Closed Curtains
Closed Curtains.
Summary: PG-13, may contain some smooching. Evelyn visits Micah in the recovery ward. Confessions and consorting ensue.
Date: 33 ACH
Related Logs: None.

The atmosphere in the recovery ward is not the most welcoming, today. Meds are being rationed, painkillers are only being doled out where strictly necessary, and people are grumpy. Micah, lounging in a bed at the far end of the row, is trying to stave off boredom with a magazine someone brought him. Not one of the comic books, he's probably re-read those eight times apiece, but a ski and snowboard volume that must have been pinched from the trip to Leonis.

Eve has been spending more time floating around sick bay than in her own office. She tends not to get flooded until the adrenaline wears off and realities sink in. So. She checks up on those she knows, keeping a blind eye to things like blood transfusions or red bandages, but she's holding her own. She looks a little pale however, as she skirts towards Micah's bed, reaching for the curtain as she walks the semi-circle around him. "Mind a visitor?"

Micah is not, thankfully, covered in blood or hooked up to blood-transfusing machines. In fact, he seems to be in quite good health, all things considered, and is probably merely waiting to be discharged by now. He lifts his head when he hears someone approaching, and there's a telling little swallow when he sees who it is. "Lieutenant," he mumbles, turning his eyes briefly back to his magazine, before setting it aside. "Don't mind. You makin' the rounds again?"

Eve misses the flashing call light, bringing attention to Reed's room, as the curtain skims along its track. "Someone has to listen to my prattle. And there is only so much abuse I can give a coma patient, in good conscienceness." Her smile is a little feeble as she finally finishes closing the curtain up tight, affording them some modicum of privacy. "Sorry my rounds have been sparse, I hope you've had plenty to occupy you."

"Ah've had some," replies the pilot quietly, voice a touch hoarse from either cigarettes or having a hole torn through his lung not too long ago. His eyes follow her as she makes a circuit about the bed and snicks the curtain closed, and his smile is faintly proprietous. "What's on your mind, doc?"

"Scootch." Eve tells him, apparently intent on sitting on the edge of his bed again. "Nothing, just wanted some privacy. Maybe scare off the nurses or your faithful throng of follows long enough to do this…" She leans over him, pressing a quick kiss to his scar split lips.

"Faithful throng of followers?" repeats Micah with a grin, though he does shuffle over a little. Carefully. He doesn't want to rip any stitches after all, or Zaharis will come after him with that sling. There are fingertips touching her cheek when she leans in, the kiss returned with a very slight shudder, like he hasn't had something this soft to touch in weeks. Which, is probably about right. "So. Prattle."

Eve leans back again, pressing her lips tightly together and working them back and forth as if she's trying to redistribute chapstick or perhaps linging in the subtle taste of him. "Mm. Well. I was just released from being arrested in quarters for a severe case of lapse in judgement. I wanted to tell you first, before it made it through the rumor mill."

Micah's hand comes to rest casually on her knee, eyes uplifted to study her quietly as she speaks. Talk of being arrested prompts a furrowing of his brow, though he doesn't look bothered by it. Amused, maybe? After all, he's the one that seems to have a permanent membership in the brig. "Go on," he instructs evenly.

Well. This is the part she seems to be hesitant about bringing to light, "When I first was brought on the Genesis. Shortly after the Cylon attack and before…well before you…" She stumbles for a bit, "The long and the short of it, I had sexual intercourse with Farkas, which I had to report to Major Zaharis. No one else besides the appropriate department heads know about it. JAG. The S-Two for the Marines." She doesn't seem to regret her actions, just how its all coming about and what she risked in the end. Which seems to include whatever it is she has with Micah.

Micah retains a straight face while she fumbles about with words, and beats around that proverbial bush in an effort to soften the effect of what she has to say no doubt. And no, there isn't any obvious upset with what she offers in the end. His tongue traces his upper lip slowly, before it's drawn in between his teeth. "You sure know how t'pick your rules infractions, Lieutenant," he murmurs at last. Hard to say what he's thinking, really, his face doesn't betray much.

Eve gives a bit of a shrug, finding something else to focus on other than his face. Her eyes start scanning the curtains, as if mentally counting how many fabric squares each is compromised of. "Yes, well. The more serious infraction is when it compromised my medical opinion. That will take some digging out of, and only time will provide that. My assumption now is that Farkas will be further reprimanded, and my only fear is that will tip him off further." Another bit of a shrug.

"Hnnf." That's roughly the sound made by the pilot, once Eve's done talking. He's not particularly good with the eye contact thing, at the best of times, so he doesn't give chase when she looks away. His hand remains upon her thigh, however. "No wonder you're lookin' so ragged. And what do you mean, tip 'im off further?" It's possible his grip increases, just a fraction. Protective, much?

Eve rests a hand over his, almost in a vague sort of reassurance. "Well in the sense that the man isn't particularly known for restricting his anger issues." Which is well known, so no privileges are infringed. Her gaze wanders back towards his face, "The rest I can deal with. The Major is disappointed, but seems intent on keeping further fallout from happening. So. I'd appreciate it if this would stay between you and I."

"Aye. Sir." She may not be on duty, but perhaps the formality serves a different purpose; to hold him to the standards of the officer that he is. His hand turns, and captures hers firmly. Not painfully. And tugs her closer, until a few inches separate their faces. Murmured, "Tell me, though. Are you frakking anyone else right now, doc?"

Eve swallows as she's tugged closer to him, the man having a habit of unnerving her that few are capable of. "No." She forms the word simply, without any running around it or trying to quantify it. It is what it is, which is a negative.

Micah nods slowly, though holds her in place for a few moments more. Not meeting her eyes, no, his lashes are lowered so he's gazing at her cheek. Inhaling her scent. "Neither am I. Wonder what that makes us." A pause, and a slow exhale of breath. "Frankly, I don't give a shit who you frakked before me, or who you'll frak after some toaster sends me to a fiery death. Just keep your arse out of the brig, sir? It in't big enough for the two of us."

Eve sighs softly, her breath mingling with his in the close proximity, the force of her emotion brushing against his skin with the exhale. "Sorry. You're not allowed to die, or get brigged again for that matter. They don't allow conjugal visits, afterall…" A smile at her own attempt at levity is offered, "As to what that makes us…well. Maybe we can figure that out once you get out of here."

Micah grins, and his hand closes a little tighter around her wrist, pulling her another fraction closer. She can try resisting, and she might even succeed, though he is regaining his strength slowly but surely. "That an order, sir?"

Eve doesn't resist, though she tenses up a bit, at the moment she knows he doesn't seem malicious, but she's just so unsure about him that she's afraid to take any chances. "That's an order, Saint Germain." Name, instead of rank. But last name, which implies superiority, complete with chin lifting a bit. Though how anyone can take an order to 'not die' seriously, is anyone's guess.

It's always so difficult to tell with him, what's going on in that head of his. Of course, he's unlikely to assault an officer, not to mention a superior officer, in the sickbay of all places. But there's a glint in his mismatched eyes and a ferocity to him that doesn't get left behind in the cockpit. "Aye. Sir." It's murmured again, and then he releases her wrist to take her jaw in his hand, and claim a rather aggressive kiss. Mercifully, he manages to keep it quiet.

Eve's eyes pinch shut when lips crash together, taking a full heart beat or three to actually relax into it, and then only a heart beat or more to enjoy it. There's a movement in her body, half crossed across his, that betrays a certain need for him that's being kept barely under the surface. That need for phyiscal contact, that need for a bit of human kindness. But then she's pushing away with a nervous laugh bubbling to her lips. "We're going to get in trouble…" She warns.

Micah seems almost to not want to let her go. He could force it, physically he surely could, but he doesn't. Not here, not now. There's a stutter in his breath when he releases her though, and a very raw need of his own that's been only fueled by his experience on Leonis followed by a week of lying here inert. "Aye." He laughs as well and darts his eyes away from her. "Ah'm due out of here tomorrow.."

Eve's tongue skims her lips while she considers something. "We're back on condition Three. And I'm due for my twenty four hours off. I'm not sure when you're assigned back to duty but…" There's a question there, left floating in the space between them. Between a man who can't keep eye contact with her, and a woman who has trouble letting go.

"Soon as I can handle a stick, I imagine," replies the pilot with a fractional lift of his lashes, and eye contact only fleetingly sought. Then away again. His hands are so much more interesting, clearly. "Ah'm sure the CAG won't mind givin' me some time off." He adds, almost in a mumble, "Like t'spend it with you."

Oh, there's certainly a joke there about handling a stick, but nothing Evelyn is prepared to comment on. She has some scruples, afterall, but there's a smirk pulling her lips. "Well. Its settled then. Maybe a nice little jaunt over to the Carina again. I could use a little R and R where people aren't frowning at me. And I'm sure you could stand to wear someting a little less scratchy then hospital gowns or uniforms."

If there's a joke to be made, Micah isn't making it either. He does smile a tiny bit when she smirks, though. "The Carina it is, then." He considers for a moment, fingertips smoothing over her knee absently. "Only got the one set of civvie clothes, though. All I brought with me."

Eve draws a line down his forearm, following a vein. "One pair of civvie clothes because you spent all your personal weight allowance on the metal you tote." Her hand folds over his once more, giving it a brief squeeze before lifting it to her lips. As she gives his knuckles a quick kiss, she's also standing. "Not that I'm complaining." She grins plainly, then, "I should go."

Micah's laughter is probably damning, though he neither confirms nor denies outright. "Ah'll see you soon, sir," he murmurs after the quick kiss, hand falling back to the bed. He's watching her face, skirting awfully close to her eyes. "And keep your chin up, aye?"

Eve mutters more to herself than him as she reaches for the curtain. "Its up, its up.." Before she steps out.

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