The One Person You Can Trust - Lost - Gen (Kate)
Title: The One Person You Can Trust
Character: Kate
Word Count: 674
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for a 10_per_genre prompt.
Summary: While on the run, Kate bumps into a childhood friend.
The gun in her hand is a threat to the world: fuck with her, she'll fuck right back.
*
She hates diner food, but it's all that she's had to eat in weeks. With her fork, she prods at the limp fries on her plate as if that might be enough to spark some life into them. It isn't.
Her hair is tied loosely back from her face. While she appears focused on her meal, her gaze dodges from place to place: checking out the other customers, the staff, the doorway. There is a man in the corner who keeps watching her but she doesn't think he's dangerous. Not a cop, just a lonely old man. There's no one here to worry about but she's been on alert for too long. She doesn't know how to relax.
There's a reason for that.
"Kate?" she hears from behind her. Her hand tightens on her cutlery. She is several states from home. No one good should know her name here. "Is that you? Kate Austen."
She looks over her shoulder after a long, hesitant pause. The person saying her name is a woman roughly her own age, with short red hair and a smile on her pale face.
It takes her a moment, eyes narrowed, to recognise her. Jenny. They'd known each other as kids; she'd moved away when she was twelve. Kate hasn't seen her since.
She forces a smile. "Jenny?"
She doesn't want to do this. She doesn't think this woman can know anything about what has happened to her, but it makes her uneasy all the same. When the ghost from her past comes to sit opposite her she doesn't object: a smile is placed on her face and she is able to talk politely. Jenny has a good job, a sweet boyfriend, a degree. It is a piercing glimpse into what might have been. She could have had that life; with different choices, she might have.
"God, listen to me droning on," Jenny says with a smile. "What about you? How come you're all the way out here?"
I'm on the run for killing Wayne.
"I'm travelling," she says. "I needed to get away from home for a while."
"God, I know the feeling. Don't get me wrong, I love my folks, but - sometimes it's a little bit much. How's your mom doing?"
"She's fine; really good, actually. She's still working at the diner. I don't talk to her much any more, but she always sounds happy when I do."
She hasn't talked to her mom in years; sometimes, when she's feeling daring and stupid, she calls. She doesn't say a word on the phone but she hears her mom's voice. It's never enough to fight back the homesickness she feels.
She looks down at her plate. Her dinner has gone cold. She ought to leave and get out of town now, but Jenny is still chatting onwards. There's a light to her face and quiet happiness in her eyes.
"See, it's the funniest thing," Jenny says. "I heard from Tom a while back and he told me the wildest stories about what you've been up to."
The smile on Jenny's face is still there, but there is a hardness in her eyes that Kate had been too nervous to notice before. Now all spidey senses are tingling and she's cursing herself for not getting out of there earlier. What had she been thinking?
"Don't bother running. My fiance's already called the police." The smile finally falters, dropping away altogether, and Kate knows exactly what the emotion in her eyes is: it's regret. It's maybe even pity.
And Kate doesn't need that, not for a second: what she needs is to get out of here.
"I'm sorry, Kate," Jenny says.
She doesn't listen. She's on her feet, moving for the door. The handle of the gun she always carries with her fits naturally into her hand when she sees the flash of blue and red lights. Trusting her instincts and nothing else, it's something she has to get used to.
*
Pull the trigger and don't look back: she's learnt that lesson well.
Character: Kate
Word Count: 674
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for a 10_per_genre prompt.
Summary: While on the run, Kate bumps into a childhood friend.
The gun in her hand is a threat to the world: fuck with her, she'll fuck right back.
*
She hates diner food, but it's all that she's had to eat in weeks. With her fork, she prods at the limp fries on her plate as if that might be enough to spark some life into them. It isn't.
Her hair is tied loosely back from her face. While she appears focused on her meal, her gaze dodges from place to place: checking out the other customers, the staff, the doorway. There is a man in the corner who keeps watching her but she doesn't think he's dangerous. Not a cop, just a lonely old man. There's no one here to worry about but she's been on alert for too long. She doesn't know how to relax.
There's a reason for that.
"Kate?" she hears from behind her. Her hand tightens on her cutlery. She is several states from home. No one good should know her name here. "Is that you? Kate Austen."
She looks over her shoulder after a long, hesitant pause. The person saying her name is a woman roughly her own age, with short red hair and a smile on her pale face.
It takes her a moment, eyes narrowed, to recognise her. Jenny. They'd known each other as kids; she'd moved away when she was twelve. Kate hasn't seen her since.
She forces a smile. "Jenny?"
She doesn't want to do this. She doesn't think this woman can know anything about what has happened to her, but it makes her uneasy all the same. When the ghost from her past comes to sit opposite her she doesn't object: a smile is placed on her face and she is able to talk politely. Jenny has a good job, a sweet boyfriend, a degree. It is a piercing glimpse into what might have been. She could have had that life; with different choices, she might have.
"God, listen to me droning on," Jenny says with a smile. "What about you? How come you're all the way out here?"
I'm on the run for killing Wayne.
"I'm travelling," she says. "I needed to get away from home for a while."
"God, I know the feeling. Don't get me wrong, I love my folks, but - sometimes it's a little bit much. How's your mom doing?"
"She's fine; really good, actually. She's still working at the diner. I don't talk to her much any more, but she always sounds happy when I do."
She hasn't talked to her mom in years; sometimes, when she's feeling daring and stupid, she calls. She doesn't say a word on the phone but she hears her mom's voice. It's never enough to fight back the homesickness she feels.
She looks down at her plate. Her dinner has gone cold. She ought to leave and get out of town now, but Jenny is still chatting onwards. There's a light to her face and quiet happiness in her eyes.
"See, it's the funniest thing," Jenny says. "I heard from Tom a while back and he told me the wildest stories about what you've been up to."
The smile on Jenny's face is still there, but there is a hardness in her eyes that Kate had been too nervous to notice before. Now all spidey senses are tingling and she's cursing herself for not getting out of there earlier. What had she been thinking?
"Don't bother running. My fiance's already called the police." The smile finally falters, dropping away altogether, and Kate knows exactly what the emotion in her eyes is: it's regret. It's maybe even pity.
And Kate doesn't need that, not for a second: what she needs is to get out of here.
"I'm sorry, Kate," Jenny says.
She doesn't listen. She's on her feet, moving for the door. The handle of the gun she always carries with her fits naturally into her hand when she sees the flash of blue and red lights. Trusting her instincts and nothing else, it's something she has to get used to.
*
Pull the trigger and don't look back: she's learnt that lesson well.