John Watson internationally smuggles tea (imhisblogger) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2013-03-01 23:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | john watson, robin hood |
Who:Robin and John
What:Meeting and getting to use Robin's bow because of awesome reasons.
When:Backdated a few days ago
Where:Shooting/archery range
Warnings:noooooone
It’d been quite a while since John had actually practiced shooting. It was a difficult thing for him to do, brought back all sorts of unwanted memories. John knew however he needed to stay sharp in this world. It could be the difference between life and death. He wasn’t a skilled martial artist, or a time lord he was just human. It was late, John didn’t sleep very often though. He’d left Rose a note that he was going for a walk incase she woke to find him absent from their shared flat. She worried and the last thing he wanted to do was put more stress on her.
It wasn’t his original intention to end up at the range, but there he was. He was originally going to take his dog for a walk, but Toby refused to get up and go with him away from his warm bed and into the cold Kansas night. So that night it was just him, and to be honest he was fine with that. He could use a little quiet time. Between Sherlock giving him a heart attack being on the roof and China, he’d had his fill of crowds for a while.
John looked at the paper targets set up and felt for his gun. Always on him. Some habits died hard. His gun had a silencer on it, unless one knew what they were listening for it wasn’t about to wake anyone up. He really could get in some actual practice if he so felt the need. The cold wind however was tightening his hand already. He flexed it a few times. The range was nicely lit even at night. John found it oddly more comforting than he thought he would. It was quiet. Too quiet. As he breathed he could see it in the air, his eyes locked on the target ahead and he widened his stance a little to prepare for a back lash from the weapon. Holding the gun straight out and steadily, unwavering he fired at the paper target. Straight through the head without so much as a flinch. Everything around him became white noise. Nothing else existed for a few long moments outside of him and the target.
--
Robin had been glad to find the shooting range had an area for archery, as well. Clint had his indoor range, which was fine, but Robin would always prefer being outdoors. That, and since his arm had been so badly injured, he had preferred doing this alone. It had been easier at the start, because he’d borrowed a bow from Clink with a lighter draw weight. But he’d grown impatient, and started using his own again. Every time he did he felt the strain on muscles not used for a while, but the pain felt good. It meant he was doing something again, making some progress. And every night when he came here, he pushed himself that little bit harder, spending more time until he could barely pull the string back far enough any more.
There were any number of people who would disapprove, which is why he came at night. He’d told Much he went for a walk. Marian...well, he wasn’t sure what she thought. And after all his lectures about patience Simon would probably have a thing or two to say. But Robin had never been patient.
Resting the end of his bow against the ground, he leaned his arms on it as he took a break. He’d long since taken off his jacket, wearing just a short sleeve top despite the cool air. His hair had grown damp with sweat. It was then he realised he could hear someone else. He’d been here alone so many nights it was a surprise to hear anything breaking the quiet of the night. He glanced over at John, who was using his gun, and seemed entirely oblivious to the world around him.
---
John had indeed been lost to his thoughts. It wasn’t very difficult to do which was a little worrying at times. When Robin stopped shooting however, he caught his movement out of the corner of his eyes and stopped as well. Smoke rising from the barrel of the weapon. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Bow and Arrow? He only knew of a few that used a bow and arrow as a main weapon, and realized rather quickly it was Robin. He’d been chatting with him on the internet a while now.
“Didn’t think anyone else would be up this late.” It was take a walk or infomercials for him, this was not out of the ordinary. He was not having a lie in with a snuggie. He was not even going to touch that thing, so walk it was. Probably unwise at night in Kansas alone, but he wasn’t planning on broadcasting it to the world. He could take care of himself. At least he thought he could.
“All right there Robin?” He asked with a faint smile. Usually when one was out this late there was a reason.
--
“Yeah, just enjoying the quiet. Surprised to see anyone else here myself.” He didn’t recall seeing John here since he’d been coming so late. “Not much of a sleeper,” he added on to the end of it. Which was fairly obvious, but also a question in itself, because he could only assume that would be why someone else would be out here this time of night.
Lifting his bow over his shoulder, he walked down to the target, pulling his arrows free and checking the ends as he did. They hadn’t all been damaged. And most could be repaired. “You’re pretty good with that,” he nodded in the direction of the target in front of the other man, and the evidence of John’s impressive aim.
---
“Makes two of us.” He said sympathetically. Even before Kansas he’d never been one for a regular sleeping schedule. It worked out great when he lived with Sherlock. Sherlock was neurotic about schedule keeping, it left John the flat to himself. Now it mostly just left him alone. He lowered he weapon and shrugged. “It was this or horrid things on the telly.”
The fact that he was at the range with Robin Hood was kind of amusing to him. He’d known of the legends, but he never imagined he’d be having a chat with the legend himself. Much less shooting with him. “Decent I suppose. Little rusty though.” He added as he joined him, taking a look at the target as well. “I served as a sniper in the military.” It wasn’t a thing John often discussed openly, he wasn’t proud of killing but he figured if anyone could relate it was Robin. He was trying a hand at the trust thing. Claudia had said something like the first step was talking, or friendship, or whatever. So he offered an olive branch.
--
“I’d give that a try, but we’ve got Much taking over the couch at the moment. So it’s easier to just leave him to it.” That, and he wouldn’t actually sit there and watch television. It rarely held his interest for long.
Robin glanced at the target again, raising his eyebrows briefly. “If that’s you rusty, I can see why you were a sniper.” He dropped the arrows back in to the quiver at his back, walking over to where John had been shooting. “You’re a doctor too, yeah? Did you do both?” He asked curiously. He couldn’t claim to have been a fan of doctors, after his experience with them in the Holy land. Then again, things had changed rather dramatically since then, as Simon had proven.
“I was Captain of the King’s guard. Bit of everything, really.” Because he couldn’t just class himself as a sniper. And he would never use the word assassin, even though he’d been landed with it a time or two. He’d learn to dislike that he’d become renowned for it, early on.
---
“His name is really Much?” That was a new one on him. He wasn’t picking at it or anything, mostly just curious. He vaguely recalled Robin Hood and his trusty servant in the stories. Could that have been it?
He nodded some. “I haven’t been practicing as much as I should I suppose. It isn’t that easy anymore.” And then Robin was asking about doctoring, and his eyes darkened a little. “Was.” He corrected still a litte sour about how that ended up. He used to enjoy it, but after Sherlock’s passing he didn’t so much. After Sherlock he found it was difficult to enjoy much of anything until recently. He was learning to live his life again. Doctoring involved or not. “I was Captain as well. Of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” It surprised him just how much they seemed to have in common.
“The King’s Guard? Impressive. “ John didn’t have that many friends, he could always do with another. It was difficult though, learning to trust them but he was trying.
--
“Yeah, it is. Seems a bit strange to people now, I know. Suits him, though.” And he didn’t mean that to insult his friend. For all the teasing, he’d grown used to Much’s worrying, and fussing, and babbling. He’d miss it if it were gone.
“Were you hurt?” Robin asked. He wasn’t pushing anything. It was more a natural response to the comment than anything. He’d hardly have openly discussed what happened to him without anyone being inquisitive enough about it. He recognised the look on John’s face when he said he was a doctor, so he didn’t make comment. He wasn’t out to make himself a hypocrite, either. “Where did you serve?” Robin had done some reading on more modern events, but it would take a lot of reading to cover over eight hundred years of history. He was self assured enough to know it was impressive, particularly for someone as young as he’d been. But word had reached the King about him and what he could do, and the rest had gone from there.
---
“Just a bit. But at least it’s unique. Probably about a million other John Watsons in the world.” He said with a little smile as he joined him. “I always thought a bow would be cool, but never got around to actually firing one.” He had always admired sharp shooters like Robin and the Green Arrow, though he wasn’t really into that sort of thing he admired what they did for people and wished he could be like that.
“I was yes. Shot in attempt to protect my men. Then fell ill.” His time in the military hadn’t exactly been an easy one, though he suspected it wasn’t for many. The army wasn’t glorious as it was made out to be in films and in theory. It was hard time, it could break a lesser man. Probably didn’t help his current condition. He’d seen so many deaths over so much time it just chipped and chipped away at his sanity.
“Afghanistan was the most noteable. There were others though. You?” He knew some about the legends, but not everything. He was no expert. Besides they were chatting. That was progress. The last thing he wanted to do was shut down now, chatting about the war wasn’t an easy thing for him. He didn’t make another single comment about being a doctor, he hoped Robin wouldn’t either.
--end
"Feel like giving it a try?" Robin had no problem letting someone use his bow to give it a go. It wasn't as if anything could happen to it, here. And he always liked introducing people to one of his favourite activities. Even if the things that haunted him at the same time also made it one of his most hated. It was a bit of a contradiction, really. But he could never give it up.
I
Robin laughed wryly at that, but only very briefly. "Sorry, that's not actually funny. I was ordered home by the King after I was stabbed," he didn't add that it was by Gisborne. He didn't know if John knew but he figured he didn't need more reason to distrust the man who was seeing his friend. "The stitching became infected, and I took a fever. The similarities are sort of comical." In a somewhat dark way.
"Jerusalem." He knew it wasn't often referred to as often as the Holy Land any more. "For five years. Most of that time was spent near or in Acre." The King had spent many months, and many lives, fighting to get the city back under his control. "If I see another desert in this lifetime it will be too soon," he added more lightly. Mostly because he'd had enough of the topic. Hopefully, John would accept his offer to try his bow, or find some other way to change the subject.
----
“Really?” A chance at trying Robin Hood’s bow? Unlikely he was going to pass that up even if his hand was starting to give him issues. He could feel it tensing already in the cold air. He had to keep flexing it as he put the safety on his gun and put it away for a moment. Joining Robin. “I’ve not held one of these before.” He said motioning to the bow. “Not entirely sure how. Seems we’ve got enough battle wounds between us, wouldn’t want to give us any more.” He mused slightly.
Then Robin was laughing and he raised a sandy blond eyebrow. He too couldn’t help but smirk a little. “How is it it took us this long to meet?” It was the first time he’d really tried talking about the military very much though. It wasn’t shocking that they hadn’t. But tonight for some reason he felt rather like sharing.
“I understand that feeling all too well.” He said about the desert and came to touch the bow carefully as though he were afraid of damaging it somehow.
--end
“Sure, if you’d like.” Robin’s tone was only slightly bemused. Mostly because he knew the notoriety that went along with his name, now. And mostly because he didn’t mind it in the least. He went to pass it over, but at John’s comment instead changed his grip on it, lifting it as though he were about to fire, showing him. “It’s fairly simple, really. Just hold it like this, see what feels right.”
He gave him an amused smile as he passed over the bow, noting John’s wary look. “You’re not going to break it. Trust me. It’s been through alot, and it is well looked after.” He allowed John to take the bow, contemplating the way he held it. He didn’t answer John’s question about them not meeting. It seemed mostly rhetorical, to him.
“It’s odd to think of any sort of war in this day and age taking place in the desert. But then I suppose the fighting is somewhat different.” And here they were still, talking about it. Still, casual, non specific conversation he could handle.
---
It really was more rhetorical than anything anyway. He didn’t mind the lack of answer in the least. He took the bow and made a face at the differences between it and the smaller gun he was used to. He looked a little awkward with the way he was holding it and shifted it about until he found the right grip. “Not bad..” He commented on the weight of the weapon. It wasn’t so awkward once he had the correct hold on it. And well, he was standing there holding Robin Hood’s bow. He couldn’ t help but feel a little bit smug. What sharp shooter wouldn’t? He winced a little as he gripped it with the very same hand he held the gun with. The grip was wider and he didn’t have as much control as he did on the smaller weapon. “Well it wasn’t entirely desert to be fair, seemed like it though at times. Bloody impossible to navigate really.” He made a face.
“Odd. I’ve never really talked about it much before.” He looked up at him and adjusted the weapon again. “Strange compare to a gun. Ever fired one before?” It was only fair, if Robin wanted he’d let him try it out.
-end
He looked a bit awkward, holding it. But it would be very different to the feel of the small gun he was used to holding, Robin was sure. “It can take some getting used to. Even going from a long bow to that was an adjustment.” But since then he hadn’t wanted to use anything else. Regardless of the fact that it had been a gift, he far preferred the recurve bow in its design and power.
“Yeah?” He found that somewhat surprising. “Even with all the modern technology and compasses and satellites?” Not really thinking about it, he reached over, adjusting John’s grip slightly on the bow, so his hold of it was more effective. “We had the sun and some maps, and we didn’t do too badly.” He was having a bit of a tease with that, even if it was true. His tone made it obvious he was looking for a reaction.
“Not yet. I guess it would be a reasonable thing to learn, in this place.” Though they seemed far noisier, and as far as he was concerned, stealth was important when it came to fighting some of their enemies here.
---
The gun was like an extension of his arm, the bow was a very awkward one. He didn’t mind the help, actually it made it more natural to hold. Less straining on his hand then the way he was doing it. “Understatement.” He grinned a little. “How you can do this and make it look so easy I’ll never know.”
He was trying to move away from the war talk, but at the same time it wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. They weren’t getting into crazy details or anything just yet. He could maybe even handle this a little. “Not always reliable when they changed locations all the time. Knew where to hide. Frequently knew how to jam signals.” The sun? He actually laughed at that. There was a period of time where he hadn’t been able to laugh or smile after Sherlock had been killed, but now it was almost natural again. He almost felt like himself again these days. It’d been a long and tiring road.
“It isn’t so difficult. Just takes practice like anything else. I could teach you if you wanted.” Then his attention was back onto the loaded bow and the target in the distance. Reaching back with the feather tip in hand and bow string between his fingers he could feel his hand threaten to freeze. There was no way he could keep this up very long, but he had to try it at least a couple times. The first shot was horribly off the center mark and John made a face. “That was awful.”
--End
“Practice,” Robin answered matter of factly. Sure, a lot of it was natural skill, but natural skill only got you so far. “Years of practice. My father put a bow in my hands when I was four.” Practice, and then necessity. When you needed something in order to survive, you couldn’t afford to be bad at it.
“And you didn’t use anything more...old fashioned?” Like the sun, or even maps. He knew maps were still used today. But still, he knew how easily things could change. Particularly when the enemy knew the lay of the land better than you did.
“A lesson for a lesson. Fair trade.” He was always happy to learn something new. He watched John as he drew back the string, seeing the faintest tremor in his fingers. It did take a lot of strength to hold his bow at full draw for any length of time. And if you weren’t used to it, it could be a challenge. Or if your arm was not at its full strength, which was the problem Robin currently had.
“If we do this again I may have to bring you the bow Clint gave me to use. You might find it a bit easier for a first try.” It wasn’t meant as an insult, but John had said this was his first attempt at it. His assessment of the shot was a bit kinder than John’s had been. “You hit the target. And believe me when I say for a first try that is not bad at all.” He had trained any number of men who had not come close. He passed John another arrow. “Aim a bit higher this time. It isn’t like your gun. The arrow falls on it’s journey.” There wasn’t as much power behind it, after all.
---
“Can’t remember much before Uni. Not sure how long I’ve been shooting but it feels like longer than that.” Many of his memories before college were still on the hazy side. His original shrink had suggested it was possibly due to the trauma from the war if things hadn’t been so brilliant back home, it was his brains way of stopping a mental overload. Shutting down a portion of memory like that.
“Never let anyone else use that gun before, but yeah. Think so.” He commented as he aimed the arrow much like he would the gun. Though it wasn’t the same weapon, he had no real idea which bit to look at. The arrow’s tip or the target itself. When the arrow sunk into the target he still hadn’t the faintest idea, but whichever one he’d looked at that time-it was dead wrong. “We had maps but we had to change a lot of them as we went. They kept trying to trick us. Nothing was entirely reliable out there. They weren’t afraid of using anything against us.” He didn’t want to get specific about some of the horrors he’d seen, not yet. Just talking about it this way was difficult. Didn’t help his focus on the target ahead. Accepting the second bow he frowned a little. “I can barely hold it.” His aim was starting to waver with the weapon, but he fired again. This time his shot was still high and outside the center of the target he was aiming for, but he had to lower the weapon. “Damn. Least I got the paper though.” He tried to look on the positive side, Robin was a good teacher. He was starting to get how to aim it at least, he just couldn’t hold it anymore. He handed it back to him and rubbed his hand trying to stop the pain from spreading.
--End
“Don’t feel like you need to if you don’t want to. If it’s important to you.” He could understand something holding a good deal of significance, of being protective of it. He watched John take the second shot, smiling. “That was a lot better. Particularly given you’re not used to it.” He took the bow back when John offered it. “I had the same trouble, after what happened.” He still hadn’t really talked about it in any great deal. Only with Marian and very briefly. But he didn’t want John to feel disheartened. “It’s taken a lot of practice to be able to use it for any length of time.”
“Do you usually come during the day? I haven’t seen you here at night, before.” Robin had come here a few times during the day now, with Much. But only ever on his own, at night.
---
“I think I want to though.” Maybe sharing it would be a good thing somehow. That gun and him had a lot of history together. It was actually his weapon from the military. Technically he wasn’t even supposed to have it, but after all that he wasn’t giving it up. He hadn’t told anyone that story actually, it was one in itself. John had been around for the attack and heard a little of what happened. “Happened in the war, I don’t shoot that often anymore in general.” Part of him missed it a little. “ I used to try more at first, but it’s just too difficult for frequent practice.” He’d probably have to take the medication he’d been issued when he got home. At least the pain was starting to ebb slightly.
“When that happened..” He remembered it quite well, that attack on the complex. He was probably not very likely to forget it any time soon. “It was the first time I’ve really taken a front line since the war.” Deep down he was still a soldier even if a damaged one.
--End
“I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t, to be honest.” He could barely remember telling Marian of his fear, when he’d still been in the medbay, heavily medicated. It was likely the most vulnerable anyone had ever seen him. But archery was what he was best at. He had other skills, but archery was important to him. Even if it carried with it negative emotions now. If he focused on them, he knew he would have trouble using his bow.
“I thought I was done with fighting, when I returned to Nottingham. As it happened I simply came home to a new war.” And it had followed him ever since. It seemed he would never be done with fighting. “It was not my finest hour. Though I suppose when one can’t see their enemy, there isn’t a lot they can do.” He shrugged. “Did it bother you? Or do you miss it?”
---
“Trying to figure that bit out myself really.” It was still a daily struggle for him. He had to put a lot of thought into what he was doing that specific day or he might just not do anything at all and when that happened it would take a week at least to sort it all out. He was prone to hermiting sometimes, hiding away from the world when it got too difficult and he felt he just couldn’t face the day. He was trying to be better though, honestly trying to figure out what to do with his life post Sherlock. Did he adopt the new one and continue working cases? He was trying that now. He couldn’t come up with a definite yes. He missed cases, but he also missed Sherlock. He wasn’t sure which one it was.
“That was the frustrating bit about landing here. I really do not want to fight another war. I can’t ignore it though, I don’t want the world to end but..”He trailed off and scoffed in frustration. “Bothered me ever day mate since we’re being honest here.” He leaned back against one of the benches set up for resting. Simple but handy. “Lesson might have to wait till next time. This rubbish..” He said as he continued to try to work through the discomfort. “Sorry.” This was the reason he didn’t practice much.
“Sometimes I do miss it. Like now. Still trying to figure out what to do with myself really..” He admitted with a strained little smile. “Some days I don’t even know why I get up.”
--End
“I don’t see how you have anything to apologise for.” He leaned against the bench beside him, resting the end of his bow against the ground and holding it. “You’re certainly not the only one in this place frustrated, or feeling a bit lost.” How many people had complaints, every other day, about something that was hurting them, or upsetting them, or offending them? It was near impossible to keep up.
“You get up every day because you have reason. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t,” Robin answered with a shrug. “Sometimes it isn’t obvious, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Not to mention that there are a good number of people here who very clearly like having you around. And I don’t think they’d let you get away with it.”
He glanced sideways at him. “Any time you want to give this a try again, just ask. Or anything really. I’m usually up this time of night.”
---
“This is the reason I stopped practicing much. I didn’t really have a love for shooting though. It was a way to protect my troop and that was about it.” John didn’t really mind being able to shoot with such a deadly skill, but it wasn’t as though he loved it. He didn’t particularly like or dislike taking a life, it just was a way of said life overseas. “suppose so.” He commented. “There was a while there I didn’t get up, so I suppose even this is improvement.” He offered a small smile and leaned back against the bench.
“Might have to take you up on that offer. Gotta admit it was kinda cool.” The bow did make him feel a bit like a badass. There was no denying that part. Finally the pain seemed to subside a bit and he looked over at him a little tiredly. “I should get back, need to take a medication when it gets this badly.” If he didn’t take it the pain wouldn’t stop entirely and he hated it. He hated relying on drugs to get through the day. He stood and raised a curious eyebrow. “Coming with or staying longer?”
--end
“I guess I always loved it. Before it became a necessity.” And then he’d been so good at it it had gained him notoriety, and before long it had become most of what he was known for, over there. “Sure,” Robin agreed. “Whenever you’re in need of the distraction.” He was always looking for more to do anyway.
He shook his head, picking up his bow again. “You go ahead. Think I’ll stay a bit longer.” He wanted to be able to practice longer without his arm protesting. He wasn’t prepared to give in so quickly.
“Hope you feel a bit better. Might see you again here soon.”