Participants:
| Scene Title | Cheeseburgers, Please |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Newly on board the aircraft carrier, Gillian meets up with Cat in the hallways. They talk about what happened with their teams, and Gillian wants a cheeseburger. |
| Date | January 3, 2010 |
USS George Washington is the sixth ship in the Nimitz class of nuclear-powered supercarriers, and the fourth United States Navy ship to be named after George Washington, first President of the United States. She was built by Newport News Shipbuilding and was commissioned July 4, 1992. George Washington is 1,092 feet long, 257 feet wide and is as high as a twenty-four-story building, at 244 feet. The super carrier can accommodate approximately 80 aircraft and has a flight deck 4.5 acres in size, using four elevators that are 3,880 feet each to move planes between the flight deck and the hangar bay.
Traditionally, US Navy aircraft carrier hangar bays were painted "Navy Gray"; George Washington was commissioned with her hangar bay bulkheads and overhead painted white, to make the hangar bay appear larger and brighter. All US Navy aircraft carriers have their hull number painted on both sides of their island structure for identification. These numbers are lighted white for visibility at night while in port. By order of Congress, George Washington's island number is outlined in red, white and blue lights in honor of her namesake's contributions to America's independence. General Washington had long been a proponent of a strong Navy. On November 15, 1781 he wrote, Without a decisive Naval force, we can do nothing decisive. And with it, everything honourable and decisive. These words are engraved on a plaque on the ship's quarterdeck.
Time has passed since the recovered persons arrived from Argentina, enough to have settled in and slept some after their flight out to the carrier. The start of lunch hours in the mess hall comes fairly soon. This is where Cat is headed when she steps out of the accomodations she's sharing with Elisabeth Harrison. Clothing is simple: a t-shirt featuring members of Aerosmith and a pair of sweats with the word Navy in the appropriate colors down one leg. Hair is pinned up according to the required practice of Navy women in uniform. She turns left down the passageway, headed for a metal ladder which passes for stairs.
She has goals in mind for this day, among them talking with the extractees from South America when possible. Especially Petromir, to upbraid him for leaving her hanging. If, that is, Sarisa Kershner and the Frenchman don't persist in their rejection of her assessment.
A bunk on an aircraft carrier isn't the ideal place of sleep, but it's better than the middle of Argentina. A few nights in a secure location aside, somehow the morning nap was even better than the days before. Complete with a little bit of bed head, Gillian steps out of the room nearby, wearing a simple shirt and cargo pants set, along with shoes. The sleeveless shirt shows off her new scar, a nasty thick scratch down her left arm, but it's not that scar that will likely attract the most attention. Her hand is rubbing at her cheek, which bares a black brand in the shape of a V, with lines coming off it much like the helix. She's not quite awake, but spots the other woman in the corner of her eyes, and then says, "Cat?" Her raspy voice hasn't changed, though she does sound tired.
The voice is instantly recognized, would be even without her SLC gifts. Tall brunette stops and turns to face the source of that sound, the only slightly less tall also brunette. "That's me, Gillian," Cat confirms as eyes take in the sight and register changes. A few steps follow, to close the distance, it seeming she might bestow a hug if such is permitted.
"It's excellent to see you aboard ship. I was concerned there might not be survivors from Argentina." She can cover the airstrike she failed to forestall later. "You were injured," she adds with a tone of some interest.
The hug is awkward, but after a moment Gillian settles into it, a breath giving away a hint of how grateful she might actually be for human contact from someone outside of the group she's been with. Not that Veronica wasn't good company, there's just something different for a moment. "I was there first. The entire camp was destroyed one night before the others arrived. That was when this happened," she rubs at the brand mildly, before pulling back even more. "But those were just Marines, or Army Dudes. No one like us. Magnes lost one of his eyes, I got hurt, but none of us died after that. Not that they didn't try…"
After a shaky breath, she looks back up at her, "So where were you? I don't really know what else was happening outside of Argentina."
Arms encircle and hold until such time as Gillian seeks to emerge from them, while Cat speaks. "Ryazan, Russia," she provides. "Elisabeth and Ethan Holden were arrested and brought there in handcuffs. Teo, Abby and I flew to Russia on our own after Tamara brought us plane tickets. Brought a French guy from the past along for the ride too. Last I heard about you, before being briefed by the Feds in Russia, was you'd been snagged by DHS around the same time Eileen Ruskin was."
She leans against a section of bulkhead as she goes on. "It was a little dicey, but we learned some things and grabbed some prisoners, then were brought here. Teo and Abby went back home, Francois Allegre came here with us." Her eyes rest on the brand again, but she doesn't yet ask. It may well be, she muses, something Gillian sees as a badge of honor.
"I think Elisabeth might be off somewhere getting shadowshagged."
"Ethan Holden? Fff." Gillian mutters at first, before she listens to the rest. Names she doesn't recognize tied in with ones she does. And one she kind of recognizes, but doesn't know where to place it… It's curious. Francois Allegre seems like a name she would remember, but she's guessing she only heard it a couple times. "What happened to Liz and… Holden sounds like what happened to me. Though I didn't get arrested for this. I just happened to get myself arrested in time for this— shit. Got the whole 'we'll pardon you for not registering and everything else bad you ever did if you come with us to stop nuke.' And here I am."
Lucky Liz. But she doesn't say that outloud. There's something jealous in her eyes, though. Even if it's not true. Who really knows! Other than Liz and Cardinal. "We got a prisoner too, though he seems to have been willing. More or less. He builds robots. I wish I was joking, too."
"Yes, him," Cat confirms dryly. "And the deal was proposed to us as well, whether brought along unwillingly or not. Allegedly it extends to others not in the mission, specifically those who were sent to Moab illegally." She lets out a quiet snicker. "Been on this for months, you know that. They didn't need to seize people and offer deals, we'd have helped anywa. But I'm not one to turn down bribes like this out of hand."
"Petromir and I need to have a conversation soon. People in command of this venture have taken to distrusting my judgment," she adds with a forming scowl.
"Petro… Either call him Peter or Kazimir. Mushing the names together sounds gross," Gillian says, rubbing a hand over her face in mild annoyance. It seems this is a sensetive subject. "I hope it extends to others, whether they're here or not, but this is… You're not the only one who wants to talk to him." There's been little talking with that teammate. "But you'll probably have a better shot at that than I've had. He's not the best conversationist. You must have been the one from the other teams that he contacted over the phone."
"That was me," Cat confirms. "Others are far less convinced he was acting than I am. I had at first thought he told Kershner what he was up to, surprised to find out he didn't. Word got out I'd had a communication from Argentina, so I told Kershner what was up. She then called off the planned airstrike. But it went back on after someone she sent to gather info reported back about Kazimir at some Russian church a month ago. That the man was a young American who seemed to wake up in the middle of whatever Kazimir and the priest there talked about."
"Kershner lost a degree of faith in my judgment at that point."
"Either he's a good actor and a cruel son of a bitch, or he's Kazimir," Gillian says with a grumble, seeming intent on studying the wall. "I don't think he's completely Kazimir, so that makes him a fucking cruel asshole when he didn't need to be." Cruel to her, at least, even if not to everyone else. And right now it's hard to think of it from anyone else's point of view. "Good luck getting him to admit it, though."
"I'm familiar with how thorough his acting is," Cat replies with continuing dryness. "Once at my place he and Helena spoke, he treated her badly, she refused to take it, and he slapped her. To Helena's credit, she used wind to fling him into a pillar. She and I didn't talk much about him after that, but I do hope she sees it as the breakup moment, with permanence. That man brings her nothing but heartache, and she deserves far better," Cat mutters.
"However, I also remember very well he was able to deceive his telepathic father and hatch a plan to help deal with him inside Pinehearst. That fact is how I knew Kazimir wasn't at the wheel in Argentina."
"Don't we all," Gillian says quietly, as she keeps looking away. There's definite pain across her face as she hears the story, and a kind of distancing. Almost as if she wants to step back, but doesn't have the room to do so. "And I know now that he was acting at Pinehearst… And it's likely he was acting then, too," she says, her voice going quiet. What exactly does she mean by then, though. "Anyway— robots." She looks back, raises her hands up a bit as if to draw attention away from the painful topic. "There were robots. Big, metal, robotic animal things." Robots. So much easier to talk about than Peter.
"Built by the prisoner you mentioned," Cat surmises, "he's a technopath of some sort?" Her mind speculates, the Vanguard perhaps has one, and there was Monk's word of going into battle to help Wireless. "Is he to be useful, or just a captive? The Russian Vanguard leader Peter said we had to catch alive is an illusionist. Objective achieved on that score, at the cost of Ethan being badly hurt and Teo getting scarred. They had a semi-healer, one who uses his ability like a weapon, he cut him and used the power to twist the injury into a Glasgow smile."
"I'm not sure what he does exactly, but something with robots and machines. Cardinal implied he was being picked up for bomb disarming," Gillian says, glad to be away from the topic, even though Peter inevitably keeps coming up. "I'm sorry to hear about Teo, but I don't expect any of the teams made it out unscathed. I'm not exactly sure what an illusionist and a robotics guy could be able to do together."
She's silent for some moments, noting the facial expressions and catching onto the desire of not mentioning Petromir. For this reason, Cat refrains from remarking on her intentions to find out. There's no need to do so. Instead, her eyes settle on the brand again. "Will you be wanting that healed?" she inquires.
"I think it depends on how much it takes to get healed," Gillian says after a moment, touching the brand once again. "Anyone who knows what's going on in Argentina will know what it means. Evolved. I thought carrying around a fucking card was going to be bad, but… there's different levels of bad." And this doesn't seem to be a badge of honor. "So where do you go to get food around here? I've been eating fish and rodents and other things— I'm hoping they have cheeseburgers, or something normal."
She simply nods, choosing to speak no more of the brand along with the topic of Petrelli. Cat's feet go into motion, her body turning partway down the passage and hands indicating the ladder/stair combo. "This way, Gillian," she informs. "Navy food is decent enough. And the coffee isn't bad. Don't be surprised, though, when you see a good portion of the crew knows who I am and likes me. Elisabeth and I did a bit of a jam session on the 27th." Relief at Gillian being alive and mostly whole is showing now, as she banters and leads the way toward food.