Past and Future
Past and Future
Summary: Eve and Micah go from the Memorial board, to a momentous occasion.
Date: 85 ACH
Related Logs: None.
Players:
Eve..Micah..

-=============================================================================-
Sickbay Genesis - Deck 13
85 ACH 23817 Souls

The medical facility is large enough to hold a few dozen beds. Each bed is set with a curtain for privacy, a chair near the bed and any monitoring or medical aids needed. A nurses desk sits at the front near the hatch and a surgery area, Medical Officers area and supplies are on the far wall behind the desk. Nurses, doctors and medics man this area at any time day or night. Visiting hours are usually kept to the day and evening schedules, unless stated otherwise by medical staff.

<Condition Two —- Duty Area >

Contents: Eve Medical Charts Memorial Board Wireless 1492
Exits: [CMO] CMOs Office [O] Corridor
[PO] Psychiatry Office [RW] Recovery Ward
Special: +lhelp - Local Help Available
-=============================================================================

-=============================== Memorial Hall ================================-
Comment for st. germain family:
A faded photograph, obviously taken in a studio rather than off the cuff. A dark-haired man with a striking mien, and his dusky-skinned wife. They're both dressed in the full Marine battle regalia of high-ranking officers, uniforms draped with medals and commendations. Two children sit in the foreground: a girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen dressed in crushed velvet, and a boy of eight or nine in a little tuxedo. Both are dark and swarthy like their mother, and the entire family barely touches one another.
Scrawled by hand, a note is written on the back of the picture:
I'm sorry this took me so long to put up, dad. I second-guessed myself a hundred times. Mum, I know you both weren't on the best of terms, but it seemed right this way. Marinesha, keep an eye on them for me.
-Micah
-==============================================================================-

-=============================== Memorial Hall =====================================-
Comment for sloan family:
A picture of an extended family all piled onto the back terrace of an auspicious looking home. Scrawled in red below is: Caprica. May the gods comfort, the winds still, and their final song be heard.
-==============================================================================-

Tea, glorious tea. Some where Eve's managed to find a cup of it and its currently clamped in one hand as she was wandering the memorial board. Of course, she's found one particular area to linger, standing in front of a picture of a stoic looking man and wife, with two children with dusky complections. She's wearing her duty shirt, but the collar is undone. Maybe she's taking a break.

Micah filters into sickbay, also dressed in his duty uniform. And, as always, nigh unrecognisable in those starched, crisp blues. Top button undone as he steps through the hatch, his eyes immediately track toward the psyche's office door— before the dark-haired figure by the memorial board catches his roving attention. Course adjusted, he thumps over thattaway.

Eve doesn't have her glasses on, so she has to squint and lean closer to the picture to make out their features more clearly. Normally, she could recognize the cadence of Micah's boots, but she's concentrating on the picture with a serious expression on her lips, like she's trying to figure something out.

"You're goin' to end up crosseyed like that, sir." If Eve didn't hear him coming, the sound of that smoke-touched voice is probably going to be a bit startling— particularly since it's about two inches from her ear.

Eve jumps about a foot, both back from the picture and straight up, a hand going to her chest as if to still its sudden palpatations. "Micah!" She almost looks…guilty? "Er. I mean. Jig." She forces a smile to her features and exhales a steadying breath. "You scared me."

There's a laugh from the pilot as he manages to successfully startle the poor doctor. Nope, he's completely unrepentant about frightening her. Well, almost completely unrepentant. Considering they're both off duty, he dares to drop a chaste kiss to her forehead. "You looked pretty deep in thought." His eyes flicker to the photograph, then away; the resemblance between himself, and his father at that age is.. striking. He takes a step away and reaches out to touch another photograph. One of a large family lounging around on the terrace of a fancy house.

Eve ducks her head for a moment, showing all the classic facial expressions of someone being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She tries to cover well, by offering a soft laugh. "Was just wondering if you still look that good in a tuxedo." Aha, he's found her family. A distraction. She starts pointing out things, "That's my father. Mother. That's my aunt and her children.. my parent's house. Gods, I hated that dog." Apparently referring to the white poofy thing that has a more prominent place in the photo than Eve does.

Micah makes no more mention of that stiff little family portrait of his, for now. He's still fingering Eve's picture, mouth quirked in an almost-smile as he listens to her dissect the actors in that little play. "You got a big family," he remarks quietly, brushing his thumb over the pretty— and nigh vanishing— Evie. "Caprica," he reads, "May the gods comfort, the winds still, an' their final song be heard." Silence, of the introspective kind.

Eve reaches out to touch his waist slightly. "Had a big family. Though my parents only contributed me to the mix. Well. And Fluffy." She smirks as her eyes return to the little ball of fluff, who was actually likely named 'Princess' or 'Muffy' or something equally pretentious. "They're in the Fields now. Likely all playing bridge or something equivalently boring."

"Fluffy," Micah repeats, with a soft snort at the end and a brief grin showing at the corners of his eyes. "No siblings? You're an only child?" He didn't know that, of course. So many little things they still have to learn about one another. The photograph is replaced almost reverently, smoothed down with his fingertips.

Eve mmhmms softly. "They were happy wrapped up in their lives with each other. And then I came along to spoil all their fun. Nothing a nanny couldn't fix though. And I assume my mother or father was then sterilized shortly there after. No little brothers or sisters to play with, nope. Just fluffy, and some school chums." She touches the picture too. But its only to straighten it.

Micah is frowning slightly as Eve speaks, and watches her straighten the picture absently. Then, with a soft grunt, "Wonder if my parents would've liked you." He shoots her a sideways look. "My mum, anyway. I guess you knew—" Er. No. He isn't going there. "We used to have this huge farmhouse, back on Aerelon. Pigs, chickens, horses we were tryin' to make breeding stock out of.. a couple of dogs. Real dogs, not like fluffy there." He flicks the picture. "Figure it would've been nice, you an' me, inheriting that place.."

There's a touch of a blush on her cheeks as he mentions his parents, Eve quickly clears her throat. "Can you imagine me, chasing chickens? Well. I certainly would have tried. Do everything at least once, if only for the life experiences. I had my own place on Caprica too. Little cabin. Next to a lake. Remind me and I'll show you the picture sometime, if you like." Her smile smoothes out, in that practiced way she can get sometimes.

Blush? What blush? If Eve's uncomfortable, Micah's not noticing it. "Aye. I can." He laughs, and twists aside as a nurse bustles by. "I can picture it pretty well, actually." He glances over at the psyche again. "Really? Your own place? I jus' had a shitty little apartment overlooking a machine shop."

Eve's smile quirks up a bit more at that, "I'm sure it was just as lovely. If only because it was yours. I imagine though, it was just a larger scaled version of your bunk. I'd say you needed a woman's touch in there, but I can't think of a woman who'd /want/ to touch anything in there." Now she's teasing, a bit more at ease seeming how he seems to be oblivious to her discomfort.

Micah's expression grows a tad pinched, just for a moment. "Maru had it set up pretty much the way she wanted it," he mumbles, "before we.. well, before we broke up, an' I moved out." His hands are shoved back into trouser pockets, mouth twisting into a bit of a smirk. "Though ah'd hardly consider that a touch. More like a—" He stops there. "Never mind. How long before you're back on duty? I need to go get suited up, in case they need us up there, but ah've got time still for some decaf in the lounge?" Well, decaf for her.

Eve eyes crinkle just a hint, but its clearly not with mirth. No, its the mention of Jocasta having that big of an impact on his life. Just the barest indication that the psyche is indeed capable of jealousy. "I've got a better idea." She hitches her head towards the recovery ward. "I want to show you something, if you're game?"

Micah meets Eve's eyes for a moment or two, and instantly seems guilty for having brought up that name. A hint of self-recrimination crosses his expression, before it's summarily quelled. "Sure," he concedes, a little warily. You know, just in case she's trying to get him alone so she can clobber him with an iv stand and hide the body under a gurney.

Eve won't take his hand, but her finger brushes against it and a smile returns to her features. "Come on then." She steps away from the wall, content now that he'll follow. She's headed to the recovery ward, but she stops at the nurses desk and looks like she asks for a favor. Whatever is requested, is agreed to with a nod and a smile from the Ensign who immediately grins wide and tosses a glance to the CMO's office before then waving Eve and Micah through to the back.

-=============================================================================-
Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13
85 ACH 23817 Souls

This is a large room holding over twenty bed stations for patients to recover after having treatment severe enough that they cannot immediately return to duty. Each station has various connections for medical equipment, a bed with collapsible railings, fold out table, adjustable positions and a privacy curtain.

< Condition Two —- Duty Area >

Contents: Eve
Exits: [O] Out [PR] Private Room
-=============================================================================-

Micah follows along dutifully, hands clasped behind his back like the upstanding JIG he's pretending to be, in that crisp uniform with its pins and flight qualification wings. The ward is quiet today, presumably, nobody grievously wounded in that last emergency jump.

Eve skirts quickly to one of the bays, tugging him into it before quickly snicking the curtain closed. There's a bit of a laugh on her lips that just can't help but bubble out, like a child who's about to do something incredibly naughty. She can't exactly hop up on the bed, but she climbs up on the edge of it quickly, and is leaning back to unsnap the top of her duty trousers. "Hand me that white bag down there." She nods to the item in question, which is on the bottom shelf of a cart.

There's a guff of laughter from the pilot when he's duly tugged, and a little clatter as he nearly takes down one of those IV stands in the bay. Grinning, he scoots in closer for a moment to help lift her into a more comfortable position, and takes the opportunity to mutter in her ear, "Ah'm not sure you want me playin' doctor with you, baby." Nevertheless, he crouches to fumble about for said bag, and passes it on up with a quizzical look.

Eve shivers with a little bit of delight at that whisper, but has to ask, "What is it with you and IV stands?" He seems to have run-ins with them often. When he gets the bag, she props it next to her on the mattress and unzips it. "Told you I wanted to show you something. If I can remember how…" She pulls out a bottle of light blue translucent ultrasound goo, and a small hand held device. Leaning back on one elbow, she offers the gel to him. "Here, spread this on my stomach. Low." She peels back her pants and pushes them down a bit to help.

"Must be my magnetic personality, Evie," demurs the pilot with a saucy grin. He hitches one buttcheek up on the mattress on her other side, and reaches for the bottle of goo with a critical eye. Aha, this is starting to become clearer now. The cap's tugged off and a generous amount— probably more than he really needs— squirted into his palm. "'s goin' to be a bit cold. Ready for it?" He shuffles around so he can reach her belly easily, and hovers his hand slightly atop the bared little bump.

Eve gives a laugh, "I'm ready. At least you put it in your palm, first. The nurse just usually squirts it on like she's putting ketchup on a hamburger." Either way she braces herself for the chill, her back arching slightly. She can't lay down entirely, otherwise she won't be able to manuever the Doppler.

Maybe it's talk of ketchup and hamburgers that has Micah looking slightly hungry for a moment there. Or maybe it's his girlfriend with her pants around her hips and a curtained-off medical bay. Either way, he darts a little kiss to her mouth before slathering the goo on. Rub, rubrubrub, just like she told him before. Surprisingly gentle little circles with his palm.

Eve is grinning, but also looking just a bit shy through this ordeal. She really has no reason to be modest around Micah, he's seen every inch of her skin already, but this is a little bit different. "Alright." She coo's quietly, flicking on the doppler. "You ready?" She asks, keeping it poised just above her skin as she waits for his hands to slither away.

Micah's hand does withdraw after a moment, somewhat reluctantly perhaps. It's slimy and wet, and wiggled above her face briefly. "Ready," he replies, briefly hunting for a towel or unused smock to dry his hand off with.

Eve wrinkles her nose as he waves his slimy fingers in front of her face, her features alight with laughter. "Okay, so.." She presses the curved end to her stomach, sliding it through the gel. almost immediately, there's the steady 'tatump tatump' of a pulse through the instruments built in speaker. "Now, that's my heart beat…" She murmurs, not to talk too much over the sound. She moves the thing around, sliding it over her stomach, having to go lower to almost just above her panty line. Searching. Then, a faster 'pewpewpewpewpew' sound is added. Her lips curl with a triumphant smile. "There's our baby's.."

Micah is still searching for a towel, a rag, anything to get that slime off his fingers. The sound of those first soft thuds gain his attention though, head twisting around so he can watch her maneuvering that thing over her tummy. He's stilled to a rapt silence by the time that second, quicker heartbeat is heard. A breath, a flicker of mismatched eyes over the bump that hides a living, breathing.. tiny little person. "Frak me," he whispers. That still-wet hand is brushed over equally-wet skin, an almost possessive caress. "Is it.. does it have to breathe?" Okay, so he's clueless about these things.

Eve has to move it a bit, so that sound remains on the monitor, pressing into her stomach slightly to keep track of it. That little peanut can already do barrel rolls, although Eve can't feel it yet. "Just ambiotic fluid. He or she won't get air until she's born, and gives that first cry. That's when their lungs inflate fully." She doesn't know all the nuiances, just what she was taught in her pre-med courses. Eve is smiling, watching him more than her stomach.

Micah, on the other hand, is enraptured with Eve's goo-slicked tummy at the moment. He doesn't seem to want to take his hand off it, though does shift to accomodate the roving doppler-thing. "Frak me," he repeats, half-sigh, half-laugh. "When's it start kickin'?" Probably as soon as it's got anything resembling feet, if it's a St. Germain. "Me mum said I was a difficult pregnancy," he confesses, almost sounding apologetic there. Fiestiness probably runs in the blood, so Eve's got her work cut out for her.

Eve listens to the reassuring sound a moment longer, before she switches it off to not waste its battery life, then settles back onto her elbows to let Micah pet her tummy to his delight. "Not for a couple of months yet. I'm only some where around ten weeks. Maybe another eight to twelve to go for that. But if she kicks as much as she made her momma puke, its going to be a ride." At least Eve's over the majority of the morning sickness, thank goodness for small miracles.

Micah wordlessly helps to put the equipment away, tucking and strapping things back into the bag, and settling it back on its shelf dutifully. "She, huh?" Grinning, he reaches to snag a folded towel from the cart. It's used to dry off his hand first, and then, more gently, the goo smeared on Eve's tummy. "You know.." His fingers pause, then reluctantly start buttoning up her trousers again. "..you're goin' to make a wonderful mother." It's soft-voiced and a little awkwardly spoken, but the sentiment's honest.

Eve bites the inside of her cheek, "You…you really think so?" Because honestly she looks nervous as hell about the thought. "I never really had a lot of experience with children, other than spoiling my younger cousins. I know what a book tells me, I know what Rhea has to say but…well. I'm just as lost as you are, I suppose. Maybe we can figure it out together?" She asks, sounding hopeful.

Micah's expression tinges on sad for a moment. Faintly melancholy, at least, when he hears that tone in her voice. Trousers buttoned back up, he smoothes her duty shirt down over them, with the clear urge to pull her into his arms right then and there. It's resisted, barely. "We'll figure it out," he agrees softly. "Though ah'll be damned if I raise our kid like my father did." Our. He said our.

Eve pushes back to a seated position, now that he's been sweet enough about getting her redressed. He might be resisting the urge for an embrace, but she's not. Her arms snake around his midsection and she lays her head against his abdomen, hugging him while still sitting. "No arguments there." Though with her face tucked up against him, he'll thankfully miss that slightly haunted look on her face at the mention of his father again.

Micah smells like navy soap, and faintly like cigarettes, and gold berthings. He's also quite warm, especially when his own arms wrap around her, palm cradling the back of her head. A kiss is dropped there, and left to linger a moment. Quiet moments, stolen moments, but it's only so long before some nosy nurse sends that curtain rattling across its railings and smokes them out of here. "C'mon," he murmurs, husky-voiced, "Let me walk you back to your office."

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