Addison wakes. The world has changed.
Location: Sickbay, //Vanguard//
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1142
It's been...what...a day, two, it's hard to piece together the time, since the return to the Vanguard, for Abigail Walker. The team came back close to the point of exhaustion, though none of them would complain about the added burden of three precious human lives. Two of the prisoners were retained by the Picon Navy, ferried to safety by Sergeant Reynolds. But one, is it selfish to say the most important one, had been brought back to the Vanguard. Any other result would have been unthinkable. But there was no happy reunion, no joyful tears or warm embraces. Only Addison, finally collapsing as he exhausted the last of his strength, and the team from sickbay ferrying him off to evaluate and tend to his ills. The wait, until they would allow her to sit at his side seemed interminable. When Abigail was finally allowed to see her brother, whether of his own devices or because they've sedated him to allow his body to heal, Addison Walker had been and continued to be...asleep. As the hours have worn on, some of that has been reflected in Abigail, as she's sat, completely motionless, completely silent, in a chair pulled close to the side of her brother's bed, head resting on the edge of the mattress, hand lightly clasped around his wrist, the positioning just so...so that she can feel his pulse, the slow and steady beating of his heart.
It had been a harrowing time, that much is certain. Addison's exhaustion and collapse had come from several sources. Mal-nutrition for one, over working for another. But in some ways it was relief, letting all the constant vigilance and adrenaline of the past months finally relax. To be at a near constant state of awareness had taken it's toll and finally his body is able to say 'rest' which he does for some time. Nearly 32 hours of rest, an IV to sustain him with essential fluids. The Doctor's suggestion, let him rest. His body needs it. And so he had...
Slowly however, now, his eyes start to pry open dim in their color compared to their normal vibrancy, dazed and confused. His memories a jumble of barely awake moments over the past two days. Visitors, voices, none of it making sense to his mind. Lips part to speak and instead he just breaks into a dry coughing fit.
Abigail, having become attuned to her brother, not only over these thirty-two hours, but over a lifetime, raises her head, instantly alert as she feels the tension of consciousness in him. Her hand releases his wrist, the cough bringing her to her feet, "Addy." She doesn't say anything else, doesn't ask him what he needs. She knows. A few steps brings her over to the rolling table they've left for her, the pitcher of ice water, the swab, in case he can't hold down a sip, "Yes." An answer to a unvoiced question.
The water is taken, from the cup with a slow sip that is sputtered after a moment and then he shakes his head once more. Eyes still glazed over as he speaks quietly. The word is but a whisper dry and harsh but quite understandable to his twin. "How?" It is the only muttering he can make at that moment before going for more water.
Abigail helps, holding the water, pulling it back, so as not to spill, and then offering it again, as Addison needs. "I found out less than two weeks ago, what had happened to you. I spoke to Colonel Ryan, our CO. He authorized a mission for recon, and to find you." And they did. "Long story. Here you are." A smile, a faint one, sad, not happy, "I'm sorry, Addy."
To describe his expression as confused would be an understatement. Utterly lost and at sea without a rudder for so long has left him less than secure in what is or is not reality at times. "I don't understand." He finally mutters the words around the water before sipping more, the first fresh water he's had since he can remember. "Where are we?"
Abigail, settling in on the edge of Addison's bed, the edge of her hip just brushing against his arm, as, well, he's still a fairly decent sized man on a small bed, so budging over would usually be the thing. In his condition, though, well. "This is the Vanguard. A pause, as she continues, "Of course, you wouldn't have gotten my letter. This is a cutter, we run special ops, with the Colonial Forces. I've been assigned here."
Addison shakes his head after a moment. "No... you were still with ordinance disposal." He reaches up to touch his head a bit, as if his temple can be rubbed into awareness and understanding. "Six months?" He asks it, that was his time table that he was able to piece together for how long he was out.
Abigail nods, her own fingers reaching out to touch Addison's temple, to drift down to his cheek. If it seems like some fever dream to him, no less for his twin, who likely still can't believe the Fates have been so kind, "Yes, six months. I'm sorry, Addy, I didn't know. No one would--" She breaks off. Now isn't the time to tell him all of that. "But I came for you." As soon as she knew, "You're safe. I promise."
There's a slight release of his shoulders, some tension that was there fading momentarily, "Safe..." He whispers, eyes half lidded before opening again and blinking to fight to remain there, glancing around. "How long have I been out?" He asks it, only now really letting his gaze settle deeply on Abigail, drinking in his sister's presence.
"Yes. Safe." Abigail, positioned as she is, on his right side, allows her hand to drift down, touching his forearm. Not quite perfect, but enough that his half of their tattoo comes close enough to make it possible to see the single strand the two halves form. "Thirty-hours, give or take. You were...you are still in pretty bad shape. But you have the best care here." A smile, faint, as she meets her twin's eyes, her gaze filled with everything she hasn't said, or perhaps doesn't need to say. "If you need to rest...I'm not leaving. I promise, I'll be here."
Slowly Addison nods and he swallows a bit, looking for the water once more. More fluid and then he speaks in his voice that is still raspy but growing slowly in strength. "Bring me..." He pauses, then tries again. "Tell me everything I've missed." A rather large breadth of topics could be covered, but his hand moves to take Abby's in his, giving a weak but reassuring squeeze.
"Well," Abigail begins, returning the squeeze, before she intertwines her fingers with his, her free hand cover their joined ones, "Six months...so the Colonies came together, formed the Colonial Forces, you might have been there for that. Started building these massive ships, Battlestars, they call them, there are three now. Bigger than any ships we have to date. To fight the big cylon basestars. They've been gathering troops from the colonies to pad out their forces. Doing good work, fighting on Tauron, Canceron, helping to push the cylons back pretty well. Going to all the trouble spots, mostly. I was still with the ICJPK, doing EOD, as you know," which is why it was a surprise to her to see how badly Picon had degenerated, "I got orders to report to the Vanguard about a month ago. They needed someone who could do EOD, Salvage, Rescue. They're a new thing...a special ops team, the Timber Wolves, pilots and marines, that are working out of this cutter. Going to all of the worst places. Led by a Colonel Ryan, raptor pilot." A beat, "Bree's here too."
Addison's eyes blink and he tilts his head towards Abby then, "Bree's here? They took both of you? Does this ship have some kind of death wish?" The most words he's strung together, all given with a smile. It is still weak and not quite right given his features, but it is closer. It looks better in that moment than the ones previous.
Abigail manages a laugh, at that, genuine, and full enough, perhaps, for the moment, for both of them, "Yes, I thought the same thing. She's still amazed they let me handle explosives." She pauses, considering, "It was through Bree, that I found out what happened to you. Her Pop found out, told her as soon as he did, she told me. I told the Colonel." Her hand, the one not intertwined with his, rubs lightly, as if warming him, or just...feeling him. His reality, his presence. "Can I get you anything besides water?"
Addison shakes his head slowly, "No... just the water. I missed water." He says softly as his eyes blink closed for a moment then open again to look at Abby. "I knew you'd come. That you would find me, or that I'd escape and find you. Always knew. Knew you were safe."
Abigail's eyes fall, as Addison's eyes close, and she lifts his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, turning her face to rest his fingers against her cheek, before she looks back, eyes settling on his face, still, always, so like her own, a perfect mirror, save for the vagaries of gender, "You need a shave." Something normal, some small bit of humour, in all of this, "I will always come for you, Addison. Always. Nothing would ever keep me away." A tilt of her head, "I was so afraid. But I never felt you leave." They've always believed, fiercely, that each would know, if the other were gone.
They've always believed that, yes. Known it in their souls that if one part was missing the other would start to fade. Addison looks up at Abigail and nods, "No reason to be afraid. Not going to let some over blown microwaves get the better of us. We're too strong." His hand manages a squeeze again before he sinks back towards the pillows. "I don't want to be tired..."
"You were always the strong one, Addison. With your wings." Strong enough to fly the coop and escape in a way Abigail, feet on the ground, never quite managed. But, perhaps, now, with age and experience, they've both found strength enough to be who they have to be for each other. A small smile, at Addison's protest against the need for sleep, and Abigail rises, releasing his hand, a slight nudge at his hip, before she climbs onto the bed to lie with him, cradling her twin, the two of them together, the shape of them, an echo going as far back as the womb. Always, when they needed comfort, finding it in this closeness.