bakerstreet | It's a trap

It's a trap

the TRAPPED meme

Your day has just taken a definite turn for the worse. There you were, minding your own business, exploring a cave system or wandering through a structurally unsound building or whatever it is you do for fun (hey, no judgement here), when by sabotage or natural disaster or plain old fashioned bad luck, suddenly it's collapsing all around you.

Tough break.

1. H/C options

Claustrophobia. Some people don't do too well with tight spaces, particularly when the way out just disappeared in a cloud of dust and rubble. Hopefully whoever's down there with you can help keep you calm.
Injury. Broken bones and blunt force trauma, oh my! Turns out collapsing chunks of ceiling are bad for the health. Who saw that coming.
BONUS ROUND: HEAD INJURY. Who am I, where am I, where the hell did this headache come from? Whether they've got a concussion or full-on plot-convenient amnesia, there's one thing to remember - keep them talking, and don't let them fall asleep.
BONUS ROUND: HYPOTHERMIA. Because it's not a H/C options section without the classic huddling-for-warmth trope.
Mission Failed. Well you may be in one piece, but whatever you were trying to achieve before you got trapped? Doomed. As long as you're going nowhere, might as well dwell on the consequences of your failure.

2. ACTION options

We need to go deeper. The way you came in is gone? Well that only leaves you one option. Better keep exploring, and hope there's a back way out everyone just forgot to mention...
BONUS ROUND: Shit, too deep. What do you mean you forgot to mark the way you came as you passed? You're lost? Well shit.
We're not alone in here... You hear that? Footsteps just a little too out-of-sync with your own, and-- was that a whisper of a breeze or something breathing...?
Dig for freedom! Wait for rescue? Pah! We don't need no stinkin' rescue. You can dig your own way out thank-you-very-much.
The next round. Whatever just brought everything crashing down round you? Whether it was explosion or earthquake, there's another one coming - you may have survived last time, but better get the hell out before round two or you might not be so lucky.
The show must go on. You're in one piece, so whatever you were trying to achieve before you got trapped? You're going to damn well achieve it, come hell or high water.

3. OBLIGATORY SMUT option

'cause you crazy kids are gonna stick it in there (pun absolutely intended) one way or another

4. WILDCARD option

Whatever. I'm a meme, not a cop.

Warning: This meme is likely to deal with severe injury, and may be uncomfortable for people with claustrophobia. Please be a good RPer and respect your thread partners' wishes if they are uncomfortable with something!

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[Oh, no. Nope. He's not engaging with this one.]

[Look closely, and you might see that his eyes are screwed tightly shut.]

Nope. No, I'm pretty sure we're moving, actually.

It's probably, uh. Scheduled maintenance. Yep.

[He does not get enough R&R to be dying in an elevator in Seoul. This is not what he signed up for. (Well, he didn't sign up for any of this, but potato potahto.) Also, if he dies in an elevator, BJ is never going to let him live it down.]

[ The tone of his voice causes Midge’s head to swivel in his direction. She’s never heard Hawkeye be anything less than smooth and confident. ]

Pretty sure we’re not. I sure hope they don’t do routine maintenance while people are in the elevator.

[ His eyes are closed. If he’s terrified, that means that she can’t be, despite her own horror at the idea of being trapped in an elevator. Both of them panicking isn’t going to help. She goes into mom mode. ]

We’ll be fine. Let me find the call button…

[Call button. Right. That's sensible, isn't it?]

[He cracks one eye half-open. It's just an elevator. It's not a cave, or a tunnel, or a hole in the ground. He's been in plenty of elevators, and he only hates being in them a little bit, and... admittedly, they're a lot easier to handle when the doors are only closed for a couple of minutes.]

Is that... by the door, at the bottom?

Yeah… what is this little door anyway? [ A fuse box? Midge isn’t mechanically inclined enough to start messing with wires, especially if they’re currently suspended in midair.

She pushes the button and waits for a response. About 30 seconds later, a man comes on and Midge explains the situation. He says that he’ll send a mechanic, but doesn’t seem to be in too big of a hurry. Guess they’re going to have to wait this out for a little while.

Midge turns to Hawkeye and appraises him. ]

You okay over there?

[Thirty seconds? No. That was thirty minutes, at least. Maybe thirty years. He's going to get out of this and his hair's going to be grey, with how much time he's sure has passed since the stupid elevator ground to a stop.]

[He tries for a casual smile, misjudges it, and goes all the way to manic grin.]

Me? Great. Just peachy. Never been better.

I just don't like small spaces, is all. I mean, who does, right? Haha. Ha.

They’re not great.

[ It’d be really easy to make fun of Hawkeye. He’s normally so slick, acting like nothing affects him. It makes him a good surgeon and a terrible flirt. Seeing him act like this is almost funny. However, Midge isn’t cruel. He seems legitimately scared, and she can’t take advantage of this situation, no matter how many times he’s annoyed her with his flirting.

Midge moves closer to him, hoping that her presence might be a comfort. ]

What do you tell your patients to do when they’re upset?

[It's a good question. It's an annoying question - even terrified, Hawkeye hates to feel like he's being talked down to - but it's a good question, all the same. He rubs his face with both hands, taking a deep breath.]

I dunno. Count backwards from a hundred and get a good huff of this gas?

[But he knows that's not what she means, and he knows there are things he says to people in post-op. It's just that right now, in this moment, he's drawing a blank.]

...Make 'em laugh. Talk to them like normal, get them distracted, make 'em forget where they are.

Hey, you got a tight five for me, Miss Comedy USA?

[ It’s a good point. He’s a surgeon, so he has access to drugs that can knock people out. Midge does not, though if he’d like her to try to knock him out, she’s more than willing to punch him in the face.

Distraction is more in her wheelhouse. ]

Have you seen my show? [ Midge hasn’t seen him in the crowd, but there are a lot of guys in uniform there and they all tend to blend together. She could easily have missed him. ]

That’s Mrs. Comedy USA to you. I’m happily divorced, you know.

Funny how many more people are happier divorced than married, huh?

I missed it. Had an urgent appointment with a shiatsu expert.

I certainly am, even if I kept his name as my stage name.

[ There’s another form of distraction that she can do, and that’s flirting with him. Hawkeye would flirt with the wall if it wore a skirt, so she’s sure that it will be effective.

Do what you gotta do, right? Midge can’t have him freaking out in such a small space. ]

Oh, have you been feeling tense? There are so many ways to work out tension.

[Normally, this would work great. Right now, he just lets out a sharp, barking laugh.]

Uh-huh. I was working my way down the list. Bit wasted now, finally get the knots out of my neck and we're going to crash down an elevator shaft and die.

No, no, we’re not gonna die. [ Truthfully, Midge isn’t entirely comfortable in this situation either, but any panic on her part will only make this situation worse. She has to stay calm so that he’ll stay calm. ]

If we did though, think about alllll the paperwork the Army would have to do. Wouldn’t that be a nice ‘fuck you’ to them on the way out?

[ Midge subtly moves behind Hawkeye and places her hands on his shoulders. She starts to rub them, digging her thumbs into his shoulder blades. ]

Just relax… breathe.

[Glumly:] Last time I died, I at least got paid.

[He doesn't relax, at least not by much. His back is a solid slab of muscle knots, and when she touches him, she might be able to feel him shaking slightly.]

So much for R&R.

[ This form of distraction doesn’t seem to be as effective as she thought it would be. Midge keeps rubbing his shoulders, but launches into her act. If she can get him to laugh in this situation, it might be a miracle. ]

[ooc: pretend she tells some jokes. She’s the comedian, I am not lol. ]

[Luckily (?) Hawkeye is a nervous laugher. Even more luckily, he's too busy hating the situation to heckle, which means he's a better audience than he might be in a theatre.]

[He does laugh, rather weakly, and there's an iota of loosening in his clenched shoulder muscles. Some of it's the jokes. Some of it, if he's being honest (and he absolutely is not), is that he isn't alone. Having someone talking to him right now is overwhelming, but it's still better than thinking about their imminent deaths.]

[This doesn't stop him from screaming when the elevator suddenly jolts.]

[ Things are going relatively well until the jolt - and Hawkeye’s scream - startles Midge and produces a little scream from her as well. She wraps her arms tightly around him.

There’s a brief laugh from somewhere above them. ]

Sorry ‘bout that. Just need to do some work on the cables. I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy.

[ Midge breathes deeply in and out, her head resting on Hawkeye’s back. ]

See? The man said a jiffy.

[Really, this is the most reassuring thing she's done so far - and that's not a low bar. Feeling like he's not the only one who's pants-shittingly terrified is a huge relief, because even in the depths of panic, there's a part of him that's been squirming in embarrassment the whole time.]

[The laughter overhead doesn't help. But at least she screamed, too.]

[He exhales shakily, fumbling a hand up to grip hers.]

Yeah. And Truman said I'd be home by voting season.

Hey, when we get out of here, I'll buy you a drink, okay? Someplace with high ceilings.

[ As much as elevators and small spaces aren’t generally a phobia of hers, it’s still pretty nerve wracking to be stuck here. Feeling the contraption lurch made her life flash briefly before her eyes. Midge is ready to get out of here now. ]

Yep. Sure. Sounds good.

[ She squeezes his hand, her head still resting on Hawkeye’s back. ]

Uh, anyway, I’m not giving you any more jokes for free. You’ll have to come to my show.

I guess I can manage that. If you ask me nicely.

[It is, quite literally, the least he can do.]

But I am gonna heckle.

Go ahead. See how that turns out for you. [ She answers him easily, like he asked if she wanted a glass of water. ] Not only will I shut you down, you’ll also have to deal with an entire room full of mostly male soldiers who haven’t seen a woman in months and love how delightfully cheeky I am.

[ Midge never thought she’d ever actually have an answer to the question ‘you and what army?’. ]

People love how delightfully cheeky I am, you know.

[But he's not a woman. He's got to give her that one.]

[Now that he knows they're going to get out of here, he can breathe a little easier, even if he's still shaking.]

You’re not as pretty as me.

[ That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Midge doesn’t try to use her looks to her advantage. Indeed, she would never want it insinuated that her success has anything to do with her looks. But in this case, she’ll take the win.

She can hear the repairman clattering with some tools above them, and then the man speaks again. ]

Okay. Once I climb out of here I’ll send the elevator down to the ground floor.

Am so.

[Not-dying has given him some of his sass back. He bats his eyelashes, which mostly just emphasises how wild-eyed he still is, and then turns up to yell at the ceiling.]

Slowly! It's a long way down!

Such dainty eyelashes.

[ They’re not completely out of the woods yet, and Hawkeye knows it. She’s sure he won’t calm down fully until the elevator is back on the ground.

A few more minutes pass and then the elevator suddenly lurches to life. Midge gasps and grabs Hawkeye’s hand. Fortunately, there’s no fast drop. The elevator moves as it normally does until it stops on the ground floor. ]

[When she grabs his hand, he grips it tightly enough to be uncomfortable. He's stopped breathing at the sudden lurch of the elevator, and he doesn't start again until - finally - the door is open.]

[At which point he lets out a long, sobbing gasp of relief, collapsing up against Midge's side as he whoops for air.]

Jesus. That was going to be a really shitty letter, huh? Dear Dr. Pierce, we regret to inform you that your son was killed in inaction. Has he ever heard of stairs?

[His hand is still in hers, and still clammy with sweat. He doesn't seem to have noticed.]

looks good to me!

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