The Universe's Mixer

"I can't stand the waiting," Gaius said, fidgeting on the park bench.

Six leaned up against him, her one arm draped around his neck, fingers curling around his longish strands of hair.

"I mean ... what if I'm not elected? What am I supposed to do? What else is there for me? I have no purpose here otherwise. I don't know what to do. I'm glad I'm not on New Caprica. I'm frakkin' smitten not to be on the Galactica or the Cylon baseship. But if I don't find a place for myself here? Then what frakkin' good am I?"

His foot was twitching. He could feel the jittery anxiety travel up from his toes until it reached the tip of his spine and sent a shiver throughout his entire body.

Six just smiled. She was unmoved by his frustration.

"Everything will work out as it is supposed to," she said.

"What does that mean?! I'm sick and tired of your cryptic quotations!"

"You have a path, Gaius. Don't worry. Everything will work out according to God's plan."

Gaius rolled his eyes.

"I'm sick of you and your God and his hypocritical plan."

I wish I could just be a scientist again. Why can't I just be Dr. Baltar again? Why must everything I do relate to some circular rotation of the universe? He was grumbling to himself. In his head. Not so unlike a crazy person. And did Six notice? Well, if she did, she said nothing to indicate that she did. (She did that to protect Gaius from himself.)

She pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"Let's just enjoy the day, Gaius. It's futile worrying about tomorrow. It's not here yet. And you can't change it anyway."

He looked at her with an expression both sad and pathetic.

"All of this has happened before and all of this will happen again?"

Six only smiled. But her silence was more of an answer than words.