38 Quintus 6489, late evening
A fashionable restaurant... wait. This is Joss. THE most fashionable restaurant in Caprica City.


"Does this mean that you won't be home at all?"

"Not for sectars. Maybe not until they let me out of Fleet, even."

Joss pushed away his glass so abruptly that wine slopped over the rim. Apollo watched the red stain spread around the stem of the glass.

"I may as well give it up then," said Joss, thickly. "You won't be here for me to get you back."

"Don't, Joss. Please."

"I may as well stop trying. You're leaving me behind."

Apollo blew out a silent breath, and said, patiently, "You don't really want to go back."

"I never wanted you to leave." Joss pushed at the glass irritably, spreading the stain.

This was an expensive restaurant, with luxurious, almost hedonistically luxurious, décor. The tablecloth was a thick white silk damask, beautifully kept. Apollo watched Joss grinding the wine into it, heedless of the damage being done. He kept his eyes on the thin, elegant fingers curving on the glass. When he'd been seventeen, and for yahrens after, that voice and mouth and those hands had reduced his bones to water. He'd tossed everything away to be with Joss, taking an enormous leap into a future that hadn't quite turned out the way he'd imagined. Not forever and ever, after all, it seemed. Not with Joss, anyway. There was still love there, he decided. He still loved Joss, and wanted him to be happy, but there was no going back. He didn't want to go back.

"Come back," said Joss.

"I can't," said Apollo, sad that the passion and heat was little more now than affectionate pity.

"Of course you can. You just don't want to."

Apollo picked up his own wine and sipped at it. "No," he said, trying to contain the impatience, to remain gentle. "I'm very fond of you, Joss, but I don't think there's any going back. We want different things."

"Fond!" said Joss, scornfully, another angry push at the glass slopping more wine to deepen the stain.

"Yes. Very."

"Thank you. That makes it all worthwhile."

The light in the restaurant was kind to Joss, softening the signs of ageing that he hadn't yet been able to hide; the loosening of skin at the eyelids and the corner of the mouth that once Apollo had lived to kiss. The silvering hair, Apollo noticed, had been subtly dealt with. He smiled, simultaneously loving the small vanities that made up his Joss and amused by them.

"I do love you, you know," he said, gently.

Joss hunched up one shoulder. "The way you love Rosie?"

"I love you. And I love Rosie."

Joss looked frightened. "Are you going to marry her?"

"What?"

"I wondered if you might. It would please your father," said Joss.

"I rarely do anything that pleases my father."

"And it would please her."

Apollo, carefully and deliberately, took his fork and started on the dessert that he'd abandoned when he'd finally told Joss the day's news. It was good – his favourite. A little less sweetly delicious today, maybe, but still good.

"Ah," said Joss. "So she doesn't get you either. I can live with that."

"Don't be spiteful."

"It's all I've got left." Joss drank off his wine and poured more, emptying the bottle into his glass. "I won't see you again, will I?"

"Not for a while. I'll write, and I'm not disappearing for ever, you know."

"Aren't you?" Joss gulped down more wine.

"No." Apollo was finding the emotional charge a little wearing. He applied himself to his dessert, and concentrated on that for a centon or two, letting Joss adjust.

"I thought, when I got back, that I might have a chance," said Joss. "You meet me every secton. We go on dates. You even let me kiss you goodnight."

"I enjoy your company."

"And you love me, you said so. Oh no! I got that wrong. You're fond of me."

"Yes," said Apollo, not allowing himself to get annoyed. He focused on the food for a little longer.

"I don't want you to go."

"I know," said Apollo.

"I don't want you to go tonight. Stay with me."

"I don't think that's the best idea you ever had."

"I don't mean for sex. I don't want to be on my own, Apollo. That place is too big for me on my own."

Apollo dropped his fork and took Joss's hand in his. "That's a first," he said gently. "Asking a pretty boy home and not wanting sex?"

Joss laughed and choked, and said, "I'm getting older. I want things to be settled, the way they were. I want you."

"You only think you do. There'll be someone for you, Joss."

"There was," said Joss, and it was the voice of mourning. "There was you, once."

Apollo carried the elegant fingers to his lips and kissed them, gently.

"And that was positively elegiac," said Joss, thickly. He caught up his napkin and disappeared behind it for a centon. When he re-emerged, he looked slightly more composed. "Do you still have it?"

"Have what?" asked Apollo.

"The scarab."

"Oh, yes. I've got it safe. I always loved that one."

"You know what it means."

Apollo nodded. "I have come in order that I may be thy protection. I gather together for thee thy bones, I draw together for thee thy members, I have brought for thee thy heart," he quoted softly, and suddenly regret flamed in him for everything they'd had: it had been a great deal. He was almost tempted to accept Joss's offer. He had loved Joss so much once. So very much. "You were reminding me of what it was about."

"And setting you free, to choose." Joss crumpled the napkin in his hand. "You chose him."

"Yes. I'm sorry." There was no goin 38 Quintus 6489, late evening
A fashionable restaurant... wait. This is Joss. THE most fashionable restaurant in Caprica City.


"Does this mean that you won't be home at all?"

"Not for sectars. Maybe not until they let me out of Fleet, even."

Joss pushed away his glass so abruptly that wine slopped over the rim. Apollo watched the red stain spread around the stem of the glass.

"I may as well give it up then," said Joss, thickly. "You won't be here for me to get you back."

"Don't, Joss. Please."

"I may as well stop trying. You're leaving me behind."

Apollo blew out a silent breath. "You don't really want to go back."

"I never wanted you to leave." Joss pushed at the glass irritably, spreading the stain.

This was an expensive restaurant, with luxurious, almost hedonistically luxurious, décor. The tablecloth was a thick white silk damask, beautifully kept. Apollo watched Joss grinding the wine into it, heedless of the damage being done. He kept his eyes on the thin, elegant fingers curving on the glass. When he'd been seventeen, and for yahrens after, that voice and mouth and those hands had reduced his bones to water. He'd tossed everything away to be with Joss, taking an enormous leap into a future that hadn't quite turned out the way he'd imagined. Not forever and ever, after all, it seemed. Not with Joss, anyway. There was still love there, he decided. He still loved Joss, and wanted him to be happy, but there was no going back. He didn't want to go back.

"Come back," said Joss.

"I can't." Apollo felt a jolt of sadness that the passion and heat were little more now than affectionate pity.

"Of course you can. You just don't want to."

Apollo picked up his own wine and sipped at it. "No," he said, trying to contain the impatience, to remain gentle. "I'm very fond of you, Joss, but I don't think there's any going back. We want different things."

"Fond!" Joss gave the glass another angry push, slopping out more wine to deepen the stain.

"Yes. Very."

"Thank you. That makes it all worthwhile."

The light in the restaurant was kind to Joss, softening the signs of ageing that he hadn't yet been able to hide; the loosening of skin at the eyelids and the corner of the mouth that once Apollo had lived to kiss. The silvering hair, Apollo noticed, had been subtly dealt with. He smiled, simultaneously loving the small vanities that made up his Joss and amused by them.

"I do love you, you know," he said, gently.

Joss hunched up one shoulder. "The way you love Rosie?"

"I love you. And I love Rosie."

Joss looked frightened. "Are you going to marry her?"

"What?"

"I wondered if you might. It would please your father."

"I rarely do anything that pleases my father."

"And it would please her."

Apollo, carefully and deliberately, took his fork and started on the dessert that he'd abandoned when he'd finally told Joss the day's news. It was good – his favourite. A little less sweetly delicious today, maybe, but still good.

"Ah," said Joss. "So she doesn't get you either. I can live with that."

"Don't be spiteful."

"It's all I've got left." Joss drank off his wine and poured more, emptying the bottle into his glass. "I won't see you again, will I?"

"Not for a while. I'll write, and I'm not disappearing for ever, you know."

"Aren't you?" Joss gulped down more wine.

"No." Apollo was finding the emotional charge a little wearing. He applied himself to his dessert, and concentrated on that for a centon or two, letting Joss adjust.

"I thought, when I got back, that I might have a chance," said Joss. "You meet me every secton. We go on dates. You even let me kiss you goodnight."

"I enjoy your company."

"And you love me, you said so. Oh no! I got that wrong. You're fond of me."

"Yes," said Apollo, not allowing himself to get annoyed. He focused on the food for a little longer.

"I don't want you to go."

"I know."

"I don't want you to go tonight. Stay with me."

"I don't think that's the best idea you ever had."

"I don't mean for sex. I don't want to be on my own, Apollo. That place is too big for me on my own."

Apollo dropped his fork and took Joss's hand in his. "That's a first. Asking a pretty boy home and not wanting sex?"

Joss laughed and choked, and said, "I'm getting older. I want things to be settled, the way they were. I want you."

"You only think you do. There'll be someone for you, Joss."

"There was." And Joss's voice was the voice of mourning. "There was you, once."

Apollo carried the elegant fingers to his lips and kissed them, gently.

"And that was positively elegiac." Joss caught up his napkin and disappeared behind it for a centon. When he re-emerged, he looked slightly more composed. "Do you still have it?"

"Have what?".

"The heart scarab."

"Oh, yes. I've got it safe. I always loved that one."

"You know what it means."

Apollo nodded. "I have come in order that I may be thy protection. I gather together for thee thy bones, I draw together for thee thy members, I have brought for thee thy heart," he quoted softly, and suddenly regret flamed in him for everything they'd had: it had been a great deal. He was almost tempted to accept Joss's offer. He had loved Joss so much once. So very much. "You were reminding me of what it was about."

"And setting you free, to choose." Joss crumpled the napkin in his hand. "You chose him."

"Yes. I'm sorry." There was no going back; regret had to be ignored and stamped down and strangled unborn.

Joss must know it too. "Take it with you and keep it safe until you give it to someone else. Are you happy with Rosie?"

"Reasonably."

"That means you're not happy, not really. Not without him."

"No," said Apollo, tired. "I'm not, really."

"That's all right then, " said Joss. "I couldn't bear it if I was on my own in everything."

g back; regret had to be ignored and stamped down and strangled unborn.

Joss must know it too. "Take it with you and keep it safe until you give it to someone else. Are you happy with Rosie?"

"Reasonably."

"That means you're not happy, not really. Not without him."

"No," said Apollo, tired. "I'm not, really."

"That's all right then, " said Joss. "I couldn't bear it if I was on my own in everything."