| Twins are Not the Devil |
| Summary: | Sawyer and Cidra visit Wade at the Recovery Room. The conversation jumps from one point to the other. |
| Date: | 19 Feb 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Recovery Room |
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| A much more quiet area of Medical, this elongated room is also lined with beds. Each is similarly outfitted with privacy curtains as necessary and even the paint on the walls has been lightened in an attempt to help lift spirits. Chairs are readily available all over the place so that visitors can pull one up to talk to the patients during their recovery. Near the entrance, visiting hours are posted with a very conspicuous 'No Smoking' sign. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #358 |
Boring. That's what being stuck in Sickbay is, bloody, damn, boring. Wade has received a couple visitors, so this really helps a little bit. Right now however, the man is alone. It seems that his bandages have been changed just recently, and he also just took his medication. Lucky for him, the medication doesn't make him sleepy or anything like that; we are talking about light painkillers and stuff to prevent infection on his wounds. He is laying on the bed, idly looking at the monitor that tracks his hear rate. Is he looking for something? Not really. His right arm is completely covered with bandages and his hand is even more covered.
"Knock knock." Lacking anything to actually rap her knuckles against, Sawyer has to opt for the verbal onamonapia there of. A finger draws aside the curtain, and the blonde tilts her head into the void created, beaming the injured man a smile. "Gelatin delivery." And true to her word, a hand holding a dish of orange jello is produced, the cubes wiggle and waggling with the motion.
"Well, there's my favorite blonde" says Wade when he sees her. He smiles at Sawyer and chuckles softly "Sawyer, come on in…" Now he looks at the jello when she mentions it and "Oh? I must be the luckiest man of the universe" He tries to adjust himself a little but winces when he moves his arm in not the best way, however, it's not overly painful. "How are you? I've been wondering when I would see you again, I know you are busy and all"
"Aw, now you're just laying it on a little too thick to believe. And it's supposed to be /me/ asking /you/ how /you/ feel. Not the other way around." The journalist carefully positions herself on the foot of the bed, mindful of his limbs and the equipment that's hooked up to him. Dutifully, she hands over the gelatin. "So what's the prognosis?" IE: Will you heal?
"Is that so?" asks the man about Sawyer's first words, smiling a little at that. "Well, you can of course ask me how I am, but I am interested in how you are as well you know?" When she hands over the jello, he takes it and rests the bowl on his lap, taking the spoon with his left hand. It does take him a moment to actually get some jello in said spoon without it falling "Frak…" mutters the man, shaking his head. He finally manages to get it and has a taste "Tastes good…did you made it?" asks the man, looking at her with a smile. "Well, let's see. The thing that suffered the most was my hand, nerve and muscle damage. They say that, with physical therapy, I can recover completely but only time will tell" He nods to this "I just want to go back to out there, fly my Viper"
"It sounds like that won't be for a while. You need to consider a hobby, like…" Seems Sawyer's having trouble fishing for one that doesn't require both hands. "Anyways." She waves off that thread of conversation, "Did I make the gelatin? You're looking at a girl that could burn water. I'm afraid my cooking abilities don't really extend past cereal. You'll have to thank the mess hall for that one."
"While it sounds that way, I'll make sure that it doesn't…" says Wade, getting some more jello. Now, he chuckles at the lack of hobby options but makes no comment about it "Well, in that case, I'll thank you for bringing it to me…how does that sound" He shows a very faint smile and then adds "But Sawyer, you still haven't replied my question." Ah yes, she knows he does that. "How are you?" The man takes a deep breath and looks at his arm, trying to see if his finger movement has improved.
Sawyer is seated on the edge of Wade's bed, having just brought the poor man some gelatin. Her hands are folded primly in her lap, but there is undoubtedly some familiarity between her and the man, else she might have opted for a chair. "You ever hear the term 'writer's block'? Well I think I've got it in epic spades. Seems to always coincide with Condition One or Two and all my friends getting shot to shit. It's bad for Press, you know? They should be churning now, not gathering dust."
Wade is currently half sitting on the bed, with a bowl of jello on his lap. He uses his left hand and is doing…not the greatest job of all time, but at least he gets to eat. His right arm is completely covered with bandages, and it seems that his hand has even more, so it could be said that it's the one with the most damage. "Writer's block, yeah." says Wade, nodding at this. He smiles a little and adds "I knew you cared about me" The man chuckles and finally clears his throat "What were you writing about? The Raider attacks and all that?" He bites on his lower lip and shakes his head "You know…being stuck here is…it's definitely not good for me, I can't, not do something"
Cidra slips into the Recovery Room. In her flight suit, helmet under her arm, though the general un-mussed look about her suggests she hasn't been up in the cockpit proper in awhile. She spots Wade and approaches him and Sawyer, though she does not immediately announce her presence to the pair of them.
"Who said anything about you?" Sawyer teases lightly, the smile on her lips betraying the folly. "I was right in the middle of a piece about the brutal beating for a man named Mangus on the Elpis. I have to get my shit together and get it published before it seriously becomes old news. Now, I'm even getting anonymous threats about it. Wee. Fun, I tell you."
Wade laughs softly and nods at her first words "I knew you loved me" He winks at her and then puts a more serious expression "I've heard about that, poor guy, nobody deserves a beating like that. Specially with a Marine included? That's just frakked up" What does make him narrow his eyes is her last comment "Threats? What do they say? They don't want that article written?" THere is evident worry in his eyes at this moment. He looks up for a moment and spots, who he thinks is Cidra. The man tilts his head "Toast?"
"Threats?" Cidra echoes Wade, tone composed but with audible concern. "Tensions are running high on this ship and in the Fleet, moreso than they have been in a long while. It bodes will." All that in lieu of a proper 'hello.'
Sawyer cranes around to spy the arrival of the CAG harolded by Wade, offering the woman a smile that's two shades short of wry. "Nothing to concern anyone with." She tells Wade absently while her eyes tick tock across Cidra's face as if trying to suss out some hidden story without really asking any questions. "Should…I…go?" She looks between the two, that smile growing.
"I…" says Wade now, looking from Cid to Sawyer "No, I don't see why you should go, Sawyer" says the man, smiling at that. Hey, he's the sick one here, he gets to decided that. Right? Right. His attention moves to Cidra and he smiles at her "Good to see you here, Toast. I hope it's not because of an injury of course" He nods to this and then looks at Sawyer again "Sawyer, you can't really prevent me from being worried about you…" he shrugs "Just saying"
"Not at all. This is a personal call, as it were," Cidra replies, pulling up a chair. "And I am well enough. It was you I was concerned for, Drips. How is the arm getting along?" Sawyer's wry response earns a wry look in return, and faintly arched brows. "It has been far too long since we saw one another anymore, Sawyer. I pray it is not because threats dog you on this ship." The other woman's smile is meant with a vaguely puzzled look, head tilted, all of rather bird-like quizzicalness.
"You know, I couldn't say what it was that kept me away. I admit, I've been holed up a bit, chasing stories and following leads. Having minor personal crises. It's a good thing I have clearance to be on the Cerberus during Condition Two, or it'd have been a lot longer before I've seen the lot of you." Sawyer shifts so that both of her feet are back on the ground, now just leaning against the bed. "So is it true then? The rumor mills have churned up the juicy nugget that the two of you are romantically involved." Nothing like just pointing out the elephant in the room.
Wade looks at Cidra and nods to the woman, looking at his arm afterwards "Um, well, the Doctors said that they managed to save the arm, but that the hand suffered heavy nerve and muscle damage. They said only time will tell that if will completely recover but, if I do physical therapy and all, it can happen. And I'll be damned if I don't make that happen, I refuse the idea of not being able to fly anymore…frak that" Yes, there is definite determination "I won't leave the Fighting Fourteenth alone" The man narrows his eyes at this and then shakes his head, looking at Sawyer again. There is an amused smile on his lips and he looks at Cidra now "Don't you love all the efforts she makes to drive conversations into other subjects?" He looks at Sawyer again and takes a deep breath "It's not true, I appeared at the Berths…drugged and…Toast was kind enough to lend me her bunk because I was obviously going to fall from mine"
It said the CAG is an inscrutable creature at times. This is not one of those times. Cidra's features go through a range of reaction. Blink blink blink, confusion. Squint, thoughtfulness. Glance over at Wade, more confusion, followed by an assessing sort of look and shake of her head. "Ah…" Slow dawning realization. And then a laugh. Short, "Hahaha, goodness, no!" chuckles that might not be strictly complimentary. She takes a moment to stop chuckling, nodding at Wade's explanation. "Quite so. My bunk is a lower one, and he was having difficulty climbing the ladder to his own, in his state. I slept in the chapel that eve."
A nurse pops her head into the bay that Wade and his guests occupy, "Miss Averies? The doctor will see you now." The journalist slides off the bed, "More's the pity." She tells them both, "Will you excuse me?" Seems Sawyer had ulterior motives for coming to the sick bay, and visiting Wade was just a happy coincidence.
Wade observes the CAG for a moment, not really able to see through her walls so, not being able to define what's going through her mind. He nods in silence after she provides extra details but finally, his attention moves back to Sawyer "Doctor's appointment?" asks the man now, arching both eyebrows "Eh…sure, sure. Will you come back here afterwards? If not, thank you for stopping by, Sawyer" says Wade, smiling at that.
"I shall see you later, then," Cidra says, brows arching at Sawyer again with vague concern. But she lets the reporter go to be prodded in whatever fashion she's scheduled. Then attention back to Wade. "Well. Concentrate on the physical therapy, Drips, and do what your physicians tell you. Quickest way to get back on the line is to follow the orders of your doctors. Straining only prolongs recovery."
Wade offers a soft smile to Sawyer, she probably won't be back, she knows questions will be waiting for her. His attention goes back to Cidra and he nods to her "I will, even when I don't like what they are saying…" he takes a deep breath and sighs heavily "I just can't /not/ go back to the Vipers…I /can't/. And being out is making me things about things that…" he shakes his head and rubs his fingers over his eyes "I've been meaning to talk to you, Toast…there's…" he clears his throat "There's something I want to show you…"
"Do not think the worst, Drips. I know it is difficult, but it does no good to put a harsher face on reality than truly exists," Cidra says. Though at his last question she quiets. "Hmm? What is it?"
Wade nods in silence, listening to Cidra "I won't let it become that, Toast." he nods again and swallows. Yeah, he is pretty sure of that, he'll work his ass off to get back in flight capable status. "Well..umm…" starts the man, looking around the place. He lowers his voice and says "With more free time, I start thinking about..you know, the dream and…everything I told you I was afraid of?" You know, of being a Cylon and stuff like that. It could scare anyone. "There's something else that feeds this…worry, I have and…I want to show it to you, but it is my hope that you don't see me differently after this" He knows he's not a Cylon, deep inside, he knows it. But this still freaks him out a little. The man digs for something underneath his pillow, a picture. He looks at Cidra again and shows a very faint smile as he hands it over. The picture itself, has four people. A woman in her mid Forties, a man in his mid to late Fifties and two other men, and they look /exactly/ the same. The only difference is that one of them is wearing glasses, the one that doesn't, is Wade.
Cidra's brows do another of those slight arches when Wade says he needs to show her something. But at the appearance of the picture she nods, reaching out to take it. She looks at it a beat, though she seems puzzled by its import. "Your family? They have the look of good people, I presume because you came from them. What of this alarms you?"
Wade nods to her "Yes, my parents, my brother Derek, and myself" says the man now. He tilts his head, looking at her as if he doesn't understand what his worry is "Well, there's the mix between those dreams, and the fact that I have a monozygotic twin. You know…many copies and all?" Perhaps it's nothing, perhaps he is over thinking things…but the fact is that, the addition of all that has him a little worried.
"The dreams? Ah…" Cidra mutters that soft. "Drips, we have spoken of this often. I do not know what to make of them myself, but I do not believe you, or Hosedown, or Sawyer Averies, or that little slip of a snipe, to be Cylons. And you did share it with them all. I believe you have been given a gift. Perhaps to the aid of us all, though I know not what it portends. As for that." A shake of her head. "Do you think your parents made you a pair of skinjobs? Twins are considered a very good omen on Gemenon. And they are natural enough. Do you think all who ever had a twin brother or sister to be inhuman things?"
"We have, and I don't intend to bother you with…" starts Wade but then she continues so he just nods and listens to the rest. "No, of course I don't think that. No, not at all…I…" he shakes his head and looks at the picture that Toast is holding "I loved my family, very much. My brother and I, had a special connection, you know? I've read that it happens to all Twins and…" He presses his lips together. Yep, the loss of a Twin sucks pretty badly. The loss of the entire family, even more. "No, not inhuman things." He takes a deep breath "I just wish I could understand that these dreams mean. I want to understand, so I can know what I have to do…to help us, to help us accomplish whatever it is we need to accomplish."
"The gods speak to us in many small ways, Drips, but rarely ones which we entirely understand. Most often, Their meanings unfold themselves over time," Cidra says. "I feel we are being shown a path, one we perhaps cannot see clearly just yet, but there is one before us if we are wise enough to take it when the moment comes. I pray we have that wisdom. I pray for many things. But in my prayers, are never doubts those such as you are human." She shrugs. "Spiral would call it unwise of me. But. I will not be ruled by paranoia. There are spies on this ship. That I believe. But I trust those I fly with. I know no other way to live but to trust the lot of you."
"I want to take that path" says the man "I want to walk the distance and see what's at the end, because I'm sure it's something that can help us. I don't know how, or in what way…but I do know that" adds Wade, looking at Cidra as he speaks. He shows a faint smile when she says she doesn't think he's a Cylon "Thank you, Toast" And now, when the topic of Spiral is touched, he says "Spiral is…a good man, I think. Definitely a prick. But a man that is suffering just like us, but his ideas are driven by…" and then she says Paranoia "Yes, exactly. And that can be fatal." Now, he clears his throat "I do believe the same and…sometimes I think about Abbot, and I wonder if we are doing things correctly." He looks at Toast now and he says "Toast, do you know if he was really a Cylon? I never knew the man, but I have no solid proof that he was..none, at all" He rubs his fingers over his chin and shrugs "You know, perhaps he was…perhaps he was a Cylon…"
"Spiral is a good stick, and when he flies he cares deeply for those on his wing," Cidra says. "For what he is on the ground…well. We are all us flaws and filled with vice. Yet when we pull together and fly…we are glory for a moment, and there is no Wing of pilots I would rather have with me at the end of the worlds." As for Abbot, she falls quiet a beat. Thinking on that. "What I think is this. When that tape returned from Leonis showing him leading Centurions, suggesting he was a skinjob, Major Tillman said he must be removed from command. And I agreed. There *was* a spy in CIC, that much had become clear by the way the Cylons tracked us and knew our plan to return to Leonis. We had to recover our lost people, and could not do that with Abbot in command. I supported his removal and would do so again. The evidence weighed convinced a jury he was a Cylon, beyond a reasonable doubt. But do I know, Drips? Am I sure in my heart of hearts?" Another pause. "No. I do not think we can ever be. All we can do is pray justice was served. And if it was not, pray to gods for their forgiveness."
"Oh, I don't deny he's a good stick, nor that he cares about the ones he flies with" says Wade about Spiral, nodding at that. And, he'll leave that topic at that. Now, he listens to Cidra's words on Abbot and nods from time to time, as if understanding the /why/ behind things. "And we still have Cylon Agents on board…we still do, I'm certain of that" says Wade now, taking a deep breath "I don't know if it is a Spy in CIC or….you know, wherever…but there's something definitely going on and people can tell. Something needs to be done. While I am a supporter of doing things, calmly. I think whoever is running the investigation is doing nothing…or doing things in a very slow, very unproductive fashion." Now, at the last, he nods "So say we all, forgiveness for our mistakes."
"Intelligence keeps things close. How the investigation is progressing I do not know. Only that all things on this ship are watched carefully. Perhaps Abbot *was* the agent aboard. Or perhaps they have merely gone quiet after his death, or are manipulating the attacks that follow daily at our heels now. I do not know. It is the not knowing that makes things grow in one's mind." And unsettles Cidra, it seems, though she tries not to let it show overmuch. "Well. We shall keep fighting. That is the most we can do. Heal yourself and get back to us soon. You shall be much missed on the line."
"I guess…" says Wade, about the entire "Intel is keeping things close" Yep, he doesn't ask anymore around that subject. "I will, Cidra, I promise…" He smiles a little "Oh, by the way." He pulls a laptop that is currently placed next to his bed and sets it up on his lap. He pushes the disk tray button and it opens up, apparently having a mechanical way of doing that without having the computer turned on. There's a disk there, and he takes it, offering it to her afterwards. "It's a compilation of my gun cameras, in particular during the Mine assignment. I think that it could help the Deck to apply the Modifications to my Viper…" he smiles to that "I rely a lot on speed, straight forward speed and accurate targeting, either visual or assisted. But I like to be able to control the bird in a way that it'll do what I need for it to do, when I need it. Fast reaction. Makes sense?"
"Quick and on point, but absent fancy rolls, perhaps?" Cidra suggests. "Something of a median between Spiral and Bubbles. Bubbles is a bruiser. Aggressive flyer. Fearless, to the point of leaving herself open at times. Lieutenant Ellinon is all of spot turns and aerobatics. Rather pretty to watch, really…" She clears her throat, and takes the CD. "I shall have it delivered. None of the birds shall likely be pulled from the rotation until these swarm attacks are ended. Too many are getting battered, we need to rotate what can be flown among all the pilots. But is there any Viper you would prefer, when we do undertake modifications? Bubbles has picked one of the Vipers we recovered from our mission upon Leonis. Spiral wants to have one of the old Petrels modded - one of our Mark Twos." The idea vaguely amuses her, it seems, though she does smile when she says it.
Wade runs his fingers over his chin "I'm not sure. I mean…I know speed for me is important /very/ important. But I need maneuverability, you know? Perhaps a healthy mix between those two…but is it wise?" he goes silent "Spank knew…we were both speed devils" he chuckles at this "That's what we were called once. Yes, speed and maneuverability, fast reaction times on the systems and I'll do the rest with the cannons" Yep, yep… "I mean, what do you think? You've seen me fly and all" he smiles a little and then arches both eyebrows "One of the birds from Leonis? Are those being used at the moment?" And he smiles at the last "A Mark II? That's pretty badass if you ask me, those birds were pretty awesome. I used to fly them, back in Flight School and with the Swords. They put me in a Mark VII as soon as I set foot in Chimaera" He tilts his head "What can I use?"
"The Twos are highly durable. Reason the Fleet still bothers to keep them in rotation," Cidra says. "As to what you can use, any bird you feel most comfortable with. That is the goal of all this. To make the pilot and the plane one instrument, all the more in tune with one another. The birds we retrieved from Leonis are still on rotation, certainly. That mission would have been a poor thing on our part if they were not." Faintest of smiles as he speaks of Spank. "I think all of us develop 'quirks' in flight, both for good or for ill. Pray we do not come to rely too heavily upon our strengths and also to account for our weaknesses."
"Mh…point there, highly durable. But the Mark VII is very strong as well, otherwise there's no point in having them." says Wade to Cidra as they discuss this matter "You know, I shouldn't even be thinking what can I choose. I know what I want" He nods firmly at that and says "Nebula-Six-Six-Two-Bravo" the man smiles after saying that. This has been his bird since he got to Cerberus, became his favorite and he is not going to leave her behind. She's going to get major overhaul and he's going to see that she shines out there, fighting Cylons. "Do we get custom paint jobs?" asks the man with an amused smile "You said it yourself, a Viper Cohort" the man chuckles and takes a deep breath "Yeah, that's the one I want."
Cidra grins, ever so slight. "I think they could do with some nose art," she says, standing. "Anyhow, I shall have it marked for you, when the time comes to modify these. You shall fly it soon enough." Of that she sounds quite confident. "Now, get some rest. Be well, Drips, listen to your doctors and return to us whole and healed."
Wade smiles at her first words "Yeah, that'll be pretty badass…" there's youth to his words, as if really liking the idea. "Thank you Toast; I really fell in love with that bird. I know they are all the same but, you know…" he shrugs with a smile "I assume that my Constellation-Three-Two-Eight-Xray was lost. I wish I could see her again; she was the one I had in Chimaera. My two loves" He smiles at this and then looks at the woman "I will, I'll rest and go through Physical Therapy, to get better. Thank you for coming by Toast, visits make days a lot less difficult."
"We all do as we can," Cidra says. And with that, off she goes.