Geoff gets some visitors in Sick Bay. Lyn and Erin bandy about terrible new callsigns for him.
Location: Sick Bay -- Vanguard
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1049
There are still a number of bodies here after the heavy fighting the other night. Geoff is one of them, and one of the worst off. He's hardly moved since the day before, flat on his back, bandaged extensively on his chest, abdomen, and right arm, and somewhat on his head. His color isn't great, and he's hooked up to monitors and IV drips. But he's alive, and there aren't any tubes in his throat. All the machines are making the noises they ought to be making. It's a quiet moment, but Geoff doesn't seem asleep. His eyes are open.
Lyn makes her way into the bay, looking not much better than when she checked herself out of it yesterday evening. She's not exactly dressed to regulation, because getting the off-duty tee shirt on with one useable arm and a boatload of stitches wasn't happening. She's got the darker tank on, though, with sweats, because sweats don't require buttoning or zippering. She also looks like she could probably use a shower, but figuring out how to manage that without getting her stitches wet just made her head hurt more, and she gave up and used wipes from her long-range recon kit.
Arda has something in one hand, looks like a music player with earphones, as she makes a bee line for Geoff's bay. She keeps her eyes focused, not looking around, not wanting to see what might be happening in another bay. "Hey kid," she greets, kicking a chair over to his bedside with one foot. "How is the ceiling doing today?" Since he's flat on his back.
"Huh?" Geoff asks, then focuses his eyes on Lyn. He's still heavily medicated. "You up already? Should you be? Wait...was I out for...a long time?"
"Day two since that toaster with a clear crush on you added all sorts of shiny bits to your body, Courtois. I got out last night. Still feel like ass, but they wouldn't let me nap in the comfier sick bay beds any longer. I was relegated back to my hard, lumpy rack." Lyn says it with a forced smile as she looks at all the ouch that makes up the Marine. "Morpha doing its job I hope? If not I'll gladly take it off your hands, because one of those frakkers rang my bell, AGAIN." She points to the bandages on her head. "They seem to want to unpretty this already ugly mug."
"Can't imagine what it'll feel like when they stop the drugs," Geoff says with a thin smile. "But they make you hazy, too. Have I been saying anything stupid?"
"No idea, kid. I was out for a good half a day myself, then in and out for the rest of my stay," Lyn admits. Then she seems to remember she brought him something. "I thought you might be really bored, and since you were singing at that celebration in the tent city, I thought you might like music to listen to." She holds up the small music player. "Not sure you'll appreciate my taste in music, but I thought it might be better than nothing?"
Geoff opens his eyes a little more than the half-mast position they tend to rest at on the morpha. "Hey, that's really nice," he says, touched. "It's /so/ boring stuck like this, but...hey, thank you."
Lyn smiles wanly and she sets the player where he can reach it without having to move more than a finger. She threads the earphones up and just puts one into one ear, so he can hear out of the other easily when the player is off. "It's a lot of classic rock, mostly from Aquaria, and maybe some horribly mushy songs I had on then from," she grimaces, "a long time ago."
Geoff smiles again, biting his lower lip. "Bet a lot of it's new to me," he says. "That's great. I owe you one. Really. How you feeling?"
Lyn's smile fades. "Been better," she admits, although the worst of her pain is emotional, not physical. "But I'll heal. Just annoyed that I can't use my primary shooting arm for a few more days." She dips her chin towards her sling-bound right arm. "And I may need to get some tattoos to cover some of these scars I'm going to have. One of those damned cylons brought a knife to a gun fight, and I swear to the gods he was trying to carve me like a roast turkey."
Geoff looks at Lyn for a moment. "It'll heal right," he says softly. "You'll be nailing everything again in no time." He pulls his head forward to look down at the bandages on his chest and stomach. "I guess I'm gonna be scarred up pretty bad, huh?"
"Maybe we need to get matching Timber Wolves tattoos. Everyone else who got shot to hell at that castle too. Our own special mission remembrance ink," Lyn suggests. "I think the Doc and the prisoners were the only ones who got out mostly unscathed."
"I would get a tattoo with you," Geoff says with a faint smile. "I'm glad Cate didn't get hurt much. Probably kept the rest of us from bleeding out."
"Pretty sure she did, along with Bub-um, Ingvar," Lyn says, quickly stopping herself from using Jonas' old nickname. Somehow they got us all on the evac raptor. I think Chilly and Charlie checked themselves out of here pretty quick. Everyone else was still in here when I checked out." She tilts her head slightly. "They tell me you never actually lost consciousness, kid. Looking at you now, that's kind of a miracle. You might get a new callsign out of it."
"Yeah, I remember one of 'em was trying to get out past the preacher..." Geoff says vaguely, gaze drifting to the door. Then he looks back at Lyn. "I don't remember," he says. "I remember looking at Jayne, and then...I saw myself get shot..."
Lyn's eyes drop at the mention of Jayne. "It was a rocket, I think, that got Jayne. He was a tough bugger. It'd take something like that to put him down." She sighs. "I hate this frakking war. It's ruined so many lives." Hers included. Well, the parts she didn't destroy all on her own. "You need some water? Ice chips?" she asks.
"I could use some water," Geoff says, and indeed he seems more somber, too. "It's...a pretty bad war," is all he can think of to say.
"It's a gods-damned stupid war," Lyn grumbles as she eases herself out of the chair gingerly, to get him a water glass and a fresh straw. "We don't even know why they hate us, or how they turned against their programming. Frakking robots! It makes no sense." She brings the glass to his bedside and holds the straw for him to sip.
Geoff reaches to take it with his left hand since that arm is less injured. "I don't think I ever did anything to a frakking robot," he mutters.
"Me either. We didn't use them much outside of basic chores around Arctic Station Thula. They were testing some with mods for the cold and navigating the snow being so heavy and all, to help with search and rescue, but I don't think we abused them," Lyn says quietly. She sets the glass down nearby when he's done with it. "I miss the before times. I miss my old life before this war. I miss my home." Two years ago, Aquaria was completely taken over and evacuated.
Geoff nods once while he drinks through a straw. "I wish they'd just frakkin' quit. I mean, can they just keep building more of themselves or what?"
"No clue, kid. I guess we need the scientists to figure out the why and the how of it all. My mom is probably working on it as we speak. She's on Libran with a lot of other Aquarian refugees." Probably? Does Lyn not know what her own mother is doing?
"Your mom, huh," Geoff replies, nodding. "She smart?" He puts the water aside.
"Very, but she's a geophysicist so I'm not entirely sure how much help she'll be. She knows magnetics and electrical stuff though. I clearly took after dad." Lyn smiles a little at that, sadly.
Geoff lets out a thin, careful laugh. "What's your dad like then?" he asks. He still looks about as bad as he did yesterday, all bandaged and doped up. But that is no surprise.
Lyn is settled in a chair at Geoff's bedside, talking quietly. She looks like hell, with her right arm in a sling, and bandages on her head, arm, chest, and abdomen, but she's not in a bed so that's something. She has on sweatpants and her off duty tank, but has forgone trying to get her tee shirt on because of all the stitches pulling when she tries.
At Geoff's question, Arda looks a little stricken. "He is, he was, the toughest man I ever knew, and my hero. He was Aquarian Militia, and the best damned search and rescue man on the planet. Lost him at Heim," she says in a hollow tone. It was the beginning of the end of her happiness, that event.
"Sorry," Geoff says, closing his eyes. "I don't know what I'm saying. We can talk about something else."
"It's ok. I grieved for him a long time ago. Someone helped me through it," Lyn says softly. "I just really miss him at times like this. I wish I was more like he was. Nothing ever through him for a loop, he just rolled with it and solved the problems as they came at him."
Enter Chilly. She literally sneaks back into the sickbay. Why? Because she's supposed to be in her bed, but hasn't been there since, oh, yesterday. Damned thieves.
"Hey." It looks like she's been listening into the last bit of the conversation. Erin holds out a gift bag, of sorts, to Lyn. It's filled with fruit, packaged sundries, and the best sneakable-food from the cafeteria. "Don't mind me. Thought you two could use some snacks." That aren't made of gelatin. Bleah. "Heim?" asks the Aquarian of the other, as if that inquiry were both common and explanatory.
Geoff seems tired, but healing this many wounds must take a lot of energy. He just blinks slowly at Erin.
"Thanks Chilly," Lyn says softly, peeking into the bag. She hands the bag to Geoff. "I'm just visiting, they let me out last night, but I think our human target here will be staying for a bit." She nods at the mention of the city. "My father went in with SAR right after the bombs hit. He didn't make it out," she explains. "Look, kid, food that isn't green gelatin!" she says to Geoff.
Geoff smiles at Lyn. "I'm not supposed to eat anything until they know my guts won't fall out," he says, offering it back. "You have it. Or somebody else... Ingvar still in here? He seems nice."
Erin seems to understand Lyn. "We were on vacation that day. I was -- " She makes a vague gesture with her hand. " -- in the water. Outside of a waterside cabin we went to every year. And then the bombs came." Beat. "I remember smoke and fire. And the smell." Her tone is flat and even. "Can't really forget that smell."
And then, after a sigh, she shrugs. "Became an orphan that day. Mom and Dad. Sort of put my pursuit of science in perspective." Erin finds a place to lean. "If you want a break, Ghost, I can keep Courtois entertained. You should ask him about the two pilots he was trying to get to dance with him before we shipped out here."
Lyn flinches a bit at the mention of Jonas, and she hands the bag to Erin. "Why don't you go leave that at Walker's bay. She and...Ingvar...can probably use it. " Ouch, her chest hurts and not from the stitches. She sets a hand, the one not attached to the arm in a sling, on Erin's shoulder at the orphan story, Aquarians all have a story like it. Just like they no longer have a real home. She looks back at Geoff though, at her words. "Really. I think I need to hear this dancing story."
Geoff must have heard about the history with Ingvar, but he appears not to have retained it. But the morpha haze is real. He looks up at Lyn. "Huh? Oh. I...was piss drunk, I don't remember what I did."
She moves. "To make a story short, Captain Graystone and I watched as Courtois here tried to impress a couple of young pilots." Erin's lips press and curl into a small smile. "And, I must say: he did. One of them actually went after him. After he'd already left, that is."
"Well good on you, kid! Live it up while you're young. Well maybe not right not, once you're back in working order and all your pieces stop trying to detach themselves." Lyn smiles tiredly. "I was saying Courtois needs a new callsign after this, what do you think, Chilly?"
Geoff looks over at Erin. "And I didn't even get their bunk numbers," He jokes wanly.
Erin lifts an eyebrow, considers the question, and then murmurs, "Meatshield seems too obvious." Obvious, but funny. "What about Chuck? As in 'ground chuck'?" That's enough to elicit a snicker, and a look at Lyn directly. And a grin, teeth showing for just a second.
"I was thinking Zombie, or Shrapnel," Lyn quips. She pats Geoff's less injured hand. "What do you think?"
Geoff also lifts an eyebrow, his expression more doubtful. "I think I don't wanna be called after ground beef," he says. "You're all s'posed to be keeping my spirits /up/, you know."
"We Aquarians have a strange sensibility," replies Erin drolly. She goes back to leaning against wherever she was learning. "And, hey: people call me Chilly." Because she comes off like Miss Frosty-Box, probably. "I'm not exactly a fan, but it isn't up to me."
Then, to Lyn: "I like 'Zombie'."
"And people call me the Ghost, because you don't see me until it's too late. Remember, the Ghost is Watching," Lyn intones in mock threat. Then she smiles a little. "I like Zombie too. We'll float it by the rest of the Marines." She rises then., with a creaking and groaning of all her injured bits. "I need to go handle some stuff, kid. Chilly can keep you from being too bored I think." She pats Erin's shoulder. "You got this?"