A Blur on the Horizon - Lost - Sawyer/Juliet/Claire
Title: A Blur on the Horizon
Pairing: Sawyer/Juliet; Claire/Juliet; Claire/Sawyer
Word Count: 5150
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through S4
A/N: Written for lenina20 for my last varietypack100 "Writer's choice" prompt! She gave me the lyrics "no haven for this heart / no shelter for this child in mazes lost / heaven keep us apart / a curse for every mile of ocean crossed" to prompt me but predictably I ended up somewhere completely different.
Summary: She comes back to warn them of what is to come - but it's hard to think in this state. The message is garbled.
The sun rises - another day on the island. Dew drips from the leaves and glistens on the grass while the waves roll in like they've been doing since long before people arrived here. Nocturnal animals tuck into their dark pockets for the daylight hours while new life stirs. Birds sing.
Juliet doesn't notice it, not any more. There was a time when she would have stared in delighted awe at the signs of the jungle bursting with life. Ben would have watched her warmly and helped her to identify the species behind each song. Now Juliet looks at the sand as she walks and she doesn't hear that music. Food, that's what she's focusing on. Breakfast. She's sure that some good, full fruit trees must remain in this direction.
Their camp's numbers have depleted dramatically but there are still too many mouths to feed. Locke stays with Richard and his people: he is no longer there to provide them with fresh meat. Juliet picks up the slack as best as she can, but it's strange to have to find food instead of simply walking to the fridge, the cupboard, her shelves.
She doesn't know why she's doing this. She has no connection to these people and they don't trust her. Her only excuse is that there is no viable alternative. Jack is gone. Ben is gone. The barracks are a charred, blood-soaked mess.
Her footsteps stop though she isn't sure why at first. The figure registers with her instincts before her conscious mind, a faint flicker in the corner of her eye. Blonde, petite, watching her with her head tilted to the side. Juliet freezes.
"Claire," she calls - it's hard to find her voice. Claire's skin is paler than the sand. The woman stares at her blankly. Her eyes are so much older than they should be. "Claire!"
She turns her back and walks into the jungle. Her shoulders are stiff; her steps long and fast. Juliet doesn't think twice and doesn't look back to camp. She just follows like she knows she's supposed to. Claire hasn't been seen in months, not since she walked away while Sawyer had been sleeping. They'd thought she was dead. Looking at Claire - her straight back, steady steps, heavy silence - Juliet thinks that they might have been right.
"Claire, can you answer me?"
Claire turns, walks backwards as easily as she'd walk forward, and smiles. The expression is peaceful and she raises a finger to her lips. Hushes. Juliet nods reluctantly and forces her tongue to still. The jungle rises close and humid around them as Claire turns again. Juliet can only hope that she will be able to find her way back to the beach. It feels like they've been walking for years but she can still hear the sea whispering behind them.
A thick tree causes Claire to stop. She reaches out to press her hands against the bark. Juliet keeps her distance, but she can see the calm smile on Claire's face. "Here," Claire whispers. Her hand trails around the tree trunk, light and childlike, but once she disappears around the back she does not reappear.
Juliet walks around the trunk to try and find her again, but if Claire was ever there then she is definitely gone now. There aren't even any footprints in the dirt. Dehydration, Juliet tells herself. You need to drink more.
Yet when she looks up, she finds out where this particular hallucination has led her: to a tree laden with fresh, ripe fruit, enough to feed them all. Her eyes feast on this rare prize as it is getting harder every day to locate food nearby. She allows herself to laugh alone, relieved and unquestioning as she looks up to the branches. They won't go hungry - not today.
*
"You're tellin' me Claire led you here?" Sawyer asks sceptically when she takes him to it. He doesn't believe her and she's not exactly surprised. He has searched lucklessly for the young woman ever since he watched his other friends explode at sea as if he thinks he can bring them all back just by finding one.
"It looked like her," Juliet answers. On this island she knows that that is not the same as it being her. "It looked exactly like her."
"Well what'd she say?"
"Nothing." She wishes she had a message for him: she would make one up, a pretty lie, but in all honesty she doesn't know what he wants to hear. Instead he gets this - the truth.
Nothing will come of nothing echoes in her mind, a previously forgotten reminder of their book club and she smirks. Of all the sisters she'd never imagined herself as Cordelia.
"That don't make sense," Sawyer mutters. He frowns up at the tree and its heavy, gift-giving branches.
Juliet is inclined to agree as she steps forward, her hands against the rough tree bark. She had never climbed trees as a child. Now it seems that she's making up for that loss every single day.
"What d'you think it means?" Sawyer calls up to her as he watches her climb. He is holding a sack, ready to use it to store the fruit she'll drop down to him. "If it's even real…"
"It's real," Juliet states with more certainty than she'd known she had. "It was real. Trust me."
Sawyer snorts, still nursing wounded pride over her past deeds. She's read his record, she reminds herself as she sits on a sturdy branch and plucks the round fruit from its delicate stalks. She knows exactly how long Sawyer can nurse a grudge.
"She led me here," Juliet says. Sawyer looks up at her, squinting in the sun. It seems like several reincarnations ago that she stood with Pickett and watched Sawyer ferry rocks in his wheelbarrow. It's been a long time since they were enemies. "She led me to food."
From all she's heard about Claire - from Ethan before he was murdered as well as from her fellow survivors - Claire was a sweet, gentle girl. She hadn't talked to her too much before she'd disappeared, not enough to be able to make that judgement herself. She'd been too busy then and now she is too late.
"This is crazy," Sawyer mutters as he catches the last fruit she throws down. One hand. Elegant, skilled. He's had practice. "You get that, Goldilocks? This is crazy."
"So you've said." Juliet shifts and wriggles her way down the tree's spine. She usually hurts her ankle on the descent, but not this time. Not this tree. Her palm rests against it in the same place that Claire's had. "I'll take first watch tonight," she says without looking at Sawyer.
"First watch?" Sawyer doesn't just sound baffled; he sounds outraged. "This is Claire we're talking about, not some blood-thirsty monster. We don't got to be scared of her."
"Until we know what she is, who she is, why she's back…" Juliet trails away. Her calm blue eyes meet Sawyer's stormy ones. "It's safer like this." He won't trust her, she knows that. James Ford doesn't trust anyone, not even if they've earned it. She sighs and tries to put the suggestion into terms he might like better. "If someone's always on watch tonight, we'll be able to see her if she returns. If we're all asleep, she might go by unnoticed."
She never used to soften the truth. She never used to want to.
Sawyer still breathes heavily through his nose like a dog recovering from a fit of barking, but he picks the sack of fruit up and together they begin to walk back to their camp. "You take first watch," he says grudgingly. "I'll go second."
*
The fire flickers and crackles like a Christmas story before her eyes. She can hear Bernard's soft, peaceful snores. The night is peaceful and Juliet can tell before she turns her head that Claire is sitting crouched beside her by the fire.
She looks and Claire is smiling as she stares into the flames. The girl looks lost; it's like she is dreaming. Happy dreams. Juliet can only frown. "Why are you here, Claire?" It's not the first question that Sawyer would have asked, but when Claire's response comes it doesn't matter. The question wouldn't have made a difference.
"We never had a fire when I was little," Claire muses, coated in nostalgia. "No reason why. It doesn't even matter much. I just used to think about it whenever I was on the beach at night. All the movies said…"
Her eyes sparkle with warmth and light. Sitting next to her is enough to make Juliet feel more comfortable than the fire did, but it's not right. She knows it's not right. "Claire…"
"Don't," Claire says. The warmth flickers away from a second. There is darkness, there is cold, there is a body-wracking shiver before she smiles again. Her hand is on Juliet's arm - facelipsbreasts - and it feels hotter than the core of the sun. "Don't ask any questions."
She needs to. She needs to wake Sawyer at least because she doesn't think that he could stand missing Claire again. The tantrum would be terrible. She needs to move. She needs to talk.
Yet Claire is there - by eye blinks in her lap, lips on hers, hands on buttons. It is like watching her on an old-fashioned movie or through a set of photographs. The movements are jerky yet fluid, stilted but natural. Lips brush her neck, followed by teeth. She bites and it hurts yet Juliet reaches out and holds onto her, won't let her go. Her nails bite into the flesh of Claire's hips.
None of this makes sense.
Claire's hair smells like lilies - white ones, fresh ones, the ones Juliet placed on her dead husband's grave - and it surrounds her, chokes her. Juliet sits on the sand, back straight and she cannot move as Claire invades every sense she has. It's difficult to even breathe.
"Claire," she gasps, dying man's air, and her nails scratch uselessly. "Claire, what are you doing?"
And it ends.
Her eyes open and Sawyer is there instead, frowning and shaking her by her upper arms. "Jules," he says - not her name, not her real name, no one here on the beach calls her that - as he holds onto her tightly. "You awake?"
"I'm awake," she confirms. She'd never known she was asleep in the first place. Her watch had passed uneventfully and she'd passed the mantel onto Sawyer while she left, desperate for some rest. She breathes slowly, takes stock. "Just a dream, that's all."
"Nightmare more like," Sawyer grumbles. "You were talkin' in your sleep. Never done that before."
Juliet takes a moment to blink, breathe, calm herself. She knows the answer already but she has to ask - "And what was I saying, James?"
He releases his grip on her arms and shuffles back in the sand as she sits up. She is glad for the space. Lilies still hang in the air. "Kept saying her name. Over and over."
"It was a dream."
"You sounded scared. I never heard anyone scared like that from dreaming before."
"It was just a dream." She meets his eyes, cold and steady, because she needs to convince herself of that as much as she needs to convince him. "You shouldn't read anything more than that into it. We've had a stressful couple of days."
"Stressful couple of months."
"Exactly." She smiles and that's enough to make him drop the scowl. Her heart still feels like ice. On her neck she can feel the stinging, persistent pain from where Claire had bitten her in that dream. It would probably form a bruise, a hickey. Her skin crawls even as she wets her lips and looks back to the fire that burns.
Dreams shouldn't leave marks like that behind.
*
"Bernard, if you're not going to take her word for it then why exactly do you bother asking in the first place?" Juliet hears Rose asking her husband as she walks away from the pair. She smiles - it's hard not to be amused by their good-natured bickering - but still finds herself pondering the practicality of finding a scarf and wrapping it around her neck. It would be oppressively hot but it would at least hide the ugly bite mark on her neck. It's attracting too much attention. If she has to listen to anyone else 'subtly' ask what exactly she and Sawyer got up to while they were foraging for food she thinks she'll leave them all to starve.
The next grinning face that appears, however, is not Bernard or Frogurt or even Steve. It's Sawyer himself and she can tell from a distance that his smile is false. He's a good conman - but she's too good at reading people for him to lie to her like that.
"I've been hearin' a couple of interesting things over the grape-vine, Alice," he says, sidling towards her. "All kinds of gossip going around."
She sighs and moves her hair back from her face. "Sawyer-"
"You and me…" He whistles like he's impressed. "If half what I'm hearing's true then the sex must be hot as all hell."
Juliet tries to walk around him but he takes a step to the side with her, blocking her way. She looks up at him with barely bottled frustration. "Is this really necessary?"
"You tell me. The way I'm seein' it you're not about to talk to me about that bite on your neck 'less I make you - so here I am, making you."
Juliet places her hands on her hips and looks down at the sand, at their feet, at her sandals as she gathers herself. "It's nothing to do with you, Sawyer."
"Yeah?" he asks. He smirks, but it's like brittle plastic. "And why's that? You and Bernard getting some play out in the jungle? 'cause I know it sure as hell wasn't me that turned Dracula on your neck."
Juliet controls her hands to stop herself from automatically touching the mark. "How it got there is none of your business." She walks around him, expecting to be blocked once more.
Instead he turns and walks alongside her. The smug smirk drops and he allows himself to be serious. "It was that dream of yours, wasn't it? Claire?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I've gotta say," Sawyer admits, "that's kinda hot." His glee fades quickly upon receiving a misty glare from Juliet. "And, uh, and worrying. Yeah, worrying."
Juliet knows that's true but she doesn't want him to be thinking about her. "I can handle myself."
"I saw you shoot Pickett. I know I don't have to protect you physically 'cause you do a damn good job of that yourself - but she's in your dreams."
Claire isn't dangerous, Juliet's sure of that, but if whoever had been in her dreams last night wasn't really Claire then they have a problem. "I can handle it," she insists anyway.
"And I can help. You're damn frustrating at times, Romeo."
"Romeo?"
"Figured you're too butch to stay as Juliet."
She can't stop herself smirking as she shakes her head and speeds up. "If I need your help I'll ask for it," she calls over her shoulder. While she hears him grumbling, he doesn't try to argue: the man clearly knows a futile struggle when he sees one, but even if she won't admit it she's so tired of struggling on alone.
*
Yet that night it isn't her that needs help. She is on watch, keeping herself awake and fighting the urge to drop off when she hears a gasp from one of the nearby tents. She knows which one it will be before she goes to investigate: climbing to her feet her bones and muscles ache.
Sawyer is lying shirtless when she approaches his tent. He's flat on his back, one arm stretched above his head. His body is taut and lithe, with a sheen of shimmering sweat over his sun-tanned muscles.
"Sawyer," Juliet says. She does not whisper or hush her voice; she knows by now the level of sound that will wake the others.
Before her eyes, Sawyer's other arm is raised above his head too as if positioned. His wrists are pinned down again his pillow, indenting against it. She doubts he could move if he tried - but judging by the satisfied groan he makes that isn't a problem.
She pushes her hair behind her ear and knows that she has to either wake him up or leave. Standing aimlessly watching him is a waste of time but she can't shift from the spot as her eyes slip over his bare skin, dyed from so many hours out in the sun. His stomach rises and falls, pitter-patters, and she finds herself staring at the oval of his navel. As she watches the expression on his face changes from a lazy smile to a broken frown. His wrists remain pinned above his head but scratches form on his chest, long lines from fingernails that are just deep enough to offer a rolling drop of blood.
Juliet's eyes widen and it takes a second to be able to process what is happening and rush inside his tent. "Sawyer," she says. She sounds calmer than she feels. "Sawyer, wake up. Now."
She grabs his shoulder - his skin feels hot, fevered - and shakes it. His head tips to the side and his lips brush over the inside of her wrist. It causes a red-hot sparkle that shivers down her spine. She has to close her eyes.
"Claire…" he whispers, gasps, moans. His hands clench and his hips flick desperately upwards. "God, Claire."
She shakes his shoulder harder and is considering slapping his cheek when his eyes grumble open. He blinks heavily and squints at her. "You were dreaming," she explains. The confusion shifts, but only a little. "Are you alright now?"
He shifts so that he can sit up but he winces when he does. Juliet's eyes are drawn automatically to the scratches on his chest. She wishes Jack was here. Perhaps he wouldn't have had an explanation for her but around him she'd felt calmer.
"We go on like this and it's gonna get harder and harder to explain it to Bernard," Sawyer says. He grins, even while rubbing at his stiff wrists. The smile shakes.
"Don't, Sawyer," Juliet says quietly. She brushes her hand over her forehead and tries to think. "Just don't."
Her shoulders ache with sullen weariness as she sits there beside him, looking at the marks left behind by a dream, a fragment. She's frightened, really frightened, though she doesn't think that is Claire's intention. She believes that Claire is good - but Juliet is just so tired.
Sawyer's hand rests on her arm, warm and comforting. "It's gonna be okay, Jules. Don't you go worryin' about it." He pulls her in towards him and she doesn't bother resisting. She rests against him, head on his shoulder. His hand threads through her hair softly. It's been a long time since anybody's tried to comfort her: she thinks it's nice. She thinks she's missed this. She feels him chuckling, hearing the gentle sound rumbling through his chest. "Worse ways to be haunted though, aren't there?"
She laughs despite herself, feeling the emptiness ebbing. She shifts her head on his shoulder, makes herself more comfortable. She should be out on watch but she can't make herself move. Sawyer's hand in her hair keeps dragging her down towards sleep - she isn't even aware of how long they sit like that.
"You should get those scratches cleaned up," she says, sleep-slurred.
"They're not that deep. I'll live." He's smiling at her as her eyelids droop and she feels his lips against her forehead, a dry brush. "Get some rest. I can take over your watch - I don't feel too much like sleeping now anyhow."
She nods, lazy and slow, though she should argue with him as she slips down to rest her head against his pillow. Bernard will ask so many questions tomorrow how why she ended up in Sawyer's bed but she can't care, feeling too safe and warm for once. The outside world can't reach her here.
*
Juliet isn't surprised when she sees Claire standing by the stream the next day. Her heart rate increases and she fights with nerves as she makes herself walk forward anyway. The mark on her neck feels more apparent than ever. "Claire," she says with a nod.
"I'm sorry," Claire says immediately. "I don't mean to hurt you. Either of you. It just happens - it's hard to think clearly, like this."
Juliet kneels down by the stream's bank and dips her empty bottle into the cold, running water. "Like what?"
"It's hard to say. I'm just trying to help, Juliet, I promise - I'm just trying to help, that's all."
"I believe you," Juliet says. She does. As soon as she looks up and sees the way Claire stands there, fragile and lost, she knows she believes her. "Just tell me how, Claire. Why do we need help?"
"Because you need to be united." Claire frowns and moves nervously. The sunshine is long gone from her face. "With what's coming… You need to be closer before you can face it."
"What's coming?" Juliet screws the cap back onto her bottle and watches Claire warily, but no answers come forth. Claire just shakes her head. She looks sorry that she can't provide something more useful, but regret is worthless to her right now. "Claire, you need to tell me."
"I can't." She looks down unhappily and the conflicted expression on her face is almost enough to make Juliet back off. "I'm sorry. I just can't."
Juliet crosses the stream, stepping over the bubbling water so that she can stand by Claire's side. She smells Claire's scent, domestic but exotic, and she sees the way that Claire's long hair stirs in the breeze. She's corporeal, then.
"If you don't tell us what's coming, how can we be ready for it?"
Claire closes her eyes like she has a headache, like she's trying to shut the world out. Juliet places a hand on Claire's hip and grounds her there, keeps her from running. They need her. Whatever answers Claire can provide, they need them. It occurs to Juliet that she's holding onto a ghost. Claire feels alive and breathing under her hand but she's not. She's supposed to be gone. She's supposed to be dead.
"I'm sorry," Claire whispers again.
Juliet's grip tightens and she steels herself for what she has to do. "So am I," she says in return.
Before Claire has a chance to question what she has to apologise for, Juliet's other hand moves to her mouth - she covers it and pinches her nose, blocking out the oxygen. If a ghost can be touched that means it can be knocked out. If a ghost breathes, that means it needs air. Juliet doesn't apologise again as she holds firm against Claire's struggling until it fades away. She wishes that Sawyer was out here with her as she feels Claire's body slump against her: it's a long walk back to camp carrying an unconscious woman.
*
The ropes wind and twist around Claire's torso and the tree, but Claire doesn't struggle when she wakes up. She blinks and frowns at first like she's trying to work out what on Earth happened, but when it comes to her she smiles - a forgiving, indulgent smile, the way she would have looked at Aaron if she'd been the one to raise him. The sight of that expression is enough to lessen the tension that has grown in Juliet's stomach since she brought Claire here.
She and Sawyer stand at a distance; Sawyer's presence is sulking and reluctant behind her but Juliet tries to ignore his doubts. They have to do this.
Claire looks down at her bindings before back up at them. Her eyes are a more startling blue than ever. "Is this really necessary?" she asks. All hints of empty sadness that had lingered by the stream have now vanished.
"I need you to tell me what you know, Claire," Juliet says. She can make herself meet Claire's eyes but her heart stammers when she does so. Sawyer's hand reaches for hers and she doesn't stop herself from holding onto it. "This seems like the only way to get you to stick around and talk."
Claire giggles - giggles - and shakes her head. "It's a little extreme, don't you think? You're sure Sayid isn't still around somewhere?"
"We're not gonna hurt you," Sawyer promises. "You know we wouldn't."
"I don't know anything about you, not any more." She looks around at the jungle wistfully before she wrinkles her nose and returns her gaze to them. "The whole island's changed since I was alive."
"You never died." Sawyer's voice sounds tight and stressed. His hand is gripping Juliet's tightly. "You're not dead."
"I'm close enough."
"What's that even mean?"
"It means that I went home," Claire answers, but that doesn't help at all. That means nothing. "And now something is coming - something that is going to change everything unless…"
"Unless what?" Juliet asks.
Claire bites her bottom lip for a winding moment before she nods to herself. "Come closer," she urges quietly. The words are hushed like she's worried about being overheard.
Juliet's hand slips from Sawyer and she steps forward, crouching down in front of Claire. She shouldn't be this close: she should know better than this. She should keep her distance, but Claire looks so small and harmless. It's difficult to remain afraid of her.
Claire looks at her but gestures for her to come even closer. "Please," she whispers. "I can't say it if they can hear…"
Juliet leans towards her - and isn't wholly surprised when Claire's lips catch hers instead of whispering her secrets. She would have done the same thing. A distraction. A manipulation. The only shock is that Claire would have thought of it too.
They move slowly even as Juliet knows that she ought to pull back. Her mouth opens, but Claire is in control, Claire makes every advancing move in this kiss. Her hand runs through Juliet's hair, fingers tangling. She hears Sawyer yelling but she can't think enough to process what he is saying.
She feels light-headed and out of control - but when Claire's hand tightens in her hair she complains with a pained moan, muffled. She can't pull back. Claire's nails dig into her scalp but she can't move away even as she struggles. Claire shouldn't be strong enough to hold her in place with one hand but she is. God, she is.
Sawyer's hands grab her upper arms and he yanks her to her feet. Claire's hand drops as she stumbles and trips backwards. Sawyer is there to steady her with a firm grip still on her arms. "You're okay," he murmurs without removing his eyes from Claire. "You're okay; I got you."
The loops of rope have dropped down to the ground, pooling there like slothful snakes. Claire gets to her feet: her eyes sparkle with tears and her arms wrap around her stomach. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I can't control it. I wish I could - you're just so alive. Both of you, so alive."
Sawyer holds onto Juliet, his hands still resting on her arms. "You're not Claire."
"I'm not just Claire," she confirms reluctantly. "There's more here than just me. The island needs me - I've got work to do."
"You sound like Locke," Sawyer snorts.
Claire smiles, small and sad. "Maybe Locke knows what he's talking about, Sawyer."
Juliet looks at her, trying to work her out. Ben would have understood. When she'd first come to the island, shy and meek, she had quietly thought that Ben had the air of an unhinged religious fanatic. He'd seemed mad, talking about Jacob, about the island, but he's not around to provide the answers any more.
Claire looks past them, her eyes settling on something further away. Juliet turns. There is a man there, with greying hair and a neat suit who looks completely alien and out of place here. Juliet doesn't recognise him at all, but Sawyer bristles.
"I'm just coming, Dad," Claire calls.
"Dad?" Sawyer repeats.
He's answered only by the twinkle in Claire's eyes. "They're coming," she says, changing the topic. "The Oceanic Six, they're coming back. I've tried to stop them, but…"
"Who are the Oceanic Six?" Juliet asks.
"Jack and Kate didn't die," Claire explains - and that's really all that needs to be said. Sawyer's hand tightens uncontrollably where he's holding onto Juliet. "They weren't on the freighter when it exploded; they managed to make it back home. They're not the same as they were when they left, guys. They're different. Really different. You need to be prepared."
"Claire," her father says, a summons, a warning.
"You need to look out for each other." Claire walks past them, placing a hand on Sawyer's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for everything. I mean that."
"Quit apologising," Sawyer grumbles. Juliet thinks he means, Don't go, but Claire can't stay. She's not supposed to be here. Not any more.
Claire meets her father and holds his hand before he moves his arm around her slim shoulders. They don't look back as they walk away but Juliet watches every single step. Beside her, Sawyer's breathing seems too loud and too laboured.
"That's it." Sawyer's voice rumbles to her ear, quiet like he's barely speaking at all.
"That's it," Juliet confirms. They're not going to see Claire again, she realises once they're completely alone in the jungle. Everything is about to change.
*
They stare out to sea together every evening as the waves roll in. Weeks pass and the horizon remains clear. Juliet rests her head against Sawyer's shoulder: they've given up worrying about questions and rumours. Trying to guess what they are to each other keeps Bernard busy, but Juliet isn't quite ready to define it yet.
"Do you think they're really coming?" she asks.
Sawyer's lips press against the top of her head. "Claire said they would." That's really all the answer that Juliet needs. Claire hasn't appeared, in reality or their dreams, since they'd watched her walk into the jungle with her father and the mark on Juliet's neck has faded completely, but she trusts Claire. Maybe it's mad - she doesn't think she's truly trusted anyone else in years - but she does.
The Oceanic Six are coming back: Jack and Kate are returning. Sawyer's arm moves around her and she rests against him, warm and strong. It isn't much, but thanks to Claire she knows that the two of them are secure enough, stable enough, to face whatever that horizon will bring.
Pairing: Sawyer/Juliet; Claire/Juliet; Claire/Sawyer
Word Count: 5150
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through S4
A/N: Written for lenina20 for my last varietypack100 "Writer's choice" prompt! She gave me the lyrics "no haven for this heart / no shelter for this child in mazes lost / heaven keep us apart / a curse for every mile of ocean crossed" to prompt me but predictably I ended up somewhere completely different.
Summary: She comes back to warn them of what is to come - but it's hard to think in this state. The message is garbled.
The sun rises - another day on the island. Dew drips from the leaves and glistens on the grass while the waves roll in like they've been doing since long before people arrived here. Nocturnal animals tuck into their dark pockets for the daylight hours while new life stirs. Birds sing.
Juliet doesn't notice it, not any more. There was a time when she would have stared in delighted awe at the signs of the jungle bursting with life. Ben would have watched her warmly and helped her to identify the species behind each song. Now Juliet looks at the sand as she walks and she doesn't hear that music. Food, that's what she's focusing on. Breakfast. She's sure that some good, full fruit trees must remain in this direction.
Their camp's numbers have depleted dramatically but there are still too many mouths to feed. Locke stays with Richard and his people: he is no longer there to provide them with fresh meat. Juliet picks up the slack as best as she can, but it's strange to have to find food instead of simply walking to the fridge, the cupboard, her shelves.
She doesn't know why she's doing this. She has no connection to these people and they don't trust her. Her only excuse is that there is no viable alternative. Jack is gone. Ben is gone. The barracks are a charred, blood-soaked mess.
Her footsteps stop though she isn't sure why at first. The figure registers with her instincts before her conscious mind, a faint flicker in the corner of her eye. Blonde, petite, watching her with her head tilted to the side. Juliet freezes.
"Claire," she calls - it's hard to find her voice. Claire's skin is paler than the sand. The woman stares at her blankly. Her eyes are so much older than they should be. "Claire!"
She turns her back and walks into the jungle. Her shoulders are stiff; her steps long and fast. Juliet doesn't think twice and doesn't look back to camp. She just follows like she knows she's supposed to. Claire hasn't been seen in months, not since she walked away while Sawyer had been sleeping. They'd thought she was dead. Looking at Claire - her straight back, steady steps, heavy silence - Juliet thinks that they might have been right.
"Claire, can you answer me?"
Claire turns, walks backwards as easily as she'd walk forward, and smiles. The expression is peaceful and she raises a finger to her lips. Hushes. Juliet nods reluctantly and forces her tongue to still. The jungle rises close and humid around them as Claire turns again. Juliet can only hope that she will be able to find her way back to the beach. It feels like they've been walking for years but she can still hear the sea whispering behind them.
A thick tree causes Claire to stop. She reaches out to press her hands against the bark. Juliet keeps her distance, but she can see the calm smile on Claire's face. "Here," Claire whispers. Her hand trails around the tree trunk, light and childlike, but once she disappears around the back she does not reappear.
Juliet walks around the trunk to try and find her again, but if Claire was ever there then she is definitely gone now. There aren't even any footprints in the dirt. Dehydration, Juliet tells herself. You need to drink more.
Yet when she looks up, she finds out where this particular hallucination has led her: to a tree laden with fresh, ripe fruit, enough to feed them all. Her eyes feast on this rare prize as it is getting harder every day to locate food nearby. She allows herself to laugh alone, relieved and unquestioning as she looks up to the branches. They won't go hungry - not today.
*
"You're tellin' me Claire led you here?" Sawyer asks sceptically when she takes him to it. He doesn't believe her and she's not exactly surprised. He has searched lucklessly for the young woman ever since he watched his other friends explode at sea as if he thinks he can bring them all back just by finding one.
"It looked like her," Juliet answers. On this island she knows that that is not the same as it being her. "It looked exactly like her."
"Well what'd she say?"
"Nothing." She wishes she had a message for him: she would make one up, a pretty lie, but in all honesty she doesn't know what he wants to hear. Instead he gets this - the truth.
Nothing will come of nothing echoes in her mind, a previously forgotten reminder of their book club and she smirks. Of all the sisters she'd never imagined herself as Cordelia.
"That don't make sense," Sawyer mutters. He frowns up at the tree and its heavy, gift-giving branches.
Juliet is inclined to agree as she steps forward, her hands against the rough tree bark. She had never climbed trees as a child. Now it seems that she's making up for that loss every single day.
"What d'you think it means?" Sawyer calls up to her as he watches her climb. He is holding a sack, ready to use it to store the fruit she'll drop down to him. "If it's even real…"
"It's real," Juliet states with more certainty than she'd known she had. "It was real. Trust me."
Sawyer snorts, still nursing wounded pride over her past deeds. She's read his record, she reminds herself as she sits on a sturdy branch and plucks the round fruit from its delicate stalks. She knows exactly how long Sawyer can nurse a grudge.
"She led me here," Juliet says. Sawyer looks up at her, squinting in the sun. It seems like several reincarnations ago that she stood with Pickett and watched Sawyer ferry rocks in his wheelbarrow. It's been a long time since they were enemies. "She led me to food."
From all she's heard about Claire - from Ethan before he was murdered as well as from her fellow survivors - Claire was a sweet, gentle girl. She hadn't talked to her too much before she'd disappeared, not enough to be able to make that judgement herself. She'd been too busy then and now she is too late.
"This is crazy," Sawyer mutters as he catches the last fruit she throws down. One hand. Elegant, skilled. He's had practice. "You get that, Goldilocks? This is crazy."
"So you've said." Juliet shifts and wriggles her way down the tree's spine. She usually hurts her ankle on the descent, but not this time. Not this tree. Her palm rests against it in the same place that Claire's had. "I'll take first watch tonight," she says without looking at Sawyer.
"First watch?" Sawyer doesn't just sound baffled; he sounds outraged. "This is Claire we're talking about, not some blood-thirsty monster. We don't got to be scared of her."
"Until we know what she is, who she is, why she's back…" Juliet trails away. Her calm blue eyes meet Sawyer's stormy ones. "It's safer like this." He won't trust her, she knows that. James Ford doesn't trust anyone, not even if they've earned it. She sighs and tries to put the suggestion into terms he might like better. "If someone's always on watch tonight, we'll be able to see her if she returns. If we're all asleep, she might go by unnoticed."
She never used to soften the truth. She never used to want to.
Sawyer still breathes heavily through his nose like a dog recovering from a fit of barking, but he picks the sack of fruit up and together they begin to walk back to their camp. "You take first watch," he says grudgingly. "I'll go second."
*
The fire flickers and crackles like a Christmas story before her eyes. She can hear Bernard's soft, peaceful snores. The night is peaceful and Juliet can tell before she turns her head that Claire is sitting crouched beside her by the fire.
She looks and Claire is smiling as she stares into the flames. The girl looks lost; it's like she is dreaming. Happy dreams. Juliet can only frown. "Why are you here, Claire?" It's not the first question that Sawyer would have asked, but when Claire's response comes it doesn't matter. The question wouldn't have made a difference.
"We never had a fire when I was little," Claire muses, coated in nostalgia. "No reason why. It doesn't even matter much. I just used to think about it whenever I was on the beach at night. All the movies said…"
Her eyes sparkle with warmth and light. Sitting next to her is enough to make Juliet feel more comfortable than the fire did, but it's not right. She knows it's not right. "Claire…"
"Don't," Claire says. The warmth flickers away from a second. There is darkness, there is cold, there is a body-wracking shiver before she smiles again. Her hand is on Juliet's arm - facelipsbreasts - and it feels hotter than the core of the sun. "Don't ask any questions."
She needs to. She needs to wake Sawyer at least because she doesn't think that he could stand missing Claire again. The tantrum would be terrible. She needs to move. She needs to talk.
Yet Claire is there - by eye blinks in her lap, lips on hers, hands on buttons. It is like watching her on an old-fashioned movie or through a set of photographs. The movements are jerky yet fluid, stilted but natural. Lips brush her neck, followed by teeth. She bites and it hurts yet Juliet reaches out and holds onto her, won't let her go. Her nails bite into the flesh of Claire's hips.
None of this makes sense.
Claire's hair smells like lilies - white ones, fresh ones, the ones Juliet placed on her dead husband's grave - and it surrounds her, chokes her. Juliet sits on the sand, back straight and she cannot move as Claire invades every sense she has. It's difficult to even breathe.
"Claire," she gasps, dying man's air, and her nails scratch uselessly. "Claire, what are you doing?"
And it ends.
Her eyes open and Sawyer is there instead, frowning and shaking her by her upper arms. "Jules," he says - not her name, not her real name, no one here on the beach calls her that - as he holds onto her tightly. "You awake?"
"I'm awake," she confirms. She'd never known she was asleep in the first place. Her watch had passed uneventfully and she'd passed the mantel onto Sawyer while she left, desperate for some rest. She breathes slowly, takes stock. "Just a dream, that's all."
"Nightmare more like," Sawyer grumbles. "You were talkin' in your sleep. Never done that before."
Juliet takes a moment to blink, breathe, calm herself. She knows the answer already but she has to ask - "And what was I saying, James?"
He releases his grip on her arms and shuffles back in the sand as she sits up. She is glad for the space. Lilies still hang in the air. "Kept saying her name. Over and over."
"It was a dream."
"You sounded scared. I never heard anyone scared like that from dreaming before."
"It was just a dream." She meets his eyes, cold and steady, because she needs to convince herself of that as much as she needs to convince him. "You shouldn't read anything more than that into it. We've had a stressful couple of days."
"Stressful couple of months."
"Exactly." She smiles and that's enough to make him drop the scowl. Her heart still feels like ice. On her neck she can feel the stinging, persistent pain from where Claire had bitten her in that dream. It would probably form a bruise, a hickey. Her skin crawls even as she wets her lips and looks back to the fire that burns.
Dreams shouldn't leave marks like that behind.
*
"Bernard, if you're not going to take her word for it then why exactly do you bother asking in the first place?" Juliet hears Rose asking her husband as she walks away from the pair. She smiles - it's hard not to be amused by their good-natured bickering - but still finds herself pondering the practicality of finding a scarf and wrapping it around her neck. It would be oppressively hot but it would at least hide the ugly bite mark on her neck. It's attracting too much attention. If she has to listen to anyone else 'subtly' ask what exactly she and Sawyer got up to while they were foraging for food she thinks she'll leave them all to starve.
The next grinning face that appears, however, is not Bernard or Frogurt or even Steve. It's Sawyer himself and she can tell from a distance that his smile is false. He's a good conman - but she's too good at reading people for him to lie to her like that.
"I've been hearin' a couple of interesting things over the grape-vine, Alice," he says, sidling towards her. "All kinds of gossip going around."
She sighs and moves her hair back from her face. "Sawyer-"
"You and me…" He whistles like he's impressed. "If half what I'm hearing's true then the sex must be hot as all hell."
Juliet tries to walk around him but he takes a step to the side with her, blocking her way. She looks up at him with barely bottled frustration. "Is this really necessary?"
"You tell me. The way I'm seein' it you're not about to talk to me about that bite on your neck 'less I make you - so here I am, making you."
Juliet places her hands on her hips and looks down at the sand, at their feet, at her sandals as she gathers herself. "It's nothing to do with you, Sawyer."
"Yeah?" he asks. He smirks, but it's like brittle plastic. "And why's that? You and Bernard getting some play out in the jungle? 'cause I know it sure as hell wasn't me that turned Dracula on your neck."
Juliet controls her hands to stop herself from automatically touching the mark. "How it got there is none of your business." She walks around him, expecting to be blocked once more.
Instead he turns and walks alongside her. The smug smirk drops and he allows himself to be serious. "It was that dream of yours, wasn't it? Claire?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I've gotta say," Sawyer admits, "that's kinda hot." His glee fades quickly upon receiving a misty glare from Juliet. "And, uh, and worrying. Yeah, worrying."
Juliet knows that's true but she doesn't want him to be thinking about her. "I can handle myself."
"I saw you shoot Pickett. I know I don't have to protect you physically 'cause you do a damn good job of that yourself - but she's in your dreams."
Claire isn't dangerous, Juliet's sure of that, but if whoever had been in her dreams last night wasn't really Claire then they have a problem. "I can handle it," she insists anyway.
"And I can help. You're damn frustrating at times, Romeo."
"Romeo?"
"Figured you're too butch to stay as Juliet."
She can't stop herself smirking as she shakes her head and speeds up. "If I need your help I'll ask for it," she calls over her shoulder. While she hears him grumbling, he doesn't try to argue: the man clearly knows a futile struggle when he sees one, but even if she won't admit it she's so tired of struggling on alone.
*
Yet that night it isn't her that needs help. She is on watch, keeping herself awake and fighting the urge to drop off when she hears a gasp from one of the nearby tents. She knows which one it will be before she goes to investigate: climbing to her feet her bones and muscles ache.
Sawyer is lying shirtless when she approaches his tent. He's flat on his back, one arm stretched above his head. His body is taut and lithe, with a sheen of shimmering sweat over his sun-tanned muscles.
"Sawyer," Juliet says. She does not whisper or hush her voice; she knows by now the level of sound that will wake the others.
Before her eyes, Sawyer's other arm is raised above his head too as if positioned. His wrists are pinned down again his pillow, indenting against it. She doubts he could move if he tried - but judging by the satisfied groan he makes that isn't a problem.
She pushes her hair behind her ear and knows that she has to either wake him up or leave. Standing aimlessly watching him is a waste of time but she can't shift from the spot as her eyes slip over his bare skin, dyed from so many hours out in the sun. His stomach rises and falls, pitter-patters, and she finds herself staring at the oval of his navel. As she watches the expression on his face changes from a lazy smile to a broken frown. His wrists remain pinned above his head but scratches form on his chest, long lines from fingernails that are just deep enough to offer a rolling drop of blood.
Juliet's eyes widen and it takes a second to be able to process what is happening and rush inside his tent. "Sawyer," she says. She sounds calmer than she feels. "Sawyer, wake up. Now."
She grabs his shoulder - his skin feels hot, fevered - and shakes it. His head tips to the side and his lips brush over the inside of her wrist. It causes a red-hot sparkle that shivers down her spine. She has to close her eyes.
"Claire…" he whispers, gasps, moans. His hands clench and his hips flick desperately upwards. "God, Claire."
She shakes his shoulder harder and is considering slapping his cheek when his eyes grumble open. He blinks heavily and squints at her. "You were dreaming," she explains. The confusion shifts, but only a little. "Are you alright now?"
He shifts so that he can sit up but he winces when he does. Juliet's eyes are drawn automatically to the scratches on his chest. She wishes Jack was here. Perhaps he wouldn't have had an explanation for her but around him she'd felt calmer.
"We go on like this and it's gonna get harder and harder to explain it to Bernard," Sawyer says. He grins, even while rubbing at his stiff wrists. The smile shakes.
"Don't, Sawyer," Juliet says quietly. She brushes her hand over her forehead and tries to think. "Just don't."
Her shoulders ache with sullen weariness as she sits there beside him, looking at the marks left behind by a dream, a fragment. She's frightened, really frightened, though she doesn't think that is Claire's intention. She believes that Claire is good - but Juliet is just so tired.
Sawyer's hand rests on her arm, warm and comforting. "It's gonna be okay, Jules. Don't you go worryin' about it." He pulls her in towards him and she doesn't bother resisting. She rests against him, head on his shoulder. His hand threads through her hair softly. It's been a long time since anybody's tried to comfort her: she thinks it's nice. She thinks she's missed this. She feels him chuckling, hearing the gentle sound rumbling through his chest. "Worse ways to be haunted though, aren't there?"
She laughs despite herself, feeling the emptiness ebbing. She shifts her head on his shoulder, makes herself more comfortable. She should be out on watch but she can't make herself move. Sawyer's hand in her hair keeps dragging her down towards sleep - she isn't even aware of how long they sit like that.
"You should get those scratches cleaned up," she says, sleep-slurred.
"They're not that deep. I'll live." He's smiling at her as her eyelids droop and she feels his lips against her forehead, a dry brush. "Get some rest. I can take over your watch - I don't feel too much like sleeping now anyhow."
She nods, lazy and slow, though she should argue with him as she slips down to rest her head against his pillow. Bernard will ask so many questions tomorrow how why she ended up in Sawyer's bed but she can't care, feeling too safe and warm for once. The outside world can't reach her here.
*
Juliet isn't surprised when she sees Claire standing by the stream the next day. Her heart rate increases and she fights with nerves as she makes herself walk forward anyway. The mark on her neck feels more apparent than ever. "Claire," she says with a nod.
"I'm sorry," Claire says immediately. "I don't mean to hurt you. Either of you. It just happens - it's hard to think clearly, like this."
Juliet kneels down by the stream's bank and dips her empty bottle into the cold, running water. "Like what?"
"It's hard to say. I'm just trying to help, Juliet, I promise - I'm just trying to help, that's all."
"I believe you," Juliet says. She does. As soon as she looks up and sees the way Claire stands there, fragile and lost, she knows she believes her. "Just tell me how, Claire. Why do we need help?"
"Because you need to be united." Claire frowns and moves nervously. The sunshine is long gone from her face. "With what's coming… You need to be closer before you can face it."
"What's coming?" Juliet screws the cap back onto her bottle and watches Claire warily, but no answers come forth. Claire just shakes her head. She looks sorry that she can't provide something more useful, but regret is worthless to her right now. "Claire, you need to tell me."
"I can't." She looks down unhappily and the conflicted expression on her face is almost enough to make Juliet back off. "I'm sorry. I just can't."
Juliet crosses the stream, stepping over the bubbling water so that she can stand by Claire's side. She smells Claire's scent, domestic but exotic, and she sees the way that Claire's long hair stirs in the breeze. She's corporeal, then.
"If you don't tell us what's coming, how can we be ready for it?"
Claire closes her eyes like she has a headache, like she's trying to shut the world out. Juliet places a hand on Claire's hip and grounds her there, keeps her from running. They need her. Whatever answers Claire can provide, they need them. It occurs to Juliet that she's holding onto a ghost. Claire feels alive and breathing under her hand but she's not. She's supposed to be gone. She's supposed to be dead.
"I'm sorry," Claire whispers again.
Juliet's grip tightens and she steels herself for what she has to do. "So am I," she says in return.
Before Claire has a chance to question what she has to apologise for, Juliet's other hand moves to her mouth - she covers it and pinches her nose, blocking out the oxygen. If a ghost can be touched that means it can be knocked out. If a ghost breathes, that means it needs air. Juliet doesn't apologise again as she holds firm against Claire's struggling until it fades away. She wishes that Sawyer was out here with her as she feels Claire's body slump against her: it's a long walk back to camp carrying an unconscious woman.
*
The ropes wind and twist around Claire's torso and the tree, but Claire doesn't struggle when she wakes up. She blinks and frowns at first like she's trying to work out what on Earth happened, but when it comes to her she smiles - a forgiving, indulgent smile, the way she would have looked at Aaron if she'd been the one to raise him. The sight of that expression is enough to lessen the tension that has grown in Juliet's stomach since she brought Claire here.
She and Sawyer stand at a distance; Sawyer's presence is sulking and reluctant behind her but Juliet tries to ignore his doubts. They have to do this.
Claire looks down at her bindings before back up at them. Her eyes are a more startling blue than ever. "Is this really necessary?" she asks. All hints of empty sadness that had lingered by the stream have now vanished.
"I need you to tell me what you know, Claire," Juliet says. She can make herself meet Claire's eyes but her heart stammers when she does so. Sawyer's hand reaches for hers and she doesn't stop herself from holding onto it. "This seems like the only way to get you to stick around and talk."
Claire giggles - giggles - and shakes her head. "It's a little extreme, don't you think? You're sure Sayid isn't still around somewhere?"
"We're not gonna hurt you," Sawyer promises. "You know we wouldn't."
"I don't know anything about you, not any more." She looks around at the jungle wistfully before she wrinkles her nose and returns her gaze to them. "The whole island's changed since I was alive."
"You never died." Sawyer's voice sounds tight and stressed. His hand is gripping Juliet's tightly. "You're not dead."
"I'm close enough."
"What's that even mean?"
"It means that I went home," Claire answers, but that doesn't help at all. That means nothing. "And now something is coming - something that is going to change everything unless…"
"Unless what?" Juliet asks.
Claire bites her bottom lip for a winding moment before she nods to herself. "Come closer," she urges quietly. The words are hushed like she's worried about being overheard.
Juliet's hand slips from Sawyer and she steps forward, crouching down in front of Claire. She shouldn't be this close: she should know better than this. She should keep her distance, but Claire looks so small and harmless. It's difficult to remain afraid of her.
Claire looks at her but gestures for her to come even closer. "Please," she whispers. "I can't say it if they can hear…"
Juliet leans towards her - and isn't wholly surprised when Claire's lips catch hers instead of whispering her secrets. She would have done the same thing. A distraction. A manipulation. The only shock is that Claire would have thought of it too.
They move slowly even as Juliet knows that she ought to pull back. Her mouth opens, but Claire is in control, Claire makes every advancing move in this kiss. Her hand runs through Juliet's hair, fingers tangling. She hears Sawyer yelling but she can't think enough to process what he is saying.
She feels light-headed and out of control - but when Claire's hand tightens in her hair she complains with a pained moan, muffled. She can't pull back. Claire's nails dig into her scalp but she can't move away even as she struggles. Claire shouldn't be strong enough to hold her in place with one hand but she is. God, she is.
Sawyer's hands grab her upper arms and he yanks her to her feet. Claire's hand drops as she stumbles and trips backwards. Sawyer is there to steady her with a firm grip still on her arms. "You're okay," he murmurs without removing his eyes from Claire. "You're okay; I got you."
The loops of rope have dropped down to the ground, pooling there like slothful snakes. Claire gets to her feet: her eyes sparkle with tears and her arms wrap around her stomach. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I can't control it. I wish I could - you're just so alive. Both of you, so alive."
Sawyer holds onto Juliet, his hands still resting on her arms. "You're not Claire."
"I'm not just Claire," she confirms reluctantly. "There's more here than just me. The island needs me - I've got work to do."
"You sound like Locke," Sawyer snorts.
Claire smiles, small and sad. "Maybe Locke knows what he's talking about, Sawyer."
Juliet looks at her, trying to work her out. Ben would have understood. When she'd first come to the island, shy and meek, she had quietly thought that Ben had the air of an unhinged religious fanatic. He'd seemed mad, talking about Jacob, about the island, but he's not around to provide the answers any more.
Claire looks past them, her eyes settling on something further away. Juliet turns. There is a man there, with greying hair and a neat suit who looks completely alien and out of place here. Juliet doesn't recognise him at all, but Sawyer bristles.
"I'm just coming, Dad," Claire calls.
"Dad?" Sawyer repeats.
He's answered only by the twinkle in Claire's eyes. "They're coming," she says, changing the topic. "The Oceanic Six, they're coming back. I've tried to stop them, but…"
"Who are the Oceanic Six?" Juliet asks.
"Jack and Kate didn't die," Claire explains - and that's really all that needs to be said. Sawyer's hand tightens uncontrollably where he's holding onto Juliet. "They weren't on the freighter when it exploded; they managed to make it back home. They're not the same as they were when they left, guys. They're different. Really different. You need to be prepared."
"Claire," her father says, a summons, a warning.
"You need to look out for each other." Claire walks past them, placing a hand on Sawyer's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for everything. I mean that."
"Quit apologising," Sawyer grumbles. Juliet thinks he means, Don't go, but Claire can't stay. She's not supposed to be here. Not any more.
Claire meets her father and holds his hand before he moves his arm around her slim shoulders. They don't look back as they walk away but Juliet watches every single step. Beside her, Sawyer's breathing seems too loud and too laboured.
"That's it." Sawyer's voice rumbles to her ear, quiet like he's barely speaking at all.
"That's it," Juliet confirms. They're not going to see Claire again, she realises once they're completely alone in the jungle. Everything is about to change.
*
They stare out to sea together every evening as the waves roll in. Weeks pass and the horizon remains clear. Juliet rests her head against Sawyer's shoulder: they've given up worrying about questions and rumours. Trying to guess what they are to each other keeps Bernard busy, but Juliet isn't quite ready to define it yet.
"Do you think they're really coming?" she asks.
Sawyer's lips press against the top of her head. "Claire said they would." That's really all the answer that Juliet needs. Claire hasn't appeared, in reality or their dreams, since they'd watched her walk into the jungle with her father and the mark on Juliet's neck has faded completely, but she trusts Claire. Maybe it's mad - she doesn't think she's truly trusted anyone else in years - but she does.
The Oceanic Six are coming back: Jack and Kate are returning. Sawyer's arm moves around her and she rests against him, warm and strong. It isn't much, but thanks to Claire she knows that the two of them are secure enough, stable enough, to face whatever that horizon will bring.