The Right Question 4: Gambles

[madimpossibledreamer]

this song is so good for these two. you can thank having another chapter for me accidentally finding this song while cooking.

Main Points:
Crusade (The Right Question)
Chapter Summary: Gideon's insecurities affect his next question choice.
Word Count: 1343
Rating: Teen

 

         The next time he supposedly ‘randomly’ sees Galen, the man casually walks in, right after he’d finished having a conversation with the Apocalypse Box and put it away safely.  He’s fairly sure the man suspects something, and was attempting to catch him at it, though that adds the question of how it’s escaping the Technomage’s scrying attempts.  He suspects the man wouldn’t approve.  The Box definitely doesn’t approve of Galen, but it’s also not his mother.  He’s not going to let it dictate his choice of friends, particularly when it just seems like it disapproves of Technomages in general, not just Galen, no matter how much it might try to convince him otherwise.  Well, assuming he’s overthinking things.  Its previous owner had said it lied, sometimes, which is the only thing still giving him hope.
         “I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”  His blue eyes are entirely guileless, though his friendly smile is without mirth.  While he’s usually got a pretty good sense of humor about everything, he’s taking this seriously.  Gideon reevaluates their last meeting—it’s possible he was trying to find the Box’s hiding place, but the fact that he hadn’t managed to do so meant Matthew’s guess about some sort of way to hide from the gaze of a Technomage might have been more on the money than he’d thought.
         “Absolutely.  I was about to start writing another report, and I hate working on those things.  You’re a welcome excuse.”  It’s completely the truth, but from the way Galen looks at him, he knows Matthew isn’t saying everything.  Fine.  As long as Galen doesn’t start asking questions he has to dodge.  “Is this a social call, or business?”
         Galen sighs and easily makes himself at home, sitting in one of the chairs.  It’s so automatic Matthew wonders briefly if the Technomage has done it before, when Gideon’s on the bridge or something, sitting and contemplating the universe.  Or maybe the Box, since that seems to be bothering him.  It doesn’t help him look more relaxed.  If anything, he looks older, more burdened.  “Both.  Neither.  I suppose both of us suffer from frustration at times.”
         “What’s the most amazing place you’ve been?”  From Galen’s unimpressed gaze and raised eyebrow, his attempt to lighten the mood failed miserably.
         “At least attempt to make it interesting, Matthew,” he mock-complains, but they’re both going through the motions, acting the way they’d usually act because it’s convenient rather than because they feel like it.  Okay, fine.  If the Technomage wanted to play hardball, he could do that.
         “If you want to be that way…”  Gideon settles into the opposite chair after pouring himself a glass of the good stuff.  “It took a good card game and could probably put both of our careers in jeopardy, but I got my hands on a preliminary report from before the Drakh attack on Earth.  Apparently Sheridan was talking about warnings sent in dreams.  Dureena showed up around the same time, and knew who you were before I remembered you.  You made a big deal about joining this mission as a personal favor to me, but that’s not true, is it?  You’d tried to stop this before it happened, and because your Council—”
         “Circle,” Galen corrects helpfully.  His eyes are a touch wider than normal, and it’s not just an act, as far as he can tell.  Still, this is getting too close to his insecurities, and that’s irritating.  Gideon waves the interruption off.
         “…Whatever.  Forbade you from interfering in person, you’d failed.  So this is penance, or something.”  He can’t meet Galen’s too-perceptive eyes now, can’t see the pity there.
         The moment stretches just long enough to let Gideon know that somehow he’d managed to blindside a man who specializes in catching others off guard, before he responds.  “You’re adrift again, Matthew.  And wrong in any case.”  The Technomage’s voice is compassionate, soft, and despite himself he dares to look up, is caught by the compelling, intense care he sees there.  “True, you know me well enough to mark my influence on events, and correctly deduce my feelings of guilt.”
         He leans forward, maintaining eye contact, drawing back his hood, and, assuming he hasn’t been lying to Gideon, those are signs he’s about to be as forthright as is possible for a Technomage.  “I tried to prevent disaster and failed.  You feel responsible for every inhabitant on Earth, and I can sympathize, but you could have done nothing to stop it.”  He’s shocked to see the man smile.  “But, self-recrimination does no one any favors.  Action is needed.  If we were being perfectly efficient, I could likely do better on my own, with a ship that can go places you can’t and the kind of knowledge it could take lifetimes to acquire, and yet…”  The Technomage shrugs.  “You’re a betting man, as am I, in the right place, at the right time.  Saving you was not without consequence, but I bore it willingly.  It has yet to pay off, but I don’t believe I made a mistake.”
         Gideon shifts uncomfortably, and Galen’s smile turns sad.  “I suspected you might disagree on that point.  Nonetheless, if it had been any other, I would never have made such a bargain.  I would never have set foot on the Excalibur, never have brought my attempts to aid the mission to light.  You underestimate the effect of a charismatic person in power.  They have been known to write history.”
         Matthew knows that he’s sitting and on a fairly stable ship floor, but feels dizzy all the same as the realization hits him.  Galen, apparently, doesn’t believe in a higher power or an ordered universe (John had mentioned it).  But he does believe in Gideon, an honor as humbling as it is overwhelming.
         “But—would you still help out now, if I get reassigned?”  Or if the Box finally demands its price for its services, since he’d actually finally taken it out to try to solve this thing.  One life for many was a trade he was willing to make—or, rather, as the Technomage puts it, a wager he was willing to make.
         “I have developed an attachment to all of you, however unwise.  However…”  Galen eyes him again, trying to make sense of him as he would a particularly engaging puzzle.  “I will not sit idly by if something happens to you.”
         Gideon knows that the ‘magic’ is the product of technology, of electronics and chemistry and probably nanotech, but the man’s conviction is compelling.  He’d resigned himself to his death for the good of everyone, but here he is, beginning to hope, to think that there’s an escape hatch and what’s more that he deserves it.  Truly a magic trick worth a professional.  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”  In an effort to deflect the searching gaze, he adds, “What, you think you’re the only one I’ve come across attempting to tell my future?  I’m just making sure I’ve got my bases covered.”
         “Really?”  Galen sounds more intrigued than surprised.  “Why, Matthew, you’re hurting my professional pride.”
         “If it helps, I prefer your work.”  The Technomage, at least, would do all in his considerable power to keep him alive.  Relatively safe.  Sure, he lied, and maybe he was enigmatic and untrustworthy, but for all that, for the fact that he’d lied to Gideon’s face and hijacked his ship and whatever else, despite himself Matthew finds himself trusting Galen.
         “Why, yes, that does help to soothe my fragile ego.”  This time, the amused smile isn’t merely a front, even if it’s potentially partially one.  He stands fluidly, looking at least a little more relaxed than when he’d come in.  “Well, as engaging as this was, I am needed elsewhere, for the moment.”  He nods at Gideon as he stands and then he’s off with that characteristic long stride. 
         He doesn’t look back, but Matthew knows better than to think he doesn’t care, or that he probably doesn’t hear the exhaled, “See you later,” when he’s no longer present in the room.