Author's Note: A few months ago I made a signature of Bomber using one of the stills from Crocodile Tears when she and RO were talking in the galley and she was upset about the amount of attention the boys were paying to Bird. The still that I used evoked the phrase 'tragically beautiful' to come to mind – and in my opinion I thought it suited the picture well. However, someone commented that although Bomber is beautiful, the 'tragic' part did not seem to make any sense, adding that maybe I should write a fic to explain what I meant. Well, here is the end result, more than two months late. I hope that the explanation is appropriate – but please do remember that this is how I interpreted the photograph. Also, I am a biased RO/Bomber shipper, and that shows in this fic. I believe that given the chance, the opportunity and the time, Bomber could seriously fall in love with the kooky radio officer. Anyhow, apologies for the blatantly long author's note ... but please enjoy and comment before moving on (:

Tragically Beautiful
{because RO is crazy and Bomber is beautiful}

"You look tragically beautiful when you do that."

"RO, everything to you is a tragedy," Bomber observed, raising an eyebrow and laughing softly as she looked up to catch his expression, choosing to ignore the rest of his comment.

"Really?" he asked, expression unchanging from its usual take-not-crap-I'm-completely-serious.

"Yep, pretty much. You make out everything to be much more tragic than they really are."

"I may say it that way, but I don't always mean it," he replied, bitter in his tone. "I can't help the way I interpret things; I don't want things to be a tragedy, but that's just the way I work – the way I've been raised ... the way that I was taught."

There was a certain pain in his eyes that Bomber couldn't place, but she figured that something in his childhood had caused this pessimistic view he had on things. She chose to make a mental note of this small discovery so that she could ask about it later. A moment later, having realised she had gone off track with her train of thought, she brought her eyes into focus, catching RO's small nonchalant shrug, as he added, "But back to my first point: you ignored my original statement."

Bomber raised her eyebrows in silent confusion. Then recalling what he had earlier said, she began to shuffle slightly. She continued to chop the potatoes, before glancing up again to see RO still looking at her, clearly waiting for some sort of verbal response.

"What?"

"You look tragically beautiful when you do that," he repeated.

"Do what?" She looked down again, concentration at a minimal as she finished chopping.

"Look down like that, with that expression."

"What expression?" Her voice was neutral in its response, though her face showed emotion that only someone who knew her could tell. The man was playing mind games with her again, saying things and then repeating them in some weird, crazy backward manner that only he could do. Of course it didn't help when she was only giving one worded answers ... Sometimes, though, she swore that she just wanted to slap him across the face and tell him to talk like a normal human being than some mechanical robot.

"The one you're wearing now."

Bomber raised her eyebrows, refusing to look up and acknowledge his reworded, repeated statement.

"If you want an elaboration," he continued, sensing her agitation and slight annoyance at their lack of continuation on this topic of choice, "your expression is that of someone who might have been harbouring some sort of inner turmoil or regret; or perhaps, is just contemplating a decision that they've made in the past. The way that you look down with a slightly saddened expression enhances this. It's something I've noticed happens in movies, and every now and again, in everyday life."

At his explanation, she glanced up, taking in his sincere expression – the complete seriousness that was Leading Seaman Robert J. Dixon. Her lips parted into a small smile, and although she didn't completely understand the logic behind his explanation, she understood enough to know that he was, in a way, offering up some sort of compliment. You know ... aside from the fact that he called her tragically beautiful, aside from just beautiful and comparing her expression to something out of a movie.

"You know what, RO? I'm going to pretend that I understood that explanation, and thank you for the backward compliment."

"Oh, no; that wasn't a compliment."

She frowned. What the hell?

"'You're beautiful' is a compliment; what I gave you before was a statement. There is a difference you know," he added.

Glaring at him for ruining his compliment – it was a compliment, he just didn't know the difference – she slid the potatoes onto a baking tray and placed it in the oven, adjusting the timer before going back to where RO was leaning casually against the bench.

"Next time RO," she started, wiping down the bench she had been chopping on, "you can just stop talking. It is an option you know," she added with a smirk, not being able to help herself.

She noticed the small smile on his lips, a ghost of something that could be so much brighter, more evident. These moments that they had together, when no-one else was around and it was just the two of them, in all honestly, made her happy. Her ability to bring out a more human side to the otherwise unshakable, by the book Leader, made her think that maybe, just maybe Mr Just-A-Little-Bit-Crazy harboured feelings for her; and that given the opportunity, the chance and the time, she could seriously fall in love with him too ...

RO stared at her for a moment, his gaze slipping to watch her methodically wipe the bench in a circular motion. Willing his eyes back up, he bit his tongue, before giving a curt nod. He was about to leave, when he backed up again, looking Bomber in the eye.

"Just ... so you know ... You are beautiful, Rebecca."