me in this because it makes me happy?” Felix asked, deliberately widening his eyes to give himself an innocent look.
“Felix, I counted. We have twenty-seven staircases. It's a two-bedroom house. You don't think that's a little over-the-top, considering some don't even go anywhere?"
“Well, not if you know all the fun things you can do with staircases.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“No, no, you told me you don’t want them, I guess they’ll have to go,” Felix said with a dramatic sigh.
“Well, I did say we could talk about it.”
“What if we did less talking, and a little more hands-on demonstration?”
“Then I think, Mr. Gaeta, we may have ourselves a deal.”
Or, What the Frak Was Up With 4.5?
Chapter 2 of 2.
Part one
“Gaius? Are you listening?”
“Hm?” Gaius jerked out of his thoughts of Caprica and her final round of therapy and looked up to see Tory rolling her eyes.
“I said, give me the plot devices.”
“Plot devices?”
She shot a look to the heavens, as though beseeching the One True God for help. “Yes, Gaius,” she said slowly, as though speaking to a particularly dull puppy, “the plot devices. The ones Ellen and I requested. So we could have the breathtaking, world-shattering revelation sequences about the backstory of the Five and how the frak we lived on Earth, culminating in a moment of such perfection that no one will ever notice that we were only chosen as Cylons because we rock-paper-scissored for it?”
Gaius stared at her blankly, and then a slow dread began to work its way through his body. That sounded horrifically like something he had…
“…You didn’t forget, did you, Gaius?” she asked dangerously.
“No, no, of course not, of course not, how could you even ask me that?” he blustered, trying to cover.
“Ok then. So hand them over.”
“Erm, well, you see, the thing is-”
“Gaius.”
“I just thought… it might be more effective as dialogue,” he said at random, wondering whether he would be able to pull out his TravelBook before Tory had time to break his arms and throw him out an airlock.
“…Dialogue.”
“Yes, you know… Give Ellen and the Sam-Generic more screentime.”
“You know what else would give them more screentime? Scenes. With meaning. And plot. And past-life characterizations. Explanations, Gaius, would give them more screentime.”
“You know what? It sounds like you have everything under control. You have a, a perfectly fine handle on the situation. Oh, well, what do you know, I have a call on the footnoterphone, I really should take this, I have to go, I’ll see you around, yes? Yes. Very good.” He scurried away, ignoring her as she called his name. He ducked down a rarely used corridor, cursing his own absentmindedness. Dialogue. He shook his head. Well, Tory was resourceful. He was sure she’d come up with something.
An actual call came through his footnoterphone, and as he listened to the voice on the other end, he felt quite suddenly sick. He turned and ran for the infirmary as fast as his feet would carry him.
***
Gaius held Caprica’s hand as Cottle continued to speak. “Look, we knew this was a risk of the therapy. The baby was too young to handle that much characterization that quickly. Hell, he hadn’t even been born yet. It was too much for his developing system to handle. I’m sorry.” Cottle gave them a respectful nod before pulling the curtains closed behind him and allowing them some privacy.
Caprica stared at her lap, tears in her eyes. Gaius felt helpless. He knew she was going through something very painful, but he couldn’t help being grateful that the adjective treatments had worked and that she had been fully restored. Looking at her, he knew that that wouldn’t bring her comfort right now. For once in his life, he decided against speaking and just sat with her, letting her mourn.
“He was supposed to be the future of the Cylon race, Gaius,” she said numbly.
Gaius brushed her hair away from her face, at a loss. The curtain rustled, and he looked up to see Tory.
“I just heard. I’m glad you made a full recovery, and I’m very sorry for your loss.” Caprica nodded, and Tory turned her attention to Gaius. “I need to talk to you.”
Giving Caprica’s hand a squeeze, he followed Tory into the main area of the infirmary. “What is it?”
She gave him an annoyed glance. “‘What is it?’ Are you serious? Gaius, what are we supposed to do now? We were counting on that kid to pull through. How the frak are we supposed to explain this?”
Anger reared up in him. “I cannot believe you are thinking about the damn script right now!”
“Well, somebody has to!”
“Yes, well, clearly that somebody is you. That’s what you’re implying, isn’t it? That I’ve been neglecting my duties?”
She crossed her arms. “Well, you have. You have been absolutely no help whatsoever with any of the Cylon mythology. You think I can just figure this out on my own? It’s not like any of the original Seven gave me anything to work with. Hell, thanks to Ellen, it has been pointed out that there should be a Number Seven, and you and I both know we don’t have the budget to follow through on that. We cannot have another gun that doesn’t fire. If you don’t give me some input right now, I’m going to draw ideas out of a hat and run with them.”
“You know what? There is only one Cylon I give a frak about right now, and she is sitting alone in that cubicle. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” Tory walked away in disgust, and he glared after her before returning to Caprica’s side.
***
Nostalgia overcame Felix as he wandered the corridors of Galactica. Turning into the Remembrance Hall, he saw that Dee’s picture had been put up and touched it sadly. It depressed him that of all the characters who had died in the grammasite attacks, she was the only one who would get her picture here. He wondered if the Council of Genres would allow their names to be placed on the Boojumorial. They had given their lives in service to Jurisfiction, and he thought that ought to be honored in some way.
He took a moment to reflect on the Generics in their places. Though technically they had taken over the roles and had been given their predecessor’s names, he couldn’t bring himself to think of them as anything but replacements. He had come up with his own personal nicknames for them.
Almost-Athena. Nearly-Lee. Strangely-Sober-Saul. Kind-of-Kara. Loosely-Laura.
For the most part, they had done well, and most of them were getting better as time passed. He held out hope that the Outlanders who portrayed them to the nonfictional world would be able to continue their excellent work and keep them true to the characters he had known. And in retrospect, Felix was touched that Gaius had been so insistent about finding a Generic dedicated to keeping Felix’s core characterizations intact. He only wished Gaius had been more diligent about…
He clenched his jaw when he thought about the thing that had taken Adama’s place. Felix had gone back through the pre-mutiny scripts, trying to figure out why Tom had chosen him, of all people, to be the instigator. What he had found had caused his blood to run cold, and he had understood. That hadn’t been Adama. It had been an imposter.
The Imposter. That’s how he now thought of the Generic who wandered the corridors drunkenly, toothbrush in hand, wearing the Admiral stars. Meeting his eyes out of script, Felix had known that the Imposter had no regard for the hard work and dedication William Adama had put into his character and was determined to ride a wave of ever-increasing inebriated angst right to the very end, frak the effect it had on rest of the show.
Felix almost wished he could go back to the mutiny and have the Imposter shot down right there in the CIC. It would have torn his own characterization to pieces, but at least the Old Man would have been spared this sickening fate. It was the only thing he would change about the way his Generic had handled the situation.
Well, that, and possibly not ranted about New Caprica. Really, of all the truly relevant points the rebellion had had to make… He shook his head. Generics.
***
“You’re frakking out of line!”
“Frak you, motherfrakker! That only frakking works in the frakking script!”
Gaius winced, meeting Felix’s eyes across the table. He and Hoshi had agreed to meet him for lunch with Caprica. He’d been hoping it would be a calm, uneventful way to help her ease back into unscripted life after what she had been through. Having Generics wander into the mess, screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, certainly hadn’t been part of the plan.
“Frak off, Thrace!”
“No, you stupid frak, do not frakking walk away from me!”
“Well, they sure seemed to pick up on that easily enough, didn’t they?” Felix murmured, narrowing his eyes as the Kara and Adama Generics faced each other down.
Gaius was grateful that Felix was keeping his cool. There had been talk of some unpleasant altercations centering on the fact that the Adama replacement had no intention of letting bygones be bygones and be friendly with any of the mutineers out of scene. Carrying character grudges into unscripted interactions was hardly unheard of, but scuttlebutt had it that this particular Generic had taken it too far.
He hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Felix exactly what had happened, but from what he heard from gossip, the new Adama had taken out some of his misplaced rage on Hoshi and prevented him from getting in some characterizations Felix had been trying to help him with. Judging by the way Hoshi reached over and placed his hand on Felix’s arm, it was taking all of Felix’s control to sit in the man’s presence.
“I know you stole it, you sick frakking bastard, so give it back!”
“I have no idea what the frak you’re talking about,” Adama growled.
“Don’t lie to me! I know all about you and your freakish dental hygiene obsession. No one on this frakking show can find their frakking toothpaste anywhere! I just had my Outland contact bring me a brand-new frakking tube of Crest, and it’s gone. I certainly didn’t use it all already!”
Hoshi was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable, and Caprica clenched her hands on the table. This is ridiculous, Gaius thought. Was it really so much to ask for a quiet, normal lunch aboard this stupid ship? He stood.
“Could you two please take this someplace else? Some people are trying to hold conversations here.”
“Frak you!” they replied in unison. They began shouting at each other again, accusations and denials overtaking the entire room.
“Hey, have some frakking consideration!” Felix said angrily, and both Generics turned to glare at him.
“This motherfrakker has stolen all the toothpaste! All of it. You wanna talk consideration, frakking talk to him!”
“If it’s that big a deal, make it a damn plotpoint and leave the rest of us in peace, why don’t you?” Gaius snapped.
The Generics glared at him, then glared at each other, then stalked irritably out of the mess.
Awkward silence fell over the room. Finally, Hoshi turned to Gaius and asked, “Should you tell them you were being sarcastic?”
Gaius scoffed. “Of course not. They’re not completely stupid.” He turned to Caprica, determined to keep this a good time. “How’s your soup, love?”
***
Sitting in the conference room of Colonial One, Gaius looked around at the other surviving characters. Some of the more minor players were present, but mostly they sat staring at him, Ellen, and Karl, waiting for them to produce something brilliant. Gaius had the feeling they were soon to be disappointed.
He rubbed his temples, remembering how he’d gotten to this place.
Scripting came to a dead halt. The Final Five had been in the middle of transferring Resurrection technology to the Colony, when suddenly Tory threw out a Random, Violent Death device- the second of its kind in a very short time. The CIC had erupted into chaos, and then come to a standstill, as everyone wondered- What the frak happens now?
“What are you doing?” Gaius asked, looking from Tory to Boomer, both staring him down with arms crossed.
“I’m getting the frak out, Gaius,” Tory replied, looking around the CIC and shaking her head in disgust.
“And what are we supposed to do without you?” Hysteria started creeping into his voice at this point, causing Tory to roll her eyes.
“What was going to happen if I stuck around?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, because honestly, he didn’t know.
“Exactly. You were expecting me to have something figured out. I have been telling you for weeks that I don’t know what I’m doing, and you’ve ignored me the whole time. Let me say it once more: I’ve got nothing. I’ve gotten you this far, and now I’m done.”
Gaius glanced at Boomer, accusing. “You two planned this!”
“A brilliant deduction, Doctor.”
Before Gaius could reply, Boomer pulled out her TravelBook and Tory placed a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, Gaius, good luck. You’re going to need it.”
And then they’d vanished.
“Maybe we should just let the damn ship explode,” Karl said in frustration.
“No, we can’t do that,” Ellen protested. “Everyone dies, the end? What kind of conclusion is that? No. Absolutely not.”
All eyes fell on him, and he looked at his hands. When it became clear that he had nothing to add, silence fell over the room. Heavy. Suffocating.
Romo sighed. “Alright, frak it.” He stood and reached into his pocket. “I’ve been keeping this on me just in case… I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but it seems we’re all out of ideas.” Producing a plot device, he placed it on the table before him where everyone could see.
Awestruck, Gaius stared at the small crystal-like sphere. Ellen gingerly picked it up, turning it over in her hands wonderingly. “How did you get this? I didn’t think plotsmiths even manufactured these anymore.”
“They don’t,” Romo replied. “I lifted it from Oedipus when I defended him a few years back- he was charged with having Macbeth’s Syndrome. The bastard was clearly guilty, but I got him off on the technicality that Macbeth hadn’t actually been written yet. I was going to keep it for its worth as a collector’s item, but… I think the script needs it more than I do.”
One by one, Romo met the eyes of everyone at the table, and they all nodded in slow agreement. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. Romo looked to Gaius last, and after a moment, Gaius sighed his assent.
Deus Ex Machina it was, then.
***
To Felix’s pleasant surprise, Gaius had actually followed through on his request to give Hoshi lines- he’d even gone so far as to threaten a dental floss embargo in order to make the Imposter cooperate. Felix had accompanied his lover to the setting and was waiting for him to finish his last scene. He was happy for Hoshi, really, he was, but…
Felix looked around the plains dubiously. The sound of approaching footsteps caused him to turn, and he saw Tom walking up to him, looking just as skeptical as Felix felt.
“So after all this time, the plan is really for humanity to abandon all modern comforts, technology, and medicine… and live as cavepeople?” Tom asked, making a face.
“Apparently.” Felix shook his head.
“Do you find that that a little ironic, and somewhat contradictory, seeing as they are settling down with a race of the most advanced robots the universe has ever seen?”
Felix snorted, darkly amused. He met Tom’s eyes and asked dryly, "And after being executed for opposing collaboration, you expected... what, exactly?"
Tom nodded. "Fair enough." He gestured around at the prehistoric setting where those who had survived the series were planning on rewriting evolution for the sake of plot convenience. “Are you still mad at me for getting you killed in the mutiny?”
“Not. At. All,” Felix replied. “Compared to this…” He wrinkled his nose. “No wonder we rebelled. The Generic in Lee’s place has no foresight, does he?”
With a sigh, Tom put his hands in his pockets. "I really never thought I'd say this, but I find myself missing that kid. And Roslin. Gods, now there was a woman. We could never agree on the time of day, but at least she never backed down. She would have fought this thing tooth and nail. Not even impending death could defeat that one."
Felix remembered the way the President had faced down the grammasites that fateful day and he had to agree. "I'm actually beginning to think it was a pity you couldn't have made the mutiny last longer. How many of the last six episodes were actually necessary?"
"What would have been the point?" Tom asked. "You couldn't drag something that dramatic out with Generics in those roles. It would have been awful."
"More awful than this?" Felix looked pointedly across the horizon at the absolute lack of everything.
Tom acknowledged his point with a shrug, but remained firm. "It wasn't worth the risk."
At that moment, something small latched on to Felix's good leg. Startled, he looked down to meet a giant pair of brown eyes. "Hey, Hera," he said affectionately.
She smiled at him. "Hi Uncle Felix."
"What are you doing out here on your own?" Felix inquired, noting that no other adults were anywhere to be seen.
"Noooothing." She reached up, and Felix grabbed her underneath the arms and hauled her onto his shoulders.
Craning his head around to look at her, Felix asked, "Where's your dad?"
She shrugged, and Felix turned to Tom. "I should try and get her back to Helo. He's probably having a fit wondering where she is."
They parted ways amicably, and Felix started in the direction of Helo's last scene, singing kid's songs with Hera to keep the child entertained.
After the sixth round of "Skinnamarink," Felix finally spotted Karl on the horizon. He waved to get his attention, and Helo came toward him with relief in his eyes. Felix grinned as he got close. "You really ought to put her on a leash. Give her a microchip. Something."
"I'm beginning to seriously consider it," Helo told him ruefully.
Chuckling, Felix lifted Hera from his shoulders and set her down in the grass. "Can you be a good girl and stay right here while your dad and I talk for a minute?"
Hera nodded and plopped herself down on the ground, getting dirt all over her dress and becoming instantly absorbed in some game involving flowers and her dad's shoelaces.
"Oh, great, now she does what she’s told."
"I just have the touch, I guess."
"Then I may have to conscript you into babysitting duty."
Felix raised an eyebrow as Karl shifted his weight further to his good leg. "Nice stick," he said, amused.
"Shut up," Karl replied with no real malice.
"Karma's a bitch, huh?"
"I said shut up." Karl threatened to whack him with the makeshift cane and Felix chuckled.
"At least you only have a few scenes with that stupid thing." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper covered in neat rows of writing. Handing it to Helo, he explained, "When I found out, I put together a comprehensive list of sci-fi shows that were helpful to me after the Demetrius. I'm not sure which will be the most useful for you since you still have the leg, but it's a place to start."
"Thanks." Helo scanned the show names. "Dark Angel?” He raised an eyebrow at Felix. "Really?"
"Hey, they had that thing that let the hot paraplegic walk again. It even gave him super-strength.”
“Felix, it was for a back injury. Nothing was wrong with the guy’s legs.”
“Ok, you caught me, I just wanted to check out the hot paraplegic. But really, it was a pretty cool piece of technology for a post-apocalyptic world.”
"It's kind of crazy that we have machines so evolved that they can reproduce with humans, but we have nothing useful to speak of as far as healing nerve damage or advanced prosthetics."
Felix shrugged. "Welcome to my world for my last seven episodes."
Carefully refolding the paper, Helo placed it in his pocket. “Well, thanks for the advice. I've only had one scene like this and I'm already pretty tired of it."
"Daddy, I want crayons," Hera declared, tugging on Karl's pants.
"Ok sweetie, just a second," Helo said patiently. Turning to Felix, he asked, "I'll see you when the Outlanders start filming?"
"Of course. I'll be with Hoshi."
"Ah, young love." He met Felix’s eyes. “Appreciate it while you have it,” he said sadly, and Felix nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. Karl shook himself and scooped up his daughter, awkwardly pulling out his TravelBook. "What do you say, kiddo? Ready to jump?"
Hera nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck as Helo started reading. Slowly, Hera and Karl began to blur and fade, becoming translucent. And then they were gone.
***
Hoshi strode toward him, looking proud and remarkably handsome in the hot African sun.
"Admiral," Felix greeted him with a grin, wrapping his arms around his neck.
"Back to Lieutenant. Actually, do I even have a rank anymore?"
"Who knows. Doesn't matter. I like calling you Admiral," Felix replied suggestively. "The windswept look suits you," he added, running his fingers through his hair.
Hoshi leaned in and kissed him, and it quickly started to deepen. Felix heard a little voice in his ear and purposefully ignored it. Hoshi brought his hand up behind Felix's head, fingers tangling in his curls, and the voice came again. Groaning, Felix pulled back. "Frak. Baltar is on the footnoterphone. He won't stop calling. Give me a second."
Reluctantly, Hoshi released him, and Felix moved a few steps away and answered the call impatiently. "What do you want, Gaius? I'm busy." He listened for a moment. "Both of us? Why?" After another few seconds, Felix held up his hands in surrender. "Ok ok ok ok, fine, we'll be there. Yes. Goodbye, Gaius."
"What was that about, baby?" Hoshi asked when Felix turned back to him.
"He wants to see us about something. I don't know. He was talking so fast." Felix rolled his eyes. "You know how he is."
"Is it urgent?" Hoshi inquired, placing his hands on Felix's hips.
Felix smiled as Hoshi pulled him closer. "Oh, I think he can wait."
***
“What kept you so long?” Gaius demanded when Felix and Hoshi strolled into the conference room half an hour later.
They looked at each other with amused, knowing eyes. “He was a little tied up,” Hoshi offered, and Felix grinned at his lover.
Gaius rubbed his temples. “Yes, yes, ill-hidden sexual innuendo, wonderful, but really, this is important.”
“What’s wrong, Gaius? Jealous? Caprica still insisting she only tops?” Felix ribbed good-naturedly as he took a seat.
“So is that how you like it?”
Felix looked over to the Eight sitting at the table- clearly a low-ranked Generic, C-grade at best. He hadn’t noticed her until now, but she had a pen and paper ready and was watching him with intent eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Bondage. Is that how you enjoy sex?”
Hoshi and Felix looked at each other, slightly weirded out. “Uh… sometimes?” She made a note, and Felix deliberately returned his attention to Gaius. “So, what’s this all about?”
“Well, I had thought I might try and do something nice for you,” Gaius said, huffy. “But by all means, if a romp between the sheets-”
“Sheets require a bed,” Hoshi interjected cheekily, and Felix suppressed a smile and shushed him.
“-is more important to you than character development,” Gaius continued irritably, “then don’t let me stop you.”
“Character development? Gaius, what are you talking about? Have you been into Roslin’s stash? The show is over. The last scenes just got scripted? Remember? All that’s left is the giant flashback feature where the Cylons desperately try to clear up four seasons of fuzzy motives. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a Cylon.” He paused. “Anymore.”
Gaius sat up straighter. “And I’ve apologized for that many times over. In fact, the whole purpose of this meeting is to… well, not make it up to you, but… anyway, if you would just listen for a moment, I’ll explain.” Felix nodded politely and Gaius continued. “I have just been informed that our Outlanders have a slight surplus in budget. This gives us room to tell one last story. I wanted to give it to you.”
“Gaius, I’m dead. You were there.”
Gaius waved a hand in dismissal. “But the rest of the Outland doesn’t know that yet. I’ve put some things together, and I think I’ve come up with a way to emphasize your painful downward spiral from a man still clinging desperately to his idealism to a completely broken, tragic figure… as well as explain why you stabbed me.”
Gods, amidst all the chaos of the last ten episodes, Felix had completely forgotten they hadn’t addressed that. “And you think we can do this… how?”
“Webisodes, naturally.”
Felix considered it. Well, he was always up for more misery. It might be fun to get to script himself in more turmoil. Just going through and tweaking the mutiny arc his Generic had set up had been exhilarating. Running through the emotional gamut was always a thrill for any character, especially visiting the darkest places of the human soul, but this… He was skeptical of whether it would work. He had returned to find himself unexpectedly an antagonist, and he had just started to accept that. Adding more to it now…
“So… why am I here?” Hoshi asked.
This was a very good question. Felix turned to Gaius, who looked quite pleased with himself. “I want to confirm the two of you as a couple.”
Felix and Hoshi alternated between staring at each other and staring at Gaius. “Wait, wait… How would that work? We interact all of once before the mutiny, and then I have him locked up, and-”
“Clearly you would have to break it off at the end. Protect him from the backlash and whatnot. But that just adds to the tragedy, don’t you see? You finally get something good and are too broken to be content with it.”
Part of Felix wanted to fight, to say no, because after his execution the Imposter had prevented any scripted mention of his name among the crew, and something this big required some follow-through. He wavered, torn between continuity and the temptation of more woe.
Hoshi looked a Gaius and tentatively asked, “Would I get… a first name?”
Gaius smiled magnanimously. “But of course.”
It was the puppy-eyed, hopeful way Hoshi looked at him that made Felix’s decision. “Frak it, I’m getting executed either way. Let’s do it.”
Hoshi leaned in and kissed him right there, and Felix cupped his cheeks, glad he could do this thing if only for his sake. He remembered his own delight when he and Dee had found out they were getting given names, how they had stayed up all night trying to decide what suited their characters best. Felix grinned into the kiss at the thought of the look on the Imposter’s face when he realized the entire Outland would know he had made the traitor’s lover Admiral.
“So, are you exclusively into men? Or is that negotiable?”
They broke apart and stared at the Cylon, who had looked up from her notes and was watching them with that same creepy intensity.
“Ok, seriously, Gaius, what’s with the Eight?”
***
“I think you went a little overboard with the staircases.”
Felix turned from where he was making omelets and looked up at Hoshi. Louis. They had spent many long hours mulling over the decision of what his name should be, and Louis had been beyond excited when Felix finally said it in script. He grinned at Louis as he descended the steps. “You can never have too many staircases.”
“Felix, there were six between here and our bedroom. If that doesn’t qualify as ‘too many,’ I don’t know what does.”
Ok, maybe that was a tiny bit excessive, but he didn’t relent. “You could always just bookjump if it’s that bad.”
“I just don’t understand why I should have to bookjump from one room to another in my own home,” Louis grumbled, reaching for the coffee.
“Because I like them and you love me,” Felix informed him cheerily.
Louis made a noncommittal noise and stirred some sugar into the mug. Felix added some cheese to the skillet, not taking offense. Louis was always a little grumpy until he got some caffeine into his system.
“Here, taste this.” Felix offered him a bite, and Louis nodded appreciatively.
“It’s good.”
That pleased Felix to no end. In the time since Battlestar Galactica had stopped filming, he had taken it upon himself to learn some new skills. Architecture had been at the top of his list, and he had picked up on it quickly. There had been other pursuits since then, some more successful than others (Louis still laughed at him whenever he tried to dance) and he had just started on cooking.
Ok, so maybe eggs and toast wasn’t a particularly impressive feat, but he was still learning. A few days ago he’d almost burned the kitchen down, and while that would have given him an excuse to redesign the room, Louis had been giving him dubious looks every time he’d approached the stove ever since. He was proud that he’d managed to make breakfast without supervision.
They sat down to eat together, and Felix scanned the Bookworld Chronicle idly. A small article toward the back caused him to freeze, fork halfway to his mouth. “No frakking way…”
“Baby? What is it?” Louis was looking at him with concern, and Felix pushed the paper toward him. It only took Louis a few seconds to find the article, and he frowned.
“They’re having the charges dropped from Character Assassination to Character Defamation!” Felix knew Louis could read for himself, but he simply couldn’t believe it.
“It says here it’s because he stayed in character in his scenes with Roslin.”
Felix threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t care! This- this is ridiculous! Louis, even the Outlanders noticed! You know something’s wrong if the Outlanders noticed!”
“Hey, it’s going to be ok.”
“No it’s not! How can you say that? You saw what he did to the Old Man. He even made him a useless drunk in the flashbacks. That was supposed to be the chance for the Generics to shine, to show how well they’d gotten into their roles, to bring the audience back onto the side of characters they’d cared about for so long! And all the Imposter did was harass Boomer and puke all over himself! How is that anything less than Character Assassination?”
“Felix, calm down.” Louis put a hand on his leg. Felix knew he was being hysterical, but he couldn’t help it. When he’d heard that the Imposter was actually going to be tried for his crimes against Adama, he’d been hopeful that justice was actually going to be served. But Defamation…
“Gods, if I could, I’d reduce him to text myself,” he muttered angrily.
“Felix, look at me.” Reluctantly, Felix complied. “Listen to me. He’s not getting off for this. You said it yourself, the Outlanders noticed. The Council of Genres doesn’t look kindly on anything that draws attention to the existence of the Bookworld. A few angry fan reviews, on top of your testimony-”
“But what if they bring up the perjury?” he asked desperately. “What if they try to say my testimony can’t be trusted?”
“That was character development and everyone knows it. Besides, Karl is also a witness for the prosecution. He’s been a Goody-Two-Shoes from the beginning. Even if they try to discredit you, what can they possibly say about him? It was right there for all to see when the Imposter refused to allow him to search for Hera. All the judge will need to do is look at the scripts the real Adama was in to know that what the Imposter did made no sense. It’s going to be ok.”
“But what if he’s tried before the Queen of Hearts? She’d accept the defense’s claims that his True Enduring Love for Laura was meant to be the real story, anyway!”
“In that case I’ll just testify myself that he had my lover executed and callously never gave me a chance to mourn,” Louis insisted firmly. “Felix, don’t stress yourself out about this. He’s getting convicted. Don’t worry.”
Felix sighed. “I can’t help it. I don’t think I’d be able to have faith in anything ever again if he gets off somehow.”
“He won’t.”
The quiet certainty in Louis’s voice helped calm him. Felix forced a smile and took another bite of his omelet. Louis was right, he knew he was. The Imposter was blatantly guilty. He was getting himself worked up over nothing. Defamation could end with a permanent sentence to some poorly-written pilot that would languish in the Well of Lost Plots, never to see the light of day. He took comfort in the knowledge that the Imposter would never be able to do to any other character what he had done to William Adama.
They finished their meals in comfortable silence. Louis took his hand. “You better now?”
“Yeah, I am. Thanks.” He gave Louis’s hand a squeeze to reassure him he was telling the truth.
Louis searched his face and was apparently satisfied. “So are we going to talk about all these staircases?”
“As in, talk about how much you love me and are willing to indulge me in this because it makes me happy?” Felix asked, deliberately widening his eyes to give himself an innocent look.
“Felix, I counted. We have twenty-seven staircases. It's a two-bedroom house. You don't think that's a little over-the-top, considering some don't even go anywhere?"
“Well, not if you know all the fun things you can do with staircases.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“No, no, you told me you don’t want them, I guess they’ll have to go,” Felix said with a dramatic sigh.
“Well, I did say we could talk about it.”
“What if we did less talking, and a little more hands-on demonstration?”
“Then I think, Mr. Gaeta, we may have ourselves a deal.”