(no subject)

[shambler]

Who| R and Joan Watson, R and Shion, R and Maximus, R and Bert.
What| R searches for help for his eating problem. He also searches for help on his groaning. Throw in the awkwardness of post-Arena.
When| Before the aliens plot.
Where| About the Capitol. R has a surprisingly wide shuffling range given enough time.
Warnings| None yet.

Cuthbert

He hangs around the Training Center even after Maximus takes off for whatever it is Victors do when they’re not killing people. He probably should go back to the District Four suites. Go home. Get sprayed in the face with his Escort’s perfume. Listen to her setting up interviews for magazines where she’ll do most – try all – of the talking and he’ll sit there staring.

R drags his feet. Normally he’d be pretending he has a social life like everyone else out there. Go hang out with Howard, try to work up the nerve to ask Julie on a date. Sit there while Wyatt carves those shapes out of wood. Now he can’t. He thought it’d be easier going back to how things used to be, pre-Julie.

He’s groaning in frustration without even realizing it, standing there swaying before the archery range.

“Uggggh….!”

Yeah, he’s sulking. So?

Joan Watson

R gets nervous after the first day going cold turkey. No matter how much his Escort scolds him, he keeps his teeth clamped behind the muzzle until she gives up with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest while the plate of substitute flesh goes cold. It’s definitely not body-heart warm anymore. She leaves it on the bed. Hours tick by and R starts to think a little bite wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like he’s killing anyone this time…

He’s lucid enough to realize he needs to call in the cavalry. Maybe he’s supposed to do this all on his own but he chickens out – he wants to talk to someone, someone who he didn’t kill directly or indirectly. R catches himself before he starts automatically heading for Julie. No Julie today. The subject of eating is off the table with her. Someone else. Someone neutral who he feels like he can groan a thing or two with. R staggers away from Julie’s door with his head hanging down, trying to rack his mind for candidates and not walk into a wall while he’s thinking.

Joan Watson. The woman he chased up a boulder and she still had it in her to ask why. Question lady. Something about addicts. Counseling. R guesses he could use some counseling, whatever that is. Make it a two-pronged attack on the hunger from both Maximus and Joan.

R’s relieved when he finds her, bumping into the door frame as he groans and forgets all about creepy staring.

“You…free? Need…your…help…”

Shion

Day Two of his new diet.

R needs a distraction. Something to keep his mind off the daydreams he has. Sometimes he catches himself staring hungrily at someone – an Avox or an Escort in the elevator – and he pictures them on the floor, his teeth sunk into the meat of their arm. Other times he doesn’t even realizing he’s seeing red. That’s when he realizes he needs something to distract him.

It’s when he realizes he’s groaning again that he’s had enough. He’s tired of groaning and moaning and everything in between. If he’s going to try to fix his whole chewing up all his friends problem, he might as well try to do something about the speech thing.

R plants himself in front of Shion’s bedroom door and waits. He’s still staring at it creepily, fixed on some imaginary dirt spot, when it opens.

Maximus

Three days later and R’s really struggling to remember things like punctuality and battle plans. He can’t breathe, so he can’t “breathe-in, breathe-out and find his inner peace”. He remembers Maximus, the flash of his blade. Blood splashing red in the desert air. Maximus equals food and relief and remembering what it means to be something other than a walking set of teeth.

R staggers into the Training Center, bumping his way into a door-frame here, knocking over a weapons stand there as he sniffs nosily around. It smells of cold hard steel, the same cleanser that was in the closet. Underneath that all is human Life wafting along. Hopefully it’s Maximus. R’s already leery about his self-control with the hunger clawing away inside, telling him it’s a really good idea to stick some fingers through his muzzle and bite them off. The good news is he hasn’t figured out how to unclasp his muzzle.

Maybe the Escort’s onto his plan. She at least had the foresight to keep it on nice and tight – Eponine proofed it, even.

R waits for Maximus, looking like a miserable corpse of a boy until someone makes the mistake of getting grabbing distance close. At least he’s not drooling yet. Even hungry, R still wants to show Maximus he’s not like that dried out husk following him around the desert.

Comments

[formersurgeon]

Those are words that always get to Joan. She has a soft spot for people who want to change, who are trying to be better. She was an addiction counselor, she knows how hard that change can be, knows it's a long road that is fraught with obstacles and setbacks. But one of the reasons she kept going as long as she did was because of situations just like this. He wants to change. Sincerely wants to be better.

"I'll do what I can to help you. Have you tried to do this sort of thing before?"

She needs to know what, if anything he's tried before, what has seemed to help and what hasn't.

[shambler]

"Wanted to but..." R shrugs. Couldn't. The longest he thinks he resisted was a few days but with M and the other zombies groaning, it was hard to say no and stick to his guns. Easier to go with the crowd. It's always easier. "Trying...diet. But...hard."

R wheezes, trying to think of more specifics. He sits there for a few long seconds working out which words he can squeeze out past his muzzle. At least he feels comfortable that Joan won't rush him. She's looking at him like he imagines she'd look at her human patients. R likes that.

"Ad-vice?"

[formersurgeon]

"A lot of what works for drug cravings is being able to endure the craving, knowing it will subside. Have you ever had that experience? Being able to wait out the hunger?"

[shambler]

R sits there with his hands in his lap, looking like a Dead school boy in front of the principle.

"Gets...worse," R says. It doesn't go away, he'd add, except...it did. He had gone at least three days with Julie without thinking constantly about feeding. That was before the Arena, though. "Distracted...but...not same...here."

[formersurgeon]

She frowns slightly and tilts her head. "What do you mean, distracted?" She has some idea of what it might mean, but she doesn't want to assume.

[shambler]

R shrugs. "Julie. Wanted...to protect."

Basically somehow he'd forgotten about eating. R still hasn't figured out that happened. It didn't save Julie back at the Cornucopia, R hunching his shoulders and staring hesitantly at Joan.

"Can't...promise. Came...to you." For some reason the zombie had it in his head that Joan could get better results with her being a professional.

[formersurgeon]

"I'm glad you did."

Okay, so there was at least something that helped him control his hunger. That's good to know.

"I think we might want to start by testing to see if the hunger can be waited out. That means we'll have to restrain you, so you won't hurt me if you can't keep yourself from attacking. Is that something you'd be okay with?"

[shambler]

"If...strong...rope," R didn't sound like the most confident corpse out there, frowning behind the muzzle at Joan. "What...then?"

How would this be different with Maximus? R didn't pin Joan as some fighter willing to decapitate a few people for a zombie, so he was getting a little worried. He might have a higher chance of hurting Joan. Then again, she'd outsmarted him last time, so maybe not.

[formersurgeon]

"Then we wait it out. See if it subsides with time. While we're doing that, I can try some things. Distractions, relaxation techniques, things like that."

She's not sure the techniques will work like they do on addiction, particularly if his hunger isn't something that he could sit down with a sponsor and wait out. But she's willing to try.

We could time skip to him being hungry like that if you wanted to play it out?

[shambler]

"You're...the boss," R tried to play it off like this was no big deal. Like they were in this together and he was another one of her human patients. The truth was he had no idea what a relaxation technique would feel like or her casual things like that meant. "Hope...it...helps."

Time skip!

[formersurgeon]

Getting strong rope wound up being surprisingly easy. Maybe the training room stocked it so Tributes could practice knots and such for survival purposes. Whatever the reason, Joan was able to procure some and bring it back to her room. Binding R was also easier that she expected. Sherlock had taught her a number of knots, and taught her which ones were easy to get out of and which would hold even the most aggressive suspect. She was pleased that she remembered those knots, and was able to secure R in a chair in her room.

Now all they have to do is wait.

[shambler]

It takes about three days for R to start moaning. Another two before he starts to thrash against the chair, the ropes creaking. Lucky for Joan, it's good ropes and even better knots: R remains restrained, unable to worm himself out, the look on his face starting to look eerily similar to their first meeting even if he's not withered to leather like before.

The zombie struggles again, the rope twisting across his chest and arms and ruining the nice new clothes he'd been stuck in a few days ago. His Escort will pitch a fit when she sees it.

[formersurgeon]

Joan spent most of that time with him, of course, talking. Much of it was about the Capitol, since she was still researching and it was easier to think about something when she could think aloud to someone. It's one of the reasons, among many, that she misses her Sherlock.

He's gotten to the point where he's struggling against his bonds and staring at her like she's dinner. Which, she supposes, is fairly accurate from his perspective.

"R?" She's sitting in front of him, close but out of his reach. "Can you take a deep breath for me?"

She knows he's dead and doesn't need to breathe. Work with her here.

[shambler]

The talking seems like a mixed bag. There's times when R seems happy to sit and stare open mouthed at R and then there's the other times; the words shiver across his skin and he starts lunging again with a second wind in him. If he wasn't stuck to this chair, he swears he could lurch forward and sink his teeth into her shoulder.

Joan catches him on one of the rarer calm moments where he stares and stares. It takes a few minutes for the words to connect. Breath. He doesn't need to breathe, but it's necessary to talk. He likes talking. Used to like talking.

After a long pause, R sucks in a shaky breath that rasps in and out, still staring at Joan's face expectantly. His fingers curl around the arm-rests.

[formersurgeon]

"Good," she says. He's responding to her in a way that isn't looking like he'd like to tear a chunk of flesh out of her. Or, at least not just that.

"Close your eyes and do it again."

[shambler]

Another delay almost as long as the first before R's eyes drift closes. His chest rises and falls and out comes another breath rattling out. His fingers are still curled into claws against the chair, his shoulders straining forward toward Joan.

[formersurgeon]

It's an odd situation, since she is simultaneously counselor and substance of choice. She had been hoping that by having him close his eyes she would be reducing that temptation, but he can still smell her, which is probably temptation enough.

"Tell me about Julie."

[shambler]

A low groan rumbles out of R.

"Ssshee's...." He's slurring badly. Normally he'd swallow, try again without the incoherency. He knows Julie just like he knows that voice nearby, so close he can almost taste her. "Sun....sshine. Hope."

Hope for who? All R has is the word "hope" wandering around with nowhere to go. His eyes start to drift open despite being told to keep them shut.

[formersurgeon]

She sees that, and leans forward slightly. "Keep your eyes closed, okay? I want you to picture her. Tell me what she looks like."

[shambler]

With a rattling sigh, R manages to keep his eyes closed. It helps, a little. Joan still smells good enough to bite, but he's established these are damn good knots too.

"Sshe's...blue...eyes. Long...huh-hair," R gets out. It's like pulling nails to even get single syllable words out today.

[formersurgeon]

"You said you wanted to protect her, not eat her. Why?"

Maybe if he could generalize that, see everyone as people to protect instead of food.

[shambler]

It's such a tough question R pauses in his miserable groaning, actually thinking it through.

"I...love. I think. She's...human," R grunts, the most coherent he's been. The idea of eating Julie makes his head droop as he remembers nearly eating her at the last Arena. Now R's moaning and groaning all over again, starting to get agitated.

[formersurgeon]

She had suspected it was something like that.

"Love can be a powerful thing," she says. "You were able to keep from hurting Julie. It was motivated by your love for her, but it was still a choice. You can make that choice again."

[shambler]

The hunger gnashes its teeth. It doesn't want to listen. R does. It's not a good middle ground here as he fights the urge to open his eyes and try that whole lunging thing again. If Joan sees all this perspective, then it'd be a lot easier to nip her frontal lobe and soak it up like a sponge.

"Mggh," R mutters into his muzzle. "Can't. Didn't...stop...last..."

R dissolves into wordless groaning, the same kind that had wandered around and around Joan Watson's boulder her first night in the Arena.

[formersurgeon]

"It's okay." She's keeping her voice quiet, but also sure. Firm. With a strength that he can hold onto. She can be his strength, even when he doubts his own. It's something she's done with other clients, something that was particularly vital in her work with Sherlock. "Just relax. You're not going to hurt me, no matter what happens. Just breathe. Think of Julie."