Crazy hell, I don't want to let you down. [CLOSED]

[awfulcer]

Who: Jason Dixon and Cassie
What: Cassie tries to build morale for the stragglers.
Where: The trail to Weathertop
When: Before the Squad Spa Retreat
Warnings/Notes: The usual Dixon warnings.

[Day three is no easier for Dixon than day one or day two, but in a different way. The first two days seemed to be breaking his body in to this much effort, finding new places to ache and pain and burn and fatigue. Day three is like knuckling down on all those discomforts to straight-up agonies and intensifying them as much as possible. His back feels as if it has a knife shoved under one shoulderblade; his shins feel loaded with razors, his ankles barely supporting him. He was sweating the last two days but now it seems his body's given up on that, and the only trace of that is the spackling of salt along his scalp and stubble. When he stops for even a moment, he trembles like a leaf.

He's trying as hard as he can. It's gotten him as far as not being left behind entirely, but that's about it. He's not carrying as much as the others on account of having pushed himself to the point of illness on the first day keeping up with a full pack, and invariably he's the last to any resting point, last one into camp, the drag even among the stragglers.

And yet this blonde Wonder Girl chick he doesn't even like, who doesn't even like him, seems to keep making trips back to make sure he's okay. He almost wants to keel over and die just to give her something new to look at besides him doubled over, panting and shaking, which he's pretty sure is a rote sight to her by now.]

Just go on ahead. [He waves a hand at Cassie. His mouth and throat are dry as hell, but the idea of actually unhitching the cargo he has to fish out the animal-hide water is too much effort to consider.] I don't need you holding yourself up on account of me.

Comments

[mark_in_the_sands]

Who's getting held up? It's not like getting to where ever we're going to camp tonight is going to be that exciting.

[At least, she hopes it won't be exciting. They haven't gotten attacked yet, but they all know it's coming. Which is at least one of the reasons she keeps falling back to check on the stragglers like Dixon. She doesn't like him much, but she definitely doesn't want him dead or kidnapped or something. And even if he doesn't get attacked, there's a non-zero chance of him getting injured all on his own.]

Besides, the later I get there, the more likely someone will have already taken care of set up.

[He clearly doesn't care for the idea of people looking out for him - hello, confrontation at the temple - so she's willing to at least pretend she's checking in for her own benefit.

She resettles her bag, trying to find a position for it that's comfortable. Even their best attempts at supplying themselves with carrying capacity aren't very good. Maybe she can talk someone into trading back massages at camp tonight.]

Where's your water?

[awfulcer]

Good point.

[Dixon's dense as a post, but he can tell what she's doing. On some level, he both appreciates it and resents it. He already feels like crap for being the weakest link, and Cassie's checking on him reminds him of that like salt in a wound, but at the very least she's being gentle about it. He could use gentle right now. He's raw and fragile lately, and a little kindness is going a long way with him.

He tries to stand up straight, then realizes he's not ready for that yet. He wants to sit down more than anything in the world, but he knows if he does, he'll never get back up. He's seriously concerned about the back pain. Maybe he's done permanent damage, who knows. Compared to his miserable trudge, Cassie's practically floating up the mountain.]

Somewhere in the bag. I voted fucking Candyland... [He mutters and wipes his nose, which is trickling blood again and has been intermittently since he got into it with Ronan, on the back of his hand, because there aren't many other options.

He finally does manage to get back to standing, but he doesn't try to move any further than that yet. He gives her a level look.]

Sorry I lost my head at you before.

[mark_in_the_sands]

[The nosebleed gets a raised eyebrow, but she smooths out her expression when he makes eye contact and apologizes. That's definitely a step in the right direction.

Apology accepted. We're all still kind of on edge.

[She's definitely not going to apologize for keeping an eye on him while he freaked out, though. Time for a quick subject change.]

Do you want me to fish out your water for you? It might be easier to let everything settle into a new position while you've already got the bag on.

[awfulcer]

No shit. [For a moment he wants to brush her off again and get the water himself, but the idea of doing so is just so exhausting, as if just thinking about it makes his limbs heavy and his head dizzy.]

If it's not a problem. [He's already wearing an invisible mark of shame being so behind everyone else. He may as well toss out the remainder of his pride and admit how hard this all is. She can tell already, he knows it. She wouldn't keep checking back in if she couldn't.]

[mark_in_the_sands]

Not a problem at all.

[Cassie drops her bag -- she's going to regret it when she needs to pick it up again, but it's going to be hard enough rummaging through someone else's bag without her's shifting around, and in the meantime it is sweet relief -- and heads over to try and find Dixon's water skin. The guy looks even worse up close, it's not hard to feel sympathy for him. Cassie might not have been prepared for a multi-day trek over hill and dale, but Dixon was prepared even less.]

So, where are you from? Since we never really did any getting-to-know-you small-talk.

[She's guessing "probably from somewhere in the South by his accent, but she's a west coast girl and hasn't spent much time in non-coastal regions, excepting a couple trips to Kansas to hang out with Kon.

[awfulcer]

Missouri. Town called Ebbing, but you ain't heard of it, I can guarantee. We ain't even a thousand people and we're way out from the city. [Probably explains more about him than he realizes.] You?

[When she gets the water he finally manages to straighten up all the way. He's shivering, body regulation thrown out of wack by all the exertion. He staunches the nosebleed against the sleeve of his jacket, which, between the Wheelers and hunting squirrels at the temple, is pretty unsalvageably stained anyway.]

Thanks. [He takes a small sip of water.] Wonder Girl.

[mark_in_the_sands]

Yeah, I'm barely familiar with Missouri at all. I'm from Gateway City, California. It's got the biggest collection of Greek antiquities outside of Greece, and that's my mom's specialty. She's an archeologist.

[Her throat tightens. She's pretty confident that they can handle themselves long enough for backup to find them, but she hates the idea that something might happen to her and her mother never knowing where she went or why. She shakes it off, pushing the feeling away and making a joke to keep it away:]

Which is a job involving way fewer death traps than Indiana Jones movies would suggest.

[She walks back to her bag and picks it up again, flashing him something that's half a smile and half a grimace because ugh, bag.]

See, it doesn't even sound like you think that's a ridiculous thing to call someone anymore.

[awfulcer]

I never been to California. Furthest west I ever went was Topeka for a concert. [He feels, unwittingly, a similar pang to Cassie. That concert (the Dixie Chicks, before they turned into a bunch of shitty liberals) with his dad as a high school graduation gift, is one of his favorite memories about his much-beloved father. Whom he'll never see again, because death is even more permanent than magical quests, he thinks.

He sees the flick of emotion cross her face, and shoots her a sympathetic look. He can guess that she's thinking of home too.]

An archeologist. For Greek stuff. [He probably couldn't have told you what an archeologist was if she hadn't given him some context; his memory of Indiana Jones is mostly "hates snakes" and "in that movie where a guy's face melted off". He was scared of the latter as a kid.]

Nah, it's still ridiculous. It's just better than "hey, you". And at least people can pronounce it, which is more than some of the folks here can say.