Winged and Shoved
Winged and Shoved
Summary: Micah and Novella 'discuss' his recent reassignment and settle a few things.
Date: 46 ACH
Related Logs: Rue's announcement in the Gold Berthings.

Gold Squadron Berthings Genesis - Deck 12
46 ACH 6285 Souls

Gold Squadron is the viper squadron 'Fighting 58th' on board the battlestar. The room consists of double bunks along the walls with lockers in between each area. An oblong table sits in the center with chairs around it and there is a shower and changing area off the far end that is shared with the Raptor squadron.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: Novella Micah Gold Bunks Triad Deck Wireless 1251

Exits: [O] Corridor

Micah is just stepping in from the showers, barefoot and scrubbing a towel through wet hair that's clinging to his cheekbones and the nape of his neck. He's recently tugged on a pair of sweatpants, a tshirt and tank, and is padding toward his bunk. His dogtags are hanging from a hook above it, and are reached for and tangled absently between his fingers.

Novella stops just outside the hatch, watching him move across the berthing. She can't bring herself to smile. "Micah," she says quietly before stepping through the hatch. The woman has her hair up and looks like she just came back from a CAP. She heads towards her own busted locker and looks to him. "I think we need to have a conversation. You agree?" She's not looking at him yet.

Micah tenses up when he hears that voice, and his hand stills with the metal tags jangling mutedly. He, too, keeps his eyes focused downward. "Can talk if you like. Don't think there's much to discuss, though." A pause, then they're pulled over his head. His own locker is tugged open.

"Yeah, I think there's plenty. You know me, I'll talk if you want to just listen. But it'd be nice if my wingman.. and really my best friend too.. would give me some responses." Its quietly spoken. She looks basently to the bottom of her locker, the sadness tangible in her voice. "Fender took you from me and it hurts."

Micah's grip tightens on the locker door. "Was your wingman. Past tense, Cav," he mumbles. "Not nothin' anymore." The towel's tossed in, and it's slammed shut with a bit more force than is necessary. She might, or might not notice the bandaging he's sporting on his left hand as well. "Fender hates my frakking guts."

[Genesis] Rhea says, "Major Carter to the JAG Office, please. Major Carter to the JAG Office."

Novella's head whips to look at him as he slams the door. Hurt burns in her eyes, her jaw also set. His comment might as well have just ripped her heart out. She lets him finish, noting his hand. "You wanna take that attitude fine, Micah. But its the same one that got you taken from me. Keep it and I won't be able to count on you out there because Nikos will just remove you until you lose it." She moves over to lean against the bunks beside him. "She doesn't like your attitude. Its the same reason she didn't like me. But I'm trying to turn things around. Weren't we both going to work on that? Together?"

Micah seeks her face out, briefly, when she turns to look at him. He's never been good with the eye contact, she knows it, but he's trying. For a moment or two there. And the look in those mismatched green and blue? Is contrition. "I was trying, Cav. By gods, I was frakking trying." He thumps his forehead against his locker. "But she backed me into a corner, she was pickin' for a fight, she's had it in for me since day one.."

The blonde watches him, the expression not leaving her. Her words are carefully considered for a few moments. "Micah, I'm going to ask this once. You had better know how I feel so you tell get one last chance to tell me this before you call me 'nothing to you' again: Am I talking to my best friend or just another pilot?" Tense question for her. It kills her just to ask it.

Micah is visibly trying to compose himself, while Novella watches and measures her words. There's a familiar set to his jaw, a steel-girder tension in his shoulders that usually comes before something he'll later regret — like putting his fist in someone's mouth. Breathe, in and out. "You're the best godsdamned frien' ah've got, Cav. Ah'd lay down my life for you, not because it's my job. But because it's personal. Ah'd do it many times over." He swallows thickly. No, big bad viper jocks do not shed tears.

"Then don't call yourself nothing, Micah. Please. Because if you do that, its insulting me too. I wouldn't have some fraktard on my wing by choice. And when you say you're nothing, that's a personal dig to me. It hurts a lot." It doesn't sound like she's searching for an apology. Cav's eyes are intent on his own, even if he won't look at her. "I'd lay it all out for you also, Micah. But something isn't working because now we're pulled apart. Now you can blame Nikos all you want, but at the end of the day she matters. Whether you like it or not." Cav's hand reaches out to touch him, hesitating before she moves to touch his shoulder. "Addie has shown me a lot of trust. She made a leap for me. And its helped me a lot. I'm seeing things different already. But Crow?" Frak his new callsign. "Its too hard to look out for each other if we can't run the same section. Agreed?" Earnest concern flows from her like water in a river. She's not just worried about the pips on his shoulder. There's deep concern about the man and how he's doing.

Micah allows the touch. Barely. It's clear there's some willpower at work within him, not to tug his shoulder away. "If you're just here to rub it in, then save your frakking breath. I know what it means, for the Captain to make new wing assignments. You're goin' to be flyin' with a rook, and ah'm goin' to be on Fender's wing. Plain and simple, I look out for her now, you've got someone else." He turns and pulls away then, still avoiding her eyes as he goes to rummage around in his bunk for something.

"Hey!" That hurts, too. Except the look in her eyes is now tinged with anger. "Don't accuse me if rubbing anything in. If I wanted to do that, I'd be talking about how you put me at risk and all that bullshit. You're not stupid so I won't patronize you. I'm sure you've had plenty of time to realize all this." Her voice takes a harder edge. "But don't you dare deflect it, either. You think Nikos has it in for you, then so be. I won't sit here and blow sunshine up your ass. But you're gonna have to quit this 'blame everyone else' attitude and take some responsibility for yourself. You're willing to do it for me. But not for you? I don't get it!" She pauses, breathing to try and compose herself. "Help me understand you, Micah. Why do you hate yourself? You've got so much to give.." She's pleading now. To his back.

You hurt me, I hurt you; the comment about putting her at risk, causes him to twinge as he's pulling away. His face is turned from hers though, which is probably for the best. This way, she can't see how stricken it is. "Ah'm a frakup, Cav. A big motherfrakking frackup." He's still rummaging, blindly. "Never even wanted to be a frakking viper pilot. I wanted.. to build.. ships." Something, possibly a circuit board, is tugged out and hurled at the wall. "My dad, wanted me to fly them. His frakking dream. Not mine. NOT mine." Now he's got a handful of curtain, and looks ready to rip it off its rails. "Ah've tried. I really have tried, to be what he wants. To be what Rue wants. But I have no frakking clue how to be what Fender wants, because ah'm fair sure she'll only be happy when ah'm gone."

Novella just watches him until he throws the circuit board. Its hard to get her to jump, but she does. She's seen him fiddle with it. And the rest, she slumps a bit. "If you want to hit someone, Micah, take a swing at me. Or I'll take one at you if you need motivation." Her voice is still hurt, but she's still holding that anger. "You rip that curtain off and you won't have to ask for it." She looks at him, even if he won't. Her eyes well. "I don't care if you didn't want to fly Vipers. I mean, Micah.. I'm sorry you didn't get to chase your own dreams. But if you had, you'd be frakking dead and I'd be minus my friend." Quill is boyfriend, not friend like she needs from her wingman. Her only friend. "But you're here. With us. A member of this Wing. You want to be a frakkup, that's all you'll ever be if you let this shit eat you like it is. But I'll be godsdamned if I let you down on yourself like this. You're a frakking officer. If you can't be one, then pretend. I know you've been trying but you have to set the bar higher. But nobody is going ot be able to help you unless you're willing to accept who you are and take steps yourself."

Oddly enough, she's getting through to him. She must be, because he's getting madder; and Micah is one of those people who only gets worse before he really gets better. Sometimes you have to hit bottom, before you can start climbing out of the hole you've dug for yourself. If she's bluffing? Then he just called her bluff. He takes a swipe at that curtain, tearing it half off its railing and then rolling to his feet and stalking off across the room like he's hunting for something else to send careening at a wall. There's a deck of triad cards, a half-full bottle of whiskey on the table, and right now there's one hundred ninety pounds of enraged and hurt viper jock looking for something, ANYthing else to wreck than his best friend.

<Opposed Roll> Novella - Unarmed_Combat versus Micah - Unarmed_Combat
<Roll1> Novella: Fair <Roll2> Micah: Mediocre
<Result> Novella WINS by 1.

And call her bluff he does. Novella grabs him by the shoulder to wheel him around to face her. She tilts to the side and swings one directly at his face. The hook lands across his jaw, staggering him backwards. "You want to behave like this, I'll set you right if I have to!" she yells. "I'm not going to sit here and watch you wreck yourself and your bunk!" She doesn't move though. "Take it out on me! I'm the one who set the piss-poor example for you to follow and learn from!" Her jaw sets, waiting.

<Opposed Roll> Micah - Strength versus Novella - Strength
<Roll1> Micah: Great <Roll2> Novella: Fair
<Result> Micah WINS by 2.

For a kid with such an attitude and a fisticuffs mentality, Micah isn't the best fighter. Oh, he's definitely got size and strength on his side, but he's either too slow or not expecting that hook to his jaw, and wrestles away a little too late. Stumbling backwards, he topples over a chair and catches the edge of the table to steady himself. Fingertips touch his cheek. Nope, it's not broken (again) but there'll probably be a nice bruise in the morning. There's a growl, and then a hard shove in retaliation. An attempt to jostle her back into the lockers, though he doesn't follow it up with a swing of his own fist. "No. Ah'm not fighting you. One, because you'd win.." He bites down on his lip hard, and then ducks his gaze. Must not laugh. Must not laugh! A tiny one trickles out nonetheless. "I mean, you'd really kick my arse.."

Novella's little. So the shove to her shoulders sends her backwards over another chair, but she's not quite good enough to catch herself. She goes over to the side after a stumble and stays on the floor, catching herself well enough. Nothing hit hard. But she stares at Micah for a few moments, even after he lets out a little laugh. But she isn't quite as amused. She finally rises to her feet, righting the chair as she does so. "At least you've got that down. Except I wouldn't hit back with you." With the look in her eyes.. she probably wouldn't, either. Its a hard and still-determined expression. "You told me you never wanted to fly Vipers. Fine. But I've accepted who you are. Its time you did it yourself. By now he knows the truth of the matter and I'll bet a sack-load of cubits he hates himself for it, but he's just glad you're alive. So appreciate what you have. What we all have. A chance to avenge what they've done to us. Because if we start coming apart because of our own attitudes like this, we're all frakked." She finally settles, though. Her gaze falls away, thinking over what she said. "But its true what I said. And frak if I didn't just do it again with setting a poor example. I've never been good with that." She swallows. This is hard for her, too. "But I'm trying, too. To be that better officer. And to be honest Micah? That's all Nikos wants from us. To behave like officers and professionals. She doesn't want anyone gone." The woman crosses her arms, still looking at the floor. She shouldn't have hit him. Addie was right. She's always been right.

The humour is gone as quickly as it was glimpsed; Micah's sullen again, and in pain. Not physical pain, and not anger. That seems to have left him, with the brief tussling. No, Micah does not like to hurt. He drops onto the floor as well, back against the table, head down, like a dog that's been kicked one too many times. Maybe he has. "You don't know 'im. Just trust me on that." There's a wealth of meaning conveyed in those taut words. "But he's dead, now. So ah've only got myself to disappoint." Odd eyes tick up to seek Novella's. "And you. And Fender, and Rue, and Eve." He touches his jaw again. "You okay?"

Novella steps around the table so she can see him, but she isn't really looking at him. "I'm okay." She's quiet for a bit before she speaks up again. "Fine, I don't know him. But I stand by what I said. And when you dissapoint, you reflect on everyone Micah, not just those people." Whoever Eve is. It'll probably come to her in a moment. "But if you feel a kinship with anyone, do it for them. If you want to hate yourself, I can't hold your hand. But all I can do is listen and try to right what I've wronged. I should have tried to curb your attitude months ago. I should have been less of a.. well better behaved. For Gods' sake, I should be a Jig by now but my mouth and drive have kept me from it. And its not done anything for you." Micah is her responsibility. Always has been. "So.. for that? I can never apologize enough. I frakked up huge. I can't tell you how sorry I am." He can say what he wants, but she's going to blame herself until she meets that firey and (hopefully) sudden end.

Micah probably knows Baylee Novella better than that. He isn't going to try to convince her otherwise, waste of breath. "Ah've tried." The words are quiet, and muffled by his hands sliding over his face. "I really have. It isn't that I don't care. It used to be that I didn't care, but I care. Down on Leonis, you out cold an' bleeding to death in the snow, tryin' to make my hand stop shaking so I could take out the tin can that wanted to finish off the both of us.. frak me, Cav, I cared. And ah'm trying, I really am. I wish.. you would believe me. But it's like a fire in my veins, a fog in my eyes, I just get so…" He fumbles for a word. "Angry."

Novella shrugs heavilly. "I'm not going to tell you that I completely believe you. Part of me won't accept that its something like that. And part of me believes that I've had a negative impact on your attitude." This has to be very hard on someone as proud and headstrong as she is. She doesn't respond first to his comments of them both dying, but that has her thinking as well. Think, Baylee. Don't just react. "Then what do you want, Micah? You're angry but I don't know what to do with that. I want to suggest finding a sparring partner but.. its not that simple." She moves to sit on the edge of his bunk. "What will it take to keep you afloat?"

Micah has taken to wringing his hands together, while she retreats to his bunk. White-knuckled, he excises his frustrations in the tangle and curl of fingers. Hey, it's better than throwing things at walls. "I don't know." Breathe. "I don't know. Ah'll figure out a way." Much softer, "Ah'm sorry, Cav." And he means that.

The blonde listens. Seeing him like this concerns her greatly. She wants the best for him. And this is wher emen and women in combat have a rough time getting past the gender. She's just more outwardly emotional about stuff. Especially when it comes to the welfare of others - like Micah. When he apologizes, she nods. "I accept, Micah. But only on the condition that you stop thinking that Nikos wants you gone." She tilts her head in his direction a touch. "Instead, try and think that what she's doing is attempting to help us? She might go about it in frakked-up ways, but its in her best interest to be there. She's our leader, Micah. But more than that? She's a human." Baylee extends her hand to him. "Can you meet me there someplace? Please?"

Micah lifts his eyes a fraction when she offers her hand, and her words to him. They are different, yes. He has a tremendously difficult time expressing himself, unless it's through violence. But she has been getting through to him. She IS getting through to him. Disentangling his hands from one another, he touches hers lightly with just the tips of his fingers. "Aye." he offers quietly. Her hand is grasped, held onto for a moment, then he's pulling himself slowly to his feet. Sometimes you've gotta fall down, and get right back up again.

Perhaps to show solidarity… or maybe just because it felt right.. she pulls herself up with their grips on each other. The mutual dependence. "That's all I want, Micah. I've got a kinship with ya. You've covered my ass through some bad stuff. Just.. trust me that Nikos ain't so bad. And I'll trust you that its more than just my inability to be who I should have been for you." Finally, she lets an impish smile cross her. "As far as venting? Its not too late to explore what you wanted to do, Micah." She quirks her brow a litlte hopefully at him. "Jonah works in engineering. He used to be a professor.. think you might want to see if he would be willing to give some lessons?" She genuinely wants to help. However she can.

Rue has arrived.

Micah keeps her hand for a moment after reaching his feet, and then releases it gently. If anything Micah does can be called gentle. A turn of his head, and a nod for the blonde. Now that the adrenaline's not pumping, he looks out of sorts, tired. Probably he hasn't been getting enough sleep, amongst other things. "Ah'll give her a chance. I can promise you that much, Cav, ah'll wipe the slate and start over from square one with her. And you'd better believe that this in't your fault." His expression turns mock-stern, though the sentiment's clear. "As for the lessons, I appreciate it, but ah'm goin' to have to decline. There's plenty of people, workin' jobs they may or may not have wanted to do the rest of their lives, and nobody's got a choice right now. Least of all me. Ah'm here, and ah've got a responsibility to this squadron, and to this fleet. Maybe when the war's done, if we're still alive, ah'll take you up on that, Cav." A quick smile touches the corners of his mouth, then vanishes.

Cav is in her flightsuit and just finished a scheduled CAP not too long before. "Good. That's what I want to hear about the Captain. But you think you can tell her that? If she knows you earnestly want to take a route like I'm attempting, it might help things." She doesn't respond to Micah about it being her fault. That responsibility will always be there. "As far as Jonah goes? Rethink it. Tempo wants me to take some lessons on something that scares the hell out of me. She says I've got a pleasing voice. Wants me to try singing.." Cue nervous smile. "But its in our off-time. I think he'd be happy to give lessons. But I won't force it. Just.. keep it in mind. The opportunity to chase your dreams isn't gone. Even if it is just in a hobbying way."

The hatch opens at that point and Rue steps in. She's in her flight suit and her hair is pressed against her skull in little ringlets. Helmet hair. Stepping inside, she eyes things. In this order. Micah. Novella. Mica's bunk and the ripped curtain. Upturned chairs. "The vent goblins escape again?" She starts for her bunk.

Micah is, conversely, dressed in offduties and fresh from a shower. Probably he was either on his way to his bunk for some rack time, or out to a CAP, when a hurricane swept inexplicably through gold berthings. "I agree. You got a nice voice-" Of course, Micah uses the word 'nice' in the way a more perspicacious man might say 'beautiful'. "-I think you should go for it." He watches her a moment more, then turns sharply when the hatch opens. And freezes. Frak. It's the boss. "Major," he greets, ticking off a stilted salute.

If there were dirt to toe… "Heh, thanks. But we'll see about it. I'm terri-" And in comes Rue. She clears her throat and looks to the woman. "Uh, no sir. I tripped over a chair. Got caught in Ensign St. Germain's bunk curtain." She glances to him with a 'shutthefrakup!' glare and then to Rue once more. "How's everything on your end?"

"Just finished a CAP. A wonderfully boring CAP, even," Rue says, eyes moving from Novella, then to Micah, as she passes them. "Kind of like St. Germain's fist tripped over a bulkhead." She doesn't say it accusingly, rather stating facts. "I was hoping to share some news with you, before you get it via scuttlebutt. St. Germain is already privy, but, he can serve another purpose." She heads for the wireless, tugging it down.

[Intercom] Now hear this. This is the CAG. All pilots please report to the Gold Squadron Berthings.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License