Jailbird
Title: Jailbird
Author: 525600_journeys
Fandom: Lost
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of violence and character deaths
Spoilers: None unless I'm psychic ;)
Summary: After the rescue, she ends up in jail for murder.
Word count: 573
Also posted in: ficinabottle and lost_fanfic
She sits in the cell, alone as always. From the way the guards watch her, she knows they’re afraid she’ll snap any minute. They don’t know though. They figure she’s nuts. Seven years on a deserted island. She hears them whisper at night. Tell each other to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t cause any trouble. She hasn’t caused any trouble since that night. The night she killed him.
Instead, she thinks about them. The ones she left on the island. Most of them were there. Boone, Shannon-they’d been gone the longest. She hardly remembered their voices anymore but she knew their faces. Boone’s sparkling smile, Shannon’s shining blonde hair. Libby, Ana-Lucia, Eko. Deaths she hadn’t expected. Deaths no one expected. She shakes her head, refusing to think about the deaths that followed. She won’t think of her friends, of the children. She won’t do it. It’s too hard.
“Got a visitor,” the guard says.
She nods and lets him lead her to the conference room. It’s her lawyer, trying to get yet another appeal.
“We can plead insanity, self-defense. With the Island-”
“I’m not talking about the Island,” she says. Her own voice sounds strange to her.
“But we could-”
“No. No more appeals. No more retrying the case.”
He leans forward, frowning. His dark hair is a little too long, hanging down towards the frames of his glasses. He reminds her of Sawyer, which was enough to make her hire him and enough to stop her from trusting him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m tired of it. Of all of it.”
“Don’t you want out of here?”
She scoffs. “Why?”
“Because. You’re still young. You could-”
“Could what? Lie about my sanity to get the hell out of here? Right. Then I can spend the rest of my days dodging reporters and being known as the Crazy Woman from the Island who-”
“It’s not what they’d say.”
“How would you know?” she asks coldly.
He shakes his head lightly. “This isn’t how they’d want you to be living right now. You know that. You have to know that.”
She knows. Of course she knows. Just like she knew Juliet couldn’t be trusted. And she knew Jack had been turned. But she won’t say those things. She won’t tell them what she knows, what happened on the Island. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what she did. It doesn’t change what happened. What difference would it make for the world to know Sayid was tortured to death? Or that Jin killed himself after finding Sun’s body? What difference did it make for them to know these things? All they care to know is that she killed him. That she shot Michael the first chance she got, two weeks after being rescued.
Her lawyer’s still talking and she realizes that she hasn’t heard a word of it.
“What?”
“I said, I brought a visitor along. If you’re up to it.”
Up to it. She knows what that means. If you can behave yourself and not kill anyone else. She nods and the lawyer goes to the door. He opens it and a man steps through. She doesn’t recognize him at first. His face is clean-shaven and the pressed three-piece suit is a far cry from the torn jeans and tee-shirts of the jungle. He smiles and her memory flashes.
“Charlie?”
He nods. “Hello, Claire.”
Author: 525600_journeys
Fandom: Lost
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of violence and character deaths
Spoilers: None unless I'm psychic ;)
Summary: After the rescue, she ends up in jail for murder.
Word count: 573
Also posted in: ficinabottle and lost_fanfic
She sits in the cell, alone as always. From the way the guards watch her, she knows they’re afraid she’ll snap any minute. They don’t know though. They figure she’s nuts. Seven years on a deserted island. She hears them whisper at night. Tell each other to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t cause any trouble. She hasn’t caused any trouble since that night. The night she killed him.
Instead, she thinks about them. The ones she left on the island. Most of them were there. Boone, Shannon-they’d been gone the longest. She hardly remembered their voices anymore but she knew their faces. Boone’s sparkling smile, Shannon’s shining blonde hair. Libby, Ana-Lucia, Eko. Deaths she hadn’t expected. Deaths no one expected. She shakes her head, refusing to think about the deaths that followed. She won’t think of her friends, of the children. She won’t do it. It’s too hard.
“Got a visitor,” the guard says.
She nods and lets him lead her to the conference room. It’s her lawyer, trying to get yet another appeal.
“We can plead insanity, self-defense. With the Island-”
“I’m not talking about the Island,” she says. Her own voice sounds strange to her.
“But we could-”
“No. No more appeals. No more retrying the case.”
He leans forward, frowning. His dark hair is a little too long, hanging down towards the frames of his glasses. He reminds her of Sawyer, which was enough to make her hire him and enough to stop her from trusting him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m tired of it. Of all of it.”
“Don’t you want out of here?”
She scoffs. “Why?”
“Because. You’re still young. You could-”
“Could what? Lie about my sanity to get the hell out of here? Right. Then I can spend the rest of my days dodging reporters and being known as the Crazy Woman from the Island who-”
“It’s not what they’d say.”
“How would you know?” she asks coldly.
He shakes his head lightly. “This isn’t how they’d want you to be living right now. You know that. You have to know that.”
She knows. Of course she knows. Just like she knew Juliet couldn’t be trusted. And she knew Jack had been turned. But she won’t say those things. She won’t tell them what she knows, what happened on the Island. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what she did. It doesn’t change what happened. What difference would it make for the world to know Sayid was tortured to death? Or that Jin killed himself after finding Sun’s body? What difference did it make for them to know these things? All they care to know is that she killed him. That she shot Michael the first chance she got, two weeks after being rescued.
Her lawyer’s still talking and she realizes that she hasn’t heard a word of it.
“What?”
“I said, I brought a visitor along. If you’re up to it.”
Up to it. She knows what that means. If you can behave yourself and not kill anyone else. She nods and the lawyer goes to the door. He opens it and a man steps through. She doesn’t recognize him at first. His face is clean-shaven and the pressed three-piece suit is a far cry from the torn jeans and tee-shirts of the jungle. He smiles and her memory flashes.
“Charlie?”
He nods. “Hello, Claire.”