Pulled out of her reverie, she turns from her painting to see Helo standing there expectantly. He doesn't have to look so frakking concerned; almost reluctant, she smiles at him and tears herself away from her work so she can find the chart she wanted him to look over. "I'm glad you're here. I might've found something."
She shakes off the idea of talking about the upcoming rendezvous with Galactica – they still have time – but the chart she hands him does nothing to wipe the concern off his face. Spectroscopics are promising, they can agree on that, but he notes the two long-range recons already run on that grid. She bares her teeth in another smile. "Third time's the charm, maybe."
It has to be. It's still one of the most promising leads she has, previous recon or no previous recon, and maybe the problem is they're not looking hard enough. Maybe the problem is that the pilots don't really understand what the frak they're looking for.
Luckily Helo doesn't let his hesitation get the better of him: he says he'll have Athena prep to go once Sam gets back in. "Hey," he adds, "what about you? You been getting any sleep?"
"I don't know," she hears herself answer, on autopilot, but then stops and restarts. "Not much." It doesn't feel like a more satisfying answer – doesn't look like one for him, either – but it's more honest. Fighting the urge to grind her knuckles into her eyelids, she half-turns, glancing back at the painting above her bed. "It was so clear when I first got back. If I could--" She could feel it like steel through her skull every time they jumped away, and now there's nothing but this sense of disconnect from everything around her. From Earth, from what life was like before, from Sam, from sex, even from Helo. "If I could just focus, I know that I can find that sound again."
Helo promises they'll talk when he gets back, but no, she knows what she needs to do: "I think I'll go with you on this one."
Again, he hesitates. "You haven't flown a CAP since we left the fleet."
Her lips quirk humorlessly. She can still fly circles around every pilot on board this ship, and all this time the problem could've been that they're not seeing something out there that she can. "I think," she repeats, level, "I'll go with you on this one."
She suits up once he's left the room, and it turns out there's nothing her crew won't grumble about. They bitch when she gives them new orders, they bitch when she does her own frakking recon, they probably bitch in their sleep. Tuning out the drone of ship gossip, she goes straight to the hangar and climbs into one of the Vipers waiting there. It's not hers – not the one that made the trip to Earth – but it'll have to do.
no subject
Pulled out of her reverie, she turns from her painting to see Helo standing there expectantly. He doesn't have to look so frakking concerned; almost reluctant, she smiles at him and tears herself away from her work so she can find the chart she wanted him to look over. "I'm glad you're here. I might've found something."
She shakes off the idea of talking about the upcoming rendezvous with Galactica – they still have time – but the chart she hands him does nothing to wipe the concern off his face. Spectroscopics are promising, they can agree on that, but he notes the two long-range recons already run on that grid. She bares her teeth in another smile. "Third time's the charm, maybe."
It has to be. It's still one of the most promising leads she has, previous recon or no previous recon, and maybe the problem is they're not looking hard enough. Maybe the problem is that the pilots don't really understand what the frak they're looking for.
Luckily Helo doesn't let his hesitation get the better of him: he says he'll have Athena prep to go once Sam gets back in. "Hey," he adds, "what about you? You been getting any sleep?"
"I don't know," she hears herself answer, on autopilot, but then stops and restarts. "Not much." It doesn't feel like a more satisfying answer – doesn't look like one for him, either – but it's more honest. Fighting the urge to grind her knuckles into her eyelids, she half-turns, glancing back at the painting above her bed. "It was so clear when I first got back. If I could--" She could feel it like steel through her skull every time they jumped away, and now there's nothing but this sense of disconnect from everything around her. From Earth, from what life was like before, from Sam, from sex, even from Helo. "If I could just focus, I know that I can find that sound again."
Helo promises they'll talk when he gets back, but no, she knows what she needs to do: "I think I'll go with you on this one."
Again, he hesitates. "You haven't flown a CAP since we left the fleet."
Her lips quirk humorlessly. She can still fly circles around every pilot on board this ship, and all this time the problem could've been that they're not seeing something out there that she can. "I think," she repeats, level, "I'll go with you on this one."
She suits up once he's left the room, and it turns out there's nothing her crew won't grumble about. They bitch when she gives them new orders, they bitch when she does her own frakking recon, they probably bitch in their sleep. Tuning out the drone of ship gossip, she goes straight to the hangar and climbs into one of the Vipers waiting there. It's not hers – not the one that made the trip to Earth – but it'll have to do.