Admitting Defeat - Lost - Gen (Charles)
Title: Admitting Defeat
Characters: Charles Widmore, Penny (Desmond/Penny)
Word Count: 638
Rating: PG
A/N: For day two of Lost Riffs, the location prompt. They always say to write what you know, so here's a post-island ficlet set in Princes Street Gardens and Princes Mall in Edinburgh this morning.
Summary: "Charles hates Scotland in winter - although, to be perfectly honest, he can't say that he's a huge fan of the place at any other time of the year. There are too many bad memories stored here in the rain-soaked streets."
Princes Street Gardens, Edinburgh. 2008.
Charles hates Scotland in winter - although, to be perfectly honest, he can't say that he's a huge fan of the place at any other time of the year. There are too many bad memories stored here in the rain-soaked streets. Even on its warm days Edinburgh seems like a sponge slowly drying out and waiting for the next drenching.
It had been snowing this morning, a little January flurry. Nothing to rival the reports from abroad - the snow won't even lie on the ground, melting to a soggy puddle the second the flakes hit the path - but the wind blows gusts of large blobs of snow at his face and the wind whips around his face like it has something against him. He wouldn't be wholly surprised if it did.
Standing by a wet bench - if he sat down the pools would soak through his black jacket and he is in no mood to handle that - he waits for his daughter, searching for her with his eyes scrunched against the weather. He's sure the snow will fade off soon, but he still longs to get out of the crisp morning cold. There's a coffee shop just along the road by the train station, one of those awful chains, and he's tempted to wait for her there instead.
Before any more thoughts of jumping ship can cross his mind, his daughter appears in a flurry of woolly hats and rosy cheeks. Her blonde hair tumbles out from beneath the bright red wool on her head and her entire body is swamped with a blue coat - but he hardly has time to judge what else this place has done to her appearance before she's swallowed him in her arms.
"Penelope," he says happily, holding onto her as the snow falls and the thin crowd rushes past. "It's good to see you."
*
They escape from the weather as quickly as they can, retreating to the nearest shopping centre and the food court down below. It stinks of fast food and stale chips, but they manage to find a place that will serve them coffee. The seats are brightly coloured and the table wobbles as they sit down with their take-away cups. Uncivilised, Charles thinks, but he's so busy listening to Penny as she tells him all that's passed since they last saw each other that he can't care.
She tells him about her new flat here and of the wonderful view she has and how close it is to the centre of the city; she tells him about the new friends she's made, about the survivors of Oceanic 815; and she tells about Desmond Hume, the man who started this all - the man who, by some wicked twist of fate, managed to steal Charles' daughter away from him.
Yet most of all, he realised with an unpleasant twinge in his heart… Most of all, she tells him of how happy she is with her new life here.
He keeps his face blank and stirs sugar into his cheap coffee as if that might somehow make it palatable. "But, sweetheart," he says slowly, logically, and like he doesn't already know the answer, "We need you back in London. When are you coming home?"
Her smile is as warm as the drinks they're clutching and she shakes her head slowly as she looks around the shopping centre. The fast food court is brash and ugly, and regular waves of cold air coming rushing inside every time someone enters, but her eyes are lit up in a way that Charles hasn't seen for a very long time. "Father," she confesses, "I am home."
And by the glitter in her eyes and the smile on her face - Charles can tell she isn't lying. Desmond Hume, unworthy as he is, has finally won.
Characters: Charles Widmore, Penny (Desmond/Penny)
Word Count: 638
Rating: PG
A/N: For day two of Lost Riffs, the location prompt. They always say to write what you know, so here's a post-island ficlet set in Princes Street Gardens and Princes Mall in Edinburgh this morning.
Summary: "Charles hates Scotland in winter - although, to be perfectly honest, he can't say that he's a huge fan of the place at any other time of the year. There are too many bad memories stored here in the rain-soaked streets."
Princes Street Gardens, Edinburgh. 2008.
Charles hates Scotland in winter - although, to be perfectly honest, he can't say that he's a huge fan of the place at any other time of the year. There are too many bad memories stored here in the rain-soaked streets. Even on its warm days Edinburgh seems like a sponge slowly drying out and waiting for the next drenching.
It had been snowing this morning, a little January flurry. Nothing to rival the reports from abroad - the snow won't even lie on the ground, melting to a soggy puddle the second the flakes hit the path - but the wind blows gusts of large blobs of snow at his face and the wind whips around his face like it has something against him. He wouldn't be wholly surprised if it did.
Standing by a wet bench - if he sat down the pools would soak through his black jacket and he is in no mood to handle that - he waits for his daughter, searching for her with his eyes scrunched against the weather. He's sure the snow will fade off soon, but he still longs to get out of the crisp morning cold. There's a coffee shop just along the road by the train station, one of those awful chains, and he's tempted to wait for her there instead.
Before any more thoughts of jumping ship can cross his mind, his daughter appears in a flurry of woolly hats and rosy cheeks. Her blonde hair tumbles out from beneath the bright red wool on her head and her entire body is swamped with a blue coat - but he hardly has time to judge what else this place has done to her appearance before she's swallowed him in her arms.
"Penelope," he says happily, holding onto her as the snow falls and the thin crowd rushes past. "It's good to see you."
*
They escape from the weather as quickly as they can, retreating to the nearest shopping centre and the food court down below. It stinks of fast food and stale chips, but they manage to find a place that will serve them coffee. The seats are brightly coloured and the table wobbles as they sit down with their take-away cups. Uncivilised, Charles thinks, but he's so busy listening to Penny as she tells him all that's passed since they last saw each other that he can't care.
She tells him about her new flat here and of the wonderful view she has and how close it is to the centre of the city; she tells him about the new friends she's made, about the survivors of Oceanic 815; and she tells about Desmond Hume, the man who started this all - the man who, by some wicked twist of fate, managed to steal Charles' daughter away from him.
Yet most of all, he realised with an unpleasant twinge in his heart… Most of all, she tells him of how happy she is with her new life here.
He keeps his face blank and stirs sugar into his cheap coffee as if that might somehow make it palatable. "But, sweetheart," he says slowly, logically, and like he doesn't already know the answer, "We need you back in London. When are you coming home?"
Her smile is as warm as the drinks they're clutching and she shakes her head slowly as she looks around the shopping centre. The fast food court is brash and ugly, and regular waves of cold air coming rushing inside every time someone enters, but her eyes are lit up in a way that Charles hasn't seen for a very long time. "Father," she confesses, "I am home."
And by the glitter in her eyes and the smile on her face - Charles can tell she isn't lying. Desmond Hume, unworthy as he is, has finally won.