Aleksander and Yelena finally face their mutual past and where things stand.
Location: Conway Beach, Picon
Related Scenes: 2227-11-06 - In From the Rain
Scene Number: 1604
Being on PNAB: Northolt has brought a sense of normalcy to some. Rising with daylight, ending the day as the sun sets (sort of; it is winter in the north sea). Being able to wrap up the weekend with a trip into town if one has the right pass. Save for being flown to the mainland to be shot at by Cylons, one can close their eyes and feel like they’re living a normal life. Albeit a cold one. Cold and boring, considering the town of Conway is so bland and all it has going for it is that the pub is actually quite nice.
Which is probably why Yelena practically lives at aforementioned pub on the weekends. This afternoon, however, it’s a few hours early for the pub. Technically, it’s not, but the place was packed out with pilots celebrating someone’s ace and while it’ll taper off later on to a final few celebrants, she’s not going to shove around and jockey for space. Instead, the woman has pressed on to the nearby beach. If it can be called that, surrounded by cliffs as it is; though the sands are surprisingly white. She stands just past the water’s reach, hands shoved into the pockets of her bomber jacket… though one is awkwardly so, for the book it holds. She’s dressed in civvies for the day, jeans and sneakers. The wind carried through the cliffs has torn much of her hair free of its braid, though she either doesn’t mind or doesn’t care at the moment.
Surprisingly there is someone who is visiting this secluded area of the beach as well, wearing outdoor workout outfit that is meant for exercising in the cold. Sweat pants, sweat shirt, Timberwolves emblem that identifies which outfit this person belongs to. The real surprise is that upon closer inspection, it would be revealed the person actually working out is Aleksander, who has opted for the outdoors than the fully furnished and state of the art gym that is available in the base. No doubt warmer inside as well. The Tauran certainly doesn’t expect to run into anyone out here but it would be too telling if he suddenly turned around and left. So he continues on his original path, which would take him closer towards Yelena.
It’s surprising on a few counts. It’s a damn fine gym. Yelena has been spending a number of mornings in it herself. The woman isn’t used to the sun yet; lessened by the overcast skies and winter tilt of the planet as it is. She’s spent the last couple years posted solely to ships with the rare shore leave. It doesn’t matter what shift she’s on, she’s up with the sun and in the gym, working out. It’s also cold, but then… Tisza was cold. She’s one of the few on base who hasn’t seemed to mind it too terribly. It’s rare she goes out into it for extended periods of time like this, but she doesn’t outright hate it.
The woman watches the approaching runner, turning her back to the ocean wind as she does so. A pack of cigarettes is dug out from an inner pocket in her jacket and she lights one. Perhaps for the brief warmth it brings or just to showcase just how opposingly different her time on the shore is to his.
Aleksander was use to the cold when he was young, back on Tauron, and he got use to the warmer climate after he joined up with the Legionnaires. Most of his complaints were usually not serious, just something to complain about, to further reaffirm his ‘not so serious’ attitude when seriousness isn’t called for and sometimes when it sort of is.
When Davion nears where Yelena is standing, he inclines his head to the Lieutenant and slows his pace but doesn’t completely stop, offering the appropriate greeting. “Afternoon doctor.” There is no sign of familiarity or recognition from almost a decade ago, as if he just sees her as one of the ship’s doctors that may need to patch him up in the future if her rotation is up.
“Davion, right?” Her tone is almost accusatory as she tucks the lighter into the negative space of the half-empty pack and that away into the pocket of the coat. Yelena looks up at Aleksander, taking him in. It’s a more studious gaze than the brief encounter in the barracks before he’d fled those days past. Her time with the Legionnaires was best served on a ship; more mobile that way. Able to serve in a sickbay or be packed onto a Raptor to be sent on location. And then she was much the same on the Kratos during her initial time with the Fleet and now, again, with the Wolves. Sort of. Northolt is a new experience for her. She’s on the ground, even if those injured are still brought to her doorstep.
Like Aleksander was, a decade ago.
Aleksander’s time in the Foreign Legion was spent on Leonis, on the planet so he is used to being on land. There has been extended assignments when he was forced ship side as well, and it’s mostly been like that since he has joined the Colonial Forces, so the Tauran has proved to be rather adaptable. As for his name, Davion merely nods his head, his jogging slowly to a stop finally as it appears a conversation is about to take place. “That’s correct, you’re one of the newer doctors that transferred onto the Dauntless?” He gives no hint of the Aleksander from a decade ago, the mask so well developed over time that he wears it like a new skin.
If it weren’t for the tattoos she so clearly saw the other day and the faded remnants of a wound she knows she worked on (in the days before she could stitch things closed more elegantly), Yelena might wonder. It’s been ten years and yet… She takes a long drag on her cigarette, looking down to the sand beneath her own sneakers. There’s a moss-covered stone nearby and she shifts just slightly to nudge at it with her toe. “Mmhmm. Guess you frakkers get shot up a lot or somethin’. Just didn’t expect to transfer on then so quickly find myself on a base-”
There’s a glance in the general direction of Northolt and its collection of buildings. “Feels kind of like we’re just a target.”
“The hazards of our line of work, we tend to avoid the bullets more than we catch them though, fortunately.” Aleksander says with a simple shrug of his shoulders, as if being shot at wasn’t that big of a deal. To keep a sane mindset, one can’t dwell on the risks when in the middle of a firefight. As for her thoughts on being situated at a base than on a ship, there is an amused smirk from Davion, “Anywhere is just a target, on land, in space, or on a Raptor.”
Lena studies the man for a moment before lifting her cigarette a bit: “Want a smoke?” Offering not that one, for it goes back between her lips, but her hand is halfway to her jacket in case he does take her up on it. She leans back on her heels, exhaling the smoke around her own. “Been on ships long enough that it’s just… strange. And-” she lifts her other hand, forestalling him before her wrist twists and she takes up the cigarette so she can extend her arm out and ash it on the sand below their feet. “I know, just a frakkin’ doctor. Dunno what it’s like out there for y’all and I don’t want to. I’m happy just stitching y’all up and yanking bullets out. It’s what I’m good at. You just keep the war out there and don’t let it come through my doors.”
“Not that one,” Denying the offer, especially a cigarette, is definitely not the same Aleksander that is usually on display, nor is working out on his off-time either. But he is in the midst of his exercises and smoking would be the counter to what he’s attempting at. Her request is met with a slight nod, “That is what our plan is, if the enemy is at our doorsteps, something has gone wrong. Not a fan of the Cylons going through my bunk either.”
Shrugging, Lena drops her arm and goes back to her own cigarette. She does snort faintly. “Doubt they give a shit about your personal bunk.” Another drag and as she exhales, she looks up to the overcast skies above, allowing silence weigh between them for a moment. She shifts, then, into Tauron, not immediately looking back to Aleksander as she does. “<<I thought they’d killed most everyone else.>>”
When Yelena switches to their native tongue, Aleksander’s expression turns into a frown, apparently knowing what she is alluding to. There is no acknowledgement to what she said, nor anything in direct response except for the answer, <<Let the past be.>> From those four words, it’s obvious what this Tauran feels about his past life.
“<<I am just…>>” Yelena stares up at Aleksander for a moment, her own features becoming a frown. One nearer to disappointment. She drags her thumbnail across the hollow beneath her lower lip before casting the cigarette butt aside. Her hand drops to her pocket. “<<Before I remembered your face- my work- I thought you had been sent for me. I thought ‘what a waste, these two years.’>>”
A smirk appears on Aleksander when Yelena mentions that she thought he was after her, <<Always vigilant, always careful. Those are rules to live by, and that is why this is the last time we will ever mention our past. Best forget it and just enjoy your new life. Keep to yours and I will keep to mine.>> There is a slight pause after that rather unusual and lengthy speech from Davydov, but when he continues, here is a hard edge to his tone as well as his expression, <<Endanger mine with loose lips, and you /will/ regret it, Reznik.>>
She stares at a point on his chest as he speaks. As if she could see through the sweatshirt to a wound tended a decade before. There’s a want to ask how it healed. Whether amateur work hindered him in the weeks and months that followed that night in the rain. Yelena’s jaw tightens, briefly, at the threat, but the tendril of annoyance there is not in the sort of defense or anger one might think. Her pale eyes cut up to meet his gaze. “<<I am a doctor. I do not endanger.>>” She squares her shoulders briefly, but the posture relaxes as she exhales, settling into her heels. “<<Our lives are brought together now by nature of our assignment. We must acknowledge that at least.>>”
<<Our new lives have been brought together by nature of our assignment. Our old lives have been extinguished and it will remain that way. That is the best way not to endanger either one of us, doctor. There is no reason to acknowledge the past, nor dwell on it, nor mention it. To anyone.>> Aleksander’s response is quick, almost as if it was prepared. Adamant as well, either this is not the first time he’s had this type of conversation before or it was one that he has practiced well, for the sake of self-preservation.
“<<Just one question,>>” Yelena says, quietly. “<<Do you ever miss Tisza? Not the life lived, no->>” She says that in a quick rush of breath, the air clouding in front of her lips in the cold, north sea air. “<<But Tisza itself.>>” She lifts her chin slightly, looking past his arm to the ocean beyond. “<<I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever see it again and if I do… Whether it will be just rubble.>>” A forlorn look crosses her features then; a brief expression of mourning for her home that she hasn’t been able to show before. Revealed now around someone that might be able to understand before it is, as he says, locked away out of necessity once again.
In this time and place and only this time and place, it appears that Aleksander is willing speak of their past. Of course that is dependent on no on intruding upon where they are right now. The question does give the Tauran pause, as is searches for the right answer. <<I do not allow myself to. That path will only invite unnecessary risks, ones that I have been able to avoid since I left our home. Though it does sadden me that I will not be able to see it again, it is for the best.>> Despite the words, Davydov still wears that hardened mask of not emotions when speaking about his past life.
“<<They fight for a kingdom of dust,>>” Yelena says softly, finally bringing her attention back to the man. Her jaw tightens briefly, but not in a mask like he wears. It’s easy to see why she spends so many of her off hours drinking. Why she spends so many of them alone, rather than trying to fully integrate herself with her new unit. “<<I am not the warrior as you are, Aleksander. It is not so easy to abandon things or let them go. This is all the sort of thing men like you are trained to do. It is like I tell your fellow marines… I am not one for the fight. I could, if I must. But these hands->>” She lifts both, palms out. “<<I fix people. I do not break them.>>”
Aleksander can only offer a shrug, having no answer for the differences between them. Warrior and healer. Soldier and doctor. <<We all have our own ways in leaving the past. I am in no position to tell you how to leave yours, just do not drag me back into mine. I will leave you to your thoughts, doctor.>> Sounds like he plans on continuing his run on the beach, perhaps cutting it short and heading back to the base.
“<<Do you think I left for the fun of it? You threaten me, but it is a death sentence should I ever return.>>” There’s a glimmer of fear in her eyes; similar in hue to the sky above as they are. “<<I just did not expect to ever see another from home.>>” And sometimes one must redress the wounds. Inspect the site. Acknowledge the healing and state it is in before covering it back up. Yelena stares at Aleksander intently for a time before she takes a step back, reaching into her pocket for that pack of cigarettes again. “<<Be well, Aleksander.>>”