| Tomorrow's Gone |
| Summary: | The past attacks the future for Snatch. |
| Date: | 1/22/09 |
| Related Logs: | Hair Today |
| Players: |
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Roosters Nest (Obs Deck) Genesis - Deck 9
71 ACH 23817 Souls
The observation deck is at the fore of the ship. The viewport allows those who come here to relax and enjoy a little quiet time with opposite sex. When the ship is under Alert levels, the viewport has a steel shutter that automatically comes down over the viewport for protection of the glass. The seats here are single and double and set up like a theater. They are cushioned and some recline back for those quick naps.
-----< Condition Three - Public Area >----
Contents: Gaelan Melia Snatch Wireless 1494
Exits: [O] Corridor
Special: +detail - Details available
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Snatch, curled up in a seat at the far wall in the furthest row from the viewport, has herself a cry, a good heavy one, one long-coming and much-forestalled. She doesn't weep aloud, or sob, just breathes ragged and deep and pours tears onto the armsleeves of her blood-encrusted coveralls.
Gaelan steps into the Observation deck, still in his duty uniform it appears the Major is definitely taking a break from the hustle and bustle of things. Void of his cup of brought in Marine Brew<tm> the Marine maneauvers his way around the Deck and starts to head towards the front to look out the Observation Viewport. The engineer curled into the furthest row gets a double-take as he slows his pace to debate his next step. Towards her or the viewport.
Melia comes bouncing in, but her bounce is missing some of it's pep. She looks, well, more than a little tired, a little worn - but who doesn't? It's been a bitch of a couple days. Apparently she's not noticing much - she goes straight to the coffee as well.
Snatch snnnnrks loudly, more loudly than perhaps she wanted, snot clogging her sinuses as she tries to breathe, looking up and wiping her already red and raw eyes with the sleeve of her coveralls. She stares tiredly across the room, worn out with weeping and feeling things— looking physically and emotionally exhausted.
Gaelan slows his step as he looks to the Engineer. Unable to just let it pass by he walks towards where she is hiding out at and he laens against one of the chair in front of her, resting folded arms on the back of the chair as he looks towards her. The rasped tone of the Major comments, "You doing ok Pett Officer?" Only a brief glance goes up to Melia at the coffee pot, watching her for just a moment he looks to Rudolph the Snipe
Ok, the snrk is what gets Mellie's attention. It's almost like she's got Mom-dar. With a wry little smile at Gaelan, she dips her head, once. "Fine, Sir, thank you," she murmurs. Then it's off with some of the tissues to go sit next to the Snipe. She doesn't ask, she just plops herself down and holds a napkin out. "Blow," she orders softly.
Snatch hiccups out what she hopes to be some sort of affirmative to Gaelan, capped off with a very unmilitarily weepy 'sir.' Then those tears come pouring out double-time on recognition of the napkin, as if all her bodily moisture were attempting to go on vacation in that land of abundantly absorbent paper. She takes it, shoulders shaking as she gives up trying to say 'thanks,' and just blows her nose into the napkin with a loud honk.
Gaelan watches Snatch a moment and nods slowly, there is a sideglance to Melia as he comments, "It was a rough night last night. Lots of people got hurt, but I know that they will pull through." Unfolding his arms he leans forward and reaches up to pat Snatch gently on the arm. Not really good at this whole crying thing the Marine definitely seems a little awkward handling the situation.
Mellie holds her hand out for napkin number one and offers Snatch napkin number two. Then she shifts, opening an arm as if inviting the other woman to lean, if she's so inclined. "Yep. Excellent care is being taken care of them," Mellie comments. "They'll be fine."
Snatch gratefully exchanges napkins after having rolled up most of the snot threatening to drip from the first one so it won't get all over Mellie. She honks a little less forcefully into the secodn napkin, then uses it to wipe her cheeks. She looks up to Gaelan, then down to Mellie, and nods her agreement with the assessment, otherwise just falling forward and leaning into that offered half-hug, requiring a mothering like woah.
Gaelan refolds his arms back on the arm of the chair and watches Melia and Snatch a moment. Finally he quietly comments, "Were you there last night during the attack?" Eyes slide up to Melia and he nods with a simple smile to her.
Mellie meets Gaelan's eyes over the poor snipe and both arms slide gently around the woman. One hand comes up to the shortish hair, gently stroking it down. Yep, someone's mothering gene kicked in and apparently Snatch is her chosen target. She's quiet, letting Snatch answer.
It takes a moment of silence for Snatch to realize that she's being questioned. She sniffs and nods into Mellie's shoulder, taking a moment before she gets out a not too squeaky, "Mm-hmmm."
Gaelan nods slowly as he seems a little lost for words as he looks between the two. So much easier with Marines to console as he finally seems to gather the words and comments in his rasped tone of a voice, "At least you are safe and helped those you could." Reaching his arm out he tugs at her coveralls and asks, "Why haven't you gotten changed into some fresh gear? It and a shower always help a little.."
Mellie stays wrapped protectively around the snipe, still gently stroking the other woman's hair. "Sometimes it takes a little while to reach that point," she tells Gae with a wry little smile. "I'm afraid I kept her up too late last night and then there was quite a bit to do today. But the shower's an excellent idea, hmmm?" She looks down to Snatch, reaching out with her thumb to brush a tear away.
Snatch swallows forcefully a few times to try to get her voice straight again. When words do come out, they're in Aerelonese, her brain too tired to even try to put things into Colonial. "I don't think I know what I'm doing anymore. There's work to be done and I'm sitting here bawling like a baby." The comment only makes her cry harder, of course. "I don't know… I don't know," she just keeps repeating in her native tongue.
Gaelan eyes dart between the two as he shifts a little on the seat and comments quietly, "It's hard Petty Officer. Very hard, but if we always gave up when things got difficult we wouldn't be able to do our jobs." Reaching over he nudges her leg gently and adds, "Just because a machine didn't get fixed the first time doesn't mean you gave up, you kept at it until the job was successful. No matter how difficult it was. Right?"
Mellie, apparently, isn't all that good with Snatch's native tongue, but it doesn't take a knowledge of languages to pick up the physical and tonal cues. Mellie's small arms tighten a little more protectively and another napkin comes out, held out in the universal "blow" gesture. Again.
Gaelan's words seem to strike a chord with her, and just when she seemed about out of tears they pour in fresh once more. A sharp inhale takes some snot down the wrong tube and she hacks it up again into the napkin, then gasps for air. Seems this is one machine she's hesitant to try to fix again. Still she nods, shakily, looking up all miserable. "Ou-ais, Major," she replies, trying to sound properly up to the task.
Gaelan blinks a few times at the unfamiliar words and looks to Melia his brow stitching together in curiousity. Oddly enough the earlier unfamiliar words seemed more tangible than these as he looks back to Snatch. There is a shrug and the Major is just flat out confused on how to proceed with this at the moment.
Napkin number four comes out, gently dabbing at the tears and the nose. She shifts to give Snatch a little more to lean against, a little more support. "Sometimes," Mellie says softly, glancing over Snatch's head at Gaelan for a moment. "Sometimes we just need to cry. We need to just get it all out." Her lips tilt a little as she studies the Major, then she's turning her attention back to Snatch. "Actually, did you know that tears are the body's way of flushing out toxins caused by stress? It's a self-flushing capability."
Snatch tries gamely to buck up, and the medical trivia seems to help, eliciting from her a weakly-voiced question, "Laik's the head?" No wonder she feels like crap.
"Like the head," Mellie says, praying, clearly, that she translated right. "See, your body has stress, and it has chemicals to deal with the stress. Kind of like something to protect your pipes from corrosion. But when the stress is gone, those chemicals remain and will actually corrode the pipes. So your body says "Ok, time to get rid of this…" Pause. "OH! Yes! Just like the head. But better. Nothing sticks."
Snatch leans her head down on Mellie's shoulder again, "A hain't kennin' out whan's Ah'm about no-more, Terrer," she admits, this time in Colonial. Or. That's trying to be Colonial. "Ah reckon't Ah had it all thunk out," she cries. "But A hain't."
Gaelan looks to the young engineer he kindly adds what he could translate, "If we had it all figured out, we would be frakkin' Admirals by now and not in this mess we are in. But we are human, so here we are just getting through each day one step at a time."
Mellie's hand comes up to stroke the snipe's hair again in that same soothing, gentle motion. "None of us have shit figured out," she comments, smile a little wry. "All we can do is go one day, one step at a time. Think ahead to your next work task and do that. Then the next one. Then add in a personal. Little steps." Fingers brush Snatch's cheek briefly. "Being injured doesn't help, either," she reminds the other woman. "Maybe think when you're healed?"
Snatch melts a little under Mellie's stroking, tension seeping from her limbs as her tears go dry again and she keeps swallowing. "We'ns los' uns th' Nebula," she remarks quietly, as if that weren't really what were bothering her, but it's bad enough. "We'ns paitched her up an' set down our'n twin spare gen'rater's onner… an' lef' her thar."
Gaelan brow furrows as he focuses his attention on listening to the snipe and takes a few moments to process it before commenting it, "Well a small sacrifice for a big gain.. we will redeem it all. Just takes time and trust." Looking to Melia he shrugs slowly with a mouthed, 'I hope that was right..' towards her.
The fingers continue the gentle, tender stroking. There's no judgement, just a sense of quiet serenity coming from the little woman. She looks over to Gaelan and smiles softly, dipping her head just a little. "It's hard, sometimes," she comments to Snatch. But we have to do what we have to do for the greater good. No matter how much it sucks." It's a gentle invitation for her to continue.
Snatch shakes her head unhappily, "Fer'th bes' we'ns'd've jus' left 'er be in the start," she sighs. "We los' uns so much of whan we'ns hait lef' t'uns. An' here Ah'm recknin' on gittin' hitched? Whan use's than t'anynone?" Her lips writhe together in a deep trying-not-to-cry-again frown. "Ah ne'er wanned no one but mahn own sweetheart, no-how. Ne'er did," she affirms. "Whah'm Ah so keen on't now?"
Gaelan blinks a few times and looks between the two during the comments by the snipe as he adds in hopes it's right, "Getting hitched? You were getting married? To the ship?" A few more blank blinks as he quietly adds, "Those would be interesting looking kids.."
Mellie just eyes Gaelan for a moment, that slit-eyed look some women get, then she's back to comforting the engineer. "For the same reason we all want it," she replies quietly. "Getting married means someone to come home to. Family. Someone to live for. Someone to love. Someone to fill those holes we all now have. I imagine that it's comforting to curl up against a warm chest, against the familiar skin of someone you care for, and know you're safe, even for just a little while."
Yeah, that's done it. Mellie's description of her lost, if admittedly pre-, marital bliss has her pouring out her eyes again. She's going to need another night of fluids in sickbay after this. "Ah miss 'im so dear," she sobs. "How's it Ah can ponner on hitchin' mahnsailf to an whole other person?"
Gaelan uses the keen awareness training bestowed on all Marines of a beautiful tactic called: Strategic Retreat. The Major leans back from the chair and slides out of the row, reaching down he gathers the tissue pile that resembles the lower body of a snowman and heads up towards the trashcan with them and tosses them. Looking around a moment he finds a cup and what resembles water slowly filling the cup he looks back down towards the pair. Finally reattempting the foray of tearshed the Marine taps Melia's shoulder and offers the cup of water to her.
Mellie gives the Marine a very grateful look at that, smiling softly. "Drink," she tells the engineer, holding the cup to her lips. "It's because you miss him, because you want to honor his memory, to find some of that special thing you had with him. It's natural, sweetheart," she says quietly. "Truly, it is. You've been hurt. Your heart hurts. You're wanting to turn to someone to share with, to get back a little normalcy. Engaged is what you were when the attacks happen. By getting back to that state, by moving forward again, you're making sure that your life seems like your life again." She's talking to the engineer, but her eyes track to Gaelan every so often.
Snatch wraps her arms around Mellie, drawing herself closer and putting her lips to the edge of the cup, sipping and letting the cool water soothe her along with Mellie's words. "Ah som'taahms wisht Ah'd ne'er lived through all 'at," she admits. "Ah could on bin hom' alreaduns and wed an' maybe with a brat… took t' mahn guns an' bin keepin' off them grille-a-pain from mahn lainds."
Gaelan nods to Melia as he slides into the chair next to her on the row. The Marine appears to be pretty useless as a consoling force, so he will just sit around and look menacing to any who try to interrupt the mini psych session going on in the Obs Deck. Still able to hear the conversation he adds matter of factly, "We all have those moments. But if it was the plan for us, then we wouldn't be alive right now. So we gotta be here for something more important after all."
The water gets put aside so that Mellie can gently dab at Snatch's cheeks again. "And then you wouldn't be the woman you are today," she says softly. "You'd never have had some of the experiences you've had." She nods to Gaelan, smiling a little. "Not everyone believes that there's a grand design, or plan. A lot of us are questioning why all of this happened and, well, what exactly happened. It's…it's hard. But you wouldn't be here if you didn't want to live. If you didn't want to keep going. You have friends and yeah, it's ok to cry."
Snatch snuh-huhs and looks up to Gaelan, "An' we'd be t'gither, still… one way or t'other," she notes, sighing and dropping her cheek onto Mellie's shoulder again. "Ah'm so taaahrd," she murmurs, moving her head gently as if to burrow into Mellie's neck. "Thanks t' y'all fer leavin' min craah atcher," she offers meekly.
Gaelan shrugs slowly, "And you will be. Just it's not the time and place for it is all. No sense in rushing things along, especially with all the people around that want to keep you here." Finally the Marine looks forward and towards the Viewport and quiets as he watchse the activity outside.
"I know, sweetheart," Mellie murmurs softly. "Close your eyes and take a nap. It won't cure the emotional tired, but it will help you feel a little better physically. You're safe, I promise. It's alright."
Snatch looks as though she feels she ought to up and go, shrinking a little at the Major's words, but she's lulled peacefully in Mellie's arms, her eyelids drifting toward the 'off' position as she kind of nods.
Gaelan looks over towards Snatch then up to Melia and simply smiles to her.
Melia shares a soft smile at Gaelan. Apparently there's a bit of a conversation going on without words. She simply curls around Snatch a little tighter, a little more protectively, and continues to stroke the snipe's hair. After a time, Mellie begins to hum softly, a melody that sounds just a little like a lullabye.
Snatch wilts, her tension moving from her body as she slumps in Mellie's arms, eventually wriggling her way down to rest overtop of her lap, folding her arms to rest her head on them, then turning her head quickly as she sets it down on the wrong side by accident, eliciting a sharp draw of breath.
Gaelan watches the Snipe maneuver among the Medic's lap as he looks up to Melia and quietly comments, "Looks like you got yourself a bedmate for the night."
Mellie's lips quirk at one corner as she grins wryly at Gaelan. "I don't mind," she murmurs, keeping her voice low, pitched soothingly. Fingers gently brush Snatch's hair away from the wound, letting it breathe a little, before returning to that slow, soothing smooth. Long, gentle strokes take her fingers from scalp to neck. Then again. Repetitive and tender.
Snatch lets the wave of low-murmured Colonial wash over her, brain not even trying to figure out what people are saying, but just letting it sound like the voices of mermaids, effortless through the water, the long fingers in her hair setting a soothing warmth loose from her head to her feet as she curls up with someone warm and alive.
Gaelan smiles to Melia and chuckles lightly before commenting back quietly to not wake Snatch, "I knew you wouldn't but still.. you did good." Leaning towards Melia he nudges her body with his shoulder before asking, "Need anything?"
Melia glances down to Snatch for a moment, then back to Gaelan, her expression soft, serene. There's a brief hesitation, then she shakes her head slowly. "No, thank you, Major," she murmurs.
Aaaaand the Snipe's asleep. Getting down to the serious business of lake formation in one of the folds of her already soggy coverall arms.
Gaelan nods to Melia in an odd form of understanding it seems. Looking down to the Snipe he looks like back to her and winks to the Medic, "Looks like you make as good a pillow as you do a Medic there Petty Officer."
Melia glances back down as well, chuckle soft. "It's good to be multi-talented," she murmurs. "Makes me more marketable."
