PHD 263: Aberrations
Summary: Recovery time in Sickbay. Roubani leaves these kids alone for five minutes, and look what happens.
Date: PHD263 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Captain Jack Cylon, One Word of Difference

Hestia - Sickbay

Still off the flight line and with an excess of free time, Roubani came back to Sickbay after taking care of a few things here and there. Told by the nurses that Sam's been asleep a while and would probably be awake and bored quite soon, he settled into a chair beside her bed and is now idly folding a piece of paper into…something ridiculously complex.

Komnenos ducks into the recovery ward, a book in hand. He strides towards one bed in particular, only to find a visitor is already there. "Hullo, Nadiv," he says as he stops next to the younger lieutenant, keeping his voice low as to not wake the sleeping woman in front of them. "Still sleeping, eh?" he asks, jerking his chin in Sam's direction. "Bloody hell. Every time I've been by…" He trails off, pulling a nearby chair over to sit next to Roubani and the bed. His head jerks again, this time in the direction of whatever it is Poet's making. "Th' frak?" he asks curiously.

Samantha is looking a hint better, at least. Even in compare to yesterday, her skin not the paper ash that it was just after surgery and her breath not quite so shallow. She's getting there. They've probably lightened up any sort of drugs too, so while she sleeps now, having bodies and voices near means it won't last long. She's still in that ugly blue gown, her left hand pasted to her side, weighted down with IVs, though she's still wearing that pounded metal ring… the canula has been removed from her nose today also. An even better sign.

Roubani's squinting at some fold that he's trying to make behave, looking up at the sound of his name. "Fish," he explains, without fanfare. And it is, it's a fish. A big fat koi about the size of someone's palm, with folded scales. Someone's really bored. He glances at Samantha and then back at Komnenos, rolling one cramped shoulder with care. "Shouldn't be long. They said she's been asleep for hours, so."

Thorn studies Samantha for a moment; she looks better than she had, but that's still a long way from good. The obvious improvement is a welcome sign, though. He nods, grunting softly at Roubani's pronouncement. Eyes flick to the paper fish, and then to the book. It's a tattered old paperback; this obviously isn't the first time he's read it. After one last glance at Samantha, he leans back in the chair and leaves Nadiv to his folding as he finds his marked page.

Samantha has good timing. It's part of just being that awesome, or so she's say, ignore the fact she slept through all of his previous visits. She stirs on the bed now, plenty enough sleep and Roubani's voice enough to make her come to slowly. A bit of a grin crosses her lips, eyes not open yet…"Don't suppose ya brought me cherry pie?" She inquires in Poet's direction, not quite realizing Thorn's there also. Let his mind wonder as to what the hell -that- means

"Not this time, but do open your eyes," Roubani says, still folding away on that fish. He glances at Thorn and clears his throat softly. "This one's more a banana."

Thorn looks up as the creaky but familiar voice pipes up from the bed. Before he can say anything, though, Roubani is on it; his comment draws a sudden cough from Komnenos, but the ECO quickly recovers. Nadiv gets a browraise before he turns back to Samantha. "Hullo, love," he says softly. "No pie. Hope you'll forgive me." The attempt to inject some levity into his tone falls a little flat; it's easier when the person one is talking to isn't lying on a medical bed, looking like they got into a fight with Death's guard dog. "Good t' see you awake."

The sound of Anton's voice is enough to jerk her eyes right open, tired green staring straight up at him, happy, relieved, strangely surprised…"Hey…." Sam breathes out, that single word not nearly able enough to express exactly what she feels, but sometimes words fail. Her free right hand reaches out and over for him almost immediately, so happy to see him… and then she gazes to Nadiv, half laughing…"Cherry pie one day and a Thorn the next…I'm never gonna be able to top this for your birthday."

Roubani cracks a muted grin at Thorn. He sits up and onto the edge of the chair, setting the fish down near Sam's other hand. Then it's to his feet, carefully. "It's about time to scrounge up some tea, I think. I'll be back in a little while, alright?" Give them some space, polite as he is.

Anton's features soften as Samantha turns to him; a smile spreads unbidden across his lips, and he reaches out to take her hand in his. "Thanks, Poet," is said quickly to Roubani as he rises. After that, though, he has eyes only for Samantha, even as battered as she is. Words fail him for the moment; in lieu of speaking, he simply lays a kiss on the pale hand he's holding.

Samantha tightens her hand around Anton's, giving it all the strength she's got. At least she's not quite so cold to the touch today. Nadiv's polite retreat earns a brief, but immensely grateful look from her…"…Yeah, N…Thank you…truly…" She doesn't like to be rude like this, but it feels like a decade since she saw the man above her. She gazes back to Anton now, breathing in a touch deeper, her fingertips never letting go. She blinks a bit of glassiness away from her eyes as he kisses the back of her palm…"…you…you shoulda woke my lazy ass up…"

Roubani is off into the wilds. Of…tea.

Thorn shakes his head at the mention of waking her up. "You're here t' heal, woman, not t' play grabarse." There's a sudden sternness in his tone at that, as Komnenos breaks out the teacher's voice. "Not that I didn't want t' see you… I almost did wake you yesterday, but I had an orderly scowling at me th' whole bloody time I was in here. Guess they don't like smoking in the medical ward." That's said with a certain deadpan. "Speaking of which…" He reaches in and tosses a fresh pack of smokes onto the bed. "Couldn't find food or magazines. Hope those'll do instead."

"…There's a reason I love you, you know that?" Sam breathes out, smiling WIDELY now. She's been -itching- for them, but no one else would risk a woman with a punctured lung having cigarettes. If he's looked at her chart at all… she got both very, very lucky, and yet unlucky… Unlucky to be shot in the chest at all, straight through her right lung, but lucky in that no major arteries were hit, or even worst, the bullet could have landed two inches to the right and straight through her heart. But no… She lays here now, grinning like a banshee. She tugs him down first, leaning her mouth up this time to properly kiss him…"…do love you…" She whispers against his lips a moment later.

"Mmrf," is Thorn's stirring reply to her declaration of love, as the sudden presence of her lips on his makes it a little difficult to actually form words. The kiss goes on for a long second until he finally, almost regretfully, pulls away. "I believe you," he says a moment later, the shiteating grin returning to his face briefly. He wills it away a moment later, though, as his features take on a more serious cast. "An' I love you." It's emphasized with a brief squeeze of the hand.

Samantha breathes shortly again, like the kiss alone might have winded her… and it's been long enough it might have! But then he's pulling back a bit and she just smiles, not wholely able to stop. Her left hand fumbles with the cigarettes, trying to get one free without having to release his right hand, but she's damned eager for one. "…That was frakked…the other night…totally frakked." She shakes her head, not entirely certain how better to describe it.

There's a long silence before Thorn offers a "Yeah" of his own in agreement. What other response could there be? Again, a long pause, and finally Anton takes and lights a cigarette of his own. "They told me Krauss — well, the thing we called Krauss — was a dead ringer for Ajax Crydel." His face is deadly serious now, and he studies her for her reaction.

Samantha nods slightly, squezzing his hand and then letting go so she -can- light that cigarette. She takes in a deep breath, ignoring the nurse glaring frmo down the hall, just letting the cigarette relax her the last little bit. If there is any relaxing left. He's helped a lot. "…It was him, Anton…I know Ajax Crydel. It was -him-… this guy… Jack Krauss… that's what I used to call Ajax. Jack. And I saw him on the planet too…I'm not insane and now I frakking know it…"

Thorn, for his part, glares right back at said nurse, as if daring her to come take it out of his hands, then, if she doesn't like it. No such confrontation is forthcoming, though, and a moment later Anton turns back to his fiance. "I never said you were insane, Sam. Which, as I recall, is more credit than you gave me a few weeks ago when I suggested these 'skinjobs' might really exist." Good ol' Thorn. Can't resist an 'I told you so' even when the 'you' in this case is languishing in the recovery ward.

Samantha smirks to him, swatting his hand with her hand that holds the cigarette…"Fine…fine. So…so you really think the cylons are…human? Or…building humans….that are robotS? That's frakked.." She breathes out her cigarette slowly, a chill reaching down to her spine as she thinks that through. And to think she frakked one. Multiple times. That almost makes her sick..

"Human? No. Gods, I hope not, anyway." Thorn shakes his head. "But… building them? Well, why not? We can obviously design a working artificial intelligence. We can clone bodies," he says matter-of-factly as he puffs on his cigarette. "And th' frakkin' Cylons are even better with computer technology than we are. Why couldn't they design something like that?" he asks, probably rhetorically, as he blows a smoke ring into the sterile air.

Samantha shivers at the thought…She takes another deep drag of her cigarette and stares at the ceiling for a few moments. "…I don't even want to…think…about what this means. Could be anywhere. I mean…we've seen it. The Chaplain…the captain of the Marines? At this point we've…" She won't say it. Won't admit they've lost, but it was almost there, on her lips. She swallows it back with a breath of tobacco then looks back to him. "…So what? Doesn't matter. We go on like before. You're here now…I'm here… no reason we should be talking about this."

Anton shrugs. "Can't do anything about it now, anyway," he sighs. Mercifully, he doesn't even think about touching on the subject of Ajax and Sam's personal relationship. "All right. I'll let it be." There's another long silence, but true to his word, his next words have nothing to do with Cylons, skinjobs, or anything related. He nods to the battered ring on her finger. "Thought about a date yet?"

Samantha's eyes go just a hint wide as he -dares- to ask that and while she tries to swallow any surprise back, the pulse monitor attached to her fingertip certainly tells the story, suddenly almost double timing in the silent machine next to her. SHe gives him a half laugh. "…are…Are you serious? I… I mean, I figured this was… just… We got time… right? Do we want a date?" She rather figured it was a promise thing, apparently.

Thorn stiffens; he almost looks offended at the question. "Of course I'm bloody serious," he half-growls. Their hands finally part as the blond man crosses his arms over his chest. "If I didn't want a date, I wouldn't have given you that damned thing t' begin with. With everything that's happened over the last year, I'd like t' have some kind of certainty about some aspect of my life. So, yes. I am serious." His last couple sentences are as close as he's gotten to a snarl with her in a very long time. "An' if you aren't, I'll take that thrice-cursed ring back right now."

Samantha stares at him, shocked, most certainly, that he would be quite so angry about this matter. Sam's lost for words lips just slightly parted, cigarette completely forgotten. What in the world does she say? The man she loves beyond all else is practically snarling at her. "…Anton…" She finally breathes out, almost buying time. "…I… I love you." It's not the best response, but it's the best she's got right now.

Samantha's words do nothing to reassure Komnenos; he rises from the chair and takes a couple steps around the bed before finally replying. "Right. You've said it enough bloody times," he sneers angrily. Thorn stalks to and fro around Samantha's bed, seeming not quite sure how to react beyond unfocused anger; he settles by heading for the hatch. He doesn't leave, though, before turning to offer one last parting shot, his accent thickening. "Maybe it's not enough. Maybe you shouldn't have accepted the gods-damned thing at all if y' didn't plan t' follow through!" Cue dramatic stormoff.

Oh shit, son. Sam's eyes go wide as he begins to storm out and before that battle axe of a nurse realizes what's going on, she rips the pulse monitor off her fingertip and the IV out of the back of her hand. She'd yell his name immediately, but she needs a head start on the medical staff. So it's not until he's at the hatch and she's totally free from her bed does she pull the stupidest move she's made in a while, and push herself up out of that bed, legs nearly giving out as she calls, "Anton! Wait, we…. " Whoa, room spinning…" We'll pick one!" She continues, beginning a quick, shakey dart across the post-op room. Hopefully she'll get to the hatch before she gets tackled.

Thorn isn't having any of it, it seems. Or he's just that committed. In any case, Samantha's sudden appeal has no effect, though the sound of her voice finally does get him to break stride and look back. "Too late," are his only words for Samantha, and then he turns to an otherwise-occupied nurse, who's only just noticing Sam's jailbreak act herself. "She probably shouldn't be out of bed, what?" he points out to the nurse oh-so-helpfully before he tosses one last glare and spins on his heel.

Samantha really would like to follow, "Thorn…" She half begs, but the nurses are already, as gently firm as possible, guiding the woman back into her bed and starting to reattach screaming monitors. Sam swears breathlessly, pressing her eyes shut against a rather suddenly harsh sting there. Her right hand reaches across to her left palm while they start hooking it all back up again, brushing fingertips across that ring. She doesn't take it off, but the well wishing and feeling she had experienced but 20 minutes ago is far, far gone now…

About two hours later… +++

It's only been a few seconds, the nurses less than happy that Sam tried to pull a jail break routine that was completely unsuccessful and thankfully brief. She's now settled back into bed, catching breath again and those cigarettes freshly brought from Thorn confiscated just as quickly. The man not having turned back, despite her protests, leaves Sam feeling less like recovering and more like… well… Crying. She's got her eyes tightly shut against that strange sting, tryign to push it all back before facing the room again.

Roubani has never had good timing. He drops back by Sickbay on the way towards berthings, expecting to peek in on a sleeping pilot. But, well. Ahem. He sets his hands on the back of the chair he'd occupied earlier, softly clearing his throat. "Passi?"

Samantha blinks, eyes shooting open, not really having even heard Roubani come this time either. She blinks against glassy eyes, looking far more a mess than she was when he left 30 minutes ago. What the hell happened? But she doesn't dare cry infront of the man, forcing those tears away as she sniffs a moment and gives him a half smile. "…Hey…sorry…how…How was your tea?"

Roubani is polite, at least, about letting her think she's hidden it just fine. He gently scratches his nose. "Fine, I suppose. You look like you could use some time. Anything you need from berthings or the like?"

Samantha shakes her head slowly, taking in another half shaking breath, but she's doing all she can to carefully box away all that emotion. "No… no. I'm fine. You… you wanted to talk?" Down to business. Better than thinking about it. She defintiely doesn't want to eb left alone with her thoughts.

"I don't want to upset you." 'Further', is the unmentioned word. Roubani sits on the edge of the chair though, reaching over and absently straightening something on her nightstand. "I really should learn to play an instrument. In films someone's always in hospital and someone comes and plays them a song and it's a nauseating moment of camraderie. I will attempt to learn the kazoo for next time."

Samantha smirks to him, pale, but it's a bit more of an encouraging expression. She shakes her head to him, "The kazoo? Teach Kissy, then you can sing in your lovely accent from yesterday." It's only a half joke, not really succeeding, but she had to try. She sighs, "Now spill it. You won't upset me. Probably frakking up my whole engagement upset me… this can't be any worse. Do tell."

Roubani opens his mouth, then closes it. "Well. It's about…what happened. So. Actually, it might just be worse." There's only a smidge of bone-dry humor in there. "But whatever is going on, I /really/ doubt you've ruined a whole engagement in the hour or so since I last saw you."

"He asked me when we wanted to set a date. I told him I wasn't sure if I did. He said then maybe we never should and stormed off." There, end of story, told as factually as a weather report. Now that the gossip is out, Sam smirks to him again, "…Now, what the -frak- is it?"

"You know Thorn has the temper of a two year old who's been eating testosterone cookies at snacktime," Roubani says, with a wry half-smile. "He's a man, it's a pride matter. He will get over himself." A pause left there, and the wryness fades. "May I ask you something about Crydel?"

Samantha tilts her head to him, brow furrowing a touch. At least, whatever the mystery he has is curious enough that it's totally distracted her from the spat she's had with the man she supposedly loves…"..Of course. Nadiv…you can ask me anything." And she entirely means it, her voice shockingly solemn for Samantha Passi.

Roubani nods once, folding his hands in his lap as though he were physically gathering thoughts together. "Did you talk about religion much with him?" From his tone that's not THE question. Yet.

Samantha furrows her brow, "Some… he…he always wanted to convert me. Hated that I wasn't a believer… but then he also tried to give me my own time in the matter. For a Chaplain… he didn't do to damned bad a job of it with those who hated the gods." Sam admits quietly, confusion deepening on her face…"Why do you ask?"

Roubani pauses a moment, exhaling pensively through his nose. "Did he ever…make an error, that you noticed, when he talked about all that? Or…say anything that felt unorthodox?"

Samantha narrows her gaze at him, still not totally getting it, apparently having missed that important error several nights ago. "…Like…what? Not… not that I can remember. But we didn't talk about it much… I told him to frak off most of the time. I… I was rather a bitch, honestly." A strange trace of guilt crosses her face, considering what they suspect about him now. "Why?"

"Considering the grand scheme it might be a silly detail, but…" Roubani scratches the back of his hand, absently. "May I trust you to be discreet about something? I really don't know how much anyone's supposed to be saying." No gag order's come down the line but come on, it's the military.

Samantha nods quietly to him, her green eyes rather more serious than the normal Case he knows and loves/hates. "Yeah…doesn't leave this bed, I promise. What is it?"

"That man on the hangar deck…he said 'Lord'." Roubani murmurs, quietly. "'Lord love you…cause you'll see him soon'."

Samantha pauses… silent, considering, remembering back. "…He…He did, didn't he?…weird.." She breathes out quietly, confusion growing. "…Lord… no… I'm certain Jack always talked about the gods… but that'd be a deliberate difference in their personalities then.."

"And when you saw 'him' that…second time?" Roubani asks, still keeping his voice far down. "Do you remember?"

Samantha shakes her head slowly, "…He said Gods…I thought. I was so messed up… he might have said something else and I couldn't tell." She looks a bit pale at the memory, swearing…"Frak…I spilled our whole mission to him down there… I thought I was hallucinating… I'm lucky I didn't get more of us killed if…if was one of… Them. Frak."

Roubani shakes his head slightly. "That's done with, Passi. We're here, not there. Can't be changed, so just stay in the present right now. At least he is one we won't make the mistake with again, no?" He glances at his watch and over his shoulder towards the nurse's station, then back at her. "It's getting late, I probably can't stay much longer. I had just a few more thoughts, but let's see how you feel when you've got your strength back, okay?"

It's been a miracle he was allowed this long, and the nurse who has been dutifully well attending Passi is watching them both. Roubani's gaze is the key, she indeed catching his eyes and quietly nodding him out of there. So much more polite, he is, than the other hooligans hanging around. Sam catches sight of that nod and sighs…"Yeah..come back tomorrow if they allow. If not… I'll see ya when I'm out. I'll think it over. See if I can remember more. Good night, Poet…" She reaches out to squeeze his arm briefly before letting him go.

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