Battlestar Galactica
Blood On The Scales

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 2 USERS: A+
YOU GRADE IT
Blood On The Scales

How to say that this man -- of all the men in the world the least likely to ever really understand another person's subjective personhood, whose mental health such as it is rests upon his narcissism, and keeps him sane -- has been invaded, and changed, through years of this intimacy. How to say this man, of all men, has been brought to turn an It into a Thou: to say without breaking, this man loves you. Knows you, dark and sharp, and shiny bright bits. Bears halls and corridors and doors inside, for you. Forever. How to say that, without touching, without even saying, when he won't let you. When he's fragile enough to shatter, how do you give him strength without taking strength away?

Gaius wasn't kidding last week, comparing Felix to Tory. One world at a time: You are my weakness, and you are my strength. We break each other. But as his face crumples, Felix brings him aid and comfort, because that's what Felix brings. Gaius's pain is more pressing and immediate than this curious emptiness, than this ache and itch and phantom pain: "I'm fine with how things have worked out. Really, Gaius. I am. I just ... hope. I hope that people realize, eventually... Who I am?" Gaius nods. Those are the words. Say the words. He begins to weep. Only connect:

"I know who you are, Felix. I know who you are."

In these English farms, if anywhere, one might see life steadily and see it whole, group in one vision its transitoriness and its eternal youth, connect -- connect without bitterness until all men are brothers.

Felix smiles at Gaius, in his quarters, grateful to be loved. Everything he wanted, now. Felix smiles at Gaius, tied to a chair in the hangar bay launch tube. Saul and Lee are watching, but it's Gaius standing witness. Next to him sits Tom Zarek, who grins at him: a regretful, apologetic twinkle in his eye. Felix has a choice, and takes the high road. He nods to Tom, his last act of kindness, and Tom is unimaginably grateful. At the end of line, with nothing to lose, you can be honest. You can be kind.

The present flowed by them like a stream. The tree rustled. It had made music before they were born, and would continue after their deaths, but its song was of the moment. The moment had passed. The tree rustled again. Their senses were sharpened, and they seemed to apprehend life. Life passed. The tree rustled again.

Adama orders the executioners to ready themselves, and Gaius watches as they raise their guns. He calls them to aim, and Lee watches as they do. They can see Felix, through the sights of their guns, as down a long tunnel, tiny. A little man, who raged against mountains. Whose beautiful, crystalline mind burnt faster than the world. His leg stops itching, stops aching: the thing that isn't there anymore stops aching. At the end of line you can be honest. Adama orders them to fire, and they do.

And Anastasia calls him home again.

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Battlestar Galactica

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