Fic: "How to live and love as an amputee, by Brendan Costanza" (1/3)
Title: How to live and love as an amputee, by Brendan Costanza
Pairing: Gaeta/Hot Dog
Wordcount: ~ 13000 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: Teen. Lots of talking about sex but it's all theory. People die and / or hook up but it's all background noise. Please mind possible triggers, as there's discussion of suicide.
Spoilers: up to 4.10, AU afterwards, no use of the webisodes or spoilers
Beta: Thanks very much to ebuchala and millari who made this a much better story than I could ever have written on my own and who cheerfully put up with my typos and errors. You rock.
Summary: "Costanza insisted on thinking of Felix as a normal guy with a normal life, who should go through recovery step by step. Felix however couldn’t make out a life he could get back to at all, and if there was one anyhow, he wasn’t sure he wanted it back."
Author's note: This is an entry for the 'Good Things For Gaeta' challenge on gaeta_squee (although there are a lot of angsty things happening to Gaeta in there, too, I won't lie). I'm past the deadline but there can never be enough good things for Gaeta! Also, I should probably point out that while I've written Hot Dog twice before (in Lilacs and in Back To Earth), this is a new interpretation of the character, which has nothing to do with the other two Hot Dogs.
How to live and love as an amputee, by Brendan Costanza
It all started the day Brendan ‘Hot Dog’ Costanza showed up at his bedside to bring him a sex list.
Felix didn’t know much about Lt. Costanza. They had played cards on Demetrius; he knew the lieutenant was one hell of a bluffer. Lt. Costanza didn’t know much about Felix either, considering he’d waited four days to not interrupt the many friends he supposed were visiting Felix. Also, he thought that the list would cheer Felix up.
“It’s a gift,” Hot Dog explained. “It’s a list of all the things you can still do when you frak. I thought if I were you, I’d be really worried about that but with all the morpha it might be hard to think.” He was unfolding a piece of paper. “I asked around and Helo says you’re gay. Hope that’s true because it’s a very specific list. I had to guess about the gay stuff of course but I figure there’s no secret to it.”
Felix hadn’t thought about how his sex life would change now that he was an amputee. If asked in a sensible fashion, he would probably have pointed out that he hadn’t had any sex life to begin with and the idea that this would change after losing a leg was just a little bit ridiculous. As it was, he had not thought about it, and he decided right at this point that he never wanted to, either.
Ever since Admiral Adama had shown up at his bedside telling him they’d find him a nice calm job if he decided to stay in the military, reality had started creeping up on the horizon. Felix was still struggling to get the idea that he would never walk on his own again.
“Why ever would you bring me a gift?” Felix said. His instincts told him to delay the inevitable. Delaying the inevitable seemed like a good course of action in general.
Hot Dog gave him a confused look. “You don’t bring people gifts when they’re sick? We did it all the time on Libron. Granted, it’s a bit hard to find flowers on Galactica but that’s why I made the list after all. Sure you’ve had other people bring you...” He paused then. Felix followed his eyes to the empty bedside table. “Or maybe not,” Hot Dog said, returning his attention to Felix. “Anyway, you’ll like it. Here goes. Good news first.” He grinned. “Blowjobs? Work exactly like they did before.”
There was no way to stop him. Shrinking back into his pillow, Felix listened with a growing, morbid kind of fascination while Hot Dog laid out all the reasons for why Felix’ excuse of a life was indeed over, no matter he was still breathing. He couldn’t top anymore because he couldn’t put weight on the stump. Spooning was still a go though if he just lay on his healthy leg. And if he had a taste for topping from the bottom, he’d have an excuse to do it all the time now. It became apparent fast that Hot Dog was as easy as he was tactless.
“Do you like bondage?” asked the pilot.
“No,” Felix lied.
“Shame,” Hot Dog said. “Because you could try and combine doing it standing up with being tied to something. You’d have to hold onto something hard anyway. I’m not sure about that one though. If you ever try, tell me if it works.”
Felix attempted to smile.
“Anyway,” Hot Dog said, standing up. “I’ll leave this with you for further inspection...” Holding up the paper, he placed it on the bedside table. “... but I have to go back on duty or Helo will have my ass. Hope you’ll be up and about soon, Gaeta. We’re a man short at the card games, what with you being here and Athena being in the brig.”
“Sharon is in the brig?” Felix asked in distraction. While this was the first time he heard about Helo being CAG, too, he cared about what was going on around him far less than was healthy, so he barely noticed.
“Shot a Cylon. Good riddance, too.” Another thing Felix did not notice was that Hot Dog took care to place the chair in a corner where it wouldn’t be in the way if Felix got up from bed. “Anything I can get you? Want to have an extended version of that list? Because I have a free shift coming up.”
And this was when Felix answered without thinking, making a decision that would indeed eventually change his life. He did so because it was his fourth day in sickbay. There hadn’t been any visitors except the Admiral on his way over to President Roslin (one thing Felix did notice was that Hot Dog didn't even look at the President on his way out, and that left him feeling strangely satisfied). Whenever Cottle came over to his bedside to talk to him about how they hadn’t found a prosthetic for him and how he’d have to readjust, Felix did not listen because Felix was very much wrapped up in a bubble of shock. Lt. Costanza reading him the list, however, had hurt. It had hurt so much that Felix was trembling. Hurting was better than not feeling at all; Felix decided he wanted to do it some more.
“I’m going to be moved to new quarters tomorrow,” he said. “Could you maybe bring my things over there from my locker? I don’t know who else I could ask.”
“Of course,” Hot Dog said without hesitation. “I’ll do it first thing after patrol.”
When in a state of shock, it’s always quite surprising to notice that life has been going on for other people. Galactica’s engines kept humming, people arranged for things to change, stirring up the bubble. Such a change took place when Felix was deposited in his new quarters, a first step towards a one-legged life that he didn’t want to take by any means. It did occur to him that talking of steps of recovery was ironic all on its own; even language didn’t fit anymore.
Maybe Felix was a little bit depressed at that point.
“Neat,” Hot Dog said when he stepped into the room, taking in the rack, the desk, the locker curiously. There was a lot of space for tables or cribs or whatever Galactica’s couples decided they needed. Felix wouldn’t know. “Why did they move you to family quarters?”
“There’s a private head here. It’s easier than modifying the officers’ head,” Felix said sitting on his rack where Ishay had left him, fighting off a stab of phantom pain. He grimaced, looking after Hot Dog who dropped the duffle bag immediately and vanished through the bathroom door.
“Hey, you have a chair in here!” the pilot’s voice could be heard after a moment. “I wouldn’t mind sitting when I’m taking showers! You think Anders would shoot me too? I could call Starbuck a toaster or something.” A frown on his face, he reappeared in the doorway. “Except she’d probably beat me up before he’d get to pull the trigger. I wouldn’t lose a leg from that. Just teeth.”
Felix forced himself to smile despite the pain, trying to think up another thing he could ask Hot Dog to do to make him come back.
It reminded him of the time they’d had a boxing match right after New Caprica, when he’d contemplated challenging Sharon so she’d beat him up.
As it worked out, making Hot Dog come back wasn’t hard. It seemed there had been a custom of visiting the sick in some parts of Libron, and if Hot Dog hadn’t visited Felix, his mother would have come back from the Elysian Fields to haunt him for his lack of manners. The wrath of Mrs. Costanza carried them through the first couple of days. Then, Hot Dog started coming back out of habit. He’d relieve the nurse of the task of bringing Felix dinner after shifts, eating with him, saying he was bored of the mess, sharing new bits of gossip. Sometimes he’d bring the pilots’ deck of Triad cards, teaching Felix how to read Starbuck when she bluffed (there was no possible universe where Felix and Starbuck would ever play cards together again, but it was somehow satisfying to learn how to best her, anyway).
Once every third shift Cottle came over to accompany Felix while he walked through Galactica on crutches so he’d learn how to negotiate stairways and hatches, building up muscle. Felix hated these exercises. People kept staring at him, or so he thought, feeling their eyes burning into his neck. He couldn’t salute because his hands were occupied, and with his rank and position in limbo, he wasn’t even sure about how to acknowledge people. Working out was exhausting, and leaving his quarters was annoying. He pointed out to Cottle that he didn’t plan on going anywhere, but the doctor wouldn’t have any of it.
It was easier to withdraw to his quarters. Singing still worked; he pieced together some songs he’d thought to be long forgotten. Also, Hot Dog would show up and tell him about life on Galactica, about how Sharon had been released from the brig, about Hot Dog’s own attempts to get into Racetrack’s pants. Unfortunately, she thought he was a bit dense.
The pilot started asking questions about New Caprica soon, all the questions he never seemed to have dared ask anybody because nobody ever spoke of New Caprica now. Felix thought maybe that was why he’d kept coming back, and providing answers was an easy price to pay. All his questions were filled with fascination and dread, curiosity about the one horror Hot Dog had escaped. They were also questions nobody had ever asked Felix, like what had made him join the resistance (people had asked why he hadn’t) and how the Cylons had treated him (people had assumed he’d been fine) or if Boomer had been different from the others. Then, Hot Dog told about living on Galactica in that time, flying drills, not knowing if the Old Man would really pull off the rescue. He told how Kat had gotten a skin rash three days into being CAG and Ishay had said it was from nerves. The pilots kept blaming mistakes on the CIC and the CIC kept pointing out it wasn’t their responsibility if the pilots couldn’t fly. Felix had noticed additional tensions after coming back, it was true.
It was strange how the blanks in his former life were being filled while his future was entirely empty. Felix opted to ignore this problem however, refusing to think about his future in every respect. That was, until Admiral Adama knocked at his door.
“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, Mr. Gaeta,” Adama said gravely, looking at Felix who’d insisted on getting up even if he wasn’t in uniform. “I had already arranged for a transfer to the LSO spot if you decided to come back. The third LSO isn’t affected by action stations calls. You could have sat.”
It was a storage track, the LSO position. Everybody knew. Once you were there, you never got out of it. Neither air wing nor CIC would ever take you seriously. The air wing had always regarded Captain Kelly as a failed ECO shoving real pilots around, and the CIC took all his orders with a grain of salt because how could the landing deck guy know anything better than them? So Felix could see how being third LSO would suit him. Wordlessly, he waited.
“However,” said Admiral Adama. “The last two weeks have shown that we’re severely understaffed in the CIC. It appears that tasks were put off while you were on Demetrius. I have a report on my hands with a list of all things people expected would be taken care of by you. I tried to replace you but I would need two people to fulfill your day-to-day duties alone.”
Felix could imagine that, and he felt his heart flutter because that was a compliment and he couldn’t even remember when he’d last gotten a compliment. Nobody from the CIC crew was at fault of course. Dee had never been trained to be a navigator, having had enlisted training only. Hoshi openly admitted to having cheated his way through math at the Academy. Alghee was a physics geek but had grown up without computers, and none of them had ever managed to maintain the programs Felix had written to tweak the CIC consoles, although he’d tried his hardest to teach them. If there were any enlisted personnel with the right set of skills, he hadn’t discovered them yet, although he had tried that as well.
And the admiral wasn’t done either. “I would have liked to give you all the time you needed to recover,” Adama said. “Or to let you go if you decided to resign. But I can’t let that happen now. Frankly, we need you back at the tactical station as soon as you think you can make it, Mr. Gaeta. I’m sorry.”
His skin was tickling with excitement. Excitement and pride. Felix had never thought he’d ever feel any of these again and he suddenly wished he could present a better picture than a gray face and crutches; that he could pull himself up. “I’ll report for duty ASAP, sir,” he said. “I wish I could salute.”
The admiral smiled. “It’s more important to have you back, Lieutenant,” he said, saluting himself. Felix nodded. Then he aborted the motion and shook his head. It was just too hard to believe.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hot Dog said. He’d walked in on Felix struggling with his crutches and locker, trying to get a uniform together without rumpling the cloth. It was hard. Felix’ arms were trembling already from the strain of standing. Costanza was lounging next to the door now, hands shoved into his pockets, a displeased expression on his face. “Seriously, it’s a really bad idea. You can’t go back to work yet. It’s barely been ten days. Don’t think I don’t notice how much you’re in pain just because I don’t point it out.”
Felix reached for his trousers, then worked his way over to his desk, annoyed that the other man didn’t lift a finger to help him like he usually would. “It will only be light duty for now. Half shifts first, full shifts when I’m in better shape. I’ll work out more. It’s all been cleared with Cottle.”
“Yeah, because Adama ordered him to do it,” said Costanza in exasperation. “Except Adama doesn’t care shit about what’s best for you! Look at you, you need to be in bed!”
“Admiral Adama says he needs me,” Felix answered stoically.
Costanza rolled his eyes. “Screw Adama! You lost a frakking leg! Can’t you think of yourself?” He looked Felix up and down sharply. “You can’t even walk up to the CIC on your own yet, Gaeta. You aren’t eating in the mess. You haven’t gone back to your life at all, you’re not even playing cards again. You should be back to playing cards, at least, before you start working. I keep telling you we’re a man short without you.”
“Ask Athena then,” Felix said in a clipped voice, throwing his clothes onto the rack with force.
The difference was that Costanza insisted on thinking of Felix as a normal guy with a normal life, who should go through recovery step by step. Felix however couldn’t make out a life he could get back to at all, and if there was one anyhow, he wasn’t sure he wanted it back.
Felix Gaeta, resident geek was not being missed by anybody. Lt. Gaeta, watch officer and navigator was. If this wouldn’t make him stop thinking about pulling the trigger of his service pistol, he didn’t know what else.
However, further complications arose after his second shift. Felix was just working his way back to his quarters. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that Costanza had been right because he didn’t have the strength to walk the length of a deck, having to pause every other minute to catch his breath, to wait for the muscles in his arms to stop trembling. Leaving his quarters was a bitch every time. He was glad that Costanza wouldn’t come over tonight since the pilots were celebrating Starbuck making CAG again. Costanza was going there with Racetrack.
Now, three women showed up, exchanging looks when they recognized him, approaching him with determined faces. Felix did not recognize them at all but waited politely until they reached him. His face was known to many people due to newspaper articles written after New Caprica. Civilians tended to approach him if they wanted to ask an officer a question. It was a part of the job.
“We are so sorry about what happened to you, Mr. Gaeta,” said the first, a pale brunette with huge eyes, glancing at the stump in sympathy. “It’s such a tragedy. We’ve been praying for you, all of us, for you to have strength, and faith.”
It was said with so much sincerity and warmth that Felix didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t encountered many kind strangers since New Caprica. “I’m... Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
“We want you to know that this isn’t a punishment, even if it feels like it is,” the blonde added. “Gaius has assured us that it isn’t. He told us all about how the circumstances drove you towards hatred and spite, but he’s forgiven you. We’ve all forgiven you. You need support now, not needless hatred.”
Felix had blanched. “Gaius,” he repeated faintly, blindly readjusting his crutches because he was swaying.
The brunette smiled at him. “He didn’t send us,” she said. “He didn’t need to. He forgave you everything you did. God has forgiven you all your sins. You just need to let go and pray. Gaius would be so happy if you just forgave him for all you believe he did wrong.”
“It would be a wonderful gesture if you were to come to one of his sermons, to extend your hand in forgiveness and friendship.” The blonde gazed at his crutches with pity. “We’d be happy to come pick you up and help you get there, of course.”
It was hard to breathe, his chest feeling too tight. Gaius Baltar almost killed you all, Felix wanted to say. He sold you all out because he only cares about himself. He collaborated with the enemy, again and again, not even because he was in love with Six but because he needs to be worshipped, even by her. He’s a narcist with no backbone whatsoever, he’s a liar and he’ll betray us all again because he does not care.
“Get the frak out of my way,” he breathed.
“You have to forgive him,” the third urged him. “Love and forgiveness are God’s first commandments.”
Which explains all about why he made it up, Felix thought weakly.
He thought he might black out here and now.
“Get out of my way,” he repeated but they didn’t. He went into motion anyway, trying to ignore them when they followed him. He reached his quarters after what felt like an eternity, pale from exhaustion, and full of mind-numbing spite towards Baltar, panicking for a moment when he was sure they would follow him into the room.
Sinking down to the ground breathing hard, he kept seeing Baltar’s face in front of himself. Wide eyes, when he stared at the gun on New Caprica. Making a strangled noise when Felix drove the pen down because he didn’t think of twisting Baltar’s head and breaking his neck in time.
Six days into work they found Earth.
Felix still felt exhilarated when the landing party had left Galactica. He couldn’t believe he felt happy. He couldn’t believe he’d actually laughed. And especially, he couldn’t believe that this wild-goose chase had really led them somewhere. Temple art and visions and all these things he’d personally considered to be crap had found them Earth. It was actually over.
Accompanied by Hoshi carrying his notes, he worked his way over to the science lab. The first of their scientific research ships had finished its orbital scans and sent its read-outs to Galactica. Felix couldn’t be down there now, true, but he could do the next best thing and be the first to have a look at Earth in numbers. Dee had said that a mere look out of the window told right away that it was better than New Caprica and that it looked an awful lot like Picon, which happened to be Felix’ home colony.
“Well, what do we have?” Hoshi asked curiously after Felix had inserted the disk, having a first look at the data flashing over the screen.
Most numbers were accompanied by little red flags.
For a moment, it was hard to come up with a reaction at all.
Then it just felt like losing a limb all over again.
The CIC tended to hand on scientific data to the air wing last because secretly they weren’t sure if all pilots could read. So when he entered his quarters, Felix knew that Costanza hadn’t gotten the news very long ago. The pilot was hunched on a chair at the table, looking up. With a pang Felix noticed that Costanza was wearing full flight gear. Shortly before the end of his shift, the CAP had reported they’d break atmosphere to sneak a look. Now that he thought of it, that had been Hot Dog’s voice on the wireless, full of anticipation and excitement. It must have been a devastating sight.
Quietly he went through the complicated process of closing the hatch, working his way over to the table and sitting down across Costanza. The pilot looked shaken. It was harder for him, Felix guessed numbly. He knew that Costanza prayed to Artemis and Ares everyday, having believed in the scriptures and Earth as if they offered salvation.
They shared the details of how they’d found out in subdued voices, in the way you’d talk about how you’d learned that somebody had died - before the war, that was, when death was still special.
“You know,” Costanza said quietly. “I just thought we’d have a home again. I mean, I always thought people were a bit naïve about Earth. What did they think? That people were just waiting for us to show up? They might have forgotten us. We almost forgot them, too. I thought it would be all politics and that stuff, a couple of face-offs maybe but I thought it would be home.
“I grew up on a farm,” he continued after a moment. “My sisters, mum and I. We had horses. Mum was a vet. I was in a desk job at a place that built silos. Rural area but wealthy, you know? Sure I like flying but I thought if they didn’t need pilots anymore, I could just go back to living on a farm. Everybody has animals and silos. I could teach kids how to ride or something, if they had horses on Earth.”
“Where were you heading when the Cylons hit?” Felix asked.
“Vacating on Cloud Nine.” Costanza gave a shaky laugh. “Won a sweepstake at a fair. First time I left Libron since I dropped out of flight school.”
Felix shook his head, thinking of how they’d lost Cloud Nine, how it had been a lifetime since he’d thought about fairs. He remembered he’d been at a fair on Aquarius with his boyfriend once, on shore leave, newly in love. They’d split up when he transferred to Galactica for border patrol, convinced that his career was that much more important than a boyfriend.
“Wait here,” he said and signaled for Costanza to stay put when he struggled up from his chair, refusing to think about how every movement was too frakking complicated. Grabbing his crutches, he aimed for his desk. There was a bottle of ambrosia buried in a drawer from before the Demetrius mission. It was good ambrosia, the real thing, he’d bought it from a deckhand on the Chrion in exchange for an old stash of porn. It had originally been waiting for a free shift where he’d planned on getting plastered.
“I don’t think you should mix ambrosia with pain meds,” Costanza said in a doubtful voice when Felix went through the long-winded process of placing a glass in front of him with only one hand, then reaching for the bottle to pour him a gracious amount.
“I shouldn’t,” Felix agreed. “Drink it alone.”
No matter what, Felix would admit in a heartbeat that he’d become a little self-involved upon losing a leg. Still, he would be surprised to learn how many things there were that had escaped his notice (and how many others would keep escaping his notice a little longer) because if you have to be concerned about stumbling at every step you take, there isn’t much time left to pay attention to detail.
Therefore, he didn’t see it coming when Costanza said “I lied,” staring at his glass of ambrosia, and Felix froze on his way back to his chair. People had lied to Felix Gaeta in the past. Gaius Baltar had lied to him and to the public on New Caprica, whenever he opened his mouth. Galen Tyrol had once lied to him when he said he was his friend, Helo when he said he’d do anything for Felix on Demetrius. The only person to never have lied to him was possibly Starbuck.
“Pardon?” he said cautiously because the best thing would be to have misheard.
Costanza tilted his head. “I lied when I came for a visit while you were in sickbay,” he said, diverting his eyes from his glass to look at Felix.
Felix decided to play for time, having a bad feeling about this. “The Libron custom did sound a bit cheesy.”
Costanza gave him an uneasy grin. “Well, it really exists,” he said. “But I’m talking about the frak list. I didn’t really think it would cheer you up. I’m not that dumb. I just thought there’s really nobody on Galactica who knows how to deal with amputees, so I’d just sneak in a couple of practical pointers to show you a way for how to tackle all the issues.”
“Not seeing the lie yet,” Felix said.
Costanza grimaced. “Alright,” he said. “Here’s the deal. My sister was an amputee. She lost her leg in a car crash when she was fifteen. I was twenty and we were pretty close, she always came to me to cry. I knew it would be hard for you. I just -” He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want a speech from some stranger. I thought I’d just check in on you and give you a hint.”
Felix blinked. “By giving me a sex list.”
“Well, I’d be worried about that if I were you.”
You aren’t me, Felix wanted to say. Having had an amputee sister doesn’t make you me. You have no clue what it is like. He didn’t though. Instead he kept looking at Costanza, waiting for the other shoe to drop. If people lied to you, there was usually a moment of shock, then followed by that horrible feeling of betrayal that he’d learned to dread.
Except it occurred to Felix a moment later that it wouldn’t happen like that because while Brendan had lied, technically speaking, it was the most harmless lie Felix could possibly think up, no ill intention being behind it whatsoever. A lie in good faith. Felix was not used to that kind of lie. Startled, he paused.
“Do you have any idea how inappropriate and tasteless that list was?”
“Never said I was much of a writer,” Costanza said in a defensive tone.
The more he thought about it, the more thoughtful a gesture it looked like. Thoughtful, and very much Brendan Costanza, who was a nice and giving guy, always ready to help. It was one of the things Felix was coming to like about him very much. And now, of course, little things were starting to make much more sense. Being around Costanza was easy for Felix while he felt clumsy and handicapped all the other time because he kept helping by opening hatches, shoving things out of the way. He acted like it was natural to do so. And he constantly rattled off suggestions on how this could go easier; how that could be changed. Felix hadn’t noticed, being distracted, but he noticed now.
“Well,” he said after a moment. “Do I want to know why you talked about frakking with your fifteen-year-old sister?”
The pilot gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you frakking kidding me? She kept crying all the time and I couldn’t find out why for days. Then she told me how she thought she was ugly although she was beautiful. And then she said she couldn’t figure out how frakking should work anyway and cried even more!” He shrugged in defense, crying obviously being unacceptable. “I searched the hypernet to look for clues, of course. Good thing she didn’t do it herself, too. You wouldn’t believe what pervs there were, with some sort of amputation kink of all things. And video files!” He shuddered, deeply offended on account of his sister. “Listen,” he added, clearing his voice. “It’s not that I planned on coming back for more visits or anything. I hope it’s not a problem.”
Felix made a final decision that it wasn’t. “No, it’s cute...”
Costanza’s eyes widened in horror.
Felix chuckled.
For the rest of their free shift, he watched on while Costanza methodically worked his way through the bottle. Brendan talked about horses and about his sisters, both of them much younger than him; one of them had competed as a show jumper. Felix shared how much he missed his own sisters, both of them much older; one of them had been a civvie pilot and would have liked Costanza a lot. For a moment he wondered about what they would think if they could see him now, damaged like this. But it wasn’t good to think about that.
Instead, he listened patiently while Costanza, now with an audible slur, progressed from the subject of Racetrack to the subject of work, explaining why he would never ever get the finer points of military procedure.
“All that fiddling,” he said. “Mystery to me. I‘m too dumb to get it.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb,” said Felix, who didn’t. He thought of what Costanza had said about the fleet’s expectancies for Earth, about how he kept anticipating issues concerning Felix’ leg, about how he’d refrained from ever mentioning Seelix again when he shared gossip, noticing that hearing that name killed the mood for Felix.
“It’s just,” Costanza tried again. “I’m not Starbuck, or anything.”
“Thank the Gods for small favors,” Felix said.
He knew he was hiding out with Costanza, he really did. The world wasn’t quite out of kilter with the pilot around. He was on his way to becoming a friend. Not the kind of friend Felix had in Dee and Helo, who were friendly enough but had more important things showing up on their Dradis. Felix had never minded that before, knowing he wasn’t that important in the greater picture. But that had been before life had become so exhausting. It hurt every time people paused, belatedly remembering they shouldn’t have said this or that to a cripple, or when they took extra care to be polite.
It had only been three weeks. Still, Felix had already realized that he didn’t want people to be tactful. He wanted somebody to be close enough that they didn’t feel they had to be. It didn’t hurt to be around Costanza, it felt good.
“You’re too drunk to walk through the ship on your own,” he pointed out when he watched Costanza standing up to get back to the duty lockers, swaying ominously. Then he paused, adding, “You’re even more unsteady on your feet than me,” testing the sound of it. It hurt, suddenly and unexpectedly, that now that he had a friend, he couldn’t even help him home. “Stay here.”
A while later, Felix lay awake, staring at the ceiling. With Costanza sprawled all over the double rack snoring quietly, Felix felt fingers almost touch his thigh. He thought of Earth, trying to imagine the radiated mud and endless gray skies, the smell of booze and Brendan and hurt hanging in the air.
The next morning, he woke up to the rustling of sheets. Feeling the person next to him move, Felix blinked his eyes open, finding Costanza propped up on his elbow, bleary, blood-shot eyes lingering on Felix.
When he noticed him watching, the pilot shook his thoughts off, smiling nervously and getting up fast.
on to part 2
Pairing: Gaeta/Hot Dog
Wordcount: ~ 13000 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: Teen. Lots of talking about sex but it's all theory. People die and / or hook up but it's all background noise. Please mind possible triggers, as there's discussion of suicide.
Spoilers: up to 4.10, AU afterwards, no use of the webisodes or spoilers
Beta: Thanks very much to ebuchala and millari who made this a much better story than I could ever have written on my own and who cheerfully put up with my typos and errors. You rock.
Summary: "Costanza insisted on thinking of Felix as a normal guy with a normal life, who should go through recovery step by step. Felix however couldn’t make out a life he could get back to at all, and if there was one anyhow, he wasn’t sure he wanted it back."
Author's note: This is an entry for the 'Good Things For Gaeta' challenge on gaeta_squee (although there are a lot of angsty things happening to Gaeta in there, too, I won't lie). I'm past the deadline but there can never be enough good things for Gaeta! Also, I should probably point out that while I've written Hot Dog twice before (in Lilacs and in Back To Earth), this is a new interpretation of the character, which has nothing to do with the other two Hot Dogs.
How to live and love as an amputee, by Brendan Costanza
It all started the day Brendan ‘Hot Dog’ Costanza showed up at his bedside to bring him a sex list.
Felix didn’t know much about Lt. Costanza. They had played cards on Demetrius; he knew the lieutenant was one hell of a bluffer. Lt. Costanza didn’t know much about Felix either, considering he’d waited four days to not interrupt the many friends he supposed were visiting Felix. Also, he thought that the list would cheer Felix up.
“It’s a gift,” Hot Dog explained. “It’s a list of all the things you can still do when you frak. I thought if I were you, I’d be really worried about that but with all the morpha it might be hard to think.” He was unfolding a piece of paper. “I asked around and Helo says you’re gay. Hope that’s true because it’s a very specific list. I had to guess about the gay stuff of course but I figure there’s no secret to it.”
Felix hadn’t thought about how his sex life would change now that he was an amputee. If asked in a sensible fashion, he would probably have pointed out that he hadn’t had any sex life to begin with and the idea that this would change after losing a leg was just a little bit ridiculous. As it was, he had not thought about it, and he decided right at this point that he never wanted to, either.
Ever since Admiral Adama had shown up at his bedside telling him they’d find him a nice calm job if he decided to stay in the military, reality had started creeping up on the horizon. Felix was still struggling to get the idea that he would never walk on his own again.
“Why ever would you bring me a gift?” Felix said. His instincts told him to delay the inevitable. Delaying the inevitable seemed like a good course of action in general.
Hot Dog gave him a confused look. “You don’t bring people gifts when they’re sick? We did it all the time on Libron. Granted, it’s a bit hard to find flowers on Galactica but that’s why I made the list after all. Sure you’ve had other people bring you...” He paused then. Felix followed his eyes to the empty bedside table. “Or maybe not,” Hot Dog said, returning his attention to Felix. “Anyway, you’ll like it. Here goes. Good news first.” He grinned. “Blowjobs? Work exactly like they did before.”
There was no way to stop him. Shrinking back into his pillow, Felix listened with a growing, morbid kind of fascination while Hot Dog laid out all the reasons for why Felix’ excuse of a life was indeed over, no matter he was still breathing. He couldn’t top anymore because he couldn’t put weight on the stump. Spooning was still a go though if he just lay on his healthy leg. And if he had a taste for topping from the bottom, he’d have an excuse to do it all the time now. It became apparent fast that Hot Dog was as easy as he was tactless.
“Do you like bondage?” asked the pilot.
“No,” Felix lied.
“Shame,” Hot Dog said. “Because you could try and combine doing it standing up with being tied to something. You’d have to hold onto something hard anyway. I’m not sure about that one though. If you ever try, tell me if it works.”
Felix attempted to smile.
“Anyway,” Hot Dog said, standing up. “I’ll leave this with you for further inspection...” Holding up the paper, he placed it on the bedside table. “... but I have to go back on duty or Helo will have my ass. Hope you’ll be up and about soon, Gaeta. We’re a man short at the card games, what with you being here and Athena being in the brig.”
“Sharon is in the brig?” Felix asked in distraction. While this was the first time he heard about Helo being CAG, too, he cared about what was going on around him far less than was healthy, so he barely noticed.
“Shot a Cylon. Good riddance, too.” Another thing Felix did not notice was that Hot Dog took care to place the chair in a corner where it wouldn’t be in the way if Felix got up from bed. “Anything I can get you? Want to have an extended version of that list? Because I have a free shift coming up.”
And this was when Felix answered without thinking, making a decision that would indeed eventually change his life. He did so because it was his fourth day in sickbay. There hadn’t been any visitors except the Admiral on his way over to President Roslin (one thing Felix did notice was that Hot Dog didn't even look at the President on his way out, and that left him feeling strangely satisfied). Whenever Cottle came over to his bedside to talk to him about how they hadn’t found a prosthetic for him and how he’d have to readjust, Felix did not listen because Felix was very much wrapped up in a bubble of shock. Lt. Costanza reading him the list, however, had hurt. It had hurt so much that Felix was trembling. Hurting was better than not feeling at all; Felix decided he wanted to do it some more.
“I’m going to be moved to new quarters tomorrow,” he said. “Could you maybe bring my things over there from my locker? I don’t know who else I could ask.”
“Of course,” Hot Dog said without hesitation. “I’ll do it first thing after patrol.”
When in a state of shock, it’s always quite surprising to notice that life has been going on for other people. Galactica’s engines kept humming, people arranged for things to change, stirring up the bubble. Such a change took place when Felix was deposited in his new quarters, a first step towards a one-legged life that he didn’t want to take by any means. It did occur to him that talking of steps of recovery was ironic all on its own; even language didn’t fit anymore.
Maybe Felix was a little bit depressed at that point.
“Neat,” Hot Dog said when he stepped into the room, taking in the rack, the desk, the locker curiously. There was a lot of space for tables or cribs or whatever Galactica’s couples decided they needed. Felix wouldn’t know. “Why did they move you to family quarters?”
“There’s a private head here. It’s easier than modifying the officers’ head,” Felix said sitting on his rack where Ishay had left him, fighting off a stab of phantom pain. He grimaced, looking after Hot Dog who dropped the duffle bag immediately and vanished through the bathroom door.
“Hey, you have a chair in here!” the pilot’s voice could be heard after a moment. “I wouldn’t mind sitting when I’m taking showers! You think Anders would shoot me too? I could call Starbuck a toaster or something.” A frown on his face, he reappeared in the doorway. “Except she’d probably beat me up before he’d get to pull the trigger. I wouldn’t lose a leg from that. Just teeth.”
Felix forced himself to smile despite the pain, trying to think up another thing he could ask Hot Dog to do to make him come back.
It reminded him of the time they’d had a boxing match right after New Caprica, when he’d contemplated challenging Sharon so she’d beat him up.
As it worked out, making Hot Dog come back wasn’t hard. It seemed there had been a custom of visiting the sick in some parts of Libron, and if Hot Dog hadn’t visited Felix, his mother would have come back from the Elysian Fields to haunt him for his lack of manners. The wrath of Mrs. Costanza carried them through the first couple of days. Then, Hot Dog started coming back out of habit. He’d relieve the nurse of the task of bringing Felix dinner after shifts, eating with him, saying he was bored of the mess, sharing new bits of gossip. Sometimes he’d bring the pilots’ deck of Triad cards, teaching Felix how to read Starbuck when she bluffed (there was no possible universe where Felix and Starbuck would ever play cards together again, but it was somehow satisfying to learn how to best her, anyway).
Once every third shift Cottle came over to accompany Felix while he walked through Galactica on crutches so he’d learn how to negotiate stairways and hatches, building up muscle. Felix hated these exercises. People kept staring at him, or so he thought, feeling their eyes burning into his neck. He couldn’t salute because his hands were occupied, and with his rank and position in limbo, he wasn’t even sure about how to acknowledge people. Working out was exhausting, and leaving his quarters was annoying. He pointed out to Cottle that he didn’t plan on going anywhere, but the doctor wouldn’t have any of it.
It was easier to withdraw to his quarters. Singing still worked; he pieced together some songs he’d thought to be long forgotten. Also, Hot Dog would show up and tell him about life on Galactica, about how Sharon had been released from the brig, about Hot Dog’s own attempts to get into Racetrack’s pants. Unfortunately, she thought he was a bit dense.
The pilot started asking questions about New Caprica soon, all the questions he never seemed to have dared ask anybody because nobody ever spoke of New Caprica now. Felix thought maybe that was why he’d kept coming back, and providing answers was an easy price to pay. All his questions were filled with fascination and dread, curiosity about the one horror Hot Dog had escaped. They were also questions nobody had ever asked Felix, like what had made him join the resistance (people had asked why he hadn’t) and how the Cylons had treated him (people had assumed he’d been fine) or if Boomer had been different from the others. Then, Hot Dog told about living on Galactica in that time, flying drills, not knowing if the Old Man would really pull off the rescue. He told how Kat had gotten a skin rash three days into being CAG and Ishay had said it was from nerves. The pilots kept blaming mistakes on the CIC and the CIC kept pointing out it wasn’t their responsibility if the pilots couldn’t fly. Felix had noticed additional tensions after coming back, it was true.
It was strange how the blanks in his former life were being filled while his future was entirely empty. Felix opted to ignore this problem however, refusing to think about his future in every respect. That was, until Admiral Adama knocked at his door.
“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, Mr. Gaeta,” Adama said gravely, looking at Felix who’d insisted on getting up even if he wasn’t in uniform. “I had already arranged for a transfer to the LSO spot if you decided to come back. The third LSO isn’t affected by action stations calls. You could have sat.”
It was a storage track, the LSO position. Everybody knew. Once you were there, you never got out of it. Neither air wing nor CIC would ever take you seriously. The air wing had always regarded Captain Kelly as a failed ECO shoving real pilots around, and the CIC took all his orders with a grain of salt because how could the landing deck guy know anything better than them? So Felix could see how being third LSO would suit him. Wordlessly, he waited.
“However,” said Admiral Adama. “The last two weeks have shown that we’re severely understaffed in the CIC. It appears that tasks were put off while you were on Demetrius. I have a report on my hands with a list of all things people expected would be taken care of by you. I tried to replace you but I would need two people to fulfill your day-to-day duties alone.”
Felix could imagine that, and he felt his heart flutter because that was a compliment and he couldn’t even remember when he’d last gotten a compliment. Nobody from the CIC crew was at fault of course. Dee had never been trained to be a navigator, having had enlisted training only. Hoshi openly admitted to having cheated his way through math at the Academy. Alghee was a physics geek but had grown up without computers, and none of them had ever managed to maintain the programs Felix had written to tweak the CIC consoles, although he’d tried his hardest to teach them. If there were any enlisted personnel with the right set of skills, he hadn’t discovered them yet, although he had tried that as well.
And the admiral wasn’t done either. “I would have liked to give you all the time you needed to recover,” Adama said. “Or to let you go if you decided to resign. But I can’t let that happen now. Frankly, we need you back at the tactical station as soon as you think you can make it, Mr. Gaeta. I’m sorry.”
His skin was tickling with excitement. Excitement and pride. Felix had never thought he’d ever feel any of these again and he suddenly wished he could present a better picture than a gray face and crutches; that he could pull himself up. “I’ll report for duty ASAP, sir,” he said. “I wish I could salute.”
The admiral smiled. “It’s more important to have you back, Lieutenant,” he said, saluting himself. Felix nodded. Then he aborted the motion and shook his head. It was just too hard to believe.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hot Dog said. He’d walked in on Felix struggling with his crutches and locker, trying to get a uniform together without rumpling the cloth. It was hard. Felix’ arms were trembling already from the strain of standing. Costanza was lounging next to the door now, hands shoved into his pockets, a displeased expression on his face. “Seriously, it’s a really bad idea. You can’t go back to work yet. It’s barely been ten days. Don’t think I don’t notice how much you’re in pain just because I don’t point it out.”
Felix reached for his trousers, then worked his way over to his desk, annoyed that the other man didn’t lift a finger to help him like he usually would. “It will only be light duty for now. Half shifts first, full shifts when I’m in better shape. I’ll work out more. It’s all been cleared with Cottle.”
“Yeah, because Adama ordered him to do it,” said Costanza in exasperation. “Except Adama doesn’t care shit about what’s best for you! Look at you, you need to be in bed!”
“Admiral Adama says he needs me,” Felix answered stoically.
Costanza rolled his eyes. “Screw Adama! You lost a frakking leg! Can’t you think of yourself?” He looked Felix up and down sharply. “You can’t even walk up to the CIC on your own yet, Gaeta. You aren’t eating in the mess. You haven’t gone back to your life at all, you’re not even playing cards again. You should be back to playing cards, at least, before you start working. I keep telling you we’re a man short without you.”
“Ask Athena then,” Felix said in a clipped voice, throwing his clothes onto the rack with force.
The difference was that Costanza insisted on thinking of Felix as a normal guy with a normal life, who should go through recovery step by step. Felix however couldn’t make out a life he could get back to at all, and if there was one anyhow, he wasn’t sure he wanted it back.
Felix Gaeta, resident geek was not being missed by anybody. Lt. Gaeta, watch officer and navigator was. If this wouldn’t make him stop thinking about pulling the trigger of his service pistol, he didn’t know what else.
However, further complications arose after his second shift. Felix was just working his way back to his quarters. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that Costanza had been right because he didn’t have the strength to walk the length of a deck, having to pause every other minute to catch his breath, to wait for the muscles in his arms to stop trembling. Leaving his quarters was a bitch every time. He was glad that Costanza wouldn’t come over tonight since the pilots were celebrating Starbuck making CAG again. Costanza was going there with Racetrack.
Now, three women showed up, exchanging looks when they recognized him, approaching him with determined faces. Felix did not recognize them at all but waited politely until they reached him. His face was known to many people due to newspaper articles written after New Caprica. Civilians tended to approach him if they wanted to ask an officer a question. It was a part of the job.
“We are so sorry about what happened to you, Mr. Gaeta,” said the first, a pale brunette with huge eyes, glancing at the stump in sympathy. “It’s such a tragedy. We’ve been praying for you, all of us, for you to have strength, and faith.”
It was said with so much sincerity and warmth that Felix didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t encountered many kind strangers since New Caprica. “I’m... Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
“We want you to know that this isn’t a punishment, even if it feels like it is,” the blonde added. “Gaius has assured us that it isn’t. He told us all about how the circumstances drove you towards hatred and spite, but he’s forgiven you. We’ve all forgiven you. You need support now, not needless hatred.”
Felix had blanched. “Gaius,” he repeated faintly, blindly readjusting his crutches because he was swaying.
The brunette smiled at him. “He didn’t send us,” she said. “He didn’t need to. He forgave you everything you did. God has forgiven you all your sins. You just need to let go and pray. Gaius would be so happy if you just forgave him for all you believe he did wrong.”
“It would be a wonderful gesture if you were to come to one of his sermons, to extend your hand in forgiveness and friendship.” The blonde gazed at his crutches with pity. “We’d be happy to come pick you up and help you get there, of course.”
It was hard to breathe, his chest feeling too tight. Gaius Baltar almost killed you all, Felix wanted to say. He sold you all out because he only cares about himself. He collaborated with the enemy, again and again, not even because he was in love with Six but because he needs to be worshipped, even by her. He’s a narcist with no backbone whatsoever, he’s a liar and he’ll betray us all again because he does not care.
“Get the frak out of my way,” he breathed.
“You have to forgive him,” the third urged him. “Love and forgiveness are God’s first commandments.”
Which explains all about why he made it up, Felix thought weakly.
He thought he might black out here and now.
“Get out of my way,” he repeated but they didn’t. He went into motion anyway, trying to ignore them when they followed him. He reached his quarters after what felt like an eternity, pale from exhaustion, and full of mind-numbing spite towards Baltar, panicking for a moment when he was sure they would follow him into the room.
Sinking down to the ground breathing hard, he kept seeing Baltar’s face in front of himself. Wide eyes, when he stared at the gun on New Caprica. Making a strangled noise when Felix drove the pen down because he didn’t think of twisting Baltar’s head and breaking his neck in time.
Six days into work they found Earth.
Felix still felt exhilarated when the landing party had left Galactica. He couldn’t believe he felt happy. He couldn’t believe he’d actually laughed. And especially, he couldn’t believe that this wild-goose chase had really led them somewhere. Temple art and visions and all these things he’d personally considered to be crap had found them Earth. It was actually over.
Accompanied by Hoshi carrying his notes, he worked his way over to the science lab. The first of their scientific research ships had finished its orbital scans and sent its read-outs to Galactica. Felix couldn’t be down there now, true, but he could do the next best thing and be the first to have a look at Earth in numbers. Dee had said that a mere look out of the window told right away that it was better than New Caprica and that it looked an awful lot like Picon, which happened to be Felix’ home colony.
“Well, what do we have?” Hoshi asked curiously after Felix had inserted the disk, having a first look at the data flashing over the screen.
Most numbers were accompanied by little red flags.
For a moment, it was hard to come up with a reaction at all.
Then it just felt like losing a limb all over again.
The CIC tended to hand on scientific data to the air wing last because secretly they weren’t sure if all pilots could read. So when he entered his quarters, Felix knew that Costanza hadn’t gotten the news very long ago. The pilot was hunched on a chair at the table, looking up. With a pang Felix noticed that Costanza was wearing full flight gear. Shortly before the end of his shift, the CAP had reported they’d break atmosphere to sneak a look. Now that he thought of it, that had been Hot Dog’s voice on the wireless, full of anticipation and excitement. It must have been a devastating sight.
Quietly he went through the complicated process of closing the hatch, working his way over to the table and sitting down across Costanza. The pilot looked shaken. It was harder for him, Felix guessed numbly. He knew that Costanza prayed to Artemis and Ares everyday, having believed in the scriptures and Earth as if they offered salvation.
They shared the details of how they’d found out in subdued voices, in the way you’d talk about how you’d learned that somebody had died - before the war, that was, when death was still special.
“You know,” Costanza said quietly. “I just thought we’d have a home again. I mean, I always thought people were a bit naïve about Earth. What did they think? That people were just waiting for us to show up? They might have forgotten us. We almost forgot them, too. I thought it would be all politics and that stuff, a couple of face-offs maybe but I thought it would be home.
“I grew up on a farm,” he continued after a moment. “My sisters, mum and I. We had horses. Mum was a vet. I was in a desk job at a place that built silos. Rural area but wealthy, you know? Sure I like flying but I thought if they didn’t need pilots anymore, I could just go back to living on a farm. Everybody has animals and silos. I could teach kids how to ride or something, if they had horses on Earth.”
“Where were you heading when the Cylons hit?” Felix asked.
“Vacating on Cloud Nine.” Costanza gave a shaky laugh. “Won a sweepstake at a fair. First time I left Libron since I dropped out of flight school.”
Felix shook his head, thinking of how they’d lost Cloud Nine, how it had been a lifetime since he’d thought about fairs. He remembered he’d been at a fair on Aquarius with his boyfriend once, on shore leave, newly in love. They’d split up when he transferred to Galactica for border patrol, convinced that his career was that much more important than a boyfriend.
“Wait here,” he said and signaled for Costanza to stay put when he struggled up from his chair, refusing to think about how every movement was too frakking complicated. Grabbing his crutches, he aimed for his desk. There was a bottle of ambrosia buried in a drawer from before the Demetrius mission. It was good ambrosia, the real thing, he’d bought it from a deckhand on the Chrion in exchange for an old stash of porn. It had originally been waiting for a free shift where he’d planned on getting plastered.
“I don’t think you should mix ambrosia with pain meds,” Costanza said in a doubtful voice when Felix went through the long-winded process of placing a glass in front of him with only one hand, then reaching for the bottle to pour him a gracious amount.
“I shouldn’t,” Felix agreed. “Drink it alone.”
No matter what, Felix would admit in a heartbeat that he’d become a little self-involved upon losing a leg. Still, he would be surprised to learn how many things there were that had escaped his notice (and how many others would keep escaping his notice a little longer) because if you have to be concerned about stumbling at every step you take, there isn’t much time left to pay attention to detail.
Therefore, he didn’t see it coming when Costanza said “I lied,” staring at his glass of ambrosia, and Felix froze on his way back to his chair. People had lied to Felix Gaeta in the past. Gaius Baltar had lied to him and to the public on New Caprica, whenever he opened his mouth. Galen Tyrol had once lied to him when he said he was his friend, Helo when he said he’d do anything for Felix on Demetrius. The only person to never have lied to him was possibly Starbuck.
“Pardon?” he said cautiously because the best thing would be to have misheard.
Costanza tilted his head. “I lied when I came for a visit while you were in sickbay,” he said, diverting his eyes from his glass to look at Felix.
Felix decided to play for time, having a bad feeling about this. “The Libron custom did sound a bit cheesy.”
Costanza gave him an uneasy grin. “Well, it really exists,” he said. “But I’m talking about the frak list. I didn’t really think it would cheer you up. I’m not that dumb. I just thought there’s really nobody on Galactica who knows how to deal with amputees, so I’d just sneak in a couple of practical pointers to show you a way for how to tackle all the issues.”
“Not seeing the lie yet,” Felix said.
Costanza grimaced. “Alright,” he said. “Here’s the deal. My sister was an amputee. She lost her leg in a car crash when she was fifteen. I was twenty and we were pretty close, she always came to me to cry. I knew it would be hard for you. I just -” He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want a speech from some stranger. I thought I’d just check in on you and give you a hint.”
Felix blinked. “By giving me a sex list.”
“Well, I’d be worried about that if I were you.”
You aren’t me, Felix wanted to say. Having had an amputee sister doesn’t make you me. You have no clue what it is like. He didn’t though. Instead he kept looking at Costanza, waiting for the other shoe to drop. If people lied to you, there was usually a moment of shock, then followed by that horrible feeling of betrayal that he’d learned to dread.
Except it occurred to Felix a moment later that it wouldn’t happen like that because while Brendan had lied, technically speaking, it was the most harmless lie Felix could possibly think up, no ill intention being behind it whatsoever. A lie in good faith. Felix was not used to that kind of lie. Startled, he paused.
“Do you have any idea how inappropriate and tasteless that list was?”
“Never said I was much of a writer,” Costanza said in a defensive tone.
The more he thought about it, the more thoughtful a gesture it looked like. Thoughtful, and very much Brendan Costanza, who was a nice and giving guy, always ready to help. It was one of the things Felix was coming to like about him very much. And now, of course, little things were starting to make much more sense. Being around Costanza was easy for Felix while he felt clumsy and handicapped all the other time because he kept helping by opening hatches, shoving things out of the way. He acted like it was natural to do so. And he constantly rattled off suggestions on how this could go easier; how that could be changed. Felix hadn’t noticed, being distracted, but he noticed now.
“Well,” he said after a moment. “Do I want to know why you talked about frakking with your fifteen-year-old sister?”
The pilot gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you frakking kidding me? She kept crying all the time and I couldn’t find out why for days. Then she told me how she thought she was ugly although she was beautiful. And then she said she couldn’t figure out how frakking should work anyway and cried even more!” He shrugged in defense, crying obviously being unacceptable. “I searched the hypernet to look for clues, of course. Good thing she didn’t do it herself, too. You wouldn’t believe what pervs there were, with some sort of amputation kink of all things. And video files!” He shuddered, deeply offended on account of his sister. “Listen,” he added, clearing his voice. “It’s not that I planned on coming back for more visits or anything. I hope it’s not a problem.”
Felix made a final decision that it wasn’t. “No, it’s cute...”
Costanza’s eyes widened in horror.
Felix chuckled.
For the rest of their free shift, he watched on while Costanza methodically worked his way through the bottle. Brendan talked about horses and about his sisters, both of them much younger than him; one of them had competed as a show jumper. Felix shared how much he missed his own sisters, both of them much older; one of them had been a civvie pilot and would have liked Costanza a lot. For a moment he wondered about what they would think if they could see him now, damaged like this. But it wasn’t good to think about that.
Instead, he listened patiently while Costanza, now with an audible slur, progressed from the subject of Racetrack to the subject of work, explaining why he would never ever get the finer points of military procedure.
“All that fiddling,” he said. “Mystery to me. I‘m too dumb to get it.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb,” said Felix, who didn’t. He thought of what Costanza had said about the fleet’s expectancies for Earth, about how he kept anticipating issues concerning Felix’ leg, about how he’d refrained from ever mentioning Seelix again when he shared gossip, noticing that hearing that name killed the mood for Felix.
“It’s just,” Costanza tried again. “I’m not Starbuck, or anything.”
“Thank the Gods for small favors,” Felix said.
He knew he was hiding out with Costanza, he really did. The world wasn’t quite out of kilter with the pilot around. He was on his way to becoming a friend. Not the kind of friend Felix had in Dee and Helo, who were friendly enough but had more important things showing up on their Dradis. Felix had never minded that before, knowing he wasn’t that important in the greater picture. But that had been before life had become so exhausting. It hurt every time people paused, belatedly remembering they shouldn’t have said this or that to a cripple, or when they took extra care to be polite.
It had only been three weeks. Still, Felix had already realized that he didn’t want people to be tactful. He wanted somebody to be close enough that they didn’t feel they had to be. It didn’t hurt to be around Costanza, it felt good.
“You’re too drunk to walk through the ship on your own,” he pointed out when he watched Costanza standing up to get back to the duty lockers, swaying ominously. Then he paused, adding, “You’re even more unsteady on your feet than me,” testing the sound of it. It hurt, suddenly and unexpectedly, that now that he had a friend, he couldn’t even help him home. “Stay here.”
A while later, Felix lay awake, staring at the ceiling. With Costanza sprawled all over the double rack snoring quietly, Felix felt fingers almost touch his thigh. He thought of Earth, trying to imagine the radiated mud and endless gray skies, the smell of booze and Brendan and hurt hanging in the air.
The next morning, he woke up to the rustling of sheets. Feeling the person next to him move, Felix blinked his eyes open, finding Costanza propped up on his elbow, bleary, blood-shot eyes lingering on Felix.
When he noticed him watching, the pilot shook his thoughts off, smiling nervously and getting up fast.
on to part 2