✈ day one hundred and eighty six, video & spam

[diealone]

[Just before setting off into port, you're being treated to another public service announcement, courtesy of the angry inmate doctor.

For the first time in what's probably a couple weeks, Jack isn't wearing scrubs or a lab coat when he turns on the video feed, but he's still in the infirmary. He's just in the process of slinging a backpack over his shoulder and apparently getting ready to leave.]

I know I'm not the first person to say it, but trust me - pack before you go running off into the woods by yourself. Bandages, plenty of water, food, something to build a fire, all of it. We have no idea how long we're going to be here, and you run out of things faster than you think you will.

If you get hurt and don't have any first aid experience, get in touch with me or one of the other doctors. Don't try to pull anything out of a puncture wound unless it's basically a sliver, I don't care what you saw in a movie about needing to dig a bullet out, and don't eat anything you don't recognize. [Which he feels like should go without saying, but considering some of the stuff he's seen people do here... yeah, going to say it anyway.]

Stay smart and stay safe. See you guys back here in a couple days.

[Spam for Scott]

[Jack hadn't asked too many questions about why Scott had seemed relatively insistent on hanging out with him versus doing... anything else. The doctor might not like being an inmate - and probably never will - but he's definitely become fond of his warden, and there are definitely worse ways to spend the next couple days than hiking around in the woods with him.

Really, he probably could have been saddled with just about anyone, and he'd probably still be having a nice couple days ahead of him. He's missed this. Missed it a lot, actually, so even if this planet isn't anything close to the Island, it's still nice to off the Barge and away from his old apartment and the infirmary and everything else, and part of him almost wishes he didn't have to go back.

Almost, but being here forever isn't where he needs to be, so here we are.

They've been walking for a while in silence, and while that's fine, Scott definitely seems a little... off. Not quite sullen, not quite unspeakably upset, but off, and after a while, it's not something he feels like he can get away totally ignoring.]

If you're getting tired, we can stop and have lunch. [Or you can talk about what's bugging you? Either way.]

Comments

[americasdirtiest]

And vodka.

[diealone]

I guess vodka helps, too.

[And he's not enough of a stick in the mud right now to try and say "drink responsibly, keep hydrated!!" and all that, so. Yay?]

[americasdirtiest]

[Maybe he senses something, though, because he raises an eyebrow.] It's an antiseptic.

[diealone]

Believe me, I know. [It's all they'd had when the plane had gone down, before they'd had access to anything in the hatch or the other stations.]

But if you need antiseptic, the infirmary can get you some that isn't going to get used up before you need to clean anything.

[americasdirtiest]

[He grins.] Yeah, but you can't drink that shit. [He's not saying that's not part of it.]

[diealone]

[Jack shrugs, a small grin forming on his face.] I'm not going to stop you. I'm a doctor, not a high school guidance counselor.

[americasdirtiest]

[Pfffft. He snickers.] Hey, you could be. Don't think I ever met mine.

[Jack may or may not have met Mickey, but he probably knows his face: the kid's been on board two weeks and he's already been to the infirmary twice with telltale signs of a fistfight.]

[diealone]

[In that case, yes, he's definitely probably noticed. u_u]

You might have to wait a while. Some people go without for months, others wind up stuck with one the same week they get here.

[americasdirtiest]

...guidance counselors?

[diealone]

That's basically what wardens are, aren't they?

[americasdirtiest]

...I'm a fucking warden.

[diealone]

[Jack laughs, and it's not unkind? But it's definitely not embarrassed, either.]

Sorry. Usually when people are picking fights and winding up in the infirmary within the first couple weeks of being here? It's not because they asked to come along for the ride.

[americasdirtiest]

[It's not like it's the first time he's been mistaken for an inmate. Dudes with knuckle tattoos are not usually in positions of authority. He sighs irritably, running a hand through his hair.]

I made a fucking deal, okay. I'm working for my payday just like anybody else. Story, end of.

[diealone]

That's fine. [He likes to think he's learned his lesson about first impressions, and judging people.

(He hasn't, really. But he doesn't know Mickey yet, and maybe when he does, things will either be fine, or fall apart, because Jack Shephard is a sanctimonious asshole.)]

Some of the best people I know have done a lot stupider stuff than picking a fight with someone they shouldn't.

[americasdirtiest]

Hey, for the record, I totally did not start the first one.

[Not that it really matters, because he would have under the right circumstances. Fists are a language he finds much easier than English.]

Actually-- [He hesitates, probes a tooth with his tongue, winces slightly.] You're the doctor, right?

[diealone]

Yeah.

[Note: he does not clarify that he's one of the doctors, or how technically he has no authority here at all.

gj jack way 2 b a team player]

cw: abuse

[americasdirtiest]

Some asshole-- [His dad.] Some asshole cracked a tooth a couple of days before I came around. It hurts like a motherfucker sometimes and I wanna eat ice cream again, like, ever. You do shit like that?

[diealone]

I'm not a dentist, but I can take a look, sure.

[americasdirtiest]

After the port, though, 'cause I'm supposed to go camping.

[diealone]

I'll see you after port, then. Try to stay out of trouble.

[dinosize]

[ ahhhh this is all sensible, good ]

I'll keep an eye out for anyone who needs first aid.

[diealone]

Thanks. Stephen, right?

[dinosize]

Yes.

I'm not a doctor. But I'm certified, in England - first aid, CPR.

[diealone]

You have a lot of opportunity to us it before coming here?

[dinosize]

More than you'd think.

[diealone]

I was the only doctor on an island after a plane crash for a couple months. My bar's set pretty high.

[dinosize]

Months?

I suppose it's silly to ask about transponders.

[diealone]

Probably. My universe seems pretty boring compared to the rest of yours, technology wise.

[dinosize]

I'm from 2007. Airplanes usually have beacons. And radios.

[diealone]

We crashed in 2004. Six hours into the flight, our radio went out. The pilots turned around to try and land in Fiji, but we hit turbulence and went down. I went looking for the cockpit with two of the other survivors, found the pilot and the transceiver, but the only person who knows anything about radios or sending out distress signals couldn't get a signal out because it was being blocked by one being broadcasted from the island. Eventually it ran out of batteries.

[dinosize]

Tough luck.

[diealone]

[Jack shrugs.]

We survived.

[But yeah. It sucked.]

[dinosize]

Well, my background is in evolutionary history, and athletics. I was a fencing and shooting champion. After that, a lab technician, and a specialist in tracking rare animal specimens. Most anything outdoors, I've done at least once. You get a lot of sprained ankles and broken bones, minor cases of frostbite, idiots cutting open their hands. Bites, stings, scratches.

[diealone]

What kind of animals?

[dinosize]

I'm flexible.

[diealone]

Maybe you'll get lucky with this port.

[dinosize]

Lucky would be no bears, raptors, sabretooths, or otherwise large, fast predators.

[diealone]

[... Wait.]

You've never been to Jurassic Park, have you?

[Asked in that sort of way where it sounds like he's not sure if he wants the answer to be yes or no, in a sort of funny way. After all, he's met Captain America.]

[dinosize]

From the movie?

No.

I have come face to face with a raptor.

[diealone]

You mind if I ask how?

[dinosize]

Anomalies. They started appearing, started bringing creatures from distant times into the present.

[ Notice how he doesn't just say from the past. ]

[diealone]

So, not just dinosaurs.

[dinosize]

No.

[ Not just dinosaurs. ]

[semifreakingnormal]

I'm not tired.

[It comes out automatically, and it's mostly true - physically, he's fine. He could probably keep going for another day like this and be fine. But he can't deny that a part of him doesn't feel exhausted.

So even though he keeps walking, Scott slows, and glances back at Jack, shrugging his backpack - filled with water and food, now - off his shoulder.]

But I guess we should eat. Do you want a...Snickers, or a granola bar? [Scott McCall, master of nutrition.]

[diealone]

[Jack lets out a surprised chuckle.] Remind me to do a seminar on how to pack well for ports like this when we get back. [Don't worry, he says it like he's teasing, and he sort of is?

But seriously, those are not great food choices, hopefully you packed some other stuff.]

I'll trade you a sandwich for a granola bar. [He'd packed a couple, don't worry.]

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott smiles and ducks his head, fishing out a bar and handing it over.]

I've got trail mix, too. And some apples and pears.

[Look Scott doesn't usually go hiking and stuff, okay. He sits down on a fallen branch, running his forearm over his forehead.]

Was the Island like this? Humid and kinda gross?