The Right Question 1: Danger

[madimpossibledreamer]

Apologies; it’s been at least ten years since I read the Technomage books, so I’ve probably forgotten something. (I remember the big plot points, but…) Also, they’re in storage, so I unfortunately can’t just pull them off the shelf and refresh my memory.
Exact timing is vague for all of these, but then, that's the show.  This probably occurs after The Well of Forever, but, again...the timeline for that show is wonky.
This all exists because I was just doing work as normal and suddenly Peter Woodward says into my head “Questions are dangerous. There exists every possibility they might be answered.”  So naturally I had to build an entire fic series around that.

Main Points:
Crusade (The Right Question)
Chapter Summary: Gideon attempts an unusual trust-building exercise.
Word Count: 675
Rating: Teen

            Galen appears next to Gideon in the middle of an alien marketplace, matching his stride as if he’d already been doing so before the captain could see him. In all probability, that’s what he had been doing. He doesn’t speak. He’s allowing Gideon to decide whether or not to acknowledge him. Whether or not to forgive him. Matthew’s suddenly nervous, even if he’d prepared himself, but if he lets the silence go on too long, the technomage will count it as a rejection of his presence and disappear. So he starts his campaign with a single opening move.
            “What’s your favorite color?” he asks, and catches a tiny break in Galen’s movements at his side. From someone else, someone less in control of themselves, that would be akin to shouting in surprise.
            “Excuse me?” The tone is utterly unchanged. For all the apparent investment in the question, they might as well be talking about the weather, but Galen’s still here. He’s piqued the man’s curiosity. Always a useful thing.
            Gideon allows himself to snort, to set the right tone. “Come on, you haven’t spied on me all this time to go deaf now. You heard me. What’s your favorite color?”
            He allows himself an actual glance at the technomage, who looks amused, but thoughtful. Knows that the gambit is utterly transparent to a master of deception and illusion. Galen had, though habit and purpose, remained an enigma to the Excalibur crew. And perhaps there was something to the idea that understanding the magic trick takes away the magic, but Gideon doesn’t require precise explanations for the magic. But if he’s going to trust the man again, he needs to know him better. The only question—besides the ones he’s going to ask—is if Galen will be willing to take the bait. “Questions are dangerous. There exists every possibility they might be answered.” Another disappointing saying, but Galen actually appears to be thinking about it, rather than outright dismissing him.
            Matthew resists the urge to sigh, and counters with another question. “Then why do you keep asking them?”
            Again, a hint of surprise in Galen’s eyes, quickly concealed. He doesn’t bother to hide his gestures as he talks, though. “Can’t one simply warn others away from the same fate? A sign saying ‘here there be dragons’.”
            “Giant gold ones, I guess.” He shares a smile with the technomage. Galen had always been rather free with his smiles, and his amusement, and, most of the time, it didn’t feel like Galen was laughing at them, despite what Mr. Eilerson would say. “Now that you’re done lecturing me about the dangers of asking questions, will you answer mine?”
            The amount Galen’s thinking is at odds with the simple question, but that’s the whole point of why Gideon started out easy. “I suppose I’d never put too much thought into the matter. Each has its place, don’t you think?” Possibly just a deflection, a means of keeping Matthew at an arm’s length, but Gideon’s limited study of the man suggests he’s much more like a cat. A little patience can wring something genuine out of him, but it takes skill to spot it when it happens, and skill to not push too hard and scare him away. If Matthew’s translating the evasive answer right, it’s possible Galen doesn’t have a favorite color.
            The stride stops suddenly. “If you’re here to shop, I might recommend that particular fruit.”
            Matthew follows Galen’s pointed arm to see mounds of an oddly-shaped berry at one stall. “For what—” he starts, turning back to his companion, only to realize the man is no longer there. It’s the gust of wind that ‘proves’ it.
            Gideon pushes down the disappointment—that had, after all, been progress, however small—and resolves to find out for himself, buying one to eat (and discovering that the fruit is sweet and juicy) and saving the rest for the scientists to study, asking the merchant about the medicinal qualities, just in case Galen had been talking about a cure.