Evan finally manages to make it by the Infirmary at a time when Charlie is awake.
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 1526
Had Evan visited when Charlie first returned from the mission (or even in the first twelve hours), he’d have been visiting an unconscious sniper. After the surgeries, she remained in repose for a long while. The next day, she had a few periods of wakefulness and unfortunately, they coincided with him having duty. Thus it’s been a day and a half since the marines on that particular patrol came back, mostly shot to hell across the board.
But none of the others to the level that Charlie was.
She’s awake now. Someone’s brought in a vid player at some point (maybe a member of the nursing staff, even) and the woman is just staring absently at it; almost through it. The joys of drugs and cartoons. The bedsheets are only pulled up to her waist. Above that, her torso is a mass of bandages up to the bottom edge of the sports bra she’s wearing.
The check ins from Evan had been consistent; ranging from his patient waiting on the doctor's for an update to the pacing that occurred when he wasn’t on duty. The lack of his own sleep is apparently in his features which is rather telling considering he rarely shows outward signs of wear and tear. A bit more gruff of late with people, the frayed edges of his personality showing through and a heavier demeanor of carrying burden being noted by a few others in quiet tones when he wasn’t listening. There was no blame for him, but it did not stop him from carrying the feel of blame and guilt at not being on assignment at that time.
Having finished another grudging patrol and assignment he was planning on reporting straight to Sickbay but had been intercepted by an intrepid superior who insisted on food and a shower before he did anything else; so under orders Evan had done those things. A bland shower and a further bland meal before he made his way to sickbay and relief finally settled over him as he was informed that a turn had been made and recovery was under way. A relief had washed over him one that lit his eyes as he made his way towards the bed.
Movement caught Charlie’s eye, same as it always does. Some instincts don’t dissipate, even when you’re on bed rest. Movement and then her whole attention once she realize who it was. Her features brighten, even if the weariness and slight pallor persist. “Evan.” She practically breathes his name; just loud enough to be heard in the cramped space of the recovery room. The smile fades a bit, however, once she gets a good look at him. A slight furrow asserts itself between her brows.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” she says, quietly. Charlie unfurls a hand from where both lie draped lightly against her lap. The arm without an IV hooked up to it. She reaches out towards him, palm up. “Every time I woke up, I had hoped you’d be here,” she admits quietly. “Which is… ridiculous, I know.”
“Nope, not sleeping.” Evan’s voice affirms the reality as he settles into the seat and blends his hand into the one Charlie freed without word, the grasp gentle as he does so. “I tried to be here when I could, they kicked me out a few times and the shifts haven’t changed any. Hell, they’ve been a bit more intense on the patrol front of late.” The talk of work is given with a quiet voice that sounds a bit disinterested in the topic. Instead he focuses on the woman lying on the bed, “You gotta stop getting shot doll. At least I only have buildings fall on me.”
There's a flash of concern when he confirms that he hasn't been sleeping, but Charlie says nothing. She's just as bad when he's laid up in sickbay. They've become so used to each other's presence that it becomes terribly compounded when there's concern as well. It's hard enough to sleep when they're on different shifts, but when one is hurt…
There's a small smile for the Scorpian in response to his chiding. Charlie winds her fingers into his. “I seem to recall you getting shot a time or two months ago.” She takes a deep breath, wincing with it. “It wasn't intentional, I promise. Just more scars and some lovely hospital food, right?”
“Yeah, but I’ve done a much better job of late zigging rather than zagging, it’s done wonders at keeping me unscathed,” Evan’s tone is not quite lecturing but he does attempt to adopt a serious disposition that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Scars are fine, hospital food is terrible. Especially when there was a dinner out to be had and our reservations had to be moved again.” Again, he attempts to keep that serious look but it doesn’t quite make it.
“There was neither zigging nor zagging. They had us pinned down and the rock Tomak and I were behind was not as solid as it seemed.” Charlie watches Evan as he talks with the look of someone who feels like they’ve been missing out on something and now need to make up for it. Usually the dopey-eyes are something kept strictly in private and even then for the most intimate of moments, but morpha’s a finicky beast and takes away measures of control people are used to. For the sniper, that’s her adoration for this man.
When he mentions reservations being moved, she laughs. She laughs and then winces, her other hand moving in a protective fashion over her abdomen. Charlie’s eyes close and her fingers tighten against his. “I’ve told you,” she says, marginally strained. “I want steak. And unless you found a good steak house on Sag…”
“You’re going to get your steak, don’t worry,” Evan replies softly, squeezing her hand and filing away the fact that she needs to not laugh. “Next leave doll. We’re going back to that cabin on the ocean after I take you to the best steak house on the planet.” There’s words that come across as nice little dreams, and those that convey the reality of what can and probably will happen. These fall into the latter category based on the serious tone. Evan’s spare hand lifts up to brush over Charlie’s hairline and cheek in an unabated and unhidden affection manner.
“Good,” Charlie says when he confirms that she will, indeed, get her steak. Everyone has their thing after weeks or months on mess hall fare. For her, it’s been steak. Her expression softens when he speaks of the cabin and she tilts her head into his touch. “I miss that cabin,” she says, quietly. There’s, briefly, a faraway look in her eyes. “We should buy one like it after the war.”
“A cabin? I always thought you wanted to buy a bar and use it as an excuse to beat up a few drunks once in awhile, shoot at some robbers and drink all the time while calling it a job. Oh wait, that was me…” Evan quips softly, still gently brushing back her braids and running his fingers over her cheek. “You just like that cabin cause of the fishing.”
“And so you could fill it with snow globes,” Charlie murmurs with a small grin. She tilts, slightly, in the bed; settling back against the pillows as she does so. It takes a bit of wriggling around, but she eventually finds a position that isn’t too uncomfortable and enables her to look more directly at him. “Who says we can’t have a bar near the cabin?” She does not deny the fishing. What she does do, however, is tug gently at his hand entwined with hers. “C’mere.”
Evan smiles softly, leaning down when she tugs at him and brings his lips to hers. He’s gentle, has to be in his mind; not knowing her current state and very careful in not touching the bed or her body. But for a moment in his mind at least, as he kisses Charlie he’s back in the cabin, or away from the war, or not in sickbay. Finally he breaks to whisper against her lips. “I love you too much for this to keep happening.”
And so Charlie kisses Evan back. There’s a desire there, but it’s not a sexual thing. It’s the desire of a woman who has missed the man she loves. Her fingers tighten against his hand as he whispers those words and her eyes open, marginally, in that narrow space. She lifts her chin to brush her lips over his again, as if in apology. “At least a building didn’t fall on me,” she offers in quiet, wry humor. There’s a tilt of her head, then, to nuzzle at him gently. “We’ll get through this, Evan. I promise.”
“Of course we will doll. We’re Evan and Charlie. We’re approaching epic proportions of awesome. Someday they may even write stories about us, so naturally we’ll get through it.” There’s an amused jesting tone to Evan’s voice as he whispers the words, giving her forehead a gentle kiss in response to her nuzzling towards him. “Maybe we’ll write a book. Call it Building and Bullets; Finding Meaning in the Cylon War.”
“Approaching? I haven’t been trying hard enough, then.” Charlie laughs, again. Brief as it is, it still makes her wince. She lets out a slow breath as she recovers, settling back a bit into the bed. She continues to hold his hand, but it does necessitate some distance so she can get comfortable. “A book?” There’s a thoughtful look. “A book isn’t exciting enough for us. I think we should start some sort of… not a documentary. One of those holo-reality shows.”
“Or trying too hard, really to reach epic things one simply does it, they don’t try to do it,” Evan’s joking tone remains until he finally reaches up and pets a hand over Charlie’s cheek. “You need to rest doll. Lot of healing to do, lot of focusing on the good stuff. I’ll stay here until they kick me out, yeah?”
Tilting her head into Evan’s hand, Charlie lets out a slow sigh. “I am tired,” she admits quietly, dipping her head a bit more to brush lips across his palm. There’s a grateful smile as he assures her that he’ll be staying. She lifts the hand without the IV to drape over his arm as she adjusts for greater comfort. “Tell me a story,” she prompts, closing her eyes as she settles in to listen (and surely fall asleep rather quickly).