26 Quartus 6490, evening
Kobolian Institute and Museum

During Apollo's time at SSI, one of his fellow students, a Cancerian, had once commented that that, as a colony, Caprica had the most crushing superiority complex. Everyone had to have some little quirk, she said. Her only problem with Caprica and Capricans was their insistence on inflicting their monstrous ego quirk on the rest of the Colonies. Apollo could understand that point of view, sometimes. Caprica was the first and oldest of the Twelve and took outrageous advantage of its seniority. The Capricans had long ago ensured that all the main Governmental institutions were established in Caprica City, and in some cases established centuries before the other Colonies were even founded.

An outsider could be forgiven for assuming that the other eleven planets were colonies not of Kobol, but of Caprica. The Council of the Twelve made a token gesture of a meeting on each of the Colonial planets over a two yahren cycle—the meetings that Apollo knew his father didn't attend in person, but instead sat in on at the other end of a Goldline video link and damn the expense to the taxpayer—and a few government institutions had been founded on each of the other planets as a kind of sop to nationalistic fervour. But if he was a Libran, say, he'd be hard put to it to get excited about getting the Food Standards Agency on his home planet when everything really important, from the Military Academy to Military Headquarters to the main seat of the Council of the Twelve, was on Caprica.

As he crossed the Park, he looked with loving eyes at his favourite institution and decided that the other Colonies could take what they liked of government and military establishments as long as they left him this one. He loved it, the Kobolian Institute and Museum; loved every stone, from the dark storage basements through the tiers of columns touched pale reddish-gold by the setting sun, to the huge and lofty dome. Every time that he saw it, something in his chest tightened. In some peaceful parallel universe, Professor Apollo was in this place, happily dissecting a mummy, untroubled by war, never being called upon to make any regrettable and regretful compromises, and going home each day to blond hair and intense blue eyes and a mouth that melted a little bit of his soul with every kiss.

But in this universe, there was only Shield Captain Apollo who had no option but to think wistfully of that AU professor and get himself into a meeting with the greatest compromise he'd ever made. No blond hair and blue eyes for this Apollo. Oh no.

He didn't feel all that superior, either.

Nothing inside the Kobolian had changed. He went up the main staircase, passing artefacts seven millennia old. Some were complete statues, some little more than huge heads, many times life size: the Pharaohs who'd brought humanity here from the wreck of Kobol. He knew each one, loved each one, could name each one: Sneferu, Ramesses Usermaatre, Seti-sen-Ankhaten, Djoser, to use but their Horus-names. He touched each briefly in a kind of loving greeting as he climbed to the top floor, their smooth granite faces cold under his fingers, carved eyes expressionless as he passed.

He passed the library door with only a sideways flicker of his eyes to acknowledge it. That's where his compromise had been made under the wrathful, disbelieving eyes of his father; the compromise that he'd found, yahrens later, to be untenable. But he was unfair in thinking it regrettable. He didn't regret all the yahrens. He did regret how they had ended.

Joss's welcome was surprisingly cool. He offered a cheek for Apollo to kiss, eyes shuttered and a little remote.

"I can't stay long." Apollo smiled as he kissed him. "I'm off on a job in a day or two. I just wanted to see how you were."

"I don't have long," said Joss. "I'm meeting Ben in half a centar."

"Ben?" Apollo looked around the office. He remembered examining a mummy here with Joss, long ago, more than a decade ago, the feel of Joss's hands on his as the older man guided him in the search for the sacred amulets under the linen. A few days later and he'd fallen into Joss's bed and stayed there, metaphorically speaking, for more than eight yahrens. He wondered if Joss remembered the mummy, and searched his memory for its name. He gave it up, not sure he wanted to remind Joss of the past.

"Ben... well, Ben moved in a few sectons ago." Joss examined a fingernail minutely, not meeting Apollo's eyes. "He's rather nice."

Apollo blinked. "Moved in?"

"Into the space that you left when you moved out." Joss looked at him now. His smile was decidedly smug. "He's adorable, actually. Very sweet."

Apollo swallowed. "I'm... I'm glad," he said, trying to sound like he really meant it.

"He's just what I needed."

Implication : you weren't, really, and I've finally realised it.

"Good. I'm glad, Joss. Is he working here at the Kobolian? A student?"

Joss shook his head. "I met him on the last cruise I took on the Rising Star. He was a steward. He's not really doing anything at the moment."

Except be spoiled and decorative and concentrate all his attention on Joss. That was what Apollo had always signally failed to do. Having intelligence and ambition had got in the way then, he thought, uncharitable and knowing it.

Apollo kissed the unresponsive cheek again. "I'm very happy for you, Joss. I won't hang around then, if you're getting ready to meet him. I'll catch up with you sometime."

"Yes, do," said Joss, politely, returning the kiss as passionlessly as Apollo had kissed him. "Call me." He did nothing to stop Apollo from leaving.

Chagrined, Apollo didn't quite know what to think. He walked across the Park in something of a daze. A part of him, a very large part of him, was more than slightly put out that Joss seemingly no longer yearned over him. The more generous and noble part, disappointingly small and wizened and feeling very sorry for itself at that centon, tried to feel genuine delight that his former lover was happy and contented. With someone else.

No Rosie. No Joss. And no Star–

He cut of the thought abruptly. It was a good thing that Joss didn't want him that way any more.

A very good thing.