Jackson, on Arda business, comes to check in on Abigail. There's no wet, snotty bawling, but there is understanding.
Location: Berthings, //Vanguard//
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1187
It's been a few hours, since Abigail returned from her last mission, but there hasn't been much time to rest. Sleep she did, to the bare minimum, before she began the practical task of mourning her dead. She's in her battle dress, sans vest, of course, perhaps needing the sense of grounding it provides. She's gathered up all of Jonas' clothes, taken them to the laundry, washed all of his things. And now, having brought them back, she's sitting on his bunk packing them into his storage crate. The closest thing that any soldier has to luggage, as it were. Every movement precise, every motion calculated to use as little energy and effort as possible. She needs all of it to keep herself in one piece.
Jackson has a sadly crumpled note in one fist as he makes his way across to Abigail. "Walker right?" he asks. His mannerisms warring between that of someone confident enough to start conversations anywhere, anytime, and that of a man that isn't sure he's going to be at all welcome. "Would you like some company?"
Abigail looks up, from where she's folding one of Jonas' old t-shirts, from his Aquaria days. The man she doesn't know, but the face is familiar enough that she wouldn't be wrong in her guess. There's no mistaking the family resemblance, "You must be Lt. Arda, of course, please." Her tone is as slow and careful as her movements, as she scoots back on the bunk, pulling the crate with her, making room for him to seat himself.
Jackson sits on the far end of the bunk, where he is least in the way and carefully smoothes out the notice he's been holding. "I wanted to make sure you heard from a friend." he says, looking at her with serious green eyes. "Lyn wanted to. She was going to do it but she was worried it might make things worse."
Abigail returns to folding clothes, every piece precisely creased and tucked into the crate, "Heard? If you mean about Jonas...they gave me the AAR yesterday, before we went on mission." Which was probably shit timing...but that's the military for you. "I've been trying to get things ready for Leonie and Lyn since I got back. And you, I suppose. You were his family. I at least owe that much." A shake of her head though, at the comment about Lyn, "I'm not sure how it would have. She loved him long before I did, he was always more hers than he was mine."
"About Jonas" He confirms when she asks. He waits for her to finish speaking before he answers the rest. "That's not how I heard it." He falls quiet, eyes loosing their focus a little as the reality of what actually happened hits him again. "That sounds like shit timing." he adds after a moment, trying a little futiley to lighten the mood a little.
"Well, I'm not sure what it is that you have heard, Lt. But I know how Jonas felt. Even if he was no longer in love with your sister, he still cared for her deeply, and was still deeply invested in her well-being. He tried to mend fences, something he was not terribly good at, and continued to try to reach out to her, not because he wanted to cause her pain, though I believe she thought that was the case, but because he could not stand to see someone that he had known and loved for so long, hurting." Abigail finishes with Jonas' tshirts and starts in on his sweats and hoodies. "I'm certain your sister also believes that I hate her, which I did not nor do I now."
Jackson grimaces. "I wasn't trying to suggest he." another grimace as he retries. "I know he was trying and it was probably my sisters fault that things went to hell the way they did. I just. It wouldn't have been a contest, you know? He might have still felt a lot for her but that. What I heard was that it was you that he was with NOW. He wouldn't have done that if he was still holding a flag for Lyn."
Abigail pauses, as she picks up one of the hoodies Jonas would have work while he was working out. Even washed and cleaned, it still carries a faint trace of his cologne, and for a moment, her expression breaks, and her vision blurs, fingers curling into the soft fabric, "I know that you weren't, and that he didn't. I just hope that your sister knows, that no matter what happened, at the end, and what other feelings they had for each other, anger, hurt, resentment...there was always love there."
"I'll say something." Jackson tells her. "If the situation ever comes up where its right." he looks at her. "She didn't say that you hated each other. Nothing like that. She said that things hadn't always been good between you and that she didn't want to do anything that might hurt you more." he shifts back up to his feet. He doesn't look like he intends to leave it's more that he's a bit antsy thanks to the subject matter. "Would you like me to do this?"
Abigail laughs, though there's no shred of humour, unless it is the bitter sort, in it, "It's right. Is there ever such a thing in this case?" She shakes her head, "She wouldn't hurt me more. I'm grateful that she thought enough of me to want to help me, even if it was by proxy." And then, something much closer to humour, in her smile, "I have, also, in my time, been known to use my brother to intercede on my behalf." She looks at the things she's collecting, "You are welcome to help, if you like. I haven't started on any of the things in his locker, or the things around the bunk."
"I'll do that." Jackson moves to collect some of the things around the bunk. "And we can talk if you like. I'm sorry we didn't meet before today. I would have liked you." he aims a slightly awkward smile at her, although it is obvious he's starting to relax. "Will like you."
"Well, you've only just transferred, and that's not easy for anyone, to get up to speed, especially with the ship underway. And they've been keeping us all terribly busy. I'd reserve judgment, about liking me, until you see me in the field. Even Jonas has trouble with me in the field. One of the last conversations we had, was a disagreement over my decisions on a mission." And that gives Abigail pause, and shake of her head, "We had our ups and downs, in the short time that we were together."
"Here's hoping." Jackson tells her. "That I never have to experience them." he gives her a quick, still subdued smile. "For your sake more than mine."
"I think there are only a few pilots, who have any experience with ground operations, Lt. Tomlinson is one. He was a Marine for years, before he went to OCS. And I think, for the most part, it's been fairly well easy, to keep the two separate. But we've had more than our fair share ground combat here. I think it's the nature of the colony and the cylon presence here. So you may find yourself needing to at least learn the basics. But your sister will see to that, I'm sure." With Jackson handling the knick knacks, which she packs into a smaller crate, Abigail continues to work through the clothes. His personal papers and the like, she places with the knick knacks, for Leonie's eyes only. "And how are you holding up? Jonas mentioned how close you two were."
"I know the basics." Jackson tells her. "I'd be grateful for a refresher, in case you do anything different here, but I really." Then he gets asked how hes doing and he grimaces and clams right up. "I'm ok. I deal with this sort of thing better than Lyn." then he adds. "Jonas and I haven't been that close lately. Not since, you know."
Abigail nods, grateful, perhaps, for something else to talk about, "It might not be amiss. Classes or dry runs for the pilots, to let them know how we operate. We had an incident about a week ago, two raptors shot down, the one I was in, but the other had already off offloaded their marines. We were very lucky that Nova and Meteor had enough experience to know how to approach us to link up. Especially with cylons on the ground. Not all of the air wing have that sort of experience." Abigail, accepting the answer, whether or not she believes it, continues, "Yes, I can imagine."
"I used to do search and rescue." Jackson tells her. "And I liked to climb and." he gives her a slightly wry smile. "If I ever crash on an ice world. I'm all set." he sighs a little and puts the last item on the pile for Abigail to finish sorting. "You aren't planning on staying here tonight are you? I might not be a doctor but I promise that people will help."
"Arda mentioned that she did that as well. I got the impression it was more of a necessity than a life choice where you were on Aquaria. I also started out doing search and rescue. I started out in the coast guard on Picon, and that is one of their primary mandates. I did more once I transitioned to the Marines, as a Diver. Salvage and Rescue, EOD, demo. All of the fun jobs." Abigail tilts her head, "Oh no, my bunk's right next door. It would be too...hard to sleep here without him. It still smells like him." And olfactory cues can sometimes be the most visceral. "But I'm going to be setting up in the lounge soon. Before...I promised Wagner, one of the recon marines, that I would make her copies of old footage of her surfing that I had. I thought...maybe I would still go. Give myself something...else to focus on, for a little while. You'd be welcome to come."
Jackson turns up one corner of his mouth in a sad smile. "It was a little bit of both." he admits. "I actually enjoyed climbing cliffs whilst snow blew around us though. It was remarkably peaceful." He pauses for a long moment, looking over at her bunk. "Would you like to use my bunk?" he offers. "I've only had it a few days. So it probably doesn't smell all that much."
"I have, personally, never seen more than a dusting of snow in my life. Even when I was off-world. I can't imagine it just being everywhere. It just seems like an impossible thing. And I'm from the south of Picon, so even the temperature here seems too cold." The offer of his bunk gets a wrinkle of her brow, and she starts to protest, "No, it's--" and then she stops, because her own bunk really has the same sort of problem. But, Jackson is/was Jonas' family, and selfishness is not the thing, "That's very kind of you, but that would be putting you out."
Jackson gives her a slight shrug, passing it off as something that doesn't really make any difference. "Like I said." he says. "I've only just been transferred. It's still just a bunk. It wouldn't matter at all." he turns up one side of his mouth in a smile again, still kinda sad. "We could always share." he jokes. His heart not exactly in it. "That would be just the thing after watching surfing clips. You know I've never seen an ocean you could surf in my life." he gestures in an overly dramatic going to the opera fashion. "After you."
"Well, then, thank you, I'd appreciate it. I'll get the sheets changed, after the video, so that shouldn't be a problem." Abigail, rising, sets aside the last of the clothes, before she comes to her feet, moving to walk the short distance to the hatch, her own, slightly flat, attempt at replying to Jackson's joke following after, "Well, if nothing else, it might be slightly more comfortable. That man had a whole lot of leg." And Jackson is a good half a foot shorter than Jonas was. "Wait till you see her. She was phenomenal." She slips through the hatch, turning off to head to the lounge.