snowblindrpg | [log] The Hills Have Eyes [closed-ish]

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[log] The Hills Have Eyes [closed-ish]

Characters: Watson, Charles, Davesprite, Bucky, Zell, Sora, Kunsel, Homura, and Quark
Location Building 235 (Aquarium) and Building 130 (Pharmacy)
Date: Day 162 - 164
Summary: Eyes appear all around, static and paranoia return, friends arrive with fire, hopefully no one is getting attacked. Later, Bucky, Quark, and John discover evidence of Fiona's murder.
Warnings: References to character death.

[The aquarium has the feel of a small-town tourist attraction, the sort built to give people just stopping to fuel up on petrol a reason to stay for an hour or two. There are various aquariums inside that, according to plaques beside them, once showcased various Alaskan fish; they're empty now. The whole atmosphere is kind of eerie, with the water casting rippling patterns on the walls, ceilings, and floors, but there's hot water in the sinks for anyone who wants it.

What's probably unwanted by everyone is the eyes. They're on the walls, drawn in the frost on the windows, they're on the ceilings, and the static crawls its way over walls and people. The sense of being watched, of being followed, is strong.]

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[John, unlike Bucky, likes not being in excruciating pain when engaged in physical activity. He takes a morning dose of Tramadol along with some ibuprofen that he prescribed for himself. His pack is all set, he's had his meager bit of food for the day, and his umbrella cane is ready. They've let a few people trek out before them just to reduce the chances of an anomaly encounter. The doctor is still somewhat concerned, but he pushes himself up when Bucky approaches and holds out his arm.]

I've got a pack full of things, Bucky. I'm gonna put my hand on your good shoulder, use this - [he holds up the umbrella] - and manage.

[His frown gets somewhat deeper and he shakes his head.]

That's fine for inside, not out there. The terrain is too rough, you'll damage your leg further.

And you are gonna damage your shoulder further. If I slip up, I'll let you carry me. Until I do, I'm walking, myself.

[Just try to stop him. He is fierce determination and pride!]

I won't.

[He stands perfectly still, not making any threatening sort of moves, but it's clear he means to stand in the way until John agrees.]

I'll carry you over my good shoulder, I know what I'm doing.

[John's temper flares up, hot and bright, and god, this is so stupid. His hands ball into fists. He hates this. He hates the pitying looks, the quiet conversations he's not meant to overhear that he's sure have gone on. Poor Dr. Watson. Poor feeble Dr. Watson and his leg. Even John can recognize that as resentments not tied particularly to this moment, but years ago now. Still, the parallels do not escape him. This, at least, is real, but he's internally railing against it.

For a moment, the doctor's expression is downright mutinous. Then, he takes a breath and tries to refocus for logical arguments.]

Some of my ribs are also broken. It's gonna do me more damage for that, jolting along with your movements and my own, curled over.

[He grunts, that's a good argument and he can't deny the logic of it. No use saving the man from becoming a complete cripple if he pierces his lung with a broken rib in the process.]

Then I'll carry you a different way, you'll just have to hold on.

[He spreads his fingers, almost placating.]

I did enough damage, I'm not about to let it become permanent.

[You're missing the 'I don't want you to carry me' point here, Bucky.]

Bucky, it's already gonna be permanent unless I die and come back. [That's snapped, harsh but true. John immediately regrets it. He takes another breath and facepalms wearily.] I'm sorry. That's just... the injury to my leg would take five or six months to heal under good conditions, rest, and with proper surgery. That isn't gonna happen here. So we focus on your injuries first. You can recover, and you might just get your arm back. I don't want to do anything to diminish the chances of that happening.

[There's the tiniest flinch when that strikes home, but nothing beyond that. It's not like he doesn't deserve to be told these harsh truths and much worse. His eyes narrow.]

So you don't expect to survive five or six months? This ends before that, then you'll be home, you just have to rest until then. If I have to carry you the whole damn time, I will.

[It's intensely frustrating because he knows that Bucky means well, he knows that it would be better for John to just let the other man carry him. This is humiliating, though. And he's worried it's just going to end in both of them dying.

Or worse, Bucky sacrificing himself and John managing to stay alive. Again.

He glares up at the other man for a long moment before giving in. Only a bit.]

How d'you want to carry me? Tell me, and I'll tell you if it's going to be bad for your shoulder.

[He looks completely unaffected by that glare.

If injuring John and tying him to a chair somehow hasn't completely ruined any chance of a friendship, then arguing over helping him isn't likely to do it either. And even if it does, it's a price Bucky will pay.

He thinks about it for a moment, and then loosens the strap on his bag that holds it around his waist, it should be able to act as a sling on his left side where he doesn't have an arm to help.]

Slide your legs through here to support them, arm around my neck from my good shoulder side, my arm around your back to hold your weight. Bridal style.

[John tries very hard not to think about what people will say if they see him like this. God, he can just picture Harry crowing, pointing at her little brother and laughing.

... a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

Yes. Moving on from that lovely mental image. He grits his teeth. This is going to be even more difficult for Bucky to disengage from him.]

Can you undo that strap completely quickly? If there's an anomaly, you need to be able to drop me and run.

[His eyebrows raise nearly into his hairline, the blankest of unimpressed looks on his face.]

I'll pretend you didn't say that.

[As if he was ever going to just drop John and run away.]

Here, give me your pack.

[No, this is important. John holds his ground.]

This isn't the war. I know the rule: 'Leave no man behind.' It doesn't apply here. This is about making sure at least one of us survives. You're not going to be able to outrun an anomaly while carrying me. I'm not going to be able to run at all. It's the only thing that makes sense.

You don't know how fast I can run.

[It's half dry and half genuine. He might not have his enhancements here, but he was already extremely physically fit before the serum and has been specifically trained to be swift and strong in all kinds of terrain.

His mouth sets in a stubborn line.]

I won't let either of us get killed, I know how to survive.

[He knows how fast Steve can run. That's close enough. And bloody hell, why does he always have to be the one to bend? Why the hell are people here so bent against him sacrificing himself for the greater good--for their good? Alfie and Fiona are the same way, and it's intensely frustrating.

There's another glaring contest for a moment as John searches out an argument that will persuade him. He suspects there isn't one. But there is a sharp scalpel in John's pocket, one he can reach easily and cut the strap, himself, if he needs to. Bucky might have a harder time refusing to just run if John's on the ground, instead of in his arms... arm.

He pulls off his pack and holds it out to Bucky, dropping his eyes away.]

If I feel you flagging or you start staggering, I'm getting down and walking on my own. Is that understood?

[He's not going to let John get down once he's up, but that doesn't stop him nodding once just to stave off an argument now.

He hesitates a moment, John can't exactly jump up to get his legs in the sling Bucky has made, they need to get him on a higher starting plane. He slings the extra pack over his good shoulder, still wincing ever so slightly at the added weight. Maybe a small amount of Vicodin wouldn't have been the worst idea. Ah well, too late now without revealing he hasn't taken any at all, and he imagines that might spark up argument again about his fitness for carrying another person.]

Come back in the bathroom, stand on the chair. It'll be easier on your ribs.

[He really hopes Charles is sleeping through all of this, given that the man is still somewhere in the aquarium as far as John is aware. Reluctantly, the doctor hobbles back to the bathroom along with Bucky, and over to where he's wedged the chair. He place the umbrella on the nearby counter and drags himself up.

Getting his bad leg into the sling is the trickier part. John's grimacing by the time they manage it. After that, John locks his arms around the other man's neck and sort of... swings himself into the correct position with a grunt. Once he's still, John speaks up quietly, tone mock-severe.]

If you ever tell anyone about carrying me like that, I will never speak to you again.

[He stands as still as he can while John gets himself sorted, braced against the coming weight, but even then he doesn't quite manage to bear it without any sort of reaction. He doesn't have the serum any more, he's not eaten much in the last few days, and he just had major surgery. Two backpacks and a whole human being is a little more than his body wants to carry.

Teeth grit together to keep silent, he nevertheless can't help the sweat break out across his forehead as he wraps his good arm around John's back to support his weight. After a second or two while he steadies himself and is sure he's not just going to fall over, he finally takes a couple of steps closer to the counter so John can grab his umbrella.]

That's your breaking point?

[He raises an eyebrow, half amused.]

I won't tell anyone about this.

[Other things, yes. He will not be telling rubbish static anomaly or falling aquarium stories.]

[John is acutely aware of how Bucky sways and the way he moves. His immediate instinct is to call it off, tell Bucky to just head north on his own. But John knows he'd worry terribly, as much for anyone Bucky encounters as for Bucky, himself. The near dust-up with Charles is proof enough that the man isn't ready to be on his own.]

Every man has one. [Said with a sniff as he carefully unlocks an arm and grabs the umbrella. John just wedges it between his legs before grabbing onto Bucky's neck again. This shifting around isn't terribly good for his ribs, but once he settles again, it's easier. John looks up at Bucky to gauge how he's doing before resting his head against the other man's shoulder.]

We'll get to the hospital today. Don't care if the weather's perfect for travel. We're stopping there. Understand?

[He's pretty worried about John, all things considered. His ribs could so easily shift and cause internal damage that could be fatal, his leg stops him from walking well, any of his open wounds could get infected here. He's half inclined to call for another doctor to take care of this doctor, but that would require trusting one of them and he just doesn't.

This will just have to do, he'll have to try and not jostle John as much as possible. Maybe he's overly concerned, but he's acutely aware that all of these injuries are his fault. A visible mark of just how much he's slipped.]

Fine.

[That, at least, he's not going to argue about. Not wanting to waste any more time, he's moving through the aquarium and out into the cold. It cuts through like knives after days in the relative warmth, and he staggers a few steps before righting himself again.]

I guess I shouldn't take a video of this for future blackmail then?

[Awkward attempts at a joke will diffuse this tension and distract from how much more this hurts than he expected it to, right?]

I hate you.

[John goes with the awkward attempt at humor and just tries not to shift or move or breathe too much. He's a little worried that Bucky's just going to outright topple over as they step outside.]

If you take a picture of me, I swear I'll take a picture back and turn you into the next Norfinbury meme.

[For just a second there's a tightening of his expression as the paranoia whispers that John might actually do it, that his picture might get out there, but even he can see how ridiculous that is. Even in his private notes, he still respected Bucky's wish for anonymity.

So he relaxes back into a smile that's only spoiled slightly by the sweat pouring down a pale face, even in the cold.]

Why would I be ashamed of that? I look strong here, you're the dame being swept up.

[Dame. God, it's easy to forget what era Bucky's from until he uses words like that.]

Tch! I'd wait until I got down. And then get you while you're brushing your teeth or something tonight. All foamy and mussed hair.

I don't own a toothbrush.

[That's the important take away from this, right?]

Besides, I assume your tablet is in your pack, I can just hold it to ransom.

You don't... Jesus, Bucky! [Enjoy your lecturing dad tone now.]

I've got an extra tube of toothpaste. You're using that tonight. Next you'll be telling me you haven't washed your hair since you got here.

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