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Not the Luck of the Draw
by theshatnerstyle
Summary: Gaius Baltar has been trapped in a room for longer than he can remember. He suspects his guard is messing with his mind, trying to get him to crack. Can he take control?
Author's Notes: This was for the LJ community Fanfic 100.
Not the Luck of the Draw
Gaius Baltar sat in his room or rather, his cell, shuffling his only entertainment, a deck of cards. Most of the cards were bent, covered with dirty fingerprints, and ripped on the edges. He suspected that his Cylon guard had been stealing a card in the middle of the night, every night, just to frack with his mind.
What had happened to this once powerful man? What happened to that power? To the public eye, he was still in charge, making the brash demands that upset the people.
The guard opened the door and walked into Baltar's room, carrying a tray of food. Food that looked hardly edible.
"Come to steal another one?" Baltar asked, not looking up from his cards. "Or are you going to return my Ace of Spades? The one you stole from me last night?"
The Cylon laughed, "Finally figured it out, then?"
When Baltar looked up at the Cylon, he saw a grin so impish that it rivaled his own. Gathering his strength, Baltar stood up to take his food. He took the tray, set it on the bed, and turned back to his guard.
"My playing card, if you please."
The guard reached into the pocket of his pants. He took out the Ace of Spades and shoved it into Baltar's hand. He went to leave but the prisoner's voice stopped him.
"When do I get to go outside?"
The Cylon turned around and smiled as if Baltar had told the funniest joke he had ever heard. "Outside?"
"I have been in here for who knows how long, and I can't even remember the light of day," Baltar put his Ace of Spades into the deck with the other cards. "Look, it isn't as if I haven't been cooperating..."
"I will ask my superiors, but don't count on it." The guard departed leaving Baltar with his food.
The prisoner grinded his teeth as he grabbed the sandwich off the tray, all the while staring at the door he longed to kick open. As he chewed his sandwich, he thought of the outside. He wanted desperately to get out and go free. His ego told him that he could rally up followers and regain control. His ego convinced him that he could escape.
When the guard came back to get the empty tray, he took Baltar's deck of cards and threw it on the floor. "Pick them up," he ordered.
"If I do, will I get to go outside?"
"Pick them up."
"I demand to see someone else!"
The Cylon got closer to Baltar. "If you do not pick them up you will have to pick yourself up from the floor."
Baltar got down on his hands and knees, and picked the cards up as he crawled on the floor. Never had he felt so degraded. It was as if he were a peasant, gathering up scraps, and not a president, who should have everything given to him. As he collected the deck, he noticed a card under the guard's foot. He looked up at the guard. Smiling, the Cylon moved his foot, letting Baltar pick up the Ace of Spades he was standing on. As he added the card to the others, Baltar came up with a plan.
The guard watched as the man stood up.
"If you shuffle these cards, I can find the Ace of Spades."
The guard shuffled the deck that Baltar had handed to him, all the while keeping his eyes on Baltar.
"I will do this in exchange for five minutes outside."
"You are bargaining?"
"Yes. I want to go outside."
"Fine, then you'll do it with your eyes closed. If you pick the wrong card you will spend the rest of your days in here."
Baltar closed his eyes and waited for the guard to put the cards in front of him. He reached out to find them. He remembered how the Ace of Spades felt. It was bent down the middle, with a tear in the corner, and now it also had sand on it from the guard's shoe. However he didn't feel any cards- instead he felt the Cylon take hold of his wrist and break it. The snap echoed down the hall.
Too shocked to say anything, Baltar took hold of his wrist with his other hand. His mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. His eyes widened but no tears were forming. He was the president and here he was, being treated like a slave.
As Baltar crumbled to the floor, the Cylon guard tossed the cards at the president. It seemed as if it were in slow motion. Baltar looked up to see the Ace of Spades flutter down into his hand and for a brief moment, he forgot about his pain and thought about the odds of this particular card finding him, instead of him finding it. Suddenly, the pain rushed back, Baltar let out a cry of pain and frustration.
The guard locked the door and walked away, leaving President Gaius Baltar crippled in agony, surrounded by his only entertainment, a deck of cards.
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