[TM] 282 - Funeral Rites
There was no funeral. There was nothing but her hand in his, bone fine and slick with sweat. He imagined he could feel the grit of earth digging into his skin, giving him traction to hold on a few more seconds, a few extra heartbeats that would let Kate get the chain loose to set her free. False hope was all either one of them had as the shadows tried to claim her face and draw her down…
There were no arrangements, no casket or grave. All she got was a mineshaft and a pile of twisted metal. She deserved better, deserved more, but all the island gave her was a chance to cry, a few strangled sobs in which to make her peace and lie to him.
As if love could make it better, as if love could make it right.
They were out of hope and out of time as Juliet Burke fell and died, ripping out a piece of him. Her eulogy was silence, a suffering deeper than Sawyer had known since he was a child. Her hand still burned in his, a ghost meant to haunt him until the end of his days.
All Juliet Burke got was a few seconds of his life to be mourned before she martyred herself, unbeknownst to him. A hollow mineshaft, bitter tears, and less time than it took to kiss someone before everything was lost in a wash of blinding whiteness beyond light or dark. He was grateful, in the moments before the world ended, that he couldn’t feel anything.
As the whiteness left him and the brief moment of vertigo cleared, the man known as Sawyer was left with nothing.
He was alone…just him and his drink and a whole lot of nothing waiting for him back in LA.
Sawyer had nothing left but a death on his head, and a nagging sense that somewhere along the way he’d lost something important…
No matter. He’d figure it out when his flight landed.
Muse: James "Sawyer" Ford
Fandom: LOST
Words: 334
There were no arrangements, no casket or grave. All she got was a mineshaft and a pile of twisted metal. She deserved better, deserved more, but all the island gave her was a chance to cry, a few strangled sobs in which to make her peace and lie to him.
As if love could make it better, as if love could make it right.
They were out of hope and out of time as Juliet Burke fell and died, ripping out a piece of him. Her eulogy was silence, a suffering deeper than Sawyer had known since he was a child. Her hand still burned in his, a ghost meant to haunt him until the end of his days.
All Juliet Burke got was a few seconds of his life to be mourned before she martyred herself, unbeknownst to him. A hollow mineshaft, bitter tears, and less time than it took to kiss someone before everything was lost in a wash of blinding whiteness beyond light or dark. He was grateful, in the moments before the world ended, that he couldn’t feel anything.
As the whiteness left him and the brief moment of vertigo cleared, the man known as Sawyer was left with nothing.
He was alone…just him and his drink and a whole lot of nothing waiting for him back in LA.
Sawyer had nothing left but a death on his head, and a nagging sense that somewhere along the way he’d lost something important…
No matter. He’d figure it out when his flight landed.
Muse: James "Sawyer" Ford
Fandom: LOST
Words: 334