AWD #047: Suicide is Painless
Suicide is Painless
Summary: The relationship between Ari and Gen has a major shift in dynamic.
Date: 22/02/2013
Related Logs: There is one, but I can't find it. :(
Cole Iphigenia 
Recovery Ward
About half the size of the Medical Center, the Recovery Ward has fewer beds to allow space for those who are going through recovery. Rather than the drab gray of most of the center, the walls in here have been done in a neutral creme color. The beds are a little thicker and the blankets are actually present. There are a few clocks and the only other decoration are a couple of flatscreens that show muted movies from the ship's library. A couple stacks of old magazines are available near the door for nurses to pass around, too.
AWD #47

When Zachary leaves, Gen watches him depart, and then looks back at Cole. "You really think we're all going to hell. Don't you."

"I think this Holocaust provided a convenient excuse for mankind to turn towards it's darkest facet and embrace it with both arms. The so called Gods would be wise to shut off the gates to Kobol, and leave us all out here to rot in our own disease." Well. She asked, didn't she? Cole delivers those words unflinchingly gaze locked on Iphigenia.

"I think you're wrong." she says quietly. "I think all of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again. It can be survived. But it becomes a question of whether we want to." She tilts her head to the side. "You need a shave. You can do it, or I can."

"No one is surviving. We're all just biding our time until we die." Cole drags his gaze away from the Priestess, his sightline falling to his hands that knot in on themselves in a tangle of fingers and sheet as if trying to restrain himself. "I can't." Shave himself, presumably.

"Then you may as well be a dead man walking if you believe that." Gen leaves him to his thoughts for a moment as she goes to fill a basin with heated water, and then starts to unbutton her officers uniform jacket, tugging it off to the shirt and tank underneath.

"I should have died back there on Aerilon." It's a confession of sorts, more than a conviction. There is a touch of guilt in those words, veiled thinly beneath a layer of vitriol. "My Viper disintegrated. My parachute burned. Everything that could have gone wrong on the surface did. And yet here I am. For what. The Gods are laughing at me, Geni. Taunting."

Setting the basin down, she hits the button to make him sit more fully up if he isn't appropriately vertical already, and then she sits on his bed. No, she doesn't sit on the bed. What she does is plant herself on his thighs, her shins on either side of each of his, so it's as if she'd be sitting in his lap, facing him. "Why do you stay?" she asks, reaching for the cloth she plans on using and dipping it into the basin.

Hazel eyes follow Iphigenia as she straddles his thighs, and his fingertips lightly touch her knees when she settles. He's so focused on that for a moment, he doesn't register her words. When the words get processed, Ari's eyes snap back up to hers. His fingers tuck into the crook of her legs and with a yank that causes him to wince from the sudden pain of it, he draws her higher up on his lap. "Why." He repeats, then reaches for his shaving kit nearby. The bristle brush is tossed out, the little tin of soap is thrown impatiently towards the end of the bed. When his hand finds the cool mother of pearl inlaid handle of the straight razor, his fingers curl around it and his thumb pushes the blade open. The keen edge is lifted to his throat, and then he starts to apply pressure until a thin line of red bubbles up along the silver surface.

No panicking. But she does put her hand over his, fingers gripping tightly. She pulls at the razor, but only enough to keep it from pressing deeper, not to take it away. "Why do you stay?" she repeats. "You've had plenty of chances. Plenty of opportunities. No reason to stay, presumably. So why?"

Ari's muscle fights against hers, and the blade bites a bit deeper until a thick red drop rolls down the length of the blade and slicks the handle and their layered fingers. It's a long tick of the clock where he is fighting against her, but at last he relents. "Because I'm a coward."

"No." she says. "I think you want to live. But the idea of living and permitting even the tiniest grain of anything good into your life rebounds so much guilt on you that you can't bear it. Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll gladly hand you a cup of hemlock."

Cole lifts the razor away from his neck, not worrying about shaking off the grip of Geni, he just lifts her hand with his. The drop of crimson stains their fingers, and he rolls their wrists to follow it as it succumbs to the draw of the artificial gravity. Before it can drip off her skin and stain the sheet, his tongue lashes out and laps it. "Not so tiny, that grain."

She breathes in, and the exhale is coupled with a small shudder. "Mayhap. But I think if you wanted to die, if you really felt it had all gone to shit, you would have smashed yourself into a Raider a long time ago. This," she tilts her chin, eyeing the knife, "Isn't a suicide attempt. It's you begging not to be left behind again."

Cole's thumb runs along the outward curve of the straight razor, and slowly he folds it in on itself with a gentle coaxing of her grip away from the hallow of the handle so it can slip away. His blood is left on the blade, and the color still stains their fingers. His neck likewise shows the mark of what surmounts to nothing more a knick. "You can shave me in the morning."

Iphigenia studies him a moment. "I won't leave you behind." she says. She doesn't ask the same of him, as she starts to lift herself off his torso.

"I didn't say you could go." Cole asserts rather firmly, his fingers tightening on hers while his other hand finds the curve of her hip and clamps her solidly down. Once he has her rooted back to his lap, he manipulates her bloodied index finger and studies it for a moment and then the man quite simply slides it into his mouth.
"I believe the most appropriate phrase is one my sister used to use. 'You are not the boss of me'." Her finger, slid into his mouth, makes her go silent a moment. "This isn't…healthy."

Ari's tongue moves over her trapped finger, suckling on it until every trace of blood has been washed clean. As he slowly withdraws it and attempts to move on to her next finger, he murmurs, "For me. Or for you." His lips part to silently invite her middle finger instead of just literally forcing her hand.

"For both of us, perhaps." she murmurs. "But for you most certainly. You'd try to fill whatever hole that's in with you with me, and then you'll be angry for it." She doesn't get off his lap, even if her fingers stay slightly curled, and out of his mouth.

Denied her finger, his tongue curls under and presses against his bottom lip at the lingering metallic taste. "I'd rather fill any holes of yours that might need attention." The crass words come with an upward rock of his hips in blatant suggestion. "The nurses won't be checking back in for another twenty minutes or so. If you can be quiet."

"I can't. I like to sing, you know." She's not being coy when she says it, her tone matter-of-fact, "And I rather think that any suitable round of frakking would take a good deal longer than twenty minutes with an open mind and suitable flexibility."

"How would you know? You've never sung before." Ari's words call into question her virginity, while his eyes rove her face and neck and he starts to trace the divot of her collar bone with his fingers, leaving behind a red smear against pale skin that only further rouses his desire if the way he moves beneath her is any indication.

Iphigenia's brows lift, and she actually lets out a little chuckle. "I'm afraid you're mistaken." she says. "It may have been a very long time, but I'm certainly no innocent. I had a lover in college. An almost fiance in seminary." There's a pause. "And about a weekend's worth of experimentation with one of my sorrority sisters, but I'm not sure if that counts."

Cole's fingers curl away from her neck as if her skin as suddenly turned to flame. It's not a scenario he's imagined, it seems. "It seems I am." His hands fall back to her hips, moving her back a few inches solid push. "So they were good enough for you, but…" The question isn't finished, but yet it hangs in the air like an anvil above his head.

"Did you think you were seducing a naive innocent who didn't know any better of what she was doing?" she asks, studying him with that familiar, inquisitive cock of her head. Given he'd pulled her so close, moving her back might have the opposite effect of what he'd intended as she resettles. "I was less to Hektor than he was to me. He was…a man, taking advantage of a girl's feelings and admiration. Liam and I both had other dreams, and we came to a decision that was right for both of us becase things became irrevocable. Jane was a good friend, really, and someone I felt safe and companionable enough with to see what it was like. We still write to each other." There's a pause. "We did write to each other." As for all intents and purposes, her friend Jane is dead. She looks at him directly. "Gods. Did you think all I've ever wanted from you was a torrid frak on a hospital bed? I could have taken it out on anyone willing, if that were the case."

Aristides' breathing increases, becoming slightly more shallow and rapid. Either it's the way she wiggles to find a comfortable sitting position or that his ire is being raised. Maybe a little from column A and a little from column B. "Well what the frak do you want from me, Geni? You tell me I'm dead, and then when I want to feel alive you throw that back in my face too."

"No one ever asks me what I want." Perhaps surprisingly, her tone isn't bitter. It's a simple fact of her life. "But from you? These are the things I want. I want you to realize that living is a gift, and that you can accept it, and all it has to offer, without guilt. I want you to live in hope, instead of anger, and know that we are not doomed. I want you to love Magnola. I want you to keep her in your heart until the day you die, and never forget her and know in your heart that she will be waiting for you, and you don't need to starve yourself or keep from eating a certain type of food or withhold any other aspect of your life for that to be true." As she's talking, she's getting angry. Actually angry, like she wants to ball up her fists and pound on his chest. "I want you to know that love itself doesn't function like cubits, and that it's not something you portion out in a way where more and less have any meaning unless you make it that way." By the time she is done, she is actually a touch furious, fists clenched. And this is bordering on saying too much. It may be saying too much, outright. But she has cast the die, and clearly there's no going back, the fact that she's so angry incongruous with her next words.

"You are loved, you bloody, frakking fool. I prayed to Aphrodite to make what was happening between us stop, and the next day, the CAG came and told me you punched out over Aerilon. And my heart fell out of my chest."

Ari is quiet during her words. Very quiet. It'd be difficult to tell if he even batted an eye during the entire turn of phrase. As she speaks of her wants for him, his eyes stay stock still on her face as if her impassioned speech does nothing but turn him more icy at the core. The only thing that indicates the man is still on this worldly plain is the steady beep of his heart monitor and the gradual rise and fall of his chest with breath.

It's not until love comes into the equation, her confession that he is loved (even if vaguely stated), that the man stirs. He's slow to sit up, using his own muscles instead of relying on the mechanics of the bed. A large palm closes over her knuckles, fisting her fist in his own. His other hand brushes hair back from her shoulder and finds the back of her neck. A thumb caresses her cheek, "Kiss me." This time he won't just take the affection from her.

Is this a trick? She watches him rise on his own and order her affection, and for a split second goes into complete denial at his response. Maybe the declaration was vague because she is afraid. Maybe she was worried if she brought into the most direct terms, he wouldn't be able to cope with it. But his demand that she kiss him is met when she leans forward, cupping his jaw in both hands, and presses her mouth against his, half going up on her knees so it's he who has to tilt his face up and she, face down. Heated, and hungry, and caution to the wind, with all of her body that isn't her shins and knees bracing against the mattress pressed against all of his that is upright.

Her palms find the prickle of his growing beard that has yet to be tamed. Beneath is the steel of a jaw the sets as if expecting her to deny him. When she lowers his face to his, he exhales a breath of relief that smells faintly sweet like the cookies he's been eating. As lips finally touch, he finds and ardor in her he wasn't expecting but he meets greedily. His arms wrap around hers with strength that shouldn't be found in someone supposedly bed ridden, and they hold her tightly to his torso. Soon those delicious hungry kisses turn into something of more fervor, as he slants his mouth against hers and seeks taste her deeper with teeth and tongue.

She's no expert, but instinct and willingness seem to provide ample skill. Teeth and tongue are welcomed, but she is not content with simply permitting him entry. He has never seen this Geni, this woman who invades his mouth with her own tongue just as much as he does hers, and not because she's fueled by ardor, but because this is the type of lover she is; unafraid to take what she wants while seeking what pleases the man she's kissing at the same time. When she finds what makes him shudder, she seeks to do it again. One of her hands slides from his jaw into his hair, nails like familiar nettles against his scalp. How long before the nurse comes? It may not matter. Everything about this kiss that goes on and on is feverish and restrained from a certain level of savagery of need that cannot be expressed in this moment.

And as much as she gives, Janitor seems to want more. Need more. His hands paw up her shirts, fingers finding the skin beneath. They branch out in a fan, and dig into the flesh along either side of her spine, dragging down in a desperate measure to pull her impossibly closer to him. He's suddenly a very handsy fellow, and he doesn't slow down to ask permission. Give an inch, take a mile? Ari's taking leagues. Some how, his hand has slid under the band of her bra and is cupping a breast by the time the curtain goes skittering on it's rail. "Captain Cole, it's time for your…" The nurse's clipboard falls to the deck with a clatter.

Well. It's a bit embarrassing, but when it comes down to brass tacks, they're not really doing anything wrong. Okay, there's likely a decorum issue here, but still. Gen has to do her very best not to laugh, sitting back and taking a look over at the nurse. "If there's something that needs attending to, I'm happy to step out." she says. "Otherwise, I'll just wait for you to finish." Her complete lack of shame is in evidence here and withought batting a lash she unstraddles off of Cole, sliding off the bed to lean against it with her hands bracing the side of the bed slightly behind her. Her shirt has crept up a bit from where he nudged it up from behind, which leaves a scant inch or two of the small of her back, the skin pale and perfect and unmarked, exposed to him while she faces outward and calmly addresses the nurse.

"I just…I just need to take his vitals, sir." The nurse retrieves her clipboard and then skitters in like a temple mouse, skirting around Iphigenia to the other side of the bed. She's blushing as she jots her notes down in Cole's chart. "Your, um. Heart rate is elevated, Captain. You should, um. Rest." With a little nod, she's retreating as fast as she came, but this time she makes it a point to leave the curtain open.

When all this is said and done, Ari is laying back on the hospital thin pillows with a drowsily smug look on his features. His finger reaches out to trace the line of Iphigenia's spine that is exposed. "You heard the woman. I should rest."

She actually looks for a moment like her knees might buckle and she lets out a small sound from the back of her throat when he strokes her back right there, and one of her hands reaches out and grips the railing of the bed. Yeah, it's a spot. She looks over her shoulder at him. "If you want a good reason to back on your feet, if being back in a viper isn't more than enough - then consider what could be accomplished when there's less of an audience and concern about your heart rate being elevated." Nothing wrong with offering a bit of motivation, right?

There's actually a bit of a smirk resting on Ari's lips as he notices the way she coos at that little touch. "I'm apt to need a bit more demonstration." But the nurse's words are true, the man has already developed a bit of a sweat as that has been the most exertion he's exuded in the six days he's been in sickbay. He turns on his side, moving backwards until his back is against one of the rails. "But I still didn't say you could go." At least this time it's more playful, as he has every intention of making the priestess sleep in the recovery ward tonight. And not in a chair.

Iphigenia tugs her shirt down in the back, and turns to face him, sliding to sit on the side of the bed this time. "You realize I'm indulging you, Captain?" The use of his rank is playful, but to be technical, she is only a lieutenant. Her hands cannot stay still. One of them reaches out, and she begins to run her fingers through his hair. No nettles, at least not now.

"Lot of that going around these days." Ari replies a bit dryly, but his overall mood has improved with the release of endorphins. "But how can you say no to this face." His eyebrows lift up, his hazel eyes rounding out in an attempt to be adorable and incorrigible. "Say you'll stay."

"I'll make you a bargain; I'll stay, barring orders and appointments, if you make a genuine and honest effort to get well and back to duty." Iphigenia suggests. Even if they both know she'd stay anyway. But it's clearly important to her that he doesn't wallow.

"You'll stay, barring orders and appointments. And I'll try." Whatever that may mean, if it's a counter offer or not. Ari lifts the edge of the blanket, silently beckoning her to crawl in there with him. All that he promises is a night of warmth and closeness with a man that is frequently woken up by rounds and murmurs of nightmares. It'll have to be enough.

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