Sleep On It


gillian3_icon.gif sarisa_icon.gif

Scene Title Sleep On It
Synopsis Sarisa Kershner comes to Gillian to discuss her future, and plans for it.
Date January 5, 2010

USS George Washington

The door isn't locked. Not because Gillian wants company, but because she doesn't want to crawl out of her bunk and open the door when her roommate gets back. It would require moving. And she hopes most people will knock before they enter.

The hard floor between the bunk and the door is littered with rolled up pieces of paper. Smashed into balls and tossed aimelessly. It makes for some easy to move obstacles, and another joins them as the dark haired young woman rips a page clean from a sketchbook and rolls it up and tosses it away toward the door. The sketchbook and the pencil held in her hand would be the only things of a personal nature she requested when she got out of the Argentina jungle. Clothes, necessities, those were obvious, but she wanted something to write with. And draw. With everything she's done so far crumpled up and tossed on the floor, it's hard to tell exactly what she was trying to accomplish.

The pencil goes back down against the paper, sketching lines, circles, beginning to shape into something.

Something likely to be crumbled up and tossed away.

The knock on the door can't be Veronica, it's too firm and too unlike her. "Miss Childs?" The voice that comes thorugh the door isn't familiar at first, just the reverberations of a woman's voice through the metal door. "It's Agent Kershner, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?" Not expecting that name, especially not with the more gentle tone of voice offered behind it, Gillian hears no further requests from the door, just the distant creak and pop of the carrier's innards amidst Sarisa's quiet awaiting of the Gillian's answer.

And Veronica wouldn't call her Miss Childs. It's so formal. The sketchpad is flipped over to face the matress and cover up what she's doing, as she sets the pencil down and moves to sit up from where she's sprawled. Gillian's feet swing over the edge of the bed, shorts and a tank top all she bothered to put on. It's more comfortable to sleep in then the warmer clothes. It reveals her scars, her broken tattoos from when she had regeneration. It's been months. She kept meaning to fix them. She never did.

Even one of the bullet wounds on her chest is visible, just barely.

"Come on in. It's kind of a mess. I haven't cleaned up yet," she raises her raspy voice. Even with the warning of a mess, she doesn't move to pick anything up.

With arms folded when Gillian opens the door, Sarisa looks inside with a hesitant stare, blue eyes flicking around the shared bunk. "Been here just a few days and you're already treating it like home are you?" The blonde cracks a casual smile and steps through the doorway, reaching back with a gloved hand to draw it shut. "The grape-vine told me about your argument on the midship deck, I figured I'd come down and see how you were doing instead of requesting you come down to my office."

Folding her hands behind her back, Sarisa settles her focus on Gillian again. "I wanted to discuss with you the circumstances surrounding your, ah… enlistment into this, and about how we're going to clean that up, and what you'd like for compensation in return. This administration has made an art of making powerful enemies, and I'll be damned if I'm going to allow that tradition to continue."

"Just trying to work some things out," Gillian says, shrugging a bit. There's reddness around her eyes, no visible make up, so it's likely she'd been crying a few times. It doesn't surprise her people heard about the argument. She'd been loud. The walls are metal. People on other decks probably heard her. She hasn't bothered to put her shoes back on, even with the floor cold as it is.

"Well it won't surprise anyone that I got in trouble for not registering. Most everyone knew I was against it. Not only cause I knew my ability would be one of those that you'd totally go 'ooooo' at." She waves her hands when she makes the sound effect, which is an admiring oooo rather than a creepy scared oooo. Not that she didn't think her ability would scare her, but she got used to people wanting to use her for her power pretty early on.

"But what are you planning to do to clean it up? I thought the whole… freedom, but still registered, ability to use my own name again, and maybe try to get my job back— I figured that was going to be my compensation."

"It could be," Sarisa offers with a quirk of her head to the side. "You're listed as a missing person in the United States, your family— such as they are— misses you." Moving to stand beside the bunks, Sarisa rests her shoulder on the double-height frame, staring down at her feet as she crosses her arms. "We could set you up with a new beginning, your old name, your old normal life…" her blue eyes wander from her feet to Gillian.

"Is that what you want? That's what I'm here to figure out." Sarisa seems unusually interested in Gillian's personal concerns, more so than a government agent would seem to be at least. Elisabeth has said, repeatedly, that Sarisa may well be the only one in the government with everyone's best interests in mind. Could that be true?

Is that what she wants? Would a normal life make things easier? Or would it just be boring? Gillian can't say anything at first, looking down at the pieces of crumpled paper on the floor. "I don't know what I want," she finally admits after a long pause, shifting her eyes to her bare feet, with toes visible. There's sores from all the walking in Argentina, toenails that should have been trimmed a few times that weren't, but they're her feet.

"I do want to be able to say my name— to go by Gillian at least— without having to flinch and worry someone will do a background check. I want to be able to have an apartment of my own, and the means to pay for it. Which usually means a job. I know things won't ever really be normal… if they ever really were." No where near normal. What is normal?

"What options are there?"

"You wouldn't be the first one to go back to a new life after this," Sarisa explains with a quirk of her head, moving to sit down on the side of Gillian's bed carefully. "Are you interested in the idea of going back to school? Instead of just getting yourself settled into a job?" Sarisa folds her hands in her lap, carefully making certain to be mindful of her space and GIllian's proximity. "We have an arrangement with Columbia University, if you've got an area of study you'd like to go for, we could arrange for you to be accepted. Of course your criminal record will be cleared, though you'll have to remain registered."

Looking from her lap over to Gillian, Sarisa arches a brow and lets her head cant to the side. "Does that sound like something you'd be interested in? Getting away from the danger, the trouble? You know— living the life you should have had?"

"Columbia University," Gillian repeats with a bit of a laugh, looking down at the sketchbook, the piles of papers on the floor. What would she go back to college for is a question she doesn't even know the answer to. She changed her major so many times when she was just going to a community college and taking online classes and ended up getting a lame two year degree. Just enough to become a Librarian. "Danger has a funny way of finding me, even when I try to hide from it," she admits.

With a kick of one of her bare feet, she sends a close ball of paper flying. "But I'll take it. Worse case scenerio is I'll end up dropping out, but at least I'll have some choices." Even if she's still registered. And even if danger still has a bad habit of finding her.

"I'll send some paperwork down for you to fill out, enrollment info, classes you'll want to attend. We'll make sure you get in to spring admissions." Sarisa watches Gillian carefully, then looks down to her lap. "I'd offer to send you home now, but unfortunately i can't risk sending you back yet. For as much as it pains me to say, you're an asset to this military right now with your augmentation ability." There's a hesitant smile, and Sarisa rises up from the bed, brushing off the back of her slacks as she does.

"You're the first person I've spoken to who believes me when I say I want to give you a new chance on life." Sarisa's eyes drift over to one of the crumpled pieces of paper, then back to Gillian again. "There's going to be a briefing tomorrow morning," she interjects into the conversation, "explaining our plans for the future. I have a special assignment for you, that I'd like you to think about. Have you met Noriko Amagi yet?"

"Either you give it to me, or you don't. I don't really get much a say in if you follow through or not," Gillian says, giving something of a shrug of her shoulders. One of the many things she recalls from the first few days when Alpha Team arrived, was the doubt. The way it seemed no one believed. In a way she had to believe. Cause the alternative was living on the run again. Which only made her lose herself more and more. She wants to believe.

"No, I haven't met … that person," she says, looking unsurprised that she is needed.

"I think… Kazimir has some plans for me too, when we get wherever we're going, but he didn't say what. I don't know if that'll clash with what you plan or not." But she apparently doesn't think to keep it secret.

"I bet he does," Sarisa admits with a crooked smile, walking towards Gillian's door. "I wouldn't worry too much about it," she offers over her shoulder, turning around on her heels, golved hands tucking into the pockets of her slacks. "But if you could get better acquainted with Miss Amagi, it would be helpful. The two of you will be working together once we reach out final destination, and I'll give you a bit of a briefing on why as soon as I am able."

Glancing to the door behind herself, Sarisa's brows furrow, and she looks back to Gillian with a conspiratorial expression. "Did you have anything else you wanted, from us, for your services?" One brow raises slowly, watching Gillian carefully.

"Yeah, if you want me to augment her, I should probably practice with her a bit first, start small. I practiced a little with Magnes, and that certainly helped," Gillian admited, though she doesn't add she didn't practice any with Cardinal, and that ended up nearly turning her into a shadow person and making him shadow blanket the whole area for a few moments. It was probably included in someone's report, though.

Anything else she might want. After a moment of tension, she reaches up and touches her cheek. "If you have someone who can fix this… that'd be nice. Especially if they can… just change it. Not remove it completely."

"Registered healers are rarer than you might think," Sarisa offers from the doorway, "fear-mongering people who claim that registration is the end of the world itself have scared so many talented and amazing people into the shadows. When their help is needed most, when this country could have called on them, we don't even know they exist." Sarisa's blue eyes flutter down to the floor. "So no, Gillian, I'm sorry. We make do with the best we can. Maybe when you get home, you can find someone to help you then."

Sarisa swallows noisily. "Practice with Noriko, but be careful with her, please." There's a warning look in those blue eyes. "She's not entirely stable." Then, just when she's about to turn away, the blonde stops, considers something, and looks back to Gillian. "I may have forgotten to ask, so I risk repeating myself but…" her attention is carefully made from crumpled paper and then back to the brunette. "Is there anything you might want to forget? We do have a memory manipulator on hand. The… offer, as strange as it is, exists."

That's not the best answer, but— Gillian will have to accept it, with a hoarse grunt and a nod. It won't fix her face before she gets back to the states. How many people will even understand what the brand means? Would it matter if they did. She takes a moment to let her hand drops, and then sits back further into the bunk, moving the sketchpad aside.

Anything she wants to forget?

Right this moment, the offer is tempting. More than she wants to even admit outloud. "I need to think about it." Would it hurt less to just forget?

"Sleep on it…" Sarisa offers in a hushed tone of voice, watching Gillian's motions carefully before stepping out the door. "Sleep on it and let me know, Miss Childs." The metal door creaks closed with a protesting of the metallic hinges, and it seals shut somethign like a tomb door, heavy and purposeful in the clunk it makes.

Leaving her alone.

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