(no subject)
It took a long time to wander out to the boulders, and even knowing that the trip would be useless, John made the journey anyway. It didn't really matter how long or far he walked, the voice - now voices - in his head weren't going anywhere, but at least at the boulders there would be few to see him rave. Before too long, he'd have to change locations. This was trip three for this week alone, and soon people would know where to look for him.
Swinging himself up onto the highest boulder, John stared out at the ocean for a while. Still as it was in the distance, this close to shore the waves were always loud, and John took comfort in the din before laying back against the rock and unholstering Winona.
He hummed to himself as he positioned his hand in front of the barrel, just the same as he'd done twice before in the last seven days.
You can't.
John's eyes flicked down to the rock below him, where Scorpius was huge black smear against the stone. John squinted, but he couldn't tell which one it was come to taunt him - malignant or benign. "You sayin' that because you won't let me?"
Because he won't let you, Crichton. Scorpius stretched, sunning himself like a monstrous cockroach, but there was a moment when John thought he saw him shudder. Like maybe the other Scorpius scared him, too.
"Harvey," said John, naming his companion. Just the clone, as stuck with John as John was with him, thanks to neural spillover after the real clone was cut out of John's brain. "I'm gonna do it this time. You know why? Because he's not real."
John put his palm over the barrel and tried to squeeze the trigger.
The alien sighed, but John's expression only grew more manic as the man himself grew more determined. "He's not real, and he doesn't control me."
His hand shook against the cool metal of the gun. "C'mon! It's not even my brain, here!" He clapped his palm harder against the gun and squeezed with all his might. Ten seconds later, Winona fired, and John let out a long and joyful whoop into the sky above.
And that's when it really started to hurt.
[ooc: confusing, I know, but this is part of That Plot. And yes, John just shot a hole in his hand]
Swinging himself up onto the highest boulder, John stared out at the ocean for a while. Still as it was in the distance, this close to shore the waves were always loud, and John took comfort in the din before laying back against the rock and unholstering Winona.
He hummed to himself as he positioned his hand in front of the barrel, just the same as he'd done twice before in the last seven days.
You can't.
John's eyes flicked down to the rock below him, where Scorpius was huge black smear against the stone. John squinted, but he couldn't tell which one it was come to taunt him - malignant or benign. "You sayin' that because you won't let me?"
Because he won't let you, Crichton. Scorpius stretched, sunning himself like a monstrous cockroach, but there was a moment when John thought he saw him shudder. Like maybe the other Scorpius scared him, too.
"Harvey," said John, naming his companion. Just the clone, as stuck with John as John was with him, thanks to neural spillover after the real clone was cut out of John's brain. "I'm gonna do it this time. You know why? Because he's not real."
John put his palm over the barrel and tried to squeeze the trigger.
The alien sighed, but John's expression only grew more manic as the man himself grew more determined. "He's not real, and he doesn't control me."
His hand shook against the cool metal of the gun. "C'mon! It's not even my brain, here!" He clapped his palm harder against the gun and squeezed with all his might. Ten seconds later, Winona fired, and John let out a long and joyful whoop into the sky above.
And that's when it really started to hurt.
[ooc: confusing, I know, but this is part of That Plot. And yes, John just shot a hole in his hand]