A List With Nothing On It

by Jacob Clifton January 29, 2009
BSG Webisodes: The Face Of The Enemy

"I know what your Eight did," Gaius whispered into his ear, begging for death, and Felix picked up a pen and shoved it in Gaius's throat. Something singing, burning in a place he couldn't see. His leg burns, aches more than any morpha could salve: nothing hurts as much as something that's not there anymore. There is no relief, so he must strike out, and that's what he did. And that's what he does now. It's still too big, so he grabs the scalpel and kills Sweet Eight, too. For doing the right thing. And then he is alone.

Felix tries to inject the morpha he has left, first one wish and then the other, but loses it before sticking himself with the second dose. He begins to sing:

Alone, she sleeps in the shirt of man
With my three wishes clutched in her hand
The first, that she be spared the pain
That comes from a dark and laughing rain

He sings it for a better world, ended. It was the only song that brought him solace. It was the song he sang to the empty space, to the itch he couldn't scratch, to make it quiet down again. It was too big. There were too many kinds of love, in the world, in the end. Too many ways for the song to die.

When she finds love, may it always stay true
This I beg, for the second wish I made too
But wish no more
My life you can take

He sings it as a small retribution, losing consciousness altogether, falling asleep in a net of unfamiliar stars. Most of all, he sings it for a fire that has gone out. A dream for a better world, finally extinguished. Literally translated, her name means "she who will rise again." He sings for her.

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

Maybe it's hope, or faith. Maybe it's love. Maybe it's oxygen depletion. Maybe they were right, and his will to survive burns brighter than the fire that Hoshi loves so much in him. Maybe he's waiting to rise again. Maybe he's waiting to die out here, alone, in the black, among unfamiliar stars. Maybe that's his salvation. Or maybe that's a very long list with nothing on it: Maybe he's just already dead.

The Raptor cabin is illuminated: Hoshi and Racetrack, hailing from the edge of hope. The light falls on blood, and torn bodies. He can barely make it out; he's trying not to dream. "You're nowhere near the Fleet, baby, but you're good!" All around him are the bodies: the deckhand, the crewmen, and the girl who saved his life. The girl who broke his heart, and killed him, with a list of truths too large to tell.

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