thearena | (no subject)

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Who| Ellie and Hawkeye
What| Ellie's going to go check up on the Doc
Where| Somewhere on Level 2 idek
When| End of Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Adorableness and foul language from Ellie, as per the usual

She was getting used to having Joel around, again. She wasn't so convinced now that if she turned around he would suddenly disappear, and so she was beginning to relax. She hadn't forgotten about her friends - had barely stopped thinking about them. It was jarring, her old world smashed into her new one, how much bigger her circle of care had gotten. She didn't mind. She didn't mind at all, but she was well aware that Joel's was much, much smaller. Just her.

He only really had her.

And she'd only really had him.

So she kept glued to his side all the time he was awake. It wasn't until he went to sleep again that she secured the perimeter, booby-trapping one of the firestarting kits under the barricade of wood so that if anyone tried to shift the pile the whole thing would go up - and slipped outside of it. She moved pretty much completely silently on her own - she'd left all of her supplies save her bow and a few arrows back in the camp. She hadn't even brought the axe she'd salvaged.

She was looking for a doctor, anyway.

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Last Hawkeye knew, he was somewhere near Australia if only because he couldn't stand another day of Asia and he didn't want to be in an America that wasn't his very own. He'd seen, he thought, a pack of dingoes fighting among themselves over some scraps of a carcass. He had joked to a Tasmanian Devil that he really should get his nasty teeth looked at-- all that tartar build up-- and that he knew a guy with all the right koalifications for the job. He told an Aboriginal man the same thing. It'd been a riot.

He had kept himself busy, as he had since the beginning, heading towards noises instead of away. He'd heard too many familiar names called out on the intercom for any night to be bring good rest again and more often than not, rest itself meant sitting back in a nook and remembering to breathe low and pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes to rub out the sting. He would risk the water fountains and the low hiss the stream of water made, sounding against the metallic base, the whirr of the mechanisms inside, to splash his face with something cool. The thing was- he had to be alert. This Arena wasn't open. People were great. People together-- that wasn't, so much. Add the prize and the cameras and an olive branch meant nothing, but movement did. Trades did.

And speaking of movement, something to his right caught his eye. It was dark, the room illuminated only by the dim amber lights that shone off of the dead animal's marble eyes.

Hawkeye reached for his flashlight- honestly, he didn't even know if it worked- and ungripped it in a second. No use shining a light if it might have been a rat scurrying by. No use shining a light if it might give away his position among the dead things. He was still, expression stone, until a light caught in reddish brown hair and a too-familiar nose, and he snorted. And he wanted to rush over to her, but didn't. "Ladies' room is to your right." Oh thank God. Oh, thank God. She was still alright.

She hadn't seen him and the sudden voice caused her to start, turning towards it, but as soon as she saw the source a grin slipped to her lips and she quickly made her way over to him.

"Hey," She said, her voice low. "I brought you some stuff. Is it safe here?"

Hawkeye moved to meet her half way, an excited skip in his step, a giddiness slipping out as he reached a hand to clasp her shoulder. He supposed he finally understood why they weren't given shoes or even slippers for their feet this round, because it made sneaking through carpeted floors much, much easier. And he supposed, for a fleeting second, that he was thankful. He gives her a small shake as a greeting, emulating an overexcited puppy being told to Sit and Stay. He didn't think he'd made it anyone's secret that he preferred company to loneliness, and if by some warped means he had, he hoped he only didn't seem too relieved, too eager.

Like he would during a mail call, he searches her to snatch up whatever his gift might be.

If he can jab her to make her laugh, that'd be great. "It was until you arrived," he confesses. The floor, besides them, was quiet minus his own dry talks with the taxidermied critters. He hated that, loved that.

Ellie was grinning and he shouldn't rob her of that, and so his questions stream out like they had during Christmas. "What'd you get me? Huh? What'd you get me?" And of course he assumed this meant Joel didn't know about her trek, and Hawkeye felt like he shouldn't be encouraging her to endanger herself for him, but all he can say next is, "It's been so long since a girl's snuck out to see me. I think I'm overdressed." In a whisper, of course, but that was just because everything out of his mouth was. Would that get him another chokehold from dear old dad, or a .45 between his eyes? Hawkeye huffed at the thought.

Ellie snorted a laugh as she reached into her pockets and brought out the goodies, not bothering to shake his hand off her shoulder as she was happy to have it there.

"I made you a bunch of bandages," She said, holding them out. They were completely rag-tag, just strips of fabric collected from anything that she could get her hands on. "I dunno how much help they'll be, but they're all clean. Washed em in the bathroom."

She grinned as she looked up at him, hoping they were helpful. "You know. If you wanted to start an aid station, or whatever."

She reached into her pocket again, and pulled out a can.

"Aaand... canned peaches! You can eat them and then use the can to collect water and shit."

Eagerly, he took the makeshift bandages off her hands. They were stuffed into the pockets of his robe, the safest place on him, though he hesitated and brought back a lingering few, holding them out and gesturing she take them. What he could see is that he had gotten everything she had. "No foolin', but I've had the same idea," he says, sort of breathy. Just the idea that they'd be needed spiked a sense of urgency, though Hawkeye promptly told himself to level down. There was no danger here, for the meanwhile. He looks struck for a second only, blinking back a revelation when Ellie spoke up next. If she had taken the bandages he had held out, fine. If not, fine.

An aid station. Because they sure as hell weren't getting a MASH, and the Evac was in the Capitol.

Hawkeye let his hand fall from her shoulder, and instead extended it to give her a playful shove. "Twerp, you want to run me ragged." He took the can- how the hell was he going to open the can-- oh right, the knife-- and shot her an indignant glare. "Listen you, I don't eat shit. Too many calories, and I'm watching my figure. --thanks, Ellie. You're a pal. But what's Rover going to say when he finds it missing?"

She didn't refuse a few of the bandages when he offered them back, shoving them into her pockets as she exchanged them for the can of peaches.

"Ah, what Joel doesn't know won't hurt him," She said with a grin which had appeared instantly at the joke about eating shit. "I'll just tell him I had a late night snack or whatever. Can't have you starving out the gate, Doc."

A resounding No is on the tip of his tongue, followed closely by but it will kill me. He shuffles around looking for a place to put down the can- no way he'll carry the big thing on him- before he decides the best place for it was against the wall that was near and to his left. Setting it on the floor, Hawkeye decides to collapse right alongside it, eyes wide and staring up at Ellie from below. "Oh come on," he fusses, moving a hand. "I'm not that bad." He was possibly worse, and images of the first day came up in his head and he huffed them away, playing it as part of the offended act.

Not too late after, and Hawkeye switches tone as if his career revolved around it. Matter of fact, it did. That he wasn't being acknowledged for it was no fault of his. "How have you and Joel been doing so far? Good, I suppose, if you have enough to be giving away." In other words, how has the old grouch been treating her?

"Yeah, you're a regular GI Joe," She teased as she set herself down on the floor beside him, letting out a breath as she wrested her wrists on her knees and leaned her head back against the wall.

"Yeah, we're doing alright. We're holed up in the South Pacific," She said, smirking. "He's not attacking random people anymore, so that's a plus."

His lips twitch and his gut tightens and he's not even sure that's a good description to ever use again when describing excitement. There's mirth in his eyes and it doesn't take a breath before the show comes to mind and he asks, "You've never seen the South Pacific, have you?" And he's kind of happy, kind of sad that the question can apply so easily to her apocalyptic little world.

Then he leans against her, because he can, because it was a great show and Rodgers and Hammerstein had outdone themselves and the nation could agree. Every war needed a song and the unit had figured it all out one night in the Officer's Club. Korea was a rotten war because it only didn't have a song. And so he sings, "Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger, you may see a stranger. Across a crowded room and somehow you know." Huh. "You know even then that somewhere you'll see her again and again." Did regular GIs sing? He didn't think so. Point made, he leans against her further, just pushing, just playing. Hawkeye thinks sometimes he never outgrew the stage when he'd tackle Toby into the nearest snowdrift just because. "Broadway loves it."

She laughs, and it's honest, and relieved, and cathartic, and she shoves her shoudler back against him. "Quiet!" She reprimands with a hiss, but her heart simply isn't in it and the humour leaks out into the words. "What're you trying to do? Get us pulled into a musical?"

She knew what musicals were.

You didn't have to see one, to know.

"Not a bad voice there, Doc, you sure you didn't miss your calling?"

How rude!

She was the one guffawing away, and the man that brought class to this wasteland was the one that was chided. --oh, for the love of God, his thoughts were sounding like the blueblood snob, Winchester. The bald one, not the new one with hair that had District 4 marked above his prison cell. Hawkeye scoffs, lets himself be shoved away though he'll let his head brush against hers in the sway. To answer, he sings again, a touch lower in volume, a touch higher in the cheesiness of it all, "Who can explain it? Who can tell you why? Fools give you reasons but wise men never try." Then he rolls his head off but not without first giving her a headbutt (he hardly bumped her). And he scoffs, and straightens his back, and touches his fingertips to the floor like some pansy. Back in his own voice, he figured he should return again to the world of Hawkeye Pierce.

"Only if the call came from a soft girl, blonde, about five-foot-six. If she sounded sore, I hope you got her message. If she sounded like she wanted to get sore, please tell me you got her message."

Ellie can't help herself, and has to raise her hand to her mouth to keep herself from snorting too loudly, her eyes crinkled up in amusement.

"Blonde, huh? That's your type? Alright, sure. I'll play your wingman." She grins and looks up, not actually knowing what the cameras would look like if she saw one, but assuming they were around.

With both hands, she gestured to Hawkeye.

"Come on, Ladies! Freshest Bachelor you could get your hands on. Only blondes need apply!"

For a moment, he stares at her, puzzled and quite frankly, stupidly. For all the thoughts and talk of the cameras, he'd never once seen one. For all that he knew they were there, some instances they ceased to exist. But he catches on, and he dives against her because a tackle would be too merciful, because he's pent up his joy at being with her again, because he wants to laugh but thinks he'd do it too loud.

Playfully, he tries to hold a hand to her mouth, sounding like he'd sprung a leak and shushing her when he could spare the breath. "Brunettes too," he hisses, but he's not looking at any God damned camera. This game is his, this spurt of happiness is his, not the Capitol's. "You're ruining my--" No denying, though, that they were the joke. "Little girl to good home! Intelligent, fun, shiny, smooth coat, full set of teeth, is potty trained and comes with her own crate!" Wait. "--are you potty trained?"

That does get a laugh out of her, despite all her admonishments for the two of them to keep quiet, and she pushes back against him, choking down the laughter until it sounded more like a breathless wheezing than anything else.

"Bru-Brunettes, what about red heads?" She gasps out between the giggles, almost giddy with just being allowed a moment to be herself, to be okay, to pretend that nothing was wrong with the world and nothing bad would happen and that goofing off was all that was expected from them. "Should ask you the same thing, Doc, I'm sure the ladies want to know that."

Somewhere between saying he'd take them all, all at once if he had to sacrifice himself in such a way, Hawkeye clamps his mouth shut so hard and hurriedly that he feels his cheeks will explode from the air he's locked inside. Face turning red, he graces Ellie with another headbutt of his and does his best to let himself simmer down. Problem was, sudden silence after a laughing fit had a way of being hilarious.

Hawkeye knew he was exhausted and worried sick, and he still felt refreshed. So for closure's sake he lifts his chin and drawls out, "That's private." in his best impersonation of newest old bunky, the major from Boston, the blueblood snob. Another breath, through the nose this time, and Hawkeye thinks his mind's returned. Another second to let Ellie quiet down, too, and he dredges up another impersonation still- Frank Burns this time, the King of Killjoy. "So that's it? You just came to say 'hi'?"

"Well, yeah," She says, but the grin starts to slip from her lips so she shrugs, and kicks her feet. "And, you know, make sure you were okay. Not getting yourself skewered by rampaging wax statues or something."

She tilts her head to the side as she watches him, wetting her lips before she adds: "And-- you know. To apologize. Spent all that time looking for you, and then--" She sighs. "Well. Yeah. I'm sure you have lots of questions."

The wax statues were creepy but the worst thing they did was never return the friendly hellos. Hawkeye's brow furrows, he frowns a little at the thought, and thinks about thanking her for adding one more thing on the list to spook at. He leans against the wall again, instead opting to get himself comfortable for the remainder of the visit. He'd make sure it wouldn't be a long one.

He catches the tic and before he wants to hold up a hand and hold up the apology he knows is coming, it's out. And he only takes the time to reposition himself and to half-way yawn and look bored or disinterested or something of that sort. "My main one is, are you comfortable with him?" It tore him up inside, and any apology about nearly dying at the idiot's arms he'd take from the man himself, not from the girl. He'd heard too much talk about Joel before to know Ellie's little escape to him hadn't been an escape, exactly. Hawkeye only figured his mind had painted a different picture of the fellow a girl so obviously relied on for so much. So his question is calm and all bedside manner, and he even quirks a brow with it to emphasize that it's all that mattered. Or something. Questions he could fill a decade with.

"Yeah." The answer is immediately, without a hint of doubt. "I know it-- I know it must seem weird, but I trust him with my life. I know I can. I have. And he trusts me with his. We've been through a lot of shit, you know."

She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs them, looking away.

"He could stand to be a little less of an asshole to people, but... It's different here, you know? Back home, you couldn't really trust anyone you didn't know. So it must be a fucking shock to him to come here and find out that hey, not only did I think he was fucking dead for months, but that I also actually have friends other than him." She offers Hawkeye a lopsided smile.

She seemed confident enough to Hawkeye to bat away the surge of protectiveness so that it only lingered far away like a leopard not daring to touch the fire. Here, Ellie's words and conviction were the fire- they were warm, almost, and Hawkeye gave a little hum at that and Ellie then turned away. It was impossible not to think of Beej, or even Trapper John. He bit down a snicker and ran a hand through his hair and down his face. He'd understand it some day, you know, the devotion. And he couldn't hold back the short snort that escaped him at the descriptor, and her excuse for Joel. It was sensible, sure, as much as anything pertaining to these other lives he knew nothing of ever was, but sense wasn't quite what Hawkeye looked for when he had company.

It was comfort, and Ellie's scoundrel smile coaxes one out of him as well. She had said months. Months of being in this pheonix loop. It scared him, and Hawkeye looks like he's holding back a wonderful little secret from her when he says, "Joel's got a great arm. Must have played with the Major Leagues back home but I'm honestly not a fan. Ted Williams is a peach compared to him. But I'm glad you've got him now. I am. I'm glad for you both." He nodded as he said that last bit, he even moved a hand to pat Ellie's arm. His voice adopts a teasing ring, a fatherly ring, "So much it warms the cockles of my cold and aging heart that I can't stand the thought of you two being separated a second longer than need be."

She must know where he was going with this, and Hawkeye moves to stand. Ellie needed rest. She shouldn't have wandered to him in the first place. It was like she had no true notion of danger. Hawkeye loved company, but he thinks that he liked comfort a smidge better- comfort of his friends above everything else. The girl had to go home because it was late and Hawkeye gestured for her to follow, "Come along, friend. Fido. Major."

Ellie's smile disappeared instantly. She knew when she was being dismissed, and she knew when she was being pawned off and years worth of abandonment had honed her senses to it like the fine edge of a knife. She stood, as Hawkeye asked her too, but didn't look happy about it.

"Is that it?" She asked, not exactly impressed. "Oh, Joel's here, so you don't need me anymore and can just fuck off?"

One of these days he'd understand girls and maybe what it was he said wrong. He thought something was off the moment it had left his mouth, confirmed his suspicion when Ellie brusquely stood and started spitting her nonsense. Hawkeye did his best to not look dumbstruck but he abandoned the hope of keeping a neutral expression soon after. Excuse him for not having a clue.

"I must have missed the memo," he murmurs to himself, dull to anyone else's ears. Surprisingly or not, he didn't take offense to the assumption. He didn't even get worked up- he didn't know he had to. He only takes a second to organize his thoughts the best he could and to think back to where his error had been and, "What gave you that idea?" Oh God, he swears he's not giving cheek, either.

It's not his fault, not really. She's too used to being seen as a problem by adults, or a package. Delivered from one door to another, something for someone to take care of until someone else can pick up the tab. Even Joel tried to leave her, first chance he got. But whether or not her years of abandonment issues had anything to do with Hawkeye, she's certainly turning them on him now.

"I came here to visit you, okay? I would have thought after the shit we've been through that you wouldn't just -- I have to look after Joel, okay? I have to. He's done the same for me a thousand times. But I'm not just fucking off, so you don't need to pawn me off on him like some fucking toy you're done playing with--"

The more she speaks, the less he's sure he understands. Hawkeye's expression grows more concerned by the word, nearly, and the healthy dose of defensiveness and bewilderment at her accusation grows as well. For a second of bad judgement, Hawkeye thinks about letting off some steam by chuckling, but doesn't. His nickname for her couldn't have been more spot-on had he known. His chest ached as his mind shifted Ellie's rant and substituted Houlihan's voice on it, the screech-y kind she adopted only for him when he'd gone and bothered her one too many times, when he stepped out of line.

Margaret would know how to soothe the girl, and Hawkeye's trapped in the vortex of the thought.

"It's getting late," he says. He wanted to hug her but didn't know if he could. "Or early, I don't know. I'm not trying to get rid of you, Ellie. I wouldn't do that." And damn right he's sore that she would think so. "I wouldn't have let you stay as long as you did if I didn't want you around. But there's somebody here who needs you more than I do at the moment, alright? And since you've taken care of me plenty of times, it's time I do the same for you. I didn't mean to upset you. It so happens Joel can look after you better than I can, and that that's something I care about."

She slowly relaxed as he spoke, the anger fading and slowly being replace by shame and no little amount of embarassment.

She frowned, glaring down at the floor, more angry with herself now, than anyone else.

"...Okay," She said, her voice quieter than usual. "Sorry. I just-- yeah. I'm just fucking tired of being left behind, you know? I didn't mean to like--" She lets out a hard breath. "... Never mind. Just, promise me you'll look after yourself, okay?"

Alright. There they went. Two suckers descending from their antics, and this time Hawkeye does place a heavy hand on Ellie's shoulder- he didn't tug because he figured they really should get going. All this while they'd been sitting ducks. See what he meant about being a terrible caretaker? "And I'm tired of having people leave," he offered, because it was a regular thing in the Army and sometimes people left the unit to be reunited with their families, or to be dragged to another mud and blood city, or to be lost in the depths of the ocean. And what he meant was that they had to keep marching regardless. Hawkeye pats her shoulder and then gives a playful little push.

Forward. March.

"Don't worry about it," he supplements with a grin and a change in tone. Soft again, whimsical again, meaning to care for her apology and concern both at once. "I'm tough as nails. Let's get going before I break into song again and render my previous statement wrong."

She stumbled with the push and sighed, obviously still not happy but at least defused, willing to soldier on, as it were.

"I like it when you sing," She said, quiet enough to almost be to herself. Joel refused to sing for her. She didn't look back at him as they stumbled on.

"I like it, you know, that everything hasn't completely fucked you up, Hawkeye. I like that you're weird and you're still alive."

"I'm not weird. Everybody else is." And his conviction rang true with his words. Hawkeye knew he was supposed to take the compliment and he did with relish. He couldn't begin to imagine what really had Ellie so blue- she didn't seem to have her death in mind, anyway. Everything and everybody was so different from the world he'd been brought in from. Never in his life did Hawkeye remember children being so complicated. Then again, he hardly remembered dealing with children at all- ones that spoke his language and that weren't shoved under his knife or towards his needle. But he really liked being alive, too.

"I'm telling you, I know a lot of musicals." He goes on, hushed but eager. He figures it's his version of a bedtime story. "'Some people claim that you are to blame as much as I. Why do y' take the trouble to bake my favorite pie?' --that's poetry, ya know. From Oklahoma. I know, I know, who'da thunk anything that sublime would come from there? The show opened in 1943. I must've seen it a hundred times. It's really cheesy." Hawkeye takes the accompanying sigh to skip ahead of Ellie. Just in case, you know. Just in case anything came out of the shadows. "I think it's terrible."

It made her smile, honestly, as he rambled on about it. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she liked it.

"A musical, huh. That's when people sing a lot, right? I never saw a movie or a show before coming here. Most we ever did were military drills - they don't really do plays in the apocalypse, if you know what I mean."

She's careful too, watching their surroundings as she slowly marches back to Joel. She hates the idea that she has to chose. She doesn't understand it. Back home she didn't need to - she only ever had one or two people close to her, and death or infection chose her companions well before she ever could. The idea that she could care about different people and not be able to keep them all in one place was extremely upsetting.

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lol i'm so sorry for this

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