New Mexico / June, 1958 / 02:24

[bingobangobongo]

Nighttime.

The desert cooled greatly at night, especially nights as clear as this one. Lieutenant (J.G.) Al "Bingo" Calavicci wouldn't know the difference. Half the bottles lay strewn in the dirt while the other half were placed precisely, a practical lineup on the white edge line of the road. Off the road, in the dirt, Al's candy apple red Corvette sat at the end of an abrupt stop scarring the road.

Nicely buzzed, Bingo smoked at his cigarette and paced back and forth in front of rowed glass bottles. "You've got a lotta nerve comin' here like this. And you bring your friends with you?" He waved his hand in the direction of the standing bottles he wasn't presently addressing. "What was I supposed to do, huh? You forced my hand," he accused, head swimming delightfully.

"Heh--hehe." Al was having a tough time keeping his straight face. Wildly turning on his heel, the man kicked one of the empties and pretended to watch if sail off into the distance. He hadn't seen where it had gone -- it was far too dark, even with the desert starlight. "See what you made me do, Vinny?!" Al's voice, gravel and honey, sweet and rough, carried off into the distance and didn't come back. He leaned down to stare accusingly at the bottle on the white line, one eye half-closed in mock posturing. At his fingertips, his Lucky was burning him, but he wasn't finished. Not yet.

Bingo snorted. "Yer done for," he growled out. He reached his hand to grasp Vinny's neck, but the cigarette bit at him and he yelped, dropping the Lucky Strike, the bottle of beer, and his sunglasses all in one motion. It was just enough that he missed the fact that the roaring sound he was suddenly hearing was, in fact, outside of his head. Feeling strangely prickly and disoriented, the Lieutenant sucked at his burnt finger and turned just in time to see the fireball descending down over his prized car.

Did he duck? Did he jump for cover? "No, no, NO!" No, Bingo doth protest fiercely into the night.

He didn't get to see what happened. The force of such a nearby impact coupled with his already unbalanced step knocked him to the ground where he remained, head covered in anticipation of more wreckage.

Comments

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Not in the least." From what he understood, the place he had in mind was known for being empty but well-tended. It was a sweet little get-away (in more ways than one.) Al didn't feel right telling her in the bar, though. If someone was listening, they'd already know he was military (thanks to his obvious uniform,) and her as well (thanks to her most recent question.) Easy enough to track. "Think you'll find it just right," he affirmed, nodding on his way into a hunch.

Where the conversation went from here was something Calavicci had to think on. He knew she would understand his evasiveness when she caught on to its persistence, but what to say until then? How he wished he had a cigarette to share. Somehow, conversations seemed to flow better when a smoke was involved.

"How long you been flying?" Yes, it was a question, but he figured it was the safest to ask of any if he was going to break the rule.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara tucked her hair behind her ears, relieved by his assurances. The less she had to worry about being collared and hauled off for not officially existing, the better. Still, the moment she felt she could breathe a bit easier, other doubts and fears sprang to life and begin to vie for her attention.

Luckily, Calavicci's question helped to quiet and focus her mind. She could talk about flying all day, and he was undoubtedly the same. Kara grinned.

"You just trying to ask my age, Lieutenant?" she tossed back wryly, rearranging her sore knee in order to slouch down into the booth comfortably. "I executed my first touch and go my third day of flight standards ten years ago - you'll find you need all of your fingers to count that high."

She smirked and took a drink, closing her eyes in order to appreciate the cool line it drew down her throat. When she set the glass down one the table again, she leaned toward him, propping her chin on her hand. "Yourself?"

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Coupla' years," he said somewhat dismissively. No mistake, Bingo loved to fly, but he was still a bit green and dreamed that flying would always be an option. Taking things for granted is a career to the young. "Been trying to work my way towards something faster, but you know how it goes: I pick it, but they approve it."

A sip, another sip and then Calavicci was scraping at the label just so he had something to do with his hands. He avoided the obvious questions, like asking what flight school she graduated from and instead went on to ask, "Got anything holding you back?"

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"This an interrogation, Calavicci?" She asked it lightly enough, clearly joking. She jonesed for a cigarette to roll between her fingers or the feel of a nubby old Triad deck. She had no place else to lay her attention but the man across the table, and Kara did nothing halfway, so she surveyed him closely.

The immediate reaction to his question was no - nothing had ever held Kara back. In fact, she used nearly everything in her path to get whatever she wanted, to succeed and surpass. In the past four years, though? Frak, she did everything she could to stay right where she was. Kara never wanted to be promoted out of the ranks of pilots or be forced into a prettier uniform in CIC. And tat didn't even include the woman she'd been on New Caprica.

Still, she was hardly going to jump into that with anyone, let alone a relative stranger. She shrugged easily, her eyes bright on his. "Just my own bad reputation." She took another taste of beer and regarded him - he hadn't seemed to keen on answering her last questions, and Kara had been somewhat let down; from Calavicci's performance back in the brig had made him appear to be just as capable a storyteller as she. And if anyone needed a story - better known as a distraction right now - it was Kara.

"You a natural, Calavicci?" she asked, with just a touch of sarcasm. All pilots claimed to be gifted on the stick.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

The edge on her voice issued forth as a challenge. Bingo, open to the opportunity afforded him, grinned devilishly as he leaned forward. "A natural as a pair of--" He was making some rather suspiciously round, grabby motions with his fingers stretched spider-like in front of him. But then, thinking better of himself, he summed up his analogy plainly. "--a pair of coconuts on the beach."

He felt the need to brag but played it smart with the knowledge that she had a great many years on him. Aside from that, though, he didn't know what she was flying. Maybe it was the fastest plane on Earth. In any case, he decided to steer the conversation to something a little more... impressive. "You know, you remind me a bit of this girl I used to know, Johanna. Met her when I was at Jacksonville. She was this perky little blonde file clerk and boy did she know how to party. She was a Liberty Risk if ever there was one. Well, one night we head out to this place with really cheap drinks and get smashed like you wouldn't believe. Missed our ride back to base, no cabs running, and we're just past the age where bicycles are an option." Bingo laughed, reliving the best parts in his delivery.

"Johanna finds this drunk and he's walking this little red wagon along behind him. Somehow, she convinces him to trade a ride back to the base for a coupla' bucks and the promise of some heavy and hot action with her roommate, Stella. He must've took her two whole miles only to find out she didn't have a roommate."

Al shook his head. "'Course, there wasn't room in the wagon for two so I can't say for sure, but I think she probably took that old drunk for everything he had. I'm pretty sure I saw that wagon in her possession again after that."

He looked distant for a moment, then focused back on Kara. "Come to think of it, she left me with the check and never did call..." It was as if the revelation were new. Bingo waved it off and took a drink of his beer. "Anyway, the point I think I was making here was that I believe you've got a bit of Johanna in you. A 'make-it-happen' kind of girl, which makes me wonder even more about what you're doing here. I ain't gonna ask, but it seems like you must've gotten where you were going or else you would have already pressed on, too."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Wondering if she should even believe Calavicci when he ran on so, Kara simply shook her head. She had no destination in mind other than the Lieutenant's supposedly secret hiding place for the immediate future. Beyond that - well, Galactica was her final destination, and she meant to return even if it meant rebuilding her bird from scratch.

Gesturing to the dive they were sitting in, she said, "If you think this was my goal, you don't have a very high opinion of the Air Force." She drained her beer, a slight burr of disappointment growing in her chest as she pushed the empty glass away. Even as exhausted as she was, she knew she could take up residence in their corner for the long haul. Whether it was the beer or the company, she couldn't be sure, but guessed there had to be something to the man's story about Johanna - he was definitely the kind of kid who seemed like he could get up to endless amounts of trouble. The willingness with which he'd hitched his wagon to hers alone told her that, and that he didn't press her for more details about her origin, her position, or her destination confirmed it. Kara, too, got up to her share of misdeeds, and if Calavicci had been one of her pilots... well, needless to say, they probably wouldn't be allowed to serve together very long.

She wished she could appreciate the young Lieutenant's penchant for mischief further, but the fact remained she was in trouble, she needed at least eight hours of solid sleep, and she probably needed a doctor (or at least, some basic first aid for her knee). With a glance at the window, she tried to gauge the hour - the sun was still climbing, so she put it at around nine. That meant it was probably ten hours or so since she'd crashed. How much of that had been spent unconscious and at the mercy of an apparently sloppy military? Just considering it made her even wearier, and even more willing to hide for a little bit.

The ease with which she'd been operating until then seemed to dissipate and she wrapped her arms around herself, looking tense. "Look, I'm stranded, all right? My mission was such that if I went down, no one was to come looking for me." She shrugged and shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the possibility she'd be stuck there for a very long time, if not permanently. Everything within her balked at the notion, and her eyes reflected a renewed, if dim, fire and determination. "So if I'm going to return my plane, I'm going to have to do it on my own, and you can either waste my time by trying to figure out something I won't tell you, or you can help." She was banking on his curiosity making the choice plain, but if she'd pushed him too far, and he stood to go... well, she'd deal with that if it came to that. Kara Thrace had no use for people who couldn't hold their own against her anyway.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo was a bit surprised. The blunt delivery caught him off guard and he probably looked the part of a new recruit after his first reprimand, but it didn't last long. He waved his hand at her and sat back against the padded both. "Now, Captain, don't get your panties in a bunch. I wasn't makin' like I wouldn't help, just saying that you don't seem upset about being in the-" He glanced around and scooched back forward, leaning forward over the table and finishing quietly. "-for being in the United States of America, where you obviously are not from. If I took those little trinkets around your neck to be anything less than significant, I'd be doing myself a disservice." Um, take that?

Calavicci huffed, and in true Italiano style, cursed to himself in another language ("affanculo*). He had met some interesting women in some creative settings, but this one had something of a wild and unpredictable streak in her. Al was all the better for the hunt, but considered he was probably making a mistake in deciding to push on.

He stood. "Look, I'm gonna go and find a smoke. You want one?" His tone was almost begrudging.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, shooting him a smirk. "Yes please, Lieutenant." So maybe she was gloating a little, but she imagined Calavicci would do the same if he'd been in her spot.

His little guess about her alien status to these United States of America jangled something loose in her mind. She'd need a way to explain her tags, and while she guessed she wouldn't need to excuse herself to the pilot, but she was sure it'd come up later. She mentally thanked him and set herself to coming up with something viable enough.

Meantime, while her mind was elsewhere, she concentrated on the resurgence of pain in her knee. Kara kneaded her thigh absently, staring longingly at the empty shot glasses glittering in the dirty desert sunlight streaming through the bar windows. If only she had more viable powers of female persuasion, she'd be able to get hammered well enough to sleep through her various aches and pains. Unfortunately, she was a shower and a change of clothes away from anything closely resembling a woman, so she guessed the best she could hope for was a quick escape from the bar. Frak - she'd never even thought such a thing before.

Letting up on the knee, she leaned back into the shadows, chewing her lower lip in thought. She was so thoroughly exhausted in mind, body, and spirit, she couldn't concentrate on anything but the resounding hollowness in her chest, and Kara just wished the Lieutenant would return so she could think of anything else.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Al was about to consider that New Mexico was full of non-smokers when he scored a couple from a lady outside the bar. She solicited his attention longer than strictly necessary, but in the end Calavicci passed on any offer on the table and explained he had a friend who was waiting around for him. They parted on good enough terms that the woman tossed him a third smoke and went back to whatever "work" she was doing.

Returning inside, Bingo found that nothing had changed. The bartender was wiping the bar in the same place (being meanwhile occupied by a television behind the counter,) and the one other quiet patron was hiccuping from the opposite corner of them. Albert felt... strangely out of place.

Shaking off the eerie feeling, the young Lieutenant picked through the skeleton tables and slid his way smoothly back into the spot across from Thrace. "What d'ya say we get outta here?" They could probably talk a little more freely with some privacy, anyway. "I mean, I don't know about you, but this place ain't exactly the Taj Mahal to me."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

The lightness in her heart for that moment after he proposed they relocate was almost unbearable. For a singular second, she felt the weight lift from her shoulders. As soon as she connected the feelings with those she was having before she flew into the eye of the storm, they dissipated and Kara was crushed once more. Wearily, she slid out of the booth and got to her feet.

"Tell me this place isn't on the top of some frakking mountain," she muttered. She wouldn't be able to handle too many stairs or uphill walking, not the way she was hobbling.

She tipped a smile at the bartender - no telling if she might need him on her side later - then took the final steps across the tacky floor to the door. The sun was bright and Kara had to raise her hand to shield her eyes. It was growing hotter but almost immediately, she felt a chill run through her body. Throwing off the unpleasant sensation, she dragged herself to the car.

Instantly, she was grateful for the warm leather against her back. It reassured her somehow. And when Calavicci slid into the driver's seat, she relaxed a bit more. She felt confident enough in her initial assessment of the man to know she wouldn't need to worry about him driving off into the desert to murder her. And anyway, bad knee or not, she was sure she could kick his ass if necessary.

"How far?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Frak walking - Kara could barely sit. She was lucky the heat was keeping her cheeks pink, because she was surely white as a sheet by now.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Not far." He was not exaggerating. If it wasn't evident before that he had concern for her overall well-being, then perhaps it shone through when he drove the car less than a full block down the road to a rather inconspicuous looking two-story house. There was nothing to set it apart from the other homes and businesses nearby, making it the least likely of all their choices to garner military attention.

Bingo turned to his passenger to explain. "I'm going to put the car some place quiet, and then I'll come back around to pay for the room." He offered over a cigarette and matches from the bar, his face the picture of unspoken understanding. "You wanna wait around here?" He was hoping it would provide her with at least a little relief, and the porch swing was well-enough hidden she could rest there. It was a bonus, Al felt, that there was only one step to ascend.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara nodded tersely, trying valiantly (and failing miserably) not to let on how much pain she was in. She climbed out of the car and took the first seat she could, fully appreciating the tree casting shade across the wide porch. Why anyone would chose to live in the gods-damned desert, she'd never know.

Of course, she couldn't give over to the pain for too long - it just wasn't in her nature. By the time Calavicci returned from his errand, Kara was up and walking the length of the porch again, trying desperately to work out the knots. She glanced up at him in clear defiance, but didn't say anything. Tucking the unlit cigarette behind her ear and pocketing the matches, she walked through the front door and tried her best to look unassuming among the furnishings of the fussy front room.

A small, birdlike woman was perched behind a well-loved desk, and she glanced up at Kara, giving her a pointed, sour look over half-moon spectacles. "May I help you?"

Kara glanced back at the Lieutenant, hoping he'd pipe up with an answer as she was sure anything that came out of her mouth would likely land her on her ass in the street.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Any sharpness Albert possessed was removed as he addressed the civilian behind the counter. "We'd like a room, ma'am."

She turned her head sharply to Calavicci. "Two beds," she clucked and placed a room key noisily onto the surface between them. "Twenty a night. Breakfast is at seven -- that's oh-seven-hundred, Lieutenant -- and you can check out by leaving your key and the money at the dropbox at the main house."

Wow, the honor system. Bingo didn't think people worked that way anymore outside of the suburbs. "Just a night, ma'am." He retrieved his wallet and placed a crisp twenty dollar bill on the counter to the left of the keys. "Thank you."

Whether it was Calavicci's attitude, or the fact that Thrace looked ashen that made the attendant obviously wary was unclear. She seemed to be giving the male half quite the unrestrained stares. He took it in stride, but much longer would prove to make him feel quite uncomfortable, Al thought.

Receipt, keys, and then they parted awkward ways with the woman. "Lady's a bit... strange, don't you think?" But then, who was he to talk? They weren't exactly the most normal looking pair, and they were checking in pretty early in the morning for most of the establishment's usual clientele. "Gave me the willies," he explained, realizing in retrospect that it had probably been the womans very beady black eyes giving him issue. "She didn't seem real."

They made it to the foyer just in time to realize the assigned destination happened to be on the second floor. Al pointed up at the room designated "2B." He offered his arm for her, feeling quite chivalrous.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara shook her head and nodded up the steps. "Go. I'll follow." Her refusal was only partly due to stubborn pride - really, she just thought she'd do better to climb the stairs with the aid of the banister.

Somehow, she ascended the stairs, biting the inside of her lip hard in order to focus her attention on anything but the screaming pain working its way up her leg. Once she was through the door, she collapsed onto the closest bed in an undignified heap. Distantly, Kara realized she wanted a shower and something to eat, but both were more than she could manage. For the moment, it was enough to stretch her leg and relax against the well-worn chenille comforter.

Throwing her arm over her eyes, she addressed Calavicci in an unrepentantly weary voice. "I just need a coupla hours. You stayin'?" Not that it was important to her that he do so or anything - she just, um, needed to know.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Am I--?" Al smirked. "I paid for the room, didn't I? Of course I'm staying." But it wasn't like he was acting too much a fool over her question; He did what he needed to do to make it look like he wasn't worried. Something told him she wouldn't outright appreciate it, especially after her act at the stairs.

This was when Al took to lighting one of the cigarettes he'd managed to wrangle. After his initial inhale, he took a seat on the other bed and looked across the gap at his cohort. "If I end up goin' out later, can I bring you something?" Better to ask now than need to wake her later.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She turned looked up him from under her arm. "You got a plane I can fly outta this place?" With a small laugh that didn't contain much humor, she shook her head. "I don't need anything, but thanks." Kara closed her eyes and let the slowly turning fan overhead cool her sweat-damp skin.

Within minutes, Kara had drifted off to sleep. For most of the day, she slept like the dead. When she finally woke, the throbbing in her knee had become a dull ache than made Kara's guts twist. She sat up slowly, looking around. Calavicci was sleeping soundly in the next bed and from his wristwatch on the nightstand, she learned she'd slept almost thirteen hours. As if the number made the realization into reality, hunger rolled over her like a wave.

She climbed out of bed and went to the tiny en suite bath. Kara looked longingly at the shower, but knew she wouldn't be able to manage it; if she were to fall, would anyone hear her? Not that she especially wanted to be gathered up off the floor, naked and wet and dependent like a child. No, better to just wash up and get back into bed.

Back in the bedroom, she noticed a covered dish on the bureau. To Kara's delight, it turned out to be a cold supper of chicken and a baked potato. She ate her fill, trying not to devour the food as she didn't wish to wretch it back up after so many hours without. When she was through, she climbed back into bed, burrowing under the blankets. It was thanks to her full stomach she was able to drift off once more, but she slept fitfully until dawn thanks to her knee. As she lay in the murky pre-dawn light, she debated with herself whether to wake the young lieutenant or if she should just swipe his keys, some cash, and make a dash for it.

Lucky for Al, though, Kara'd never been the sort to run.