elisabeth2_icon.gif felix2_icon.gif

Scene Title Haven
Synopsis When your best friend is also your lover, can you still cry on him? Hell yes.
Date Jan 17, 2010

USS George Washington

Fel…..well, miracle of miracles, Fel came out without an additional scratch. He managed to burn off about seven pounds of weight he couldn't really spare, though, in that last frenetic spate of activity. That collapse was basically the onset of nearly instant starvation. So he's not hurt - just weak, exhausted, dehydrated, and underweight. Most of which is being remedied now in the sickbay of the carrier - he's sitting up in a bed, wolfing down what looks like soup and a sandwich, an IV strapped to his arm. He's sunken-eyed, rather dazed, but really, all in all, okay. There's even a book spread open on one blanket-covered thigh: the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Elisabeth has checked in with medical several times during the course of the day, reassured to hear that he's simply sleeping. She got the call a little while ago that he woke up and would be able to have visitors, and she slipped in to see him. It's been a busy day today. Lots of standing outside on the deck in the freezing weather, a run over to McMurdo to see about Noriko — which is a mess in and of itself — and a phone call to Abby to let her know about Francois and Cardinal. She looks…. tired. Felix knows her well enough to read the strain in her expression, though she looks relieved to see him up and eating. "Well, now… that's a sight for sore eyes," she comments softly. "Good to see you up and alert, Feeb."

Felix bolts the last end of the sandwich like he's a wolf puppy and afraid Liz is going to steal his part of the killed deer. It's not very good table manners. He regards her with a rather nearsighted, owlish look - no contacts, no glasses. "Hey, Liz," he says, with a brilliant grin, even as he squints at her face. "What's the news?" Well, they're still alive, so it has to be good, rightr?

Moving to sit on the edge of his bed Elisabeth offers a small smile, grateful for his lack of eyewear. "We won," she tells him simply. The rest will just wait. "We're docked at McMurdo Station right now. A few people were pretty damaged. Not sure if they're going to ship us out on planes from here or what the plan actually is, but I imagine we'll be heading home in a day or two."

He mutters something in his native tongue. Might be a prayer. Might be obscenities. It's Russian, hard to distinguish. And then he smiles at her, again, and it's less brittle, softer, more completely exhausted…..and it slowly dwindles, as he looks at her. "What's wrong?"

Elisabeth shakes her head. "We won. It's all that's important right now, Felix." She tips her head. "Do I need to have them get you another tray?" she asks. She didn't miss that he wolfed his food — and she knows his metabolism well.

It's on his lips, and in the glance behind and past her. Where's Richard? "Sure," he says, more slowly, looking down to his empty bowl and newly cleaned plate, touching the battered paperback with a tentative hand, like he's not sure how it got there.

She gets up and walks to the curtain, calling down the room quietly, "Hernandez, could you bring him another tray for dinner? Speedster metabolism requires about three times the caloric intake of a normal person on a good day." There's a deep bass rumble of agreement, presumably from Hernandez (who sounds like he might in fact be an eight-foot-tall black man with that voice), and Elisabeth comes back to sit down. "You feeling okay? Aside from tired and starving? You got them to the chopper on time. They're going to be okay."

Felix looks like he would wag his tail, if he had it. ""Good," is all he said, and then he nods, fervidly. "I mean, I still feel like I've been run over, but you know, I'll be okay." He stretches in place, a rather feline gesture.

Elisabeth's smile is affectionate as she moves to lightly rub a hand down his leg. "Good," she tells him softly. "Maybe life will get back to something that passes for whatever's normal for all of us soon."

That's….well, that's dodgy. Fel just looks intensely dubious. "No," he says, quietly. "You and I both no longer have a 'normal'. Finding out what'll fit in that place instead…..well, that'll be an adventure, won't it? I don't know what they'll do with me, Liz. What I've been up to, what you've been up to….that's hardly NYPD or Bureau procedure. I know FRONTLINE's for you - but they've made no overtures to me. And no matter who or what wants me, I need leave time. I can't think straight anymore, when I'm out of that adrenaline haze. It's all gone weird, and I don't know if I'm permanently rewired, or what." He pulls a face. "How're you gonna keep 'em down on the farm when they've seen Paree?"

There's a slow nod as she listens to him, Elisabeth averts her blue eyes from his face. She's still looking at him, but… slightly left of center, not focusing on his face. "Where will you go?" she asks quietly. Since it clearly sounds like he's leaving for a while. "Will you keep in touch while you're gone?"

Felix spreads his hands. "Likely Florida, since that's where my parents live. Liz, you should come with me for a bit. You need time off, there's sun, it's warm and clear there. And of course I will. That assumes I'm let go, even that long," He exhales a slow breath, and all that weariness is suddenly an obvious weight on his shoulders.

"Maybe," Elisabeth replies softly. "Maybe I will. Maybe I'll see if I can get a week off when we get back before I have to report to Annapolis." Or maybe not. "Got some things to take care of first." She hesitates and finally looks at him. "Can you stay long enough for services if we have them, Felix? We lost… Francois. And Cardinal."

Felix just gives her a stare, and then holds his hands out to her. "Oh, god, Liz. I'm so sorry," he says, tenderly. "I really am. What happened? And yes, of course I'll stay for services. I'm still in for the long haul, I just need some rest when it can be won."

Elisabeth climbs all the way into the bed, curling up into as fetal a position as she can find in the narrow hospital bed with him, her head on his shoulder. "We ran out of time," she says simply. "Couldn't disarm it. Couldn't get out of range." Her voice drops to a whisper. "And he… pulled it into the shadows with him. The explosion was…. like nothing I've ever seen before. It would have been…. amazing." If it hadn't contained the screaming voice of her lover on the wind.

Leland, even if Felix never sets eyes on him again in this life, is at least safe(r) in Boston, doing perfectly mundane cop things. Fel's not had to watch him sacrifice himself to save the world. And suddenly, he has much more sympathy for Lee's impotent anger. He has no platitudes with which to reassure her, so he kisses her hair, putting his arms around her after sweeping the book off and setting the tray aside. "I'm sorry," he reiterates.

"Don't be," Elisabeth whispers softly, her breath hitching. "He did what had to be done. Just…. hold me. Please?" She convulses, finally giving way to the tears in the haven of Felix's arms — finally feeling safe to let go in the embrace of someone who loves her but didn't have personal grief over Richard. Felix has always and ever been her friend above all else.

Fel liked Cardinal, what he knew of him. But admittedly, much of that was that Liz thought Richard hung the moon. He murmurs to her in Russian, but the sound of the meaningless coos that a mother uses on her worrying child remain the same no matter what tongue they're spoken in. "Sure," he says, gently, and lets her weep. Doesn't try to stop or hush her. He's too, too thin, all bones and wire against her, but he's warm, and he smells comfortingly like himself, same as he ever has.

Apparently Hernandez realized Something Bad was happening. Because it's a long while before he brings Felix's second tray. By the time he does Elisabeth has cried herself out finally, collapsing in against the wiry body in a boneless heap of exhaustion. The owner of the deep basso profundo voice is, absurdly, barely 5'6" tall and Hispanic, as his name would suggest. He sets a tray laden with double helpings of scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and bananas onto Felix's table, and he helps the Fed extricate his arm from around Elisabeth so that Fel can eat. His voice is an improbably gentle whisper, "I can move a cot in here for her, Mr. Ivanov."

"It's okay," Fel says, quietly. "Yes, please, that'd be good." He's still cradling Liz, oh so gently. He was up to the elbows in blood, not so long ago. Even the food, tempting as it is, can wait, apparently.

The medic simply nods and brings one of the extra folding cots they use for overflow patients out of a supply closet. They're not comfortable things — they're only meant to keep patients off the floor. But the bed closest to Felix is already occupied, and Hernandez is not a stupid man. Whatever's gone down, it's clear the little singer needs to be near this patient. So he gets everything set and then very gently comes to scoop the blonde out of Felix's bed and lay her down in the cot next to the bed. Covers her up with a blanket, even. And grins slightly at Felix. It's not as if the crew doesn't know something major went down with these teams, after all. "Eat, then take a nap," he orders in his deep voice. "I'll be back to get the tray later." And then he's gone, leaving the two alone behind the curtain with an ear tuned for trouble.

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