Fall Seven Times
Fall Seven Times
Summary: Vigils are held and check-ups are done in Medical.
Date: PH209 (23 Nov 2009)
Related Logs: The Reverie Alone Will Do & MxM - 14.08.38.
Players:
Kai..Salazar..Camille..Martin..Jupiter..

CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Recovery Ward
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #219
OOC Time: Mon Nov 23 17:57:36 2009


This is not the luxurious Recovery Ward of a battlestar or Caprican hospital. Beds are simple white cots with thin mattresses on them, the sheets looking well-used and thin. Each bed is also organized into a bunk system where there are two recovery beds between the floor and ceiling, a simple metal stepladder going to the one above. Stainless steel rungs hang from the ceiling to hold IV bottles in place as well. All told, the small room can hold a not-inconsiderable number of recovering patients due to the bunks.



In through the hatch comes the S2, a half cup of coffee in hand. It's been a while since the CAG was transported to Medical, and at some point, word filtered down to the Sec Hub.

Camille worked surgery almost through the night, then about two hours sleep in the on-call room…and now she's sitting at her desk, tryign to focus on writing reports but every few seconds her eyes flicker up towards the bodies in beds, the careful monitors, and the quiet hush over the room. Both Kai and Jupiter have been covered warmly and are being closely watched. Kai, however, has a strip of fabric, almost a small blanket, at the feet of his bed and two candles at his bedside… almost a small altar. Camille is wearing a slim scarf across her throat, over her scrubs. The fabric is the same material as the strip over Kai's feet, though different in colour and size.

It's been a pretty shitty twenty-four hours for the air wing. Vipers are busted left, right and centre. Pilots aren't faring much better. A few beds down from Fingers is a semi-awake Kai. He's slumped against the back of his gurney, dark curls still matted with sweat, brows furrowed like he's thinking really hard about something. Or just trying not to hurt. Every so often, his eyes flick toward one of the candles, then back down again.

Salazar crosses the Med Bay, still wearing her blacks with full armor. A rifle is slung over her shoulder. She's got the helmet clipped to her belt loop. She puts that off and down, keeps her rifle on her person, and approaches the bed where the CAG is laid up with a Camille tending him with some sort of ritual. She stops at the foot of the bed.

Camille looks up from her report again, just enough to see the fact that Kai's head is moving. He's awake. She then flickers a gaze towards Salazar and just nods slowly, a quiet motion of permission for a visitor. Camille stands, quiet and gently, not wishing to wake anyone else up, but she doesn't yet approach. She seems content to give the couple some room.

Kai spots Salazar crossing toward him, and his eyes move over her face briefly, then the rifle she's toting over one shoulder, then flit away to focus on Camille for a few seconds. He looks a little disoriented, and finally reaches for where his sidearm should be— and grunts as it sends a dull stab of pain through him. No gun. Stupid iv. Stupid morpha. "How long do we have?" he murmurs.

Salazar's dark eyes find the redheaded doctor. She nods to Camille silently, then reaches over to take Karim's draped feet in her hands. She could be frakking up whatever prayer-Saggie-thing is going on, but that's the last thing on her mind. Her touch is light. "Not long. Rest. I will sit on you."

Camille steps a bit closer, a faint, motherly smile crossing her features. "Listen to the woman. She's far more frightening than I am… and probably a good deal stronger too. Though I suspect you'd enjoy her sitting on you just as much." Camille's eyes twinkle in a hint of teasing, dirty grandmotherly amusement that she tends to pull out at the most random of times. "…But yes… take a few moments… just breathe, Captain…"

"If she sits on me," Karim mumbles around the morpha-induced foggy-headedness, "She's getting a fist in the face." His eyes slide from Camille, back to Salazar at the foot of his bed. "Where's my frakking sidearm? I need to get up there. Rabbit's down."

Sal's eyes focus on Karim's as Camille speaks. She raises her brows just faintly as the good doctor makes a crack about enjoyment, then shakes her head ever so faintly. The S2 props her rifle against a nearby chair, hand momentarily leaving the CAG's foot. "I've got news for you, sugartoosh. You're down too." She leans in a little and says, just in case he's not hearing her, "I have zip ties, Marek."

Camille nods towards Sal…"Lady's got it right. You're not going anywhere, Captain. And I'm not opposed to letting her use whatever means necessary to keep you there. The gods easily travel… so…they'll be at your side no matter what. They always are. No reason for you to go anywhere." She reassures the man, finally walking straight to his feet. She picks up the sheath, folding it over again gently, tucking it beneath his heels like a mother with a feverish child…

"Frak off, Nikos," grunts the CAG affectionately, his head shifting a little so he can get a better look at the table by his bed. And the fact that there's a candle burning away on it, but no sidearm. After that incident with the old S2, they're probably not taking any chances in here with live weapons. Hopefully someone stowed it in berthings for him. "Can't believe I'm sitting on my ass while my pilots are getting chewed up out there. Do we have any idea how they're tracking us?" There's a slight wince as his legs are shifted, but the discomfort's a dull one.

A few beds over, Jupiter is hooked up to a drip, the monitoring equipment, and has a few drainage tubes. Major surgery does that to a girl. She has been largely unresponsive all day, after extensive surgery the evening before. Dry lips part, and she takes a slightly deeper breath, stirring a little in her morpha haze. It's not hazy enough, apparently. The arm sporting the IV rises shakily, and she reaches up to touch her head, where a huge bruise has formed. Her head moves a little, like she was thinking about sitting up, but she doesn't even get her shoulders off of the bed. A very soft sound escapes her. That was probably a moan of pain. But it sounded more like a tiny hiss noise.

Having managed only piecemeal bits of sleep despite a standing order to get rest, the tension in Martin's life has helped the man adopt a more gaunt look over the course of the last twenty hours. Like an expectant parent in a flight suit and still on-call for scramble, Martin whips his head around to gaze in Jupiter's direction. Alerted by her movement and the noise that she makes, he steps quickly towards her bed. "Jupiter? Frak…" Martin murmurs, reaching for the nurse call button.

Camille shakes her head to Kai gently…"Best you can do for your pilots is remain on your arse until it's better, then you can provide the sort of leadership you always have." She pats his foot one last time before stepping back, giving him and the S2 some room. She then looks over to the siblings, especially the barely awake Jupiter, walking closer with a few quick steps to keep an eye on the woman's monitors, but she doesn't speak. Let the woman have the familiar sight of her brother..

Salazar moves up along the CAG's gurney as Camille approaches do fiddle with the cloth at the foot of the bed. She reaches up with one hand to undo the buckles on her body armor. Full gear is hot, and she's been wearing it all day. She shrugs the vest open, then removes it for the few minutes remaining until the next call out. "CIC is working on that. They have to do something up there rather than just host the party line." She watches the CAG for a moment. "Will you shut the frak up if I leave you my Five-seveN?" She glances over briefly at Camille. "Is he high enough to shoot himself without realizing it?"

Kai drops his head back against the bulkhead wall again, eyes flitting up to the ceiling while Salazar talks to Camille. Or is she talking to him? There's Martin's voice in the mix somewhere, too, but he seems to be having trouble distinguishing between the things people are saying, and the throbbing pain in his body that the morpha doesn't quite smooth away. The sweat on his forehead, the dried blood caked somewhere around his ear, are left alone.

Jupes barely moves, though glassy, sleep filled eyes flick to Martin. She, like the CAG, is not 100 percent there, but she's conscious, more or less. Her body remains immobile, her hand sliding to her side again. Her fingers extend to her brother, but she doesn't much move. "Marty." Her voice is rough from hours of disuse, and thirst.

Salazar moves to take a seat on the edge of the CAG's bed. She lifts his blanket to check out his bandage locations. It could probably be easier to ask, but she isn't one to distract the Doc when the woman's hard at work. Sal reaches for a nearby surgical towel, and she folds it over silently into a little rectangle before she brushes it over Karim's brow. "You pilots are so fragile." It's a soft comment. Her sidearm stays in its holster for now.

Camille looks back over towards Salazar…"No, no… I'd prefer he not have a weapon. Not in my sick bay…he'll get one back when he's back on his feet." Even if she remembers that night… the night they opened fire in her sick bay. Blood everywhere…patients dead… The old CAG dead. Camille's face loses a bit of colour, strangely, and she moves back to her desk and her cup of tea.

While Martin's had a shower to both clean off and help himself stay awake, he spares a quick glance towards Salazar and flips her a middle finger. His hair is sweaty and oily from far too many hours in a flight suit and he's been having a hard time staying on his feet. The good news is that every other Viper rotation he gets almost a half hour of sleep on the floor in the Sickbay's corner. "Yeah, yeah it's me, Peanut." Martin says, taking his sisters hand and leaning close so that they don't have to talk too loud. A weak chuckle escapes his lips. "How you feelin', lazy? You need anything?"

It doesn't seem that Karim is broken anywhere. Torn up, banged up, bruised to hell and back where his head met his helmet met his console, and it's probably worse under he blankets and the hospital gown, where his body slammed into his seat harness. For those who've seen his viper, it's actually a wonder he made it out alive, let alone in one piece. "It's because we're so pretty," he mumbles to Salazar, swallowing thickly. His lips flicker into a vapid little smile when she dabs his forehead with the cloth, and his head pivots toward her, smooshing his dark curls against the wall. "I need to talk to Mudguts. If you see her.."

Jupiter's voice is dry and scratchy as she murmurs, "I could use…" Martin may have to lean in a little bit to catch the last two words, "A smoke." She can't even sit up and she wants a cigarette. Maybe she'll live. "Somethin' to drink. Gods. What happened?" She has very little memory of smacking into the deck and leaving the longest viper paint trail to date, without actually exploding into a fiery wreckage.

There's a soft chuckle from the S2 as she catches the worrying brother's 'salute'. Dark eyes flick to Black, then return to Marek. You think she doesn't go looking under gowns? Silly CAG. Salazar is thorough. She hasn't seen his viper, which probably explains why he isn't secured to the recovery bed. "I'll send her your way, now stop talking shop, cabron." She leans in and says, "Don't steal the pretty line. That's a marine line."

Squeezing his sister's hand softly, Martin swallows as a wave of relief washes over him. Bringing his forearm up to wipe some of the grime from his brow, he leans in a little closer. "You took a hit, crashed to the deck. Don't worry about anything else for now, we got you taken care of." Martin replies, brushing the side of her face with his hand. "I don't know how long I can stay, frak, gods damnit Jupiter you know how bored I've been while you've been nappin'?" Martin raises his head towards Camille. "Can she take fluids? She says she's thirsty, sir."

Camille nods quietly to Martin…"A glass of water or some ice chips…if you wish to give it to her, you can, or I can…" Camille moves to the small fridge, pulling out a few ice chips to start, and then she'll get Jupiter to try some actual water. The thought of a cigarette is firmly ignored. She heads over, waiting to see if Martin feels like helping his sister, or would prefer the professional to do so.

Kai is far too out of it to even spot Martin's middle fingered salute. He makes a little huffing sound in his nose that sounds like a laugh, and his eyes drift back up to Salazar's, focusing on them in a jarringly direct manner. Could just be the striking blue of them that makes it seem so, or it could be the fact that he's otherwise pretty out of it. "What, are you going to kick my ass for it?" he murmurs, hoarse-voiced but sounding vaguely amused. "I left you something. Last night."

"Can you help us, please?" Martin asks, sparing Camille a quick glance. "I'm…frakkin' seein three of her. Any word on stims yet?"

Jupes scowls a little at Martin, just a faint drawing together of her brows. She doesn't quite focus on him, thankyew drugs. "You been … bored? How come." Her breathing is fairly steady, but she's obviously in too much pain to move, or flee, which is what she would be doing if she still had her spleen and they didn't go removing part of her colon. She loves her colon. Now part of it's gone. Sad, sad colon. Wherefor art thou, colon? Medical waste so isn't a romantic sort of answer. Wait, what? Morphaaaaaa. "None of your girlfriends around?" Snicker. Ow. "Ow." Ow. Frak. "Frak." Frak.

Sal nods. "I will. I'm not above beating the ass of a pilot laid up in a sick bed. I don't care how drugged up you are. There are some lines you don't get to cross." She smiles, however, clearly teasing the CAG. Or is she? "I got it. I don't know what it means, but I got it. It wasn't what I wanted from you, but considering the dire circumstances, I suppose it'll do. For now. Once you're better, we'll take care of that other thing. The frak you go and get shot for? Rude."

Martin looks back to Jupiter, a concerned look on his face as he glances up to her medical readouts. Focusing back on her, he turns his hand in hers, holding it in a slight version of an arm wrestling grip. "Give it enough time, peanut there'll be one in every department, yeah yeah yeah…" Martin says, issuing a little self-deprecating humor. Fidgeting, he lifts his wrist to glance at his chrono, sighing. "It's actually not been boring. I don't know why I said that. I'm exhausted. They're gonna make me go again not too long from now, but Locke's here. So's Salazar and Spider."

Since Martin doesn't take the ice/water from her, Camille steps u p and over, heading to the woman's side…"here, Fingers… just a bit of water." She murmurs gently, tipping the glass to the pilot's lips and letting her get a few sips of the cool, clear water. She allows her free hand to gently smooth Jupiter's hair back, just being the concerned, hovering mother for now.

"The frak do you think it means," grumbles Marek, his voice having dropped a bit softer, a bit breathier, as the morpha and the tranquilisers in the iv drip begin to chip away at his wakefulness. "..so frakking demanding." His head shifts slightly against the wall, his lashes drop lower, and he's clearly fighting off the very strong impulse to just fall asleep in the midst of an argument. Or maybe this is just what passes for conversation, between these two.

Jupiter's fingers belatedly close on Martin's. Her grip is a little weak, but it's there. She's pumped full of drugs and new blood. It makes a person tired, all that surgery and stuff. It's like a bender without the reward of anonymous sex at the end. "What? Who?" She's not exactly great with the names of people she doesn't hang out with every day. It's a miracle she remembers callsigns, as often as they change around here. Ok, Castor's anyway. "You go shoot some… some of those frakkers for me." She pauses in speaking to take just a little sip of the water. She dribbles on herself some, but who's gonna mock the immobile? Do it, and she'll find a way to hurt you, Boner. She swallows, then murmurs, "Thanks, doc. I'm just gonna … go to sleep. Ok."

"Yeah, just relax Peanut, okay? I love you. Get some rest. I'll be here." Martin replies softly, lowering his brows and ushering an inward sniff that rattles his sinuses. Blinking a few times to ward away the glassy look in his eyes, he brushes his thumb over Jupiter's hand and issues a look of thanks to Camille. Looking to the ceiling, he lets out an audible sigh and rakes his free hand through his hair, seemingly relieved at his sister's status for the moment.

There's a decent chance this is, in fact, what passes for conversation between these two, then they're not beating the snot out of each other up in the ring, or barking orders at other people. "If I knew what it meant, I wouldn't say I don't know what it means, Marek." And the S2 comes in swingin' with the obvious statement of the evening. She tosses the towel onto a nearby and empty instrument tray before she leans in and says something quietly into the CAG's ear. Her lips brush his cheek, and then she sits up to say, "The sooner you sleep, the sooner you heal. The sooner you heal, the faster I get that frakkin' box out of my locker. Get to it, old man."

Salazar whispers, "Te amo, Karim. We'll talk more when you're not looped out the ass." to Kai.

Jupiter murmurs, before she drifts off, "Blow your frakkin' nose, Boner." Sniffling snot drives her up a godsdamned wall, always has.

Camille nods gently to Martin, and she murmurs to Jupiter…"One more sip…then back to resting." She whispers reassuringly, giving her a bit more of the water to drink before she withdraws the cup to be washed out, and allows Jupiter to slip back into sleep. Hopefully without drugs…everyone's only medicated enough to handle things. Otherwise…there's just not enough pills to go around. She steps back, surveying the filled sickbay with quiet, worried eyes.

The CAG's lips twitch again slightly, at whatever Salazar whispers to him. The expression's short-lived though, and melts away within seconds, his lashes drifting shut for the last time as the marine pulls away from him. He's asleep before she manages to get out that 'old man' bit.

The S2 slides off the edge of the bed, and bends to press a soft, brief kiss to the unconscious CAG's lips. She murmurs something over him in Thracian, then kisses his forehead, slides something under his pillow, and turns to leave Med Bay.

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