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Entry tags:
(open) Attention, all personnel. It's that time again.
Who| Hawkeye and anyone, with specific scenarios for Ellie and Guy Crood
What| Surviving the second week in this new hell
Where| Sticking near the center of the island, but wandering around
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Want to maul him? Let me know! I'll update warnings as needed.
Ellie
Ellie's hollow tree had served as his first shelter against the jungle, though being part of it itself. A dead part of it, so naturally Hawkeye thinks he feels some comfort keeping in its skeleton. The rains wouldn't stop, though, and there was only so much he could take of being confined to such a small, suffocating area for long. Hunger was new to him when a lot of things weren't- he'd taken to chewing on the collar of his shirt late at night and reminding himself of a baby with a pacifier. It was embarrassing and his ears would sometimes burn red with frustration. He was supposed to be the adult and the strong one and he still played with the chain of his dog tags between his teeth for the sake of tasting something other than plain lukewarm nothing. The metallic taste would remind him of blood and then he'd just get scared and drop the chain with a tink and roll his head back and listen to the pains in his stomach instead before drifting off to sleep. The human body was an incredible thing. He knew. It could go much longer than he had without food, with horrors.
The screams would ring out at night and he didn't know who or what they were from and sometimes he'd feel like springing to his feet and going to the source and other times he'd mutter in a heated breath, "Shut up, shut up," and trek the now muddied jacket over his head. Sometimes animals would run past- then he'd take his own advice and can it.
He'd said he wouldn't play their game, whoever 'they' were who supposedly had cameras hidden in the clouds and rocks. But the anxiety and guilt were quick to try and persuade Hawkeye otherwise. He can't just hide. Sit in the mud and rot away. He-- the girl can. The girl he's been with can. The girl didn't have a career, she didn't have to worry about others dying. She wasn't just hiding away when she could be helping. She couldn't do anything, so there was nothing to do, Hawkeye reasoned. They'd have to move from the tree eventually. He made his way out of the hiding spot as silently as he could on weak legs.
Almost immediately a white spot crossed his vision- he figured it might be from the dehydration until the spot became clearer, came nearer. A parachute. Small. It caught on a low lying branch to his left. It beeped. A metal canister.
Hawkeye thought it was going to blow.
He turned in panic, slipped in the mud and scrambled a ways on his hands and knees until he got to his feet again and cried out, "Down! Stay down!" Because a hollow tree blown to bits would mean shrapnel but if Ellie could cover her head-- and he practically bulldozes into her, the poor thing, and forces her down and muscles her head down and against his chest and though he's sore and stiff as a board with tension, he realizes just how odd it was that the assumed bomb hadn't exploded yet.
It was his first arena. The hell did he know about sponsor gifts?
Guy
After he had wolfed down his food, he decided to go out and scout. Because- back to his previous train of thought- a hollow tree wasn't adequate shelter. Nothing was, short of a real house, and he was beginning to think that finding one of those here was impossible. Notice, though, that Hawkeye still held out hope.
Part of him still wished a MASH unit would show right around the bend. He couldn't find his way around a jungle but he could around tents and flag poles and terrible shacks impersonating functional hospitals. He opens his mouth to complain to nothing, but snaps it shut. His first week had taught him to shut up unless he was with friends. -common sense to others. Hawkeye would argue he never had to learn that, but rather that he never believed his predicament was what everyone said it had been. The world around him seemed slower than before. Brighter, but slower. He'd sworn he would have killed by now if Rosie's ever came in sight but it had all been in jest. He pushes a heavy leaf out of his way and trudges on, remembering how he used to wonder how anyone could stand still. Now he wondered how anyone had the energy to move, let alone the energy, mental and physical, to kill people. Eva's attempts at his life came back, and Hawkeye snapped his head up.
And almost right ahead was a young man he'd seen his first night, who had trapped him. He didn't look well and Hawkeye told himself to pay more attention where he was going because some people out there apparently had no qualm with savagery.
"I'm going to start billing you," Hawkeye warns, teasing grin on his lips because he'd fight against his bedside manner deteriorating until he simply couldn't anymore. "You don't believe me, but I mean it. I'm a doctor, you know, I can name any outrageous price I want." And he hopes he doesn't get a spear in the gut when he steps closer to the guy turned dog chow. "What happened?"
Open
He knew there were caves somewhere because of Holiday. She had mentioned them the first time they'd met and he now counted her message and gift of food as a second meeting. He now kept an eye open for cameras, actively looking for them during his walks. He never found any and despite everything still doubted there was an eye on him at all times. It was an alien concept- then again, this was an alien world despite how much it looked like something that could be found in his. Three times he almost stepped on discarded beer cans. He had bent over and taken a sniff and wrinkled his nose and gagged and wondered why he ever thought it would be a good idea to do what he did. Then he had chucked the cans- all but one Hawkeye stuffed in a pouch in his jacket. It was odd to move with it just there, but aluminum was malleable and- and something, alright? It would be good for something.
By the time he had swatted at the hundredth mosquito, he was feeling winded. No, he just wasn't cut for toughing it out in the wilderness. He wanted to go home. He wondered about the Four-Oh-Seven-Seven. Some chief surgeon he was, behind enemy lines anywhere he turned, never where he should be doing what he hated but had a duty to do. Suppose he shouts at the cameras that are supposedly everywhere and asks kindly for an aid station- a thatched roof and stretches and some blood and needles and bandages and a lot of penicillin. Optimist he is, stupid he isn't.
And besides, if he wanted to perform, he'd just drop his pants.
A yawn wasn't exactly the sort of reaction he had expected from himself at the thought. There's mild disappointment in his features because of it -men and women behaving like animals, why couldn't he? For starters, because there was now a chirp, chirp, chirp echoing through the jungle that Hawkeye had heard before though not during the day. It sounded closer, and with that he quickened the pace to return to his headquarters. He'd search for the caves later, maybe, probably not. He knew he would have to but-- so how about he focuses on staying in one piece throughout the rest of the evening first?
What| Surviving the second week in this new hell
Where| Sticking near the center of the island, but wandering around
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Want to maul him? Let me know! I'll update warnings as needed.
Ellie
Ellie's hollow tree had served as his first shelter against the jungle, though being part of it itself. A dead part of it, so naturally Hawkeye thinks he feels some comfort keeping in its skeleton. The rains wouldn't stop, though, and there was only so much he could take of being confined to such a small, suffocating area for long. Hunger was new to him when a lot of things weren't- he'd taken to chewing on the collar of his shirt late at night and reminding himself of a baby with a pacifier. It was embarrassing and his ears would sometimes burn red with frustration. He was supposed to be the adult and the strong one and he still played with the chain of his dog tags between his teeth for the sake of tasting something other than plain lukewarm nothing. The metallic taste would remind him of blood and then he'd just get scared and drop the chain with a tink and roll his head back and listen to the pains in his stomach instead before drifting off to sleep. The human body was an incredible thing. He knew. It could go much longer than he had without food, with horrors.
The screams would ring out at night and he didn't know who or what they were from and sometimes he'd feel like springing to his feet and going to the source and other times he'd mutter in a heated breath, "Shut up, shut up," and trek the now muddied jacket over his head. Sometimes animals would run past- then he'd take his own advice and can it.
He'd said he wouldn't play their game, whoever 'they' were who supposedly had cameras hidden in the clouds and rocks. But the anxiety and guilt were quick to try and persuade Hawkeye otherwise. He can't just hide. Sit in the mud and rot away. He-- the girl can. The girl he's been with can. The girl didn't have a career, she didn't have to worry about others dying. She wasn't just hiding away when she could be helping. She couldn't do anything, so there was nothing to do, Hawkeye reasoned. They'd have to move from the tree eventually. He made his way out of the hiding spot as silently as he could on weak legs.
Almost immediately a white spot crossed his vision- he figured it might be from the dehydration until the spot became clearer, came nearer. A parachute. Small. It caught on a low lying branch to his left. It beeped. A metal canister.
Hawkeye thought it was going to blow.
He turned in panic, slipped in the mud and scrambled a ways on his hands and knees until he got to his feet again and cried out, "Down! Stay down!" Because a hollow tree blown to bits would mean shrapnel but if Ellie could cover her head-- and he practically bulldozes into her, the poor thing, and forces her down and muscles her head down and against his chest and though he's sore and stiff as a board with tension, he realizes just how odd it was that the assumed bomb hadn't exploded yet.
It was his first arena. The hell did he know about sponsor gifts?
Guy
After he had wolfed down his food, he decided to go out and scout. Because- back to his previous train of thought- a hollow tree wasn't adequate shelter. Nothing was, short of a real house, and he was beginning to think that finding one of those here was impossible. Notice, though, that Hawkeye still held out hope.
Part of him still wished a MASH unit would show right around the bend. He couldn't find his way around a jungle but he could around tents and flag poles and terrible shacks impersonating functional hospitals. He opens his mouth to complain to nothing, but snaps it shut. His first week had taught him to shut up unless he was with friends. -common sense to others. Hawkeye would argue he never had to learn that, but rather that he never believed his predicament was what everyone said it had been. The world around him seemed slower than before. Brighter, but slower. He'd sworn he would have killed by now if Rosie's ever came in sight but it had all been in jest. He pushes a heavy leaf out of his way and trudges on, remembering how he used to wonder how anyone could stand still. Now he wondered how anyone had the energy to move, let alone the energy, mental and physical, to kill people. Eva's attempts at his life came back, and Hawkeye snapped his head up.
And almost right ahead was a young man he'd seen his first night, who had trapped him. He didn't look well and Hawkeye told himself to pay more attention where he was going because some people out there apparently had no qualm with savagery.
"I'm going to start billing you," Hawkeye warns, teasing grin on his lips because he'd fight against his bedside manner deteriorating until he simply couldn't anymore. "You don't believe me, but I mean it. I'm a doctor, you know, I can name any outrageous price I want." And he hopes he doesn't get a spear in the gut when he steps closer to the guy turned dog chow. "What happened?"
Open
He knew there were caves somewhere because of Holiday. She had mentioned them the first time they'd met and he now counted her message and gift of food as a second meeting. He now kept an eye open for cameras, actively looking for them during his walks. He never found any and despite everything still doubted there was an eye on him at all times. It was an alien concept- then again, this was an alien world despite how much it looked like something that could be found in his. Three times he almost stepped on discarded beer cans. He had bent over and taken a sniff and wrinkled his nose and gagged and wondered why he ever thought it would be a good idea to do what he did. Then he had chucked the cans- all but one Hawkeye stuffed in a pouch in his jacket. It was odd to move with it just there, but aluminum was malleable and- and something, alright? It would be good for something.
By the time he had swatted at the hundredth mosquito, he was feeling winded. No, he just wasn't cut for toughing it out in the wilderness. He wanted to go home. He wondered about the Four-Oh-Seven-Seven. Some chief surgeon he was, behind enemy lines anywhere he turned, never where he should be doing what he hated but had a duty to do. Suppose he shouts at the cameras that are supposedly everywhere and asks kindly for an aid station- a thatched roof and stretches and some blood and needles and bandages and a lot of penicillin. Optimist he is, stupid he isn't.
And besides, if he wanted to perform, he'd just drop his pants.
A yawn wasn't exactly the sort of reaction he had expected from himself at the thought. There's mild disappointment in his features because of it -men and women behaving like animals, why couldn't he? For starters, because there was now a chirp, chirp, chirp echoing through the jungle that Hawkeye had heard before though not during the day. It sounded closer, and with that he quickened the pace to return to his headquarters. He'd search for the caves later, maybe, probably not. He knew he would have to but-- so how about he focuses on staying in one piece throughout the rest of the evening first?
no subject
It was a mistake.
He grits his teeth and nearly lurches forward- he had bumped his arm against a knee. He stomps his boot against the mud instead to have something to move and some noise to hear that wasn't a stream of swears and shouts. He must look a lot like a child throwing a tantrum, but a pale and exhausted face may say otherwise. When the jolt subsides, and the pain remains but it was the constant kind of wretched pain, Hawkeye realizes he should tell Ellie what she asked. It'd serve as a warning for her. "I don't know," he starts, and it's more of a hiss than anything. He didn't know if he was alright. He'd lost blood and- other things. "I was attacked. Another- a- a tribute. Green thing. And your lizards." And he forces himself to look at her, and feels so bad for being so injured. "I'll be fine." But everything hurt. Thinking did, too, because he hurriedly adds "They didn't follow me here. I lost them a long time ago. Don't worry about that."
no subject
"Don't lie to me, you're not fine. You're a doctor, right? So tell me what to do." She's hovering, with no idea what to do with her hands, but she can see the splint on his arm, the blood... Her guts wrench when she realises that there is less there than there is supposed to be.
She doesn't have much but she does have something - an old bean can, long since empty, but with a relatively clean strip of cloth inside. She makes a mental note to thank R again, and again and again. She fumbles through her clothes and pulls out the can, scraping her fingers over the jagged aluminum edge as she pulls out the cloth.
"Just tell me what to do, alright? Look, I've even got something to use for bandages or whatever."
no subject
The smile he shoots her is faint now, but sincere for its duration. It fades and he's left rolling his head along the tree bark with his eyes closed and a little girl fretting over him and the mess he's made of his own body. He knew he was a doctor, so her reminder doesn't press an immediate response out of him. A doctor- he could still be a doctor. A surgeon, no. He knew things but he'd never be able to do them again-- and what did it matter, right? He wasn't going to get out of this jungle alive if everything he'd heard was true. And Hawkeye's only human and he feels a breath catch in his throat. He startles awake at the sound of something rummaging.
Of Ellie rummaging.
Oh, right. Ellie.
And now she had a can and cloth. Her shirt was still on. And so was his. So where'd she get the cloth?
"Uh?" Oh, right. He was busted up. Woozy. Feeling like he'd stuck his hand in an open fire. Instinctively, he tries to make a fist and he feels his shoulders tense right up again, like he was pushing against a boulder bigger than Manhattan. "Yeah." Very eloquent, Hawkeye. Very nice. Let the girl think you've lost your senses, too. He complies and raises his left arm, bent at the elbow. The fabric from his jacket clung to where blood had seeped through, darker blots and deeper slashes appearing nearer his forearm and hand. Then, of course, was his hand and all three fingers of it, red and a mangled limp, lump, hidden under socks. Which reminded him his feet were sore.
Which reminded him, again, that Ellie was waiting for him to act a little less dead.
"I lost a lot of blood," Hawkeye starts. He figures he shouldn't have begun with that, but at least it was better than saying he wished he was dead. Which would have been a lie, but. So anyway. His right hand, the better one, goes up to signal a stop. "I'm clearly still alive," he drawled on. "If you don't believe me you can- actually, don't. Don't do that. Okay, I'll... I'm not really looking forward to taking the dressings off. But that's because I'm Captain Chicken and I'm really no fun at parties. This one time I was at a homecoming and got decked on accident, got a bloody nose-- I'm going to talk a lot because I'm a little scared. Like I said- it hurts. Don't worry, though. Back in camp everyone used to call me 'Hey You, Shut Up'. I just talk a lot." Did he even say that it hurt before? All the while he kept his voice even, just steady jabber.
Christ, he really should do as the girl said. Again, his right hand goes up. He'll get there eventually.
"I've never been this hurt. Which might explain why I look like I spent half the night blubbering like I've been jilted. But I've worked on boys who came in worse than this and they were fine. And they were half my age." But there had been whole blood and supplies. And gee, he just called himself old. With that came a wince and he rushes what's next, his voice louder in desperation. "My hand! My hand- change the- I lost the little and ring finger. Clear to th- give me the cloth if you can't stomach it. I need to- need to change that first. I really don't want that dirty and I didn't do myself any favors wandering around lost all night."
more spoilers for the last of us, major ones this time, sorry guys
"Don't worry," she says when he's done, "I can stomach it. I've seen a lot fucking worse."
She reached out, taking his arm as carefully as she could manage, inspecting the dirty, sodden socks.
"Okay," She says, determined to talk back with him, if only to help him calm down. "I'm going to take these off so it will probably hurt a bit more." She does it as careful as she can, but there's only so careful you can be when it comes to this sort of thing, and she works with a very focused intensity while she talks. "It's okay. You'll be fine. You'll just have a bit more of a pathetic wave, that's all. You're way better off than Joel was and he got through it just fine - took a steel pipe right through his guts. In one end and out the other." The memories were painful, but something about telling them like this - in a matter of fact 'here's a story' kind of way while Hawkeye was nearly blubbering with pain was okay.
It kept the massive well of fear in her chest at bay. She needed to know it'd be okay, too.
"I got him through that and I can get you through this, okay? Right. So, bandage is off. I should leave the rest of the splint on, right? Just replace the bandages around your fingers."
no subject
Something, something, guts, bandage was off.
And Hawkeye snapped his head back around to glance and no, it wasn't his guts that were spilling out. Instead, it was just a hand that may as well have been stuck in a blender. A motor. And he almost laughs but his breath comes and goes and is surprisingly difficult to keep. It hardly looked like a hand to him, and he'd seen and studied and sawed off plenty that looked alike or worse. Cauterization- he'd done some lame and hurried attempt. The blood was now black and thick and just sticking and though there's none, Hawkeye could swear he could hear flies buzzing around. It makes his stomach turn.
"The Golden Retriever?" He asks, and hisses back a breath. Joel- he'd been referring to him.
He shifts again, and then he realizes that his squirming around was why the hurt had washed back. So he stills. "Yeah, keep the- keep the splint as it is. I can work with it like that. I hope it's just a fracture. I knocked it against a boulder. I can't help it any more than that but I don't want an infection. Dysentery and dehydration's bad enough. Contrary to belief, I'm not a masochist. So-- yeah, the bandages." He likes talking too, ya know. Maybe they'd be soul mates if Ellie had been twenty years older. Funny how they had the like of talking in common. "You're a hell of a nurse." Because ow- that hurt.
no subject
"Alright, yeah, I got you. I'll leave the splint on, no problem. Probably don't have enough clean anything to wrap it up anyway, not without doing some laundry or something. What's a masochist?" She asks as she peers at the congealing blood. Better congealing that not, at least, and she leans in and sniffs at it before wrinkling her nose. Not the best smelling thing in the world but at least it didn't smell sweet or anything.
She carefully tried wrapping the fresh bandage around - tight enough to keep everything in but not to hurt him any further.
"Yeah, yeah, you can give me a battlefield medal or something when we're out of this, Doc," She says sarcastically. "You can open up shop and I'll swear at all your patients until they shut up and sit down."
no subject
Hawkeye feels himself mouth the question to himself, his mind blanked for a second. She should know, he thinks. Good for her for not knowing, he thinks. Stupid of her for sniffing, he thinks, and even barks out a short-lived laugh that withers down when sore ribs begins to bother. His ears are red, he knows. And the little gasps and flinches as she tightens the bandage and he observes aren't entirely from the sensation of abused skin. Abused. Ha. "A masochist is," he settles on, "a churchgoer."
And wow, that was stupid, huh? But he had said it with such conviction, it felt like a shame not to expand on it. It help him fight back the raspy tone his voice had gotten and the want to simply pass out. Stories were good. "It comes from old Latin. Mass. Going to... church, you know. Catholic, I think. Hence the term 'churchgoer', because they go to church. Massachusetts was first settled as a big church, a cathedral. That's where the 'ch' from Massachusetts comes from. It's a. Mass. Of churches. Settled." And no, he's not even sure BJ's girl Erin would buy that. And no, he can't stop the sappy little sad way his lips curl at the thought. Enough bullshit. He thinks BJ planned on raising his girl in a no-bullshit household. He chuckles once, and says "So you see, a masochist is someone who gains sexual pleasure from receiving pain. Sometimes if you make a request in the Pink Pagoda in Seoul... ah ha." His face was burning and it was because he was trying hard to keep the affliction out of his voice, the tears back, the exhaustion from making him give in. If it could look like a blush, he'd be openly proud of his perversion.
"I knew I made the right choice promotin' ya to Major. Just swear at the patients. That'll do it. There's a Major back at the... the shop. The 4077th. Does just that. Always works." Come to think of it, though, small grin growing despite his best wishes, both majors were mouthy bastards. And he'd never see them again and wasn't that what he wanted? "Gee, she'd love ya, kid."
no subject
She was about to tease him about it when he finally came to the point and she offered him a grin finally, a shared joke.
"Yeah, I know. Porn still exists in the apocalypse, funnily enough, even if it is all a couple decades old."
She finished tying it off and gently lowered his arm back to his chest.
"Yeah, well, I'm told I'm not the best people person all the time, but I'd try to make a good impression for your sake. Maybe."
no subject
One part of him wants to howl in laughter. It's the part that's winning, though by the way he rolls his head back and sucks in a breath suddenly and stops his boot, he's afraid it can be taken as something other than curbing the urge to let off steam. Especially when the bout came the moment she set his arm back- and it did prick and hurt and sting- but he lets his head fall forward and his chin nearly touches his chest and his hair's more of a mess than it had been before. He's snickering, but it sounds like he'd sprung a leak. "Shssk-ssk-shhi-"
Apocalypse, however, was a very serious word.
But he still snickers. And when he can finally coach a word out of himself, the only thing he can think about blurting is, "How old are you?" Because there's no way this-- there was no way this wasn't inappropriate. And he didn't care. "Th-the major, she-- not a big people person either but sh-." Big breath in! The girl was obviously over twelve, so that made it okay. "But when she is..." He glanced at his arm, the clean makeshift bandaging over the thing that was his hand. He noted how it bounced with ever ragged breath, so he stopped the muffled chortling. Discussing this with a girl, Hawkeye, really. "She's really something."
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"Really something, huh? Were you two an item then?" She shifts around their little hiding hole and tries to make things more comfortable for him, but there's only so much she can do.
no subject
No pun intended.
"If the item is an hernia or an angry appendix, then yes," he confesses. "You're not getting steamy stories from me there, toots." He closes his eyes and mouths a 'sorry' though the wispy smile suggests he's very much not. What a woman. Gee, he'd miss her.
no subject
She watches him as he closes his eyes and she checked over him again - but after replacing the bandage there wasn't exactly a lot she could do. So instead she pulls her knees up to her chest, shifting a little closer towards him, and gently pats his shoulder.
"I'll take hernia stories too, if you want to give them. Or, you know, I could shut up for a bit. Is there anything else I can do for you...?"
no subject
Which meant his every nerve would feel on fire, and that sleep would be hard to come by despite his body begging for it. His paranoia was suddenly justified, he thought, and he couldn't leave the girl all alone by passing out and then never waking up.
What a way to go that would be.
But he refused to be dreary. There would be many times ahead where he could drag her mood down with his. He hoped. So when he did feel the pat on his shoulder, he hummed. There was something bitter and beautiful about being certain he'd be missed. Back at the MASH, well-- the Army was good about finding replacements, if nothing else. No food this time, he wants to say. Sorry. And so much for not sleeping- his jaw was difficult to move, his tongue felt heavier than the rest of him combined. "If I mumble, just hit me over the head. It usually shuts me right up. Collect wate-- but don't wander. Jesus, don't- don't do that." There were all sorts of monsters out there, and he exhales. And looks content. "You did fine, Ellie. Thank you."
wrap up?
She gave his shoulder a little squeeze before grabbing the old bean tin that she'd been collecting water in and tucking it under her arm. It wasn't raining at the moment, but if she went and put it up in the branches above them then they should be able to get some as soon as it did.
"I'll just go place this up top and then I'll be back, okay? Just-- take it easy. You'll be okay, Doc. We'll both be okay."
It wasn't a hard lie to make.