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Gods know if they were created like that, or if it was a conscious decision, another little thing to make their lives just a little bit worse, but Cylons were just so…handsy?
At first, he thought it was just Six and her tendency to be glued to Baltar day and night, and while it made him sick to look at them, it didn't bother him that much. But as the occupation went on and they got more bored and more bold, others started to show the same vice.
Like one of the Fives, clearly frustrated by his own subservient position among Cylons, who took a sick pleasure from bossing Felix around as his personal secretary. And as if dozens of daily menial tasks well under his actual qualification, having to jump on every call of a petty little machine, and an occasional, thankfully cold, cup of coffee thrown in his face wasn't enough, Five obviously got his ideas about the human society from old movies and decided that slapping Felix's ass would be a proper way of interaction given their jobs and status. It wasn't that bad, nowhere near to what was happening to others, and Felix bit his tongue and let it happen. But when Five was called back to the Basestar after a couple of weeks, he couldn't deny it made it a little easier to breathe.
He knew - everyone knew - about Four and the way he acted around his patients. It was more of a total disregard for others' comfort than anything actively malicious, but still. Felix avoided him as much as possible, going to Cottle's office when he could or just powering through any sickness when he couldn't. It took a fainting spell on the Colonial One to be forced to visit Simon. And yes, it was nice to be finally treated by someone with access to actual medicine. But his hands lingered just a little bit too long in places that had nothing to do with his condition, and he made comments that sounded innocent until you thought about them for more than a second. Felix felt like scratching his own skin off afterwards.
Two. Two was different, and in some ways harder to deal with. He wasn't juvenile like Five or selfishly ignorant like Four. When he decided to get close with someone, it meant he was getting interested. There were stories of people who caught the interest of a Two. They usually went missing pretty soon. So when a Two touched him for the first time - catching his chin lightly to have a look at a bruise on his face and asking, calmly, Who did this to you? , he broke down crying. The good thing was that between his hysterical sobbing, he never gave away the name of the person who attacked him. The bad thing was that the Two truly never left him alone. He was always near, alway gentle and careful, treating Felix like a skittish animal.
It was around this time his worst nightmares started.
And while specific Cylons came and went, their touch was permanent, staining his skin and his mind so deep any scrubbing would sooner draw blood than let him forget. Until any defenses he still had left crumbled away, leaving behind raw nerves. Until he flinched every time someone even got close to him.
Until one of the Sixes put hand on his arm, unthinking, while looking over his shoulder into the papers he was working on.
"Don't touch me!"
For a second, he forgot that she can kill him with one of her slender hands, or that she can let him spend the rest of his life in prison. He just felt his heart beating desperately in his ears and the heat of her palm even through his shirt.
She'd caught his arm before he could hit her. She looked into his face like she could find an answer to something very important there. She smiled, mouth sharp like a wound. "I would never tell you had this in you, little mouse," she whispered: "so much bravery." Then, her fingers clenched on his wrist. Bones creaked and broke.
She left and he stayed kneeling on the floor, arm cradled to his chest, unsure how he is even alive.