New Mexico / June, 1958 / 07:22

[bingobangobongo]

When Calavicci awoke, it was early. Too early to mention. Morning loomed as a concept -- darkness lingering in the pre-dawn hours. The horizon was just taking on some color, showing the contrast between the earth and the sky.

The drinking the evening before, coupled with the ridiculously long day they had shared sent Thrace to bed early. Albert had followed rather quickly, draped just as unceremoniously on his matching, opposing twin bed. The bed and breakfast had turned out to be a fine idea; a quiet and discreet get-away that appeared to be empty aside from the two of them.

Wiping away the sleep from his eyes, the young Lieutenant took a glance at his newly-found companion and was surprised to see she was already awake. He could tell she knew he was up -- her posture changed and her back straightened. Al squinted at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

He nodded and dropped back onto the bed, inexpertly tugging the bed quilt over himself. Covered from shoulder-to-knee, Calavicci tried to think about how nice it would be to catch a few more hours of sleep, but he was deterred from his goal by a niggling feeling. He listened to Kara's breathing, much shorter and hardly even compared to her sleeping state. It left him uneasy -- enough so that he didn't think he could cater to sleep.

"...borrow your car?" Barely there, her voice lost much of its inflection and strength.

Al sat up and found she'd turned even farther away. Her hair obscured her eyes, expression, everything the minimal light in the room would have allowed him to see. He was no fool, though: Being the type to appreciate women also afforded him insight into their mannerisms, and he could tell that something was definitely wrong. He nodded, even if Starbuck couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'll get the keys." While he had no clue where she was going, the way she said it told him he'd been right: something was amiss.

The keys were where he'd left them, half hanging from an empty beer bottle by the opener. Palming the keys, he fretted over the idea that he might never seen his beloved Lisa, the shiny red Corvette, ever again. He doubted Thrace would intend to steal it, just worried she might borrow it for a lot longer than he would have liked. "Sure I can't talk you into breakfast?" It was a puerile question in lieu of the mystery he'd already unraveled, but he thought it might help to break the tension.

When the Captain didn't answer, Calavicci frowned deeply. She had her hand outstretched for the keys, but she just didn't seem interested or able to respond. He took several tentative steps towards her and asked again, "Are you--"

"Fine," she snapped through her teeth and jabbed her palm-up hand at him in solicitation of the keys.

Al avoided her arm, small movements bringing him around her bed. Almost immediately, he could see the problem. Her knee, already aggravated from her crash landing, had swollen noticeably overnight. So much so that he could tell even with her flight suit covering it. Probably agitated from the minor amount of walking they had been forced to do while being held captive. He sympathized, familiar enough with trying to escape when there was no clear exit.

"Here." The offer of the keys didn't come without some hesitation. "But before you go--"

Thrace shook her head. "Don't." Her tone was low, almost dangerous.

But Bingo was not one to be put-off so easily. He cleared his throat and sat down uninvited next to her. "Now hold on, hear me out, all right? I think if you're going to take my car, you'd at least better let me have my say." Immediately, he could tell Kara was uncomfortable with the idea, but she remained sitting, her free hand pressed into her thigh, just above the knee.

Al cleared his throat, but it didn't help him to sound any more awake. "I know you're probably going to just... just go, but I'd like you to consider letting me help. I'm no doctor, but I can help." He'd dealt with his share of injuries and knew the principles of first aid well enough to feel confident in what he was offering. "Peeling off into the desert as fast the those wheels will take you is only going to distract you for a so long." He was pretty certain that had been her intention, and when she turned her determined face to look at him, he worried he might have been exactly right. She looked like she was in a considerable amount of pain and he hated to see it, but he wouldn't press.

For too long, they shared the quiet and the dark. The young Lieutenant could feel that she was shaking. The pressure she was putting on her upper thigh looked to be all she could do against the aching, swollen knee aside from grinding her teeth. "I would like to help," he finally revealed, hoping to take some of the stress or the decision off of her shoulders. "I promise I won't enjoy it too much."

Starbuck laughed, but it was more than that. Gasp, groan, hiss? All of it came out, pushed to the surface by his ridiculous comment. She only looked over for a second, but it was as clear an answer as Kara could give at the moment.

///

Preparations rarely went so smoothly. Calavicci took the steps in stride and precisely planned his shopping trip through the more intimate rooms of the bed and breakfast. He begged some Bufferin (a poor choice for this application, but better than nothing) from a locked downstairs bathroom, borrowed a tea towel full of ice, and outright stole a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, two glasses from the minibar, and a pair of shears from a kitchen drawer. It left him far too thrilled for his own good.

Hurriedly, he closed the door, noting the Captain had moved. She was pacing. Al deposited his provisions and fixed her with a look, dark gaze traveling up, lingering on the knee in question. Their eyes met and Kara lifted her chin. Needing no translation, the Lieutenant held off on any thoughts of lecturing.

"I've brought some things that should help." It wasn't so much a reminder of his intent as it was a reassurance that at least some relief was at hand. He took to emptying his pockets, dropping the bottle of Bufferin onto the bed.

Kara held her position. She didn't really like the idea, but she required Calavicci's help. She could have taken the car while he'd been gone but he was right: Even if she could drive, the throbbing pain in her knee was one hell of a distraction when she was at rest. She didn't quite know how to respond. "Uh, thanks."

Bingo busied himself with prep work, silent and dutiful in his task. His mind was wandering. He heard her shuffling behind him and it struck chord. That was a certain amount of stubborn bullheadedness there, wasn't there? He recognized that in the Captain as he sometimes did in himself. It would solve itself soon enough, he imagined. For as much resting as she had done, the pain appeared to have deepened. Rest would be a necessity.

His first step was simple. He lit a cigarette and immediately passed it off to Thrace. She took it, hit it, kept it and watched him. Calavicci then plucked up the bottle (it was whiskey) and poured two hearty double shots, each in a borrowed glass. He offered one and she accepted it with her other hand, leaving her without those extra balance points.

"It's a good pain reliever," Al explained.

Starbuck, hands shaking, dropped back the alcohol without a pause. She ran her arm across her chops and finally she sat. "You in pain?" Since he was drinking, she thought she'd ask.

"I'm here, aren't I?" He shook his head, an unfortunately short row of laughter escaping him. "It's a shame to have to drink alone."

Thrace nodded and watched him drink it down slower and smoother. And then he collected her glass and coupled it with the other.

Next was the Bufferin. He gave her two, but he didn't have any water. No matter, she took them dry, swallowing and succeeding to get them down unaided. Kara didn't know if it was the alcohol or his approach, but she noticed some relief. Only now remembering the cigarette, she ashed it in her free hand and took another hit. It seemed absurd to act so normally.

"You're going to have to let me get a look at that knee." Al's voice, low and gritty, was not commanding at all. It was curiosity, in part, but he also felt she would assess the damage done much differently than he might. If the roles had been reversed, the Lieutenant would have been professing his ability to run a marathon and dreaming of crutches in between his words.

Kara had been expecting it. "Yeah, fine." She hadn't looked in a while, anyway. Bingo held up the scissors, but she shook her head and passed off the almost dead cigarette before maneuvering herself halfway out of the flight suit. If it was all she had left of her old life, she wanted to preserve it.

Al tried hard not to look too intently. Under most circumstances he would was stared rather unabashedly, but he knew there was a time and place for such things and this was not it.

His first glimpse of the damage was a redness at her thigh where she had been pressing for who knows how long. It wasn't anything serious. Below that, the damage was more extensive. Her knee was angry and bruised but mostly just swollen. He could tell there had been troubles there before but he didn't need to tell her that. "It's pretty bad," he told her in the most sober of manners.

She didn't respond but she knew he was right. It would have been nice to have good, old, familiar Doc Cottle there but that was far too much to ask.

When he went to retrieve the tea towel and ice, Calavicci came back to find that Thrace had relaxed back a little more. The Bufferin was probably working some of it's magic and the ice would help even more. As carefully and gently as he could, he pressed the makeshift coldpack against her knee and winced in empathy when she did.

It was strange for him to be so close to a woman without being in a more intimate position. His fingertips touched her leg in one place or another while he held the pack; Al could tell just how rough his hands were in comparison. On another occasion, he certainly would have taken the time to show his appreciate for the female form but he, for once, couldn't put his mind of the sexual nature that could be gleaned from such proximity. Factually, he couldn't even relax until he felt that extra tension, caused by his application of ice, leave her.

Kara placed a hand next to his on the tea towel, taking charge of her own care now that he had provided some relief. Their hands didn't touch, but the contrast was enough to gain both their attentions. Al, olive and tanned, stood out against the tea towel and made Kara's pale hand look somehow smaller.

Calavicci felt like it was a quiet moment of understanding. They weren't all that different -- similar in principals and thrills, ambitions and expectations. When he finally removed his hand, he saw the look of appreciation in Starbuck's tight smile. But really, he didn't think it was anything she wouldn't have done for him.

Comments

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo took up residence on the second swing seat, tipsily placing two bottles of beer on the ground and retrieving the other from his pocket. "Good engineering," he agreed, his key jingling as he popped the cap on the beer bottle. "And somethin' tells me that you're not kidding when you say you broke all kinda laws with her." To that, he lifted his bottle to her and took a couple thirsty gulps.

Albert had no problem identifying a fellow spirit. While he had been a trouble-maker, he had never been a particularly bad kid. He could only imagine Kara was the same. No one kept their career in the military without some respect for the position, after all, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was the type who had loads of respect for flying.

Feeling his mind readying to drive the conversation towards "work," Bingo cleared his throat. "How's that, uh, how's that knee?" He didn't think she was feeling much pain, but felt empathetic enough to ask. "Any better'n it was?" As if he needed it, he struggled around to light another cigarette, the combination of that, the beer, and the company allowing him to feel right at home.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara flexed the knee in question. The booze was probably doing a lot of talking, but it didn't feel bad at all. It definitely wasn't swollen anymore, and that was a great sign. Possibly, if she kept off it enough, it'd heal on its own. Also, pigs would probably fly if she kept her fingers crossed long enough.

"Not bad," she said. "I'm sure I'll make a full recovery." And she was - whether she'd be as good as new was questionable. Kara would cross that bridge when she came to it, though - mangled knee or no, there wasn't anyone who could keep her out of the cockpit forever.

"Looking forward to getting back?" she asked idly, finishing her first beer and dropping the end of her cigarette into it. She uncapped a second, promising herself she'd make it last.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

As he hit his cigarette, he wondered if she was looking for the truth, or his closest approximation. Deciding nothing would be gained from running her around in circles, he let out a long breath of smoke and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I am." But he sure sounded hesitant. "There's a lot of opportunity there, not that I'll have much of a chance to enjoy it." They kept their pilots pretty busy in the Navy. More-so if they were up for joint service.

"I don't know," he said, defeat creeping into his tone. "Maybe I'm just being crazy, but I've been havin' a pretty good time just... driving." Bingo, feeling the alcohol opening a path he wasn't prepared for, stood and found reason to distract himself. Unasked, he grabbed up Thrace's empty and dropped it into a nearby trashcan. "Don't get me wrong, Kara -- I'll be glad to get back up in the air. But that's not really what's ahead of me, y'know?"

As he dropped back onto the swing seat, he took a moment to catch up a little and drained his beer. He was already a bottle behind, but since no one had issued the night as a competition, he just left it be.

"Paperwork, tests, committees... Be worth it in the end, but until then?" Al shook his head and laughed somewhat humorlessly.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara rocked back and forth on the swing, nodding sagely. She'd been through all of that, and she wouldn't have traded him places for anything. Still, what he was about to endure was better than the alternative - the rate she'd had to push pilots through training since the attacks was bordering on the disturbing. No one who wasn't ready belonged at the stick, but needs must. She hoped Calavicci knew how good he had it.

"It'll be worth it," she told him unnecessarily. With a shrug, she went on to say, "But you know that or you wouldn't be doing it." It was quite a leap, sure, but she knew it to be as true of him as it had once been for her. And even after all the sorties she'd seen, all the good pilots she'd seen go down, the never ending grind of training new victims, she wouldn't give up flying or go back and choose some other career.

But the conversation was straying into territory best left unmapped, so she kicked off the ground and began to swing, leaning back as far as gravity would allow. Gods, she hadn't done this in years, and though she could feel the warning tingle in her hurt knee to ease up, she pumped her legs harder, loving the way the height made her heart pound and the wind in her hair.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo watched from his somewhat stationary position, only just swaying along with her movements without even realizing it. Even now, he could tell that Thrace was different from even just when she had "landed." While her origins remained mysterious, she had found herself loosening up for whatever reason. It was comforting to see, especially since Al had taken a risk and decided not to turn her in straight-off.

Despite all of that, Calavicci thought Thrace looked pretty young for such wisdom. While he understood the reason people thought that way about him, he had to wonder what part of her past life was lending her the hard-lived knowledge she spoke through. And, really, she couldn't be that much older than he was, right?

In the end, he decided that swinging probably wasn't a typical Starbuck pastime. The ease with which she motivated herself was all together real to him, but the tension he saw in its wake told him there was probably a lot this girl wouldn't tell him. Not to be deterred from at least making conversation, he offered, "Since I can't ask, why don't you tell me something? That way if there's ammo to be had, you're providing it."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

That was smart on Calavicci's part, she had to hand to him. Still, what to tell him? She'd gone over the only real point of pride Kara had - that she was one hell of a pilot. Anything else in her life, from her complete failure as a wife to her tenuous position as a respected Fleet Captain, was strictly out of bounds. Anything else, though, would likely mark her as obviously... different.

Still, there were a few go-to stories in her arsenal. Stripped of the identifying clues, she supposed she could tell him something that would keep him happy. After all, Calavicci had done a hell of a lot for her without asking anything in return - Kara reckoned she owed him.

"Okay - you want some ammunition?" Slowing and eventually coming to rest, panting slightly from the exertion and shivering from the relative chill. Suspense effectively built, Kara turned and looked at the young lieutenant. "There was this one time where I crash-landed in enemy territory." That unfriendly moon counted as an 'enemy', didn't it? It had been the bastard that frakked up her knee in the first place, so she counted it.

She brushed a hank of hair back behind her ear revealing her bright eyes and game smile. "I stripped an enemy bird and rigged 'er to fly for me when I realized it would be too risky for an S and R." Smirking, her look turned inward as she recalled the triumph she'd felt as she'd landed that disgusting Raider on the deck.

But of course, she wasn't done - a Starbuck story never was. She took a moment to light another cigarette if only to occupy her hands and to keep her from gulping down the rest of her beer. Once she'd pocketed the lighter, she went on. "Then I used that plane against 'em. Just flew right in like we belonged and ended up rescuing two dozen of our own." And maybe she was leaving out the months she'd spent pleading just to return for the SAR, and maybe that second time, she'd gone in on a Raptor, but what Calavicci didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Hello, what was that? Oh, yes, it was a proverbial bus of awe bowling into the young lieutenant (junior grade.) So, according to what Thrace was saying, this wasn't her first crash landing. Which made sense, at least in what he knew of her

The story sent shivers up his spine. He whistled. "Two dozen, huh? That's..." Al shook his head. "That's phenomenal, isn't it?"

Trying to imagine a rescue of that ilk really got him thinking, though. Kara couldn't be America unless she had performed her rescue in Korea, and since he was on the ground there, Bingo was pretty sure he would have heard news of a rescue with that much impact. The press back in the States would have eaten a mission like that up. At the very least, he didn't put it past his own government to use it as a rally point.

But, Korea had passed and he wasn't about to call her out. "Those guys must have been just... yeah, just relieved, you know?"

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"Relieved?" Kara laughed and nodded. "Yeah, they were relieved, all right." And they hadn't been the only ones - Kara had never once had a better moment than seeing Sam on the ground on Caprica. Gods, how she'd spent that night.

But she couldn't envision Sam's face without cold guilt gripping her chest, so she shook her head as if to erase the afterimage of his smile. "There were too many we couldn't save, though." The grief for her civilization was so deeply ingrained, it had become part of her, so she didn't even really notice saying anything on the subject of those lost. Every day, the Fleet memorialized the dead by word or deed, so to Kara, the nod to those who had died was business as usual.

Still, she was not descending down that particular rabbit hole of sorrow, so she pasted a brighter smile on her face. "But if that's not enough, I also won a spelling bee in fourth grade, kept a pet frog named Richard, and have four tattoos. My biography fee is twenty percent."

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo laughed, but there was a definite hesitation in there. Perhaps he was amused, but the subject matter left him feeling dampened. He didn't feel so great about laughing in light of those that he knew Thrace must have mourned. "That's plenty enough, I think," he mused, certain that she was at least pulling his leg about the frog named Richard. "I'd have my accountant cut you a check, but since no one's supposed to know you're you, I don't think we'll get much for it." Okay, so that was just shameless teasing.

Out came the jingling keys and Al opened the second beer-in-the-park. He had to admit that it had been a long time since he'd shared a quiet, drunken moment out in the middle of nothing with another quiet, drunken soul.

That much had to end.

"Hey, what d'you say to a drinking game or something?" He could think of a few, that's for sure.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara wondered if she'd unwittingly stepped into uncomfortable territory on Calavicci's end. After all, just because the Navy pilot looked young didn't mean he hadn't already seen more than his share. There was nothing to be done for it, though, and if he wasn't going to offer input, she'd not ask.

Kara tipped her head back, looking up at the waning silver moon. It looked so lonely. At the sound of Calavicci's bottle opening, she sat up and picked hers up.

"Fine. What do you have in mind." She figured the less she had to say, the better.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Ah, I dunno. Something simple?" The low lighting afforded them few options, but at least there were a few areas peppered with light from the street lamps. "I think I know what'll work." Even if she won't accuse him of being sly orsmart after hearing the "rules."

Stepping off the swing, Calavicci dizzied his way forward and pressed the bottom of his beer bottle firmly into the sand in front of them. When he pulled his tool away, there was a divot left in its place. "See that?" He pointed, because he was a little drunk and felt it prudent. "That's the cup."

And then he was on his way back to his seat, one hand holding onto his beer, the other digging in his pocket. When he produced a hand full of spare change, he sat back on the swing seat and curled his arm around the ropes. "Coin in the cup, you get to ask the question. No coin in the cup, person closest drinks." Eventually, he imagined everything would even out -- the best shot wouldn't be the best with too much winning on their side.

He held up a hand, took a sip, then blurted out his stream of consciousness. "Now, I know what you're thinking, and we sure did agree about asking questions, but I think we can keep this... sporty. I won't be too specific, yeah?" That was the wager and the prize from his perspective.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Sounded easy enough to Kara, so she nodded, leaning over and plucking a coin out of Calavicci's hand. When she missed the coin by a good foot and a half, her pride took a hit, but she grinned and took another coin anyway. "That was practice," she explained, flipping the second coin. She missed the 'cup', but at least she was within a few inches.

Calavicci took a turn and missed the cup. Kara tossed back a drink and tried again - third time was a charm, and it landed smack in the middle of the 'cup.'

Now for a question. She had plenty, but the first thing that came to mind was what she said. "Why are you driving some woman you don't even know across the country?" Kara herself had thought of plenty of reasons why he might do so, but wanted to heard the answer from the man himself.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"That's what you want to know?" He chuckled deeply and gave her a look. "All the questions you can ask, and you ask that." It had become a statement, leaving the query behind. "No, no, no, that's good," Bingo agreed, plucking a coin from his other hand and keeping it at the ready.

He turned the swing some so he could look at her. "So, this is how I see it: If it were me, I'd want the help. I wouldn't act like it, but I'd want it." Not that he was accusing her, or anything -- just answering the question.

"Not to mention, it looks pretty good for me to be passing through with a long-legged blonde. I tried it with a brunette, but she just didn't have that..." He made a mmph sound that he hoped portrayed some amount of forced underwhelming.

Calavicci tossed his coin and came up way short. "Practice," he teased and sipped at his beer before returning it to the sand beside him. The second coin broke down part of the makeshift wall, but finished inside the 'cup.' A grin spread across his face. "Have you always been the fearless type?"

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She wasn't sure he'd answered her question, not completely, but it wasn't her turn to ask another so she twisted the chains of her swing and listened as Calavicci came up with his. As promised, it was nonspecific and relatively innocuous.

"Always," she confirmed with a smile. She supposed she could have left it there, but instead she turned toward Calavicci. "No sense in wasting time being afraid, you know? You never know when a mission might be your last." Of course, if he'd asked her a few years back, her answer would have been the same, but her reasoning would have been different.

She took a taste of her beer, finishing it. She nestled the dead soldier in the grass and held out her hand for a coin. Her toss was poor but luck made it roll into the half-disintegrated cup. This time, she had a question at the ready, and she turned toward Lieutenant Calavicci.

"If you weren't a pilot, what would you do?" It had been a topic of conversation among her fellows since she'd entered the Academy, and the answers people give were often varied and very telling. Perhaps it was because the pull to fly was so strong, usually those who made it into the air stayed there, but that didn't mean no one else had any dreams of doing anything else.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Before he even had a chance to protest her toss, Starbuck had thrown her question out there. And he had to think on it. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it before; the issue at hand was that he had so many personally pleasing options he had a hard time picking just one.

"Used to want to be a hustler. And why not? I'd see 'em out on the stoops making their livings and having a pretty decent time of it. They always had decent clothes, too." Which was important, right? At least, it had been for this orphan.

But he wasn't done, because he was jingling the remaining change in his hand and looking off into the distance thoughtfully. "If I had to choose something now, though -- like, if I just couldn't fly again? I'd race. Cars, bikes, boats, whatever I could get my hands on." Bingo looked almost zen-like as he relived some race of his past, swimming in booze-soaked memories. "How 'bout you?"

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"Rule breaker," she accused, smirking at him. Kara leaned over and plucked a coin from his hand, lobbing it right into the cup. "I'll answer, but you lose a turn, I'm afraid."

She leaned back, looking up at the night sky. If she couldn't be there - which was suddenly a very real possibility - what would she do? She really had to think on it, as 'gambler and fighter' had already been half-covered by him.

Still, despite the booze fogging everything over, an answer came immediately. "Mechanic." Specifically, beneath an airplane, but anything would do. Engines were easy to understand and they never talked back, and what was more, Kara could lose herself in repairing a hobbled bird for days at a time, devoting herself single-mindedly. She didn't say that, of course - she hoped it'd be self-explanatory.

Instead, she plucked another coin from his hand, getting it... close enough. "What were you doing out in the desert the other night, all on your own?" Whether she knew it or not, that was what she'd been wondering all along. The man was obviously... social, so why hadn't he been drinking away his leave at a bar or spending some time in that much-vaunted back seat of his?

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Well, wasn't that sneaky of her? Calavicci smirked and lifted his beer out of the sand to penalize himself a little more. When he finished his life-saving gulp, he hoisted the bottle to illustrate. "I was drinking." Like he was doing now. But, drunk or not, he knew she wouldn't settle for such a short answer.

"I'd left San Diego at seven. Went out there to testify as an expert witness. Figured I'd drive since I'm in between assignments. So, you know, ten or twelve hours on the road and I was about ready to wind down. New Mexico is on the way. And the quiet's nice." He shifted his dark eyes from her and concentrated on the sand he was kicking around with the toe of his leather loafers.

Now that he'd started, he just didn't know where to stop. "And, really, there's so few people around that area, I figured I could just drink, maybe listen to a little music, pass out and start back up the next day." Al shrugged, brushing it off. It was nothing. "Didn't expect anyone to drop in, but there you were."

Answer given, he popped off a coin toward the 'cup' and overshot by quite a bit.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"There I was," she echoed, peering at him in the dark. She couldn't figure out if he was telling the whole truth, but then, that ability to exist in the negative place between fact and fiction had been what she most admired about the man thus far and she couldn't fault him for it now. And anyway, it didn't sound like a bad way to pass a night - unconventional perhaps, but relaxing. Kara told Calavicci as much.

She lifted her bottle to her lips, refreshing herself with a long pull. She was quickly running out of drink, so she guessed they only had a few more rounds of Q and A before they'd have to move on to something else. Stifling a yawn, Kara sincerely hoped that something would involve a warm bed and a soft pillow.

Kara took her turn. Anyone paying close attention would say she'd missed, but as the sand cup had begun to fall in on itself, she counted her toss as good. "Expert witness? Expert in what?" And no, she didn't mean to sound so incredulous - he just appeared awfully young to be an expert in anything.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Before he answered, Albert tossed his coin and smiled as it clinked against one of the various other coins now crowding the 'cup.' He pulled out a cigarette. "Well, to be honest with you, Captain, the events surrounding that are classified." He lit his cigarette, following it up by tossing the pack down into the sand in front of them. "So, y'know, I ain't really telling you anything." Or, that better be what she admits to, if asked.

Speaking through his smoke, he said, "When I was a kid, I used to be pretty... opportunistic. I gained some less-than-desirable skills. Thankfully, the Navy thought them useful." He waved it off. Useful, yes? But not really that worthwhile, in this case. "So, this guy was bein' accused of breaking into his CO's office and stealing paperwork. They called me in to prove it could be done."

He hit the cigarette, hit the bottle of beer, then pushed himself to swing back and forth a bit. "'Course, I couldn't. And didn't. Because the kid didn't do it, y'know? They were lookin' for a scapegoat an' I wasn't gonna be it." Hello, slur, were you hiding there in that speech? The alcohol was starting to gain on Calavicci, I think.

Annnnd, straight into her question he went. "So, now, you tell me: You stuck here?" Wherever "here" was to her.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

If Calavicci was expecting to throw her, he was going to be disappointed. "Stuck where?" She tipped him a smirk, squinting with one eye to keep a bead on him. "This is home."

The smooth lie cost her something, though, and Kara was forced to turn away. "But I don't know if I can't get back to my family." Because that's what Galactica (well, at least, some or Galactica) was to her - family. She reached down and plucked up her bottle, taking a long drink, trying to wash the bad taste from her mouth.

Once composed, she leaned back, rebalancing herself on the swing so that she could lay down. The view from this angle was of the wide sky, moon-bright and endless. She knew what was beyond many of those stars, and she had to wonder just what Calavicci expected to find out there.

She glanced at him. "You think you're stuck here?" She wasn't even going to bother throwing a coin - either he'd answer or he wouldn't.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

If anything, Kara's answer made Bingo all the more suspicious, but even with the intense curiosity he was feeling, he tried to remind himself it didn't really matter where she was from. Passing souls, weren't they? Just two kindred spirits, whipped up into the whirlwind of rare circumstance, likely to never meet again.

He took another sip of beer, then turned his eyes skyward as he chased the drink with his smoke. "Naw, I ain't stuck." The sheer certainty of his words shined through the beer film and he took a long, deep breath. "This man's Navy's gonna take me right where I wanna be." And at that moment, it was probably pretty clear where that was. When Al Calavicci set his sights, he always sets them high. It just so happens that in this case, there was double the meaning there.

A quiet descended between them and only the summer critters remained, serenading in their own way. Al studied the heavens, eyes chasing the colors the came out to a keen eye. Whether she would admit it or not, he thought she looked a bit longingly for being 'home.'

"Well, I think our game's sunk," he admitted, at last, hoping to keep them talking instead of reminiscing; he didn't have enough alcohol left for any extended trips down Memory Lane. "What d'you say to splitting the last beer and callin' it a draw?" But, of course, he couldn't just leave it there. "Unless you're opposed to any other outcome than total and complete victory."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She sat up and finished her beer, shaking her head. "Oh, I've already assumed victory - you don't have to agree with me, though, if it makes you feel better." She smiled at him, looking just a little grateful for his suggestion they not dwell on what was best left undiscussed. She located her previously emptied bottle and stood, depositing both into the nearby trash. "C'mon, Bingo, let's take this show on the road." The night was growing steadily cooler, and the still-functioning parts of her mind told her she should stretch her knee before the chill tightened it up beyond measure.

Aiming them in the general direction of where they'd parked, but in no hurry to get there, Kara was content to walk in silence, enjoying the calm and the quiet. If anything, Earth reminded her far more of New Caprica than it did of home. Of course, the presence of lights and vehicles and other people decreased the similarities quite a bit, but to Kara, that only made her like the place more. If she could somehow manage to guide the Fleet back here (assuming of course, she'd be able to return to Galactica), she knew they could make it a permanent home. From the little of the place she'd seen, there appeared to be plenty of room.

Even though she'd just dodged a question about her origins, she couldn't help ask one of Calavicci. "Where are you from? That is, if that's not classified information as well." It wasn't like she'd be able to put a pin on any map when he named it, so she was asking out of pure curiosity about the young lieutenant. He seemed so... lonely, maybe. Or maybe solitary was a better word. Odd considering the ease with which he seemed to talk to people. There was a story there, she was certain of it, and though she wasn't going to pry, she couldn't resist wanting to hear more.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Ha ha, that's pretty funny," he teased, tossing his now-empty former beer into the trash in favor of the last remaining soldier. "I'm from Michigan -- Detroit to be specific." Which wouldn't do much for her, but he didn't know that.

His keys jingled and the bottle cap went a'flying. Kara, whether showing off or just reacting, snatched it out of the air and pocketed it for Calavicci. Without missing a beat, he continued, "Wasn't really there that long, though. I traveled a lot when I was old enough to get out." Which, according to little Albert, had been much earlier than most people would have liked or expected. "I was all over the country, too. Been to about every state there is, and been overseas a couple of times, too. Korea, Japan, the Philippines -- all sorts of places that look nothing like the Americas."

Finally, he took a sip of the beer and then offered it over to Thrace. "And I'm still traveling after all these years, I guess. Didn't have to make this drive, but it's nice. You gotta see a place to appreciate it, y'know?" And appreciate it, Al did. He enjoyed nature just as much as he did the city, and when it really came down to it, he was always willing to give a second, harder look at just about anything (or anyone.)

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She had no ideas as to what any of that meant, but she liked the sound of 'The Americas.' It sounded like a good name for a really amazing bar.

As for the landscape? It was a little too barren for her tastes, but she supposed the place had its own charms. And at any rate, Kara appreciated the dearth of cities and towns along the road - it drastically improved their chances for making it to Calavicci's mythic Cape unscathed.

Kara accepted the drink and turned, walking backward down the wide avenue. It was one hell of trick for her knee, but she was feeling no pain, not anymore. She leveled an easy smile in his direction and offered the bottle. Turning back to face front, she shoved her cold hands into her pockets, hugging her arms tightly to herself.

"So got another plan, lieutenant?" She didn't think he had, but in the absence of any other brilliant ideas, she was going to suggest they find somewhere warm to pass the hours 'til morning.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo coupled the beer and cigarette in one hand and rubbed at his face with his other. He hadn't really thought that far yet -- an unusual occurrence for Calavicci, but proof he was at least comfortable around Thrace. No exit strategy, this time. "Well, 'spose we could find ourselves a place in town, but it's gotta be a bit farther than your knee's gonna want." And it didn't look like there was much of a cab service in Clinton, Oklahoma.

"Guess I should have thought of something before we took off into the night, huh?" He smirked, but it was wiped away when he stumbled a bit. A cursory glance back told him there was something there in the road, but he dismissed it and focused on the path ahead.

Beer? Ah! He took a sip of the beer and passed it off. "You want me to build you a fire, or something? I'll rub a coupla sticks, make a little friction." The pilot laughed, feeling somehow silly and happy amidst a recent bout of unrest. Fortune had favored him in sending such a worthwhile distraction. Too bad he already knew he'd be sad when she had to go. It was so hard to find like-minded people these days.