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[devoutish]

Yeah?

[That's it, that's all you get.]

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[jumpthegun]

[An hallucination. Right. He can still see her staring into his eyes, dead-on. Very dead-on. It's a long moment for his reply as John squeezes his eyes shut. He has to think of Alfie here, of how frightening this must be for him, as well. What this might mean if it wasn't just an hallucination.]

Probably. Yeah. Just... just thought you should know. I'm all healed up, even my ear. Heading down to the hospital. Sherlock said he wanted to see people as soon as possible after they die and come back.

[devoutish]

All right.

[Sorry, Watson. Normally he'd have a lot more to say.]

[jumpthegun]

[John's regretting telling him now, intensely. It's something that would have come out eventually, but his heart is breaking a little with that reply--that non-reply. He has no idea how to make this hurt less. It's a stab in the gut to go along with every other sling and arrow this place has thrown at them.]

Alfie, I...

[What can he say? He can't offer much comfort here physically, which is what he'd really want to do. There aren't words for this and how horrible wrong it is.]

Call me when you're up for it, all right?

[devoutish]

[It's okay, Watson. If you hadn't told him, he would have been pissed.]

I don't think you want to hear what I've got to say, John.

[jumpthegun]

I want to hear whatever it is you've got to say if you'd like to say it, Alfie.

[Mainly because it distracts from the things swirling around in his own head.]

[devoutish]

It's nothing that matters much anymore.

[jumpthegun]

Matters enough for you to mention. What is it?

[devoutish]

These are not good thoughts.

[He's giving you one last out if you don't want to hear his morbid shit.]

[jumpthegun]

[We're all in here, Alfie.]

I'm listening, Alfie, whatever it is.

[devoutish]

I've seen men beaten to death, or beaten nearly to death. It's not a pretty picture. It's not what you do when you want someone gone, it's what you do when you want to cause them a large amount of pain. It's not easy. It takes a long time. It's drawn out. There's screams. I hear those screams in her voice, now.

[jumpthegun]

[Jesus Christ, Alfie. Well, that's in his head now. Wonderful to go along with the very, very real visual that's sitting there. He stares straight ahead at the bathroom wall for several seconds--he'd holed up in here for some privacy from the others--before managing a reply.]

You need to get something else in your head, then, Alfie. Another voice, one that isn't... that's not that. Is Duster there with you? Can you talk to him?

I'm sorry, I-I can't... not aloud over these. I don't sound any sort of good.

[devoutish]

I'm not expecting you to, mate. I told you you didn't need to hear it.

Things like this fade with time. I've got the good memories, too.

[jumpthegun]

How's it go? A problem shared is a problem halved? Reckon it might work here. I hope sharing takes some of the burden off.

[devoutish]

But not with you. Not the bad.

[No self-sacrifice allowed, Watson.]

Share some of your own good memories of her, if you like.

[jumpthegun]

[Alfie, you are both frustrating and a good friend for it. John struggles to pull up some good memories to cover over the bad ones.]

The first time we talked it was because she was trying to trade her condoms and some other things. I didn't have anything, offered some favors, instead. Told her I was good with my hands as a doctor. It made her laugh.

[devoutish]

I'll bet she did.

[He's almost smiling, on his end.]

[jumpthegun]

Give us one of yours, then. We'll trade back and forth.

[devoutish]

You don't want a lot of mine.

The singing, on the network. I found it again the other day.

[jumpthegun]

[By which, John assumes Alfie means him and Fiona kissing... or doing something more.]

Singing? ... Oh! Right. When you were doing soldier songs. I'd nearly forgotten about that. Here barely two months... too much happens. That was fun. Regular set of crooners the lot of us.

[devoutish]

Those silly party games of yours, those weren't bad. The two of you have good stories.

[jumpthegun]

Her party games were better than mine, as I recall. Your stories aren't bad, though... Huck Finn. And I've got the living version of my best stories here, now. You can check with him if they're true.

[devoutish]

He'll make them sound more mundane, I'm sure.

[jumpthegun]

It's his life, and he's mad. 'Course he thinks it's all mundane.

[The ghost of a smile lifts John's lips for a moment.]

We'll play games again when she gets back. Maybe even cozy up in a bed together when none of us are injured. Get Emily to draw us another fire. That was fine.

[devoutish]

It's less cold now, we won't need to.

[Sorry Watson, he still thinks that was weird as fuck. Necessary, but weird.]

[jumpthegun]

[It's a joke, Alfie. Mostly.]

Thank you for the weather report, Mr. Solomons.

I think I was only gone a day, but has anything important happened?

[Talking of the weather and news.]