It's a jungle out there (for bigkitty75)

[head_psychic]

(ooc: Crack AU crossover storyline. Because we can. Also, exam phases do silly things to my brain.)


Shawn despises when waking up is not nice. There should be a rule against it because starting a new day should be something fun. This isn't fun, it's strenuous and his body is fighting his mind. When he opens his eyes it's bright, too bright. He groans and covers his face with his hand. Bright is not good, bright is usually hospitals, soon-to-come pains and I-told-you-so-Gusses.



Something is dripping on his nose and he grimaces and blinks.

There's a cut on his hand and it's bleeding. Shawn frowns at the red for a moment. Wow. Now that is some pretty lousy treatment they got here. Maybe he's still outside in the hallway?

Yeah, that must be it. They're about to treat his wounds, the doctors just have to finish their coffee first.

He's so tired, battered almost and he's so sure that he was in another motorcycle accident and his dad will kill him for it. With an exhausted sigh he lets his eyes slip shut, ready to sink back into the darkness.

-and the metal deforms, like paper, it looks so funny-

-he sees the small shards slashing little wounds in the seats, it's mean, he likes the seats-

-bodies, attached to their seat-belts, jump up and down, bobbly, like those little AIM dudes-

-more metal is ripped away, for a moment he can just look down and the plane is up so high, he can see everything-

-it's so loud, so loud, the ceiling cambers, forms a picture, it's one of those 3D-pictures-

-falling-

His eyes snap open with an audible gasp and he sits up. Fails, falls down back again with a wet, soaking sound, only now realizing the small waves splashing around his body. There is sand in his mouth. A crawfish looks at him and Shawn is very sure that in the body-language of crawfishes that little bastard is laughing at him.

The world is zoning in on him, like someone turning up the volume. He can hear people screaming, shouting, pieces of metal are right in front of him, scattered all over the beige tablecloth he identifies as even more sand.

Beach, his inner lexicon tells him. It's called a beach.

When Shawn realizes that he has been washed ashore he stops and ponders that something is very, very wrong. True, some the other things, like the fire he spots from the corner of his eye, are hinting at that as well but he's too tired for details.

You have just been in a plane crash.

He stares at the sand and the fact that suddenly stands in his mind like a headline. Like the first sentence of a manual. Congratulations. You have just purchased your very own catastrophe. Please press the red panic button next to the rational part of your brain and enjoy.

Shawn stares at the sand a little longer, his lower lip suddenly quivering. No way.

And then his hands start moving, looking for support from the sandy underground as he pushes himself up and gets a full look at something that should be forbidden outside a war movie. The image burns its way deep into his memory and Shawn isn't sure what is worse, that he's seeing it or that he will never be able to stop seeing it again. No way.

He whimpers softly, scrambling to his feet.

No way, dude. No way, no way, no way.

Comments

[bigkitty75.livejournal.com]

At first Gus is only aware that the air is wrong. It smells too much like burning things, oil and hot metal, and fire of all kinds. He knows that can't honestly be right because that would mean that something terrible has happened, and he's not ready to accept that yet.

But the longer he holds his eyes closed the worse things get, because his hearing kicks in and there are screams that just won't stop. And yelling, and crying, and crashing. Which is what scares Gus enough to look around, because he just knows something will fall on him if he stays still.

Moving as if he's stuck in some sick idea of slow motion, Gus gets to his feet. For once he ignores the sand and grit clinging to his good suit, because everything else is too much to take it. There are people, and blood, and twisted metal.

His voice comes out in a harsh whisper. "Shawn... Shawn?!"

Gus looks around in a panic. He doesn't see his best friend anywhere, he's alone.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

It's like when you know you're dreaming and you're just angry that you can't wake up yet. Shawn looks around, numb at the helplessness. He just stares at the panic and the pain, the way they are all searching for their beloved ones. They're all injured and confused and...

Searching.

And Shawn's eyes widen because something else isn't right here, something that makes this situation even worse, how can this be even worse?!

"Gus?" He bites down on his lower lip because the moment he starts talking, starts uttering sounds, he feels like screaming, just screaming and never stop until somebody comes and gets him out of here.

Around him people are moving, they're all calling out names, they're looking and Shawn wants to sit down and cry at the thought that he's probably looking just as horribly lost as they are.

There's a man next to him, slumped over the body of a woman and sobbing uncontrollably and Shawn doesn't want to. Please, he just doesn't want to.

Moving forward he almost stumbles, his weak knees no match for the tricky sand underneath his feet. "Gus!"

[bigkitty75.livejournal.com]

It's the first dead body that he comes across that Gus realises... no, just no. He's not going to handle this, he's just not. He doesn't know who the person was, just that they weren't Shawn, and so he doesn't care. Around him he can see some people being brave, heroic even. Helping the injured away from the wreakage, saving lives.

Gus shys away from them. Because he doesn't want to be asked to help, because he doesn't want to be the kind of person who says 'no' to that. But his only care is to find his best friend, and make sure they get the hell away from this.

"Shawn!? SHAWN?! Where are you?!"

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

When he sees his friend Shawn almost turns away. There is a certain kind of horror on Gus' face he has never seen before and one that shouldn't be there. It's different from afraid-of-ghosts-Gus and shaddup-there-is-no-curse-right?-Gus and Dammit-I'm-scared-for-my-life-here-Shawn!-Gus. This is a just plain horrified expression and Shawn can't face it. It shoves reality into his face more than any broken and burning plane part, more than any injured people staggering around for help.

He drops his head for a moment, running both hands through his hair and holding on to it like an anchor. He wants to go home, oh please, he can't, he just can't.

[bigkitty75.livejournal.com]

Gus doesn't stop once he sees Shawn, the list has been formed in his head, he has a plan. Get Shawn, get out of here. Gus stumbles forward until he's within arms reach of his best friend. But instead of hugging him and crying like the tiny boy inside of him wants to do.. Gus grabs hold of Shawn's shirt and starts to pull him away from the wreak.

"It's alright, man. You can walk? Right?" Gus only stops to check that Shawn isn't hurt and then he starts pulling him again. "We're going to get away from the crashing things right now, and then..."

And then Gus is going to have a breakdown in a full on, crazy, what the hell are they gonna do now, fashion.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

Shawn stumbles behind, clumsily. "That crawfish was laughing at me," he explains, his voice slightly hysterical. "Like that stupid youtube video we watched, remmeber? Horrible, little bastard."

He holds on to Gus' arm, he doesn't want to be alone in this chaos. He feels like his head is bursting with images of people suffering and he wonders if it might create some wicked overload, a short-circuit that makes him pass out and forget. It sounds tempting.

But karma is a bitch and Shawn doesn't have a good hand today.

[bigkitty75.livejournal.com]

"Crawfish don't have a sense of humor, Shawn. I'm sure that was just it's natural expression." Gus doesn't pay attention to what he's saying, or even what Shawn is saying. His responces are on auto-matic.

Once they're a safe way down the beach, Gus collapes into the sand and pulls Shawn down along with him. Holding on tight to Shawn's shirt, his fingers refuse to let go. Gus breathes shallowly and feels the begining of hysterics start. "Oh my God! What happened?! Shawn.." He looks at the one person who'd be able to figure things out from memory even if it was the end of the world. "Dude, what happened to us?"

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"Oh yeah? Darwin never said anything about sea dwellers looking like Jay Lenno. Evolution clearly fails." Shawn takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw up.

He closes his eyes and presses his fingers against his temple, an automatic reflex to Gus' question. His head is still a place of chaos and he yells at his thoughts to line up so he can take a better look. They pout at him but after a while they obey and he can start walking them like endless hallways of cabinets. "Sidney," he finally croaks. "The gaming convention, remember? I kicked your ass at Rock Star."

[bigkitty75.livejournal.com]

"Any poor animal that gets stuck looking like Jay Lenno, is bound to be left behind by evolution. You can't say it fails just because there are a few flukes in the system."

Gus chokes a laugh out. "Kicked my ass? You must have hit your head hard, because that so didn't happen."