Survival

[formersurgeon]

Who| Sherlock, the Watsons, and OTA
What| Like it says on the tin
Where| The jungle
When| End of week 1, early week 2
Warnings/Notes| Sherlock, John and Joan are all available here to thread with, one of them, two of them, or all three. Just specify who in the subject line!


Surviving in the jungle hadn't been easy on the three of them. Among them, only John had any real outdoor survival experience prior to the Arenas, and that had been for deserts, mostly. Sherlock had plenty of theoretical knowledge on the subject, but not much practical experience beyond the previous Arenas. And as far as survival techniques went, Joan was the most useless of the three.

Regardless, they were making it work. They had picked a decent spot to set up camp, managed to keep their supplies passably dry, and took turns scouting or keeping watch while at least one of them stayed at the camp. That one was frequently John, since he had to stay off his injured leg as much as possible. Joan checked his stitches every day, and so far there hadn't been any major problems.

It was a relatively comfortable setup, but Joan knew it couldn't last. They were already running low on food, and eventually they would have to worry about the wrong type of person finding them. The kind of person who wanted to win. If they could only hold out a couple more days, until John's wound is sufficiently healed...

Comments

[alldeduction]

He let out a hard breath.

"I know." Was all he said at first. And he did. He did know. Four arenas in, he could barely remember his actual life anymore.

And he hated this one more than he could ever possibly say.

Oh, he knew.

"I'll think of something," He said quickly. "For now we focus on survival." He glanced up, meeting her eyes with a heavy warning gaze. They knew they'd have to do something, but talking about it was a bad idea.

The sponsors preferred a surprise, after all.

[formersurgeon]

She raised her eyebrows at him in understanding and looked away. Of course they couldn't make plans out loud, especially when trying to manipulate possible sponsors. Which was frustrating.

"John should be ready to be up and about in a couple days. We should probably move camp then." They had already been at this one too long. Been seen by too many people.

[alldeduction]

Sherlock nodded, glad that she had taken his meaning. "Yes. I would recommend it now, if..." He trailed off, his expression going stern.

"Yes, well. When he can move, then we should."

And in the meantime, he had to figure out a way for them to get sponsors that didn't involve murder.

[formersurgeon]

"He's going to be okay," she said softly. "His wound is healing well, there's no infection, thank god, and his movement isn't bad at all, considering the damage to the muscle."

Of course, once all this was over and they were all dead, the wound would just vanish anyway.

[alldeduction]

It didn't matter to Sherlock that the wounds vanished externally - he knew the damage they took internally, built up over time.

John dying in his arms had become a pattern in his life - one he had absolutely no interest in ever repeating ever again.

"Good." He said tightly, though he was obviously far from fine with the idea. He gave Joan a look. "Understand that if something should happen to me--"

[formersurgeon]

"Then John and I will take care of each other," she said, her voice mild but firm. "That's what we did in the last arena."

He didn't have to carry the complete responsibility for their safety on his shoulders. They were in this together.

don't worry my tenses change like every sentence

[alldeduction]

Sherlock nodded, tightly. It hadn't kept them alive last arena, of course, but then little could. Given the odds they faced, death was almost completely inevitable.

"Good." And after a brief, tense pause: "Thank you."

[formersurgeon]

She nodded. Taking care of each other was pretty futile, of course. Taking care of each other last arena had meant Joan giving John their only dose of anti-venom and John holding Joan as she died. It was better than nothing, better than being alone, but still a terrible way to have to take care of a person.

She glanced down at his hand, and reached over to take it, to squeeze it. Hoping to be reassuring, comforting.

"You're welcome," she said softly.

[alldeduction]

He tensed slightly at the touch, frowning as he glanced down at it, though he didn't take his hand away. Not immediately. There was a time once we he might have snatched it back, but that time had disappeared after every arena, every death.

He knew how tenuous his grasp on himself and on his life was. And knew what it was that held him there. Eventually, however, he did carefully remove his hand.

"If we reach a point were certain decisions must be made--" he started, but currently himself off.

[formersurgeon]

She didn't hold on, releasing his hand once he started to pull away and returning her own to her lap.

"Decisions," she repeated, staring at the fire. "You mean like if the three of us reach the end together?"

It was a ridiculous thought. Of the three of them, John was probably the most likely to survive, and he was injured.

"Any decisions are likely to be made by whoever it falls on." Like in the last arena. Joan didn't exactly consult John before she gave him their only dose of antivenom. And she knows he wouldn't have consulted her if the situation was reversed.

[alldeduction]

He pierced his lips closed and did not say what he was going to. She was right, of course, in a way - if all three of them made it, then the decisions would fall where they would.

Sherlock would just ensure to make the decision for them, first.

So all he did was nod, tightly, and clear his throat.

"We should look for a new place to make camp, during our scouting missions," He said, as if he hadn't just been about to ask her for assisted suicide. "That should reduce the energy necessary for the final move."

[formersurgeon]

Had he asked her for assisted suicide, she would have flatly refused. She might not be a doctor anymore (technically, anyway...it was a technicality that was meaningless here) but she still took an oath to first do no harm. She could imagine the three of them refusing to choose. Or all committing suicide together, either by mutual agreement or by individual stubbornness.

But it wasn't worth contemplating now. Chances were it would never happen that way.

"The final move? Do you mean final, final? Like, choosing a spot and making a stand there?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Have you noticed that the island is shrinking?" He asked, glancing at her.

"Every time I go out to scout, I go to the beach. It isn't just the tide. The water line is advancing."

[formersurgeon]

She stared at him for a moment. "I think I've been going in a different direction,"she said finally. "That's really not good." They're not going to be able to hide, and people are going to be more likely to kill each other if they were on top of each other.

Sherlock doubtless knew that, though, so she didn't say anything.

[alldeduction]

He knew. He knew better than she did, probably, but he didn't say it out loud.

"No, it's not. So I think it would be in our interest to make camp somewhere in the center of the island, and fortify properly. We have enough equipment to make decent traps..."

[formersurgeon]

"Traps," she repeated, looking away. "What are we talking? Tiger pits? Non-lethal traps don't really make sense. It's not like we can just hold people captive."

They'd have to kill them, regardless, and Joan was still firmly against the idea of killing anyone.

[alldeduction]

Sherlock shook his head.

"You're thinking too literally. A trap isn't only a means of death, or a means of imprisonment. It can be a warning system. We need only set up an array efficient enough to give us sufficient warning of intrusion."

[formersurgeon]

"And then?" She looked back, her expression deceptively calm, her voice deceptively soft. "If we know they're coming? Is there anything we can do that doesn't involve killing them in self-defense?"

[alldeduction]

"Disappear." Sherlock said, his voice rock steady.

"I refuse - I refuse to be compromised by a game. With a warning we can pack up the supplies, make the camp look abandoned, and disappear. No killing necessary."

[formersurgeon]

She nodded. There was that tree again. Joan refused to kill anyone, but she was still able to recognize that eventually it might become necessary to kill someone in self-defense, or accept that she was going to die. If and when she reached that crossroads, she may well kill. Sherlock would probably die.

"Then we should look for a spot that has good hiding places around it. We'll need to know where they are so we can get there quickly."

[alldeduction]

Contrary to what Joan, and likely John, believed, there was a very different reasoning behind his refusal to kill for a game.

All his life, people had assumed he was a killer. He knew he could be one, given incentive. He had no work here, nothing to define him.

It was all he could do to hold on to the last piece of him left.

Not that he would ever, ever say it like that.

He nodded, happy that at least she'd dropped the subject of murder. "Yes, precisely. With enough preparation we should be able to make a camp that is virtually - if not literally - impregnable."

[formersurgeon]

"We'd probably want to set up at least four hiding spots around the central camp. Use whichever one is the furthest from the approaching threat."

It was easier to make plans like this than to contemplate the eventuality of needing to choose whether to kill or be killed.

[alldeduction]

"At least, yes." Sherlock agreed immediately. "Especially since we're unlikely to find ones suitable for more than one of us at a time - we may need several spare ones."

Concrete plans were good, they kept his mind from wandering.

[formersurgeon]

"We should agree ahead of time on who goes where in what situations. We'll need all the time we can get."

Concrete plans were good. Joan noted wryly that they should try them more often in the Capitol. Maybe that would help keep Sherlock from taking a mental nosedive. Or maybe even slow mental erosion.

[alldeduction]

"Yes. But first we need a base of operations to set it up from at all," Sherlock mused lowly.

"Have you seen anything at all on your excursions so far?"