It's been fun.
Adios, cockbites.
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@agenthelena
It's been fun.
Adios, cockbites.

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You were coming at me with needles looking like you were about to kill me, excuse me for trying to get out of there.
I guess he hadnāt. I think if you kept going that list of wrong-doings would be a little too long for us to stay awake. Thatās too bad, I was almost looking forward to it.
It was one needle. And you tried to leave before I brought it out. Why would you think I'd ever be about to kill you? What, do you find me...threatening?
It's for the best. Would've been all fun and games until someone was let out an airlock for insubordination. At least the idle speculation managed to pass some time. Now no matter how far away it is, we're still closer to the next mission than we were minutes ago.
Ever thought maybe I wasnāt being cooperative because of that growl of yours?Ā
I donāt think theyāre dumb enough to expect the director of a place like this to be Santa Claus. Really? You didnāt even have a guess? Youāre the one that met him, I donāt know.
No. As I recall it, you were very insistent that you were fine. I didn't think asking you to stay nicely would get through. It did work, didn't it?
Of course I didn't think he'd be harmless--this is a covert military operation, after all. But he didn't present himself poorly at the time. Like someone who'd knowingly endanger his subordinates, and abandon his entire unit on a desolate-- You know what, nevermind. I...guess this collaboration isn't going to work out.
Showing You The Ropes || Jefferson x Helena
The way she puts it, the missions are going really bad. Maybe bad enough that they had to tap into the pool of recruits to replenish manpower. He tried to figure the situation out. Theyāre normally split into four teams of about ten people if not less. In a typical battle set up, medics are not expected to run for offense, only to keep their ears open for anyone who would call for them. They sit behind in reserve so they wonāt get hit. A wounded medic is the last thing a team would need. This is whatās going on in his head as theyāre speaking. Everywhere he went, thereās this scent that keeps on telling him that everything is different in this ship.
Helena managed to tend to them for almost a year now, he sees no reason why he canāt try to be like her.
Jefferson cleared his throat.
"Reserve huh.." thereās no need to tell people that he could hold his own, to be honest, heās not even sure if could should the need arises. Ever since his close brush with death, fighting was something he tried to improve on. "I guess Iāll just find out myself, I just hope it wonāt be soon enough." he tried to laugh it off. "I know how to use a gun, donāt worry about me Chief." then his unusual habit of giving people nicknames started to kick in. He figured it would suit her since she holds a higher position in the unwritten rules of ābeing newā. "Iāll get used to all of this somehow." he looked around a bit and then glanced back at her.
"So uhh.." thereās the sudden need to get this out of his chest for curiosityās sake. "Where did you learn how to be a doctor?"
Chief? Helena blinked at him, mouth parting slightly, wanting to say something--that's Boston's, you can't--but she didn't. It was just a weird coincidence that Jefferson might pick the same nickname. And if she thought about it, it made more sense coming from him than from the late pilot. Before, Helena had just been the Medical Officer, one and only. Now, she had seniority on staff. She let it roll off.
Turning around to take him in the opposite direction, over to the radiology wing, he had her at a loss for words again. "I didn't," she confessed candidly. "I'm not a doctor. I was pre-med at uni, did biology and nursing, but I didn't make it to med school." Once, that might've been a sore spot to discuss--Helena didn't think herself particularly prideful, but she had trouble getting over her lifelong dream. She had wanted to be a doctor, more than anything. "I didn't have the money. So I enlisted."
But looking back on her experiences, the countless lives she had saved both directly and indirectly, as the soldiers under her charge would continue to fight for humanity--she no longer had any regrets about it. "I don't have a degree, or a license. But I keep up to date with med tech and I've been trained to handle real emergencies. I've been out here, working for nearly six years. And I think what I've learned from experience shows a lot more of my skill and aptitude than a sheet of paper, yeah?"
She hoped that it was sufficient explanation--then again, she didn't have anything to prove to him. Quite the opposite. His turn, then. "What's your story?"
"I trust you."
"Are you sure? Iāve never done anything like this beforeā"
"Yeah, just stick it in."
"Butā¦what if I do it wrong?"
"Cāmon, itās not that fucking hard. Youāre a medic. You poke around inside people all the time. This isnāt that different,ā the engineer rolled her eyes with growing impatience, only to be met with a skeptical stare. No other retort was necessary. Madison sighed. āOkay, it is, but you have steady hands and thatās all Iām asking for.ā
Helena bit at the inside of her lip, brow still knit with concern and doubt. She turned back towards the machinery, spread open and laid out like a specimen for dissection on a lab table. This was her father's craft, and her brother's, not hers. But she wasn't stupid. And Madison looked like she was thinking about hitting her. āI⦠Fine." Before she set the tool to the circuit board, she cast one last look behind her. "But if either of us gets electrocuted, I reserve the right to say āI told you soā."

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"Iām proud of you."
She scrubbed harder, until her skin was patchy and raw, but she felt like there was still a thin film coating her hands that might never wash off. Helena leaned her forearms on the edge of the sink, exhaling into the slowly draining basin, filled halfway up with pink water. She was exhausted, but didnāt want to sleep. She couldnāt get the violent images out of her head, or the echo of Olympiaās weak voice.
Is it done?Ā the woman had asked, of course caring more about the mission than her own well being. Than the fact that she had been blown apart and Helena had only arrived soon enough to make this go easier. She had nodded at the Beta through her shattered visor, taking great caution to remove it. To make her comfortable in the last few moments.
As she slid the syringe of morphine into her neck, Olympia murmured something into the air. Was it a name? Gem? It seemed important to her. Helena had leaned in a little closer, watching her tears cut clean streaks down her ashen cheeks. She heard the whisper: Iām proud of you.
But she wasnāt speaking to Helenaāat least, she wasnāt telling her that she was proud. Thatās all I wanted to hear,Ā she continued to mumble, lips starting to tremble, slurring the words. I just wanted someone to sayā¦Iām proud of you.
Helena turned off the tap, and picked up the tags on the counter beside her. She traced her finger over the cool metal, the name printed on it. āWe are proud. And we wonāt ever forget.ā
We both know youāre not always smiling. That day I was dragged into medbay you were literally growling at me as I came to.
You would call it intimidation, but it is a really good form of persuasion. Yeah, but I think you forget that the man behind the curtain will probably scare the shit out of the newbies even when theyāre not knocking on his door.
I know, that's why I said it has some variety. But in my defence, you weren't being all too cooperative at the time. Growling seems to work for you. Thought I'd give it a try.
You think? He could be a kindly old man, like Santa, for all they're aware. I mean, when I first got here, I didn't have any idea what he was capable of... Do you think he'd even scare someone like Little Rock?
"Iām dying."
Helena had been the first to wake up with a stiff neck and a top stained slightly pink, though sheād always had a quick metabolism. Carefully, quietly, she had managed to extricate her limbs from the blanket cocoon the pair had drawn about themselves before falling asleep. Without disturbing her partner in crime, she picked up the glasses and the empty bottle and made her way to the kitchen, then her room to fetch a bottle of painkillers.
Perhaps she shouldāve changed and showered while she was there, hide all evidence of last nightās shenanigans, but she didnāt want to leave Honolulu alone for too long. After getting a pitcher of water, she returned to the rec room, thankfully still absent of any visitors. Perched on the edge of the couch, she waited for her to stir. Then came the flutter of her eyelashes as the lids began to part, and the melodramatic moan. āIām dying.ā
"No, youāre not. Itās just the hangover talking," she sighed, gently brushing some of the soft blonde hair from the womanās face. She shifted to the side to give her a little more space, taking her arm to help her sit up. With the other hand, she passed her a cup of water, filled near to the brim. "Here, drink this, and swallow these."
Tropopause || Hartford, Nashville, Helena
"Woah, there, Blondie. Keep still for the doc, big guy." Helping to hold Hartford down, he only lifted his hands away when he was fairly sure that the guy wasnāt going to go rolling off the bed and, like, crack his skull open. At least the medic looked competent. Nashville knew that a decent medic was worth their weight in chocolate kisses.
"Is that a hit?" Nashville frowned, bending over Hartford, absently brushing his hair off his face. "He didnāt have that when I saw him earlier. Just said he head a headache and the lights were too bright."
Goddamn who would have hit the dude and left him in the hallway?
"He was unconscious when I found him again," Nashville said, feeling more than a little guilty. "I just figured the guy had passed out. Who wouldĀ leave him there?ā
What kind of ship was this?
"Yeah, uh. No, Iām fine." He gave Helena a smile and a nod. "Nameās, uh, Nashville, apparently, if you need me for anything. Iām gonna see if I can track down whoever left the big guy to rot."
He wasā¦in less than his usual good spirits over that.
"Keep doing the good, Artemis. Iāll see you around."
"Why are you calling me blondie?" he groaned, shaking his head before actually giving up and leaning down. He heard talking going on around him, and he really had no idea what was being said, although he knew it probably had something to do with him. He had caught bits and pieces of their conversation. He tried his best at a chuckle at the manās naivety, how he had no idea who Hart was or how other people saw him on this ship.Ā
"ā¦.2100? What type of question is that? I donāt know where I am, how should I?" he murmured, groaning when he had tried to open his eyes and closing them shut quickly, his head pounding. He had no idea what was going on with him, but he knew what the agent he had realized to be Helena believed was wrong. There had been word about a sickness, a disease going around. but Hart was fine.
Sighing again, he slowly opened his eyes again and realized he was in the med bay when he saw Helena staring down at him. āCan you just give me some painkillers and let me go?ā he asked, his eyes following her to see just what it was she was planning on doing. āIt was before, by the way, but Iām fine now, seriously.ā
Artemis? What was up with the nicknames? Was that a pilot thing? At least 'Chief' seemed moderately respectful, even if she couldn't figure out what Boston had been getting at. Never would know. The guy seemed to be surprised that anyone might just leave another man down inside these halls. Yes, he was definitely new. "Okay, Nashville. Thanks again," she waved vaguely in his direction, refocusing on the patient on her table once she heard him leave.
Hartford's answer wasn't what she wanted to hear, but it was at least coherent. He could hear her clearly enough to respond. "You're in med bay. I think someone hit you. Or you had an accident. Whatever you want to call it," she informed him, somewhat curtly. After the last time she'd intervened in an agent conflict and was nearly killed mid-mission for her trouble, Helena learned her lesson. She wouldn't push him to report anything about the incident. Really, she just didn't care anymore.Ā Zero tolerance for bullshit at the moment.
She held the penlight up despite his protests. Helena steadied his chin with the other hand, as she examined the shape and size of his pupils in response to the light. "You probably have a concussion," the medic stated calmly as she clicked off the device. "And, photophobia--sensitivity to light--was one of the first symptoms Jackson presented when he was admitted to medbay. I'm not letting you go."
Moving to one of the trays she had set up prior, Helena started to unwrap the sterile needle and accompanying vial. "I need to take a blood sample." As she assembled the tools, she looked up at him, "I'm not doing this to piss you off, by the way. Nor is contracting an illness indicative of your strength or capability or dick size, whatever the fuck you use to measure your pride. I'm just doing my job, and I'd appreciate it if you'd let me do it without any hassle."
I suppose. And I call it my face, what do you call the face you make all the time?
I donāt know, you still havenāt told me which agent we were tricking into doing it in the first place. Maybe I should be the one distracting Providence, I only know one way of persuasion and thatās really not that helpful for what weāre planning.
My expression tends to have some variation. Sometimes I call it a smile. Like this, see?
Is that persuasion, or intimidation? You know, it might not even be hard as you think to pick any one of them. You're not the only one who's getting restless. Just smart enough to know better than to ask the man behind the curtain for answers.

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I didnāt mean to come off like that, just Lulu and Libby are always on my back about āsocializingā⦠and I donāt walk around with a scowl. I think Iāll keep calling it our prank, that way Prov wonāt have another excuse to try and get me off the team.
I would go with grumpiest expression, personally. Bench pressing wouldnāt be fair.
At least you know they mean well. And if that's not a scowl, what do you call that face you make, then?
Ah. I'm just taking the piss. Fine, I'll distract Agent Providence with tea should she get suspicious. But what's your role in all this? Sounds like I'll be doing all the work if I have to persuade a newbie to go for it, too.
Half the people in this damn place arenāt, I donāt see why so many people focus on me. Iām sorry, did using the word āourā imply to you that we were going to grow old together? Didnāt mean to mislead you, I can go back to calling it my joke.
Iāll have to meet him then. You think Iāll have to compete for brooding rights?
'So many people'? I didn't realise. You're more popular than you think. If there's enough of us, we should form a club. Or you could start wearing a sign, though I'd have thought that charming scowl you've got on was warning enough. And sure, take all the credit. I'd be happy to let you take the fall if it got out of hand. Couldn't mar my spotless reputation.
How does that competition work? Is it about who can bench press the most? Or like...grumpiest expression, who wore it best?
Showing You The Ropes || Jefferson x Helena
It brought him some kind of relief when he saw no one on the beds. Mainly because he could rest knowing no one is in any kind of trouble and secondly, that he could focus more on training since the medical bay is clear. āWell, Iām not really taking it personally. Everyone kept on saying that I shouldnāt take anyone in this ship seriously.ā Jefferson said. He pulled down the back of his cap and the visor securely down his head. āIām not really expecting any kind of hospitality.ā he sighed, but retreated quickly into a smile. Beta didnāt really show much enthusiasm when he came in. No huddles, no one-on-ones, not even a team lunch. Itās pretty okay with him though. He could easily figure how hard things could be in this ship and he was pretty sure that the team meant no offense.
They passed by the wing where the private recovery rooms were located. They were all empty. He scanned each room to see all the amenities it offered. It wasnāt as different when he was still on tour aboard UNSC Tempest so heās pretty sure he could force himself to adapt in this environment. He could see various medical supplies from bandages and gauze, iodine, disinfectant, antibiotics and biofoam canisters through the glass windows of some cabinets. They are well supplied for a ship this size.
"Thatās what happens when good soldiers are given hot tempers, I guess. I have seen a fair share back with the 25th Pathfinders." he nodded. "I think I could handle that." Then Helena mentioned the āground workā. He raised his hand for a quick second, like a schoolboy asking his teacher for attention then he placed it back inside his lab gown pocket. "What do we usually do when weāre.." then he put it out again so she could see him point down. "..down there? Do we move from cover to cover or stay with the team and do actual fighting." he purposefully placed emphasis on the word āactualā.
Helena hoped he could handle it as well as he assured her. Jefferson hadn't met Phoenix yet, though. And looking at him...well, he wasn't much match for a guy built like Hartford. Maybe the slightly awkward thing could somehow charm them out of their outbursts of rage? Well, more likely than not, they'd find out in due time.
She noticed his stress on 'actual' fighting--was there any other kind? This was a war, and they were going to be dropped into the worst of it, hence the 'elite special force' designation. She couldn't help squinting at him, confused and slightly concerned. Was he worried about having to engage in active combat? She was open to answering any and all questions, but this one...it made her nervous. Was he going to be able to pull his weight around here? While Helena once had blind faith that the Director made his choices for a reason, she had been through enough to know better now.
Or maybe she was reading too much into the question. What if he was asking because he was (unusually, for a medic) bloodthirsty and eager to shoot some Covvies? She knew a few like that. They signed up for vengeance, just as much as a sense of duty, or for money, or something to do. But as long as he could follow commands and act under pressure, they wouldn't have a problem.
"Depends on the demands of the mission, and the discretion of your team leader," she shrugged. "Concord, my CO, tends to keep me in reserve as long as possible. But the fight usually finds a way of getting to us. And of course you know what has to be done when someone calls for a medic." He wasn't completely green, after all. To get this far to be noticed by the Director, he had to be capable of performing his job.
"I don't know what Austin plans to do with you. I'm not entirely sure he knows, either. Which isn't to say he's a bad leader--not at all. Just, it's still a bit new. And Beta's never had to factor in a medic before. They're usually put in the middle of a fight. But...things might be changing. I can only hope the next assignment we get goes more smoothly than the last few."
I'm disappointed in you.
She couldnāt see her, but she knew that voiceāshe could pick it out of a crowd of hundreds. It was clear to her even over the thunder of explosions and gunfire, and the resounding ring in her ears. There was anger in her tone, barely masking a bitter sadness. āI didnāt think you were a fucking quitter,ā she snarled.
Helena tried to open her eyes, but the crust of blood and ash was too heavy and thick on her face to lift her lids. Or was it the throbbing gash across her brow and cheek that stung too much to move? It didnāt matter. She didnāt need to see the girl, the woman, to know she was right beside her, trying to pull the debris off her body, to dig her out of the ruins.
They both knew it was a futile effort. She wasnāt just crushedāsheād been skewered, too, when the building fell and she went down with it.
"Taraā¦" the medic croaked, raising the only hand that wasnāt pinned down by concrete slabs and caged by twisted wire. She hated having to ask again. "Please. Stop. You donāt have time." She reached out, grasping at air for a few seconds before she felt fingers entwine with hers. The shifting rubble stilled. Gently, another hand brushed against her brow, pushing aside her clumped hair.
"Iām not leaving you here, Hels."
"Taraā¦" she murmured again, but the rise of coppery liquid in her throat cut her off, causing her to choke and cough.Ā
Sorry, she thought,Ā but Iām the one whoās leaving youā¦

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"Iām pregnant with your baby."
"But...that doesn't make sense. Are you sure that's what she said to Hector? What about Carlos?" she asked the A.I. sat next to her on the couch, hitting the pause button on the remote with great distress. The frame was frozen on a crying woman with a rounded, and obviously fake, belly, pleading at the feet of a man dressed as a priest. Well, it seemed like he was going to be a padre in more than one sense.
Ara blinked at her. "Yes, I'm sure. Can we continue?"
This was stupid. Utterly stupid. Why would Charlie tell Ara to watch this? And how had she been sucked into it, too, when she had only meant to pass through the rec room on her way to the kitchen? Helena didn't even speak fluent Spanish--hence the necessity to check with her translator.
But after putting in three hours of her time already, she absolutely had to see how the telenovela would end.
"I trust you."
Who knew such a simple statement could carry so much weight? There was both innocence and conviction in the way Vela said it, wide eyes bright and her smile soft, making her youthful design appear even more childlike. It was the sort of pure faith only one yet untouched by the cruelty of the universe could possess.
Helena didnāt know what she could do, but she did not want to let her down. She didnāt want to be the one to dim any of that light, when hope was so scarce in their midst. So of course she would keep this secret between them. Of course she would help, in whatever way she could manage.
"Iāll see what I can do." Her palms outstretched to receive the small crustacean that the A.I. cradled carefully in her cupped hands. The shell was cool to the touch, mostly smooth save for a few ridges. Once the hermit crab was safely transferred, Helena turned the stowaway passenger over to examine it. "Iām glad you broughtāer, him?ā To be honest, she knew very little about sea creature anatomy, and not enough to determine gender on sight.
But Vela seemed to think it was male. Maybe she would know better, having immediate access to resources on marine biology, and the heightened sensory abilities of her model. Then again, she wouldnāt have asked for her assistance if she understood the problem. Peter had been the one to send the younger unit this way, recommending Helenaās knowledge of animals, and discretion about āpetsāābut Speedy was a very different beast from this. And a spaceship was hardly the ideal habitat for the species to thrive in. She wasnāt sure if they were both just filling Vela with false hope.
Nevertheless, Helena would try her hardest to figure out what was wrong. After a few minutes of scanning and assessment, the solution came. Helena turned to look at Vela, hovering just behind her with curious anticipation. She smiled, āGood news, I think⦠Heās doing very well. He just needs a bigger shell. He's...growing.ā