Participants:
| Scene Title | Being A Soldier Sucks |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Recovering from the worst day ever. |
| Date | Nov 9, 2010 |
Textile Factory 17
She spent the night in the FRONTLINE infirmary, and Elisabeth is now walking through the base looking … wiped out exhausted. She's wearing her BDU pants and long-sleeved black shirt, combat boots, but it's pretty obvious she's in no shape whatsoever to go out there. Picking up a large cup of coffee that she doctors liberally, she takes it to the lounge and settles gingerly into a chair to rest some more. The aftereffects of the stunt she pulled are likely to be with her for quite a long time to come.
There's someone else in the lounge already, sitting on the floor with her nose burried into a book that's resting against her knees. Aside from the book, Gavyn appears to have just stripped from her armor, wearing rumpled clothes and looking like she hadn't slept a bit. Sunglass covered eyes stare hard at the reading material, but rarely does the page change.
As the sound of boots on the floor distantly tap into the room and nag enough to grab her attention, the younger woman lifts her head in time to see Elisabeth sit down. "You're okay," Gavyn calls quietly, managing to make it both a relieved statement and question.
Elisabeth is watching the newest member of the team as she settles, so she catches the fact that she's being spoken to. And as she starts to answer, she rolls her eyes with a faint grimace. Setting down her cup, she pulls her cell phone out to type into it: 'I'm ok. Voice gone and can't hear shit. But doc says a few days will fix those. U?' She shows it to Gavyn.
Gavyn abandons her book onto an empty chair and pulls herself closer to Liz when the cell phone is pulled out. She frowns, behind shaded lenses, in reading the message then looks at Elisabeth. "Little worse for the wear," Gavyn answers slowly and.. just a little louder. She pauses, then points to herself with one hand and mimes writing with the other. Should she write instead?
The blonde shrugs and smiles. Elisabeth then types into the phone 'I think we're all a little worse for wear. Just look at me when you talk - I can read lips passably well. I'm more concerned with how you're holding up emotionally.'
Down at the phone, then back up to Elisabeth. Gavyn starts to shake her head, then stops to shrug, finally she rubs the back of her neck and, though not really looking away from the senior officer, looks past. "Coping. I guess. Last night was—- I don't know. I'm fine."
There's a grunt from Liz. 'It was the shittiest first day on the job ever, and you're going to have nightmares for a while,' she predicts. Instead of typing anymore, she tries to talk. Her voice is a scratchy whisper, but she meets Gavyn's eyes with a steady gravity. "I'm sorry." Not for giving the order, because it had to be done. But for the fact that Gavyn had to do it. "If you need to talk, Gavyn… if it's not me, then pick someone." The sheer number of deaths that FRONTLINE has suffered in the past day and a half is horrifying, but at least we're all in the same boat. "The more you talk," she rasps, "the more you can process it."
The first statement is shrugged off, though the experienced can guess that's likely the reason Gavyn still looks fresh from the field and without sleep. But the hoarse whisper certainly hooks her attention and holds it. Elisabeth's words have her nodding, brows knitting together, hands folding in her lap with deliberate care. "It was different than I was expecting. I've seen death before but that—- Those people. Just regular people and children."
There is a wealth of sympathy in Elisabeth's expression. "I hated it," she hoarses softly. "Every single second. I didn't see too many other options as outnumbered as we all were with mind-controlled attackers who didn't care if they got hurt. I regret. But I would make the same call again to save your life and the lives of all the cops out there doing their job." God, it's killing her throat to try to talk like this, her voice as ragged as it is. "It's the only thing that's letting me live with the choice."
"I don't blame you for making that decision," Gavyn states quickly, haste in hoping the other woman understands. It was war. What was done had to be done and if there had been another way, she trusts that way would have been chosen. But seeing the depravity that had been washed into those people…
Gavyn reaches forward to rest one hand on Elisabeth's forearm, to give it a companionable squeeze. The other gently nudges at the cell phone while she attempts a rather weak grin. "Since you saved our lives, I'm going to ask to save your voice, ma'am."
"Fft," Elisabeth snorts. She smiles faintly, though, putting a hand over Gavyn's and squeezing in return. "We'll get through," she says in a whisper. "If you need to talk, I'm here." She knows how goddamn hard it is to shoot someone, even when it's justified. And then she moves to stand. "Gonna go lay back down, actually," she admits. The strain in her face is pretty clear — apparently she did more than just blow out her hearing and voice last night. She ruffles lightly as she stands. "We're all we got, kiddo. And I'll have your back."
