thearena | (no subject)

Who| John, Joan, and a dinosaur
What| After Sherlock's death, John and Joan get into trouble of PREHISTORIC PROPORTIONS

Where| Their new camp

When| After Sherlock's death.

Warnings/Notes| John's going to bite it. By being dinosaur bitten.

John never really recovered from holding Sherlock while he died, not really. He was quiet and withdrawn and spent his times on watch fighting the urge to simply stare ahead blankly, his times resting falling in and out of twisting nightmares of sand and gunfire and blood, so much blood. It wasn't the quiet lad from the unit bleeding out in his arms any more- the tangle of mangled limbs that had haunted his nights since being invalided out of the army now choked up at him with Sherlock's grey eyes, pleading with him.

He was on watch now.

Vaguely, he felt guilty for not being much use to Joan. He was glad she was sleeping, because it meant she didn't have to watch him floundering. He could hardly meet her eyes these days, though he knew she wanted to help - perhaps it was because she wanted to. He'd never been good at accepting help.

He hefted the knife in his hand and began whittling a sharp point on the end of a stick, more out of something to do than any intention to use it for anything in particular. Joan would be stirring soon.

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Joan knew what it was like, hurting so badly and not wanting to ask for help. Not able to ask for help, if she was being honest with herself. She hasn't been pushing John, just doing her best to make sure things got done, and they kept moving.

And she ignored her own grief.

When John's sleep was disturbed by nightmares, she sat by his side, kept watch over him as much as over their surroundings. When they got bad, she'd lay a hand on his shoulder, shake him gently, trying to pull him out of his dream if not out of his sleep.

Joan's own dreams are not restful, but she doesn't remember them. When she stirred, the images of Sherlock (one or the other or both at the same time) in danger faded from her mind. She sat up, rubbed her face, sighed, and crawled out of the tent.

"Hey. All quiet?"

He looked over and offered her a smile, though it was still tight and careful. His hands stilled, the knife biting into wood.

"Yeah, so far- there was a bit of rustling a while ago, but nothing happened. Did you sleep alright?"

"Mmm," she answered, sitting next to him. "Gotta say, really getting tired of sleeping on the hard ground. The Capitol has a lot of drawbacks; soft beds are not one of them."

She offered him a faint smile as well.

"Looking forward to a decent dinner, too," he laughed wryly, going back to whittling away at his stick. "And a beer. God, that'd be nice. Curry, I think, a curry and a beer. How about you?"

"God, beer," she answered, her smile widening. "Do you think they do Thai here? I mean, how badly could they screw up a pad thai?"

Her stomach grumbled in quiet protest of all this talk about food, but she ignored it. She looked over to him, glancing at his leg.

"How's the leg?"

"Aches a bit," he admitted quietly. "Seem to have avoided getting it infected somehow, though. You did a good job. Here--"

He passed over the stick, its end now extremely sharp. "Thought we could make a trap. Don't think we'll be catching any pad thai any time soon, but it might give us a bit of advanced warning if anyone approaches."

She took the stick and tested the tip with her thumb.

"Wow. Impressive." She looked up, raising her eyebrows. "What kind of trap were you thinking?"

If it involved the stick, it could do a lot of damage.

"Pit with these at the bottom. Or even just stick the other end into the ground and have the spike point outwards," he suggested. "I doubt that'd fend off anything big, but it's probably better than nothing, and making these is something to do that isn't waiting to get killed."

"A tiger pit." She frowned at the stick, held it out to John.

"You know that would kill someone," she said softly.

John nodded. "Yeah. I know."

He accepted the stick, examining the point and beginning to work on it again in silence for a few moments before continuing.

"Depends on how strong we made the cover, though. We could make it sturdy enough for a person but less so for anything heavier."

"Like a dinosaur."

She watched him work on the stick. She had heard things in the woods, of course. Sounds that weren't human, and weren't any animal she could identify. She had yet to actually see anything, but she was sure that if she did, it would be the last thing she saw.

"Or whatever else the Capitol decides to throw at us, yes," he said, a little shortly- grimacing as soon as the words left his mouth. There wasn't any need to be that sharp with Joan- it wasn't like he was angry with her, after all. He was just angry. Or at least, he thought he was, knew he was on some level entirely disconnected from emotion. The only thing he really felt was numb.

"Sorry."

Joan raised her eyebrows as he snapped at her, and looked away. She wasn't about to get on his case for it, because she understood that it came from a place of pain. Besides, he caught himself and apologized. So she just let it go, as if it didn't happen.

"We're going to make a stand here, then. It's a good idea. We can't move around forever. Especially with the island shrinking."

He nodded. "I think it's best to stay somewhere we're familiar with, and if we can make it dangerous for anyone who isn't us, all the better. Unless you're feeling more up to killing people than I am, it's our only viable option-- did you hear that? 4 o'clock. Something..."

He cut himself off, grasping his knife and the sharpened stick.

She heard it. Something in the jungle. Something big.

She stood slowly, her eyes wide, her body tense.

"John," she said, her voice quiet and tight. "I don't think that's a person."

Edited 2013-12-10 03:15 (UTC)

"No," he agreed, equally quiet, careful. "No, I don't think so either. Have we got the supplies handy? We might need to make a hasty retreat..."

She turned her head to look back at the supplies by the tent. "We can gather them up, it will take..."

The sound. She snaps her head back. It's closer.

"...too long."

"Alright. Come back for them later. Let's go. Quietly."

He stood, carefully handing her the stick in his hand and gesturing for her to go first- there was a kind of path through the underbrush, not quite wide enough for two.

She took the stick and headed for the path, thinking of places they could go to be safe. There was a large tree in this direction they could climb that would hopefully put them out of reach of whatever this was.