There's a stabbing jolt of fear when he comes out of the bathroom and finds Jim gone. A moment's panic before Felix realizes he can't possibly have gone far. The PINpoints still don't work, and he hid them away for good measure. If Jim's not in the room then he must still be on the ship. Up to the bridge, or to see the doctor. He's never felt the confinement of a ship to be a mercy until now.
He didn't wait to tell Felix he was awake, though. Felix ignores the dancing unease in his stomach. Jim's never been a patient man, and he's likely too tired yet to want to deal with more conversation than necessary. He probably decided just to see his crew and get that part over with.
That must be it.
Which leaves Felix... at a loose end. No Jim to tend to. No bowls left to tidy up. Tiber fed and his water changed. He collapses onto the couch, digs his phone out to send a message to Stratos. But then he's alone with his thoughts for the first time in hours.
He still can't regret anything. There's a twinge of guilt when he remembers Isidor's face. Danny's fear. He tries to imagine what his father would say and he cringes a little in the silence. Caeluses are people of duty, honor, loyalty. His aunt Arvenna and her legion defended the walls of the Imperial City to the last man. Uncle Hesperus killed himself with the strain of keeping his fellow soldiers alive out in the desert. Both his parents risked their lives in the Great War. A hundred generations of ancestors who stood and fought and died with their comrades, for their Emperor, in the name of duty.
So his actions weren't entirely becoming of his lineage. But Felix has always been the one to flirt with disgrace.
And the truth is, if he asks himself: would he rather they'd stayed? Would he have made a different choice, given the chance to do it again? Every fiber of his being screams a shrill and silent 'NO.'
No. He did the only thing that Felix Caelus could do. The others with their machines and their magic and their warriors will be fine.
Felix gets some tea - the warmth is a comfort - but after that the only thing he has strength to do is curl up with a book to stare at.
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He didn't wait to tell Felix he was awake, though. Felix ignores the dancing unease in his stomach. Jim's never been a patient man, and he's likely too tired yet to want to deal with more conversation than necessary. He probably decided just to see his crew and get that part over with.
That must be it.
Which leaves Felix... at a loose end. No Jim to tend to. No bowls left to tidy up. Tiber fed and his water changed. He collapses onto the couch, digs his phone out to send a message to Stratos. But then he's alone with his thoughts for the first time in hours.
He still can't regret anything. There's a twinge of guilt when he remembers Isidor's face. Danny's fear. He tries to imagine what his father would say and he cringes a little in the silence. Caeluses are people of duty, honor, loyalty. His aunt Arvenna and her legion defended the walls of the Imperial City to the last man. Uncle Hesperus killed himself with the strain of keeping his fellow soldiers alive out in the desert. Both his parents risked their lives in the Great War. A hundred generations of ancestors who stood and fought and died with their comrades, for their Emperor, in the name of duty.
So his actions weren't entirely becoming of his lineage. But Felix has always been the one to flirt with disgrace.
And the truth is, if he asks himself: would he rather they'd stayed? Would he have made a different choice, given the chance to do it again? Every fiber of his being screams a shrill and silent 'NO.'
No. He did the only thing that Felix Caelus could do. The others with their machines and their magic and their warriors will be fine.
Felix gets some tea - the warmth is a comfort - but after that the only thing he has strength to do is curl up with a book to stare at.
And wait.