Survivors Guilt
Survivors Guilt
Summary: Chione finds a pretty wrecked Cornbread
Date: 79 ACH
Related Logs: Vissar Base CIC

There were rumors that Sloane came somewhere around this way. He's actually hidden himself pretty well. Hiding in one of the enclosed Sports Courts, he's got his flight suit unzipped down his his waist and he's sitting in the corner. Knees bent and his head down between them, he's hugging himself into a little ball. At least he's not rocking back and forth.

It takes time, first to be relieved from duty, secondly to fight Cornbread from rumor only. Searching high and low, in and out of the Sports Courts, finally Chione finds Antonio, peeking into one of the enclosed courts. Seeing the state the pilot is in, the Ensign gnaws on her lower lip, before checking over her shoulder, making certain no one is going to follow her in and disturb the pair before stepping onto the court and pulling the door closed behind her. Without a word the blond woman glides across the court to stand next to Sloane, leaning against the wall heavily, before sliding down and sitting next to him, drawing her own knees up to her chest. And still not a word she says, waiting for Antonio to break the silence.

There's a little look upwards towards her as she sits down, he doesn't look like he's been crying, but more or less that he just looks…ghostly. He leans against her a little bit, still sitting as he does when she sits beside him, letting out a long sigh. "Hey…" He say, finally breaking that silence. It's not the best word, but it fits.

It's good enough, Chione glances over at Sloane, her own features haunted. This wasn't a pilot that was some faceless name. She knew this one. Gods, Kalypso's going to be devastated, too, but that is for another time. Unsure of what exactly she SHOULD do in this situation, Chione doesn't even attempt a smile, she just chews on her low lip, unsure, reaching out a trembling hand to rest it on Sloane's arm. "Hey," is all that she can muster in response, a mere whisper that she wishes were stronger the moment it leaves her lips.

Sloane reaches over with his right and and puts it over hers. "I'm sorry…" He simply says. It's the only phrase he's been repeating for the last hour. Breathing inwardly, he furrows his brow in that attempt to look strong before he puts his left arm around her shoulders, looking to her feet.

That animated brow lifts upwards, and Chione's fingers wrap around Sloane's own, gripping as tightly as they can. "_You_ are sorry? What the frak for?" she snaps, real anger seeping into her voice. "For doing your job as best you could? For doing what you could with a Cylon on your own ass? What gives you the GODS DAMN RIGHT to be so perfect? HUH? No one, and I mean NO FRAKKING ONE is that perfect, do you got it, Antonio Sloane?!"

Sloane watches her jaw move, he doesn't make eye contact. It's clear that he is blaming himself, it's fairly common among pilots. "I know…" He says quietly, nodding his head a little bit. He rubs at one of his eyes, putting an angry face on for a moment. "I got it…I got it I just…I was his wingman. It's hard. You wish you were faster, better…ask yourself if you did something different…" He trails off, looking to her face finally.

"And I'm going to bet you anything, you name it, that you couldn't have done anything different, Antonio," offers Chione firmly. Tilting her chin, the young woman reaches out, putting her other hand over his, before letting her face and voice turn a little more gentle. "They train you to win, they train you to fight, they don't train you to keep on living," says Chione with a bit of a sigh. "They don't train any of us that. We have to muddle through that on our own. I'm sure there's some sort of grieving process and that Psych could tell you what it is. I, however, am going to tell you, that I don't blame you, and that I'm right here."

Sloane stares off towards the wall, facing her. When she puts her hand over his, he turns his seating to face her. Running a slightly shaking hand through his hair, his lips tug in a little smile. It fades fairly fast. He's trying, he's just very, very broken up about this. His face flits through a collection of facial expressions. Sadness, anger, frustration cross his features before he simply leans forward and rests his forehead on her shoulder. Letting out a deep breath, he wraps an arm around her shoulder and calms himself. "…you're right." He says quietly. "Frak…Archer would tell me I did the best I could." He starts to calm, looking up to her a little bit. "Did…you two know eachother?"

Releasing with one hand, Chione wraps it around Sloane instead, half using it as comfortable weight, half holding him to her afraid he will physically as well as metaphorically move away from her. "Not well. We only just met. He was supposed to be out there watching over Kalypso for me," she notes softly, trying very hard to keep her own voice soft and calming, and not from choking up. She's starting to fail. "Wide Load, however, knew him, and knew him well. Old friends, I think she said. I'm thinking," she notes softly, "if you can't get into your berthings, surely someone in the Officers berth has some hooch that we can all get pretty toasted with later. You, me, Kaly. Or someone in Engineering. Someone in Marine Country. Someone has to have something, somewhere. Mmm?" Yes, Chione just offered to get drunk, to loose control, in a manner of speaking.

Sloane's not going to cry. The redness in the eyes is there but the frustration's holding it in. He simply wants to be strong. It's just hard when your brain can't decide whether ir wants to break things, sob, or find the mechanic that didn't have your own Viper ready and punch them in the face. "I got the bastard that did it…" He says, nodding to her softly. He finally, finally makes full eye contact with her. "I'll keep an eye on your cousin, Chione. I swear it." He says, getting back in control of his emotions. A bit of that Cornbread cheer's obviously going to be gone for a little bit. He simply nods to her. "Yeah…let's…" He says pulling his hand back and flexing it a few times. Deep breath in, deep breath out. "Thanks, Chione…" He squeezes her hand softly.

Watching Sloane for a moment, Chione weighs a few things in her mind, the look on his face, the emotions in his gaze, her own emotions that fall heavily upon her. Finally, Chione slides her arm across Sloane's shoulders, sliding her hand up to rest against his cheek. She's not smiling yet, honestly, Chione isn't certain she can smile, "What kind of lousy girlfriend would I be if I didn't care and worry about you?" she asks, before shifting to her knees and leaning forward in an attempt to press her forehead to Antonio's own.

Cornbread smiles a little. Pressing his forehead to hers, he ignores the fact that he's still sweaty, tired, and desperately in need of a shower. Flight suits don't breathe. Closing his eyes for a moment, he lets the calm settle into his bones before he leans forward and gives her a soft kiss. Forehead against hers again, he closes his eyes. "You're very bad at being a lousy girlfriend…" He says with a little smile. Leaning forward, he gives her a long, tension relieving hug before he pulls away from her and takes her hand. "Cmon…let's find your cousin and that bottle…"

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