It was supposed to be angsty...
Title: Apologies and promises
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Jack/Kate and some Ana
Rating: G I think.
Summary: That kiss, that fucking fairy kiss.
Spoilers: Through to "The Hunting Party"
Author's Note: Okay. So this is bad but I feel the need to put anything and everything I write out there for criticism because I haven't written anything in so long, fanfic or otherwise. I woke up at 3pm and this is the first thing I thought of doing. It's unbetaed filled with all my writer quirks like random semicolons and such. Also, I don't know who I want to beat up more in Lost right now. Jack or Kate they are both such commitment phobes...
Jack can still smell the filth of the man, dark wild eyes and mud for war paint. He remembers trying to identify the make and model of the gun and getting nowhere. Some relic World War II perhaps, he wonders why he believed that it could hurt Kate. Kate. Jack stifles the urge to feel down into the pit of his stomach. His life is a succession of apologies, the whispers rolling off the wind into an eastern sky. East. Home. I’m sorry I kissed you back, and he cannot help wondering if it’s for the shadow of Kate or Gabriella. Ana-Lucia is sitting next to him with his water bottle between her knees. She is army building in her head and the evening light fades to a grey wash across her bronzed cheek.
He is tired of fear. Tired of the strain that pulls him taut over the bones of a man he left fifty days behind him. He will stop trying now. There are no more miracles to invoke as the sad sound of Charlie’s guitar curls itself into the ridged curve of his ear. A sorrow waiting to be noticed. Jack brushes the thought away briskly. All of his doctor parlour tricks pale in comparison to the strange vastness of his current reality. Kate with a pistol to her neck. Kate blindfolded and gagged. Preferring the darkness, he turned from the sound of her voice calling his name. It slapped his cheek with responsibility, more lies than any man should swallow. Sawyer loves her. Ana-Lucia peers at Jack as he glares into the horizon. They are silent as the cheerful cries of people surrounding a bonfire scold her for her solitude. Jack turns with a smile in the half-dusk and kisses her on the forehead. Quickly. Chastely.
"They may never forgive you but they will accept you," he murmurs into her dusty hair. They will accept you because they fear you, he thinks darkly and Jack ignores the stain of wet salt on her cheek as he stands, long shadows pulling at his shoulders as Ana-Lucia smiles.
"The worst part is over, right?" she jokes huskily and he grimaces a reply. Kate is standing at the shore, bonfire to her back. No. It is not.
Kate’s back stiffens as Jack approaches, She turns her head slowly and it is Jack who startles as her face flickers in the orange gold light. Kate tied up. Kate handcuffed. Kate in an orange jumpsuit. They pause, two pawns in a chess match of the island’s design. Jack tries to read the copper flecked green of her eyes. His gaze falls to the abrasions on her wrists and without forethought he is pulling her towards him, already reaching for bandages Jack knows she will refuse. Silence. Jack sighs softly as he cleans the cuts, begins wrapping the deceptively delicate bones as her stare burns its way through every defense he has managed to devise.
"Jack. I’m sorry," Kate whispers, the words soft treason because Sarah was sorry and Gabriella was sorry. But they got what they wanted while he lay spent; empty and raw. His trust a dying thing because he never saw it coming: the goodbye kiss, his thorough work meaningless; the dishes washed, her suitcase by the door. Jack shakes his head in denial. He holds both her wrists in one hand, gently because as much as he is hurting, he cannot hurt her, refuses to hurt more. If I cannot trust Sarah, how the hell can I trust you with my- He is tired of apologies.
"I’m not mad," he finally replies, his tone cool even to his ears. "But if you can’t understand why I wanted you in the hatch instead of with me, I can’t explain it to you". The truth is he would never know where to begin. The waves push gently against the shore and they are sinking in the sand. Jack’s hand shakes around her wrists and Kate looks up into his eyes. She wants him to tell her why the stoicism. Why the silence and she slips her wrists out of his grasp to touch his cheeks. Jack shakes his head furiously. "You didn’t even have a gun, Kate!" he gasps heatedly. "What would have happened if they meant to hurt you? Kill you?"
He stops. I can trust her with a gun but not with me. Jack laughs at the irony, pulls away and Kate is right. She can’t. He can’t. The desire to protect her too fierce for logic already. Jack looks at her now, caught between the fire and the sea, still sinking, and God does he know how that feels. They will never know where that kiss might have led, never know if what he thinks existed in that moment, in the space between his breath and hers could have been as perfect as it was painful. Kate is still. She is looking at him, her eyes wide and uncertain because this is the second time he’s yelled today and yes, he knows, she’s sorry. But what he finds he does not have the guts to ask is whether she’s apologizing for the kiss or the capture.
"I don’t know what else to say Jack," she murmurs neutrally and they both know she is lying. Jack sighs. He steps closer because when he is near Kate, there is only Kate and close proximity is all he will allow himself. Jack hugs Kate, feels her hold him tightly in response and with sudden clarity he recalls what his first girlfriend told him. The first kiss is a double dare. He touches his forehead to hers as he thinks back to the kiss, their kiss. He strokes her cheek with his trembling hand and he reconsiders. Sarah’s words searing him: a white hot pain down his spine. You will always need something to fix. Jack cannot help hoping that she is wrong. He is learning to let go.
"I’m sorry Kate," he whispers and he thinks that Kate was daring someone to feel for her, daring to feel something in return. Jack always did prefer truth as green eyes flutter with uncertainty, and Kate opens her mouth to speak only to lose her words with Jack’s lips. The shaking he feels quelled to a gentle quiver as he slides his tongue along the seam of her mouth; tasting the one truth she has to offer for all it is worth. His heart slows, the comfort of her warmth invading him and Sarah was wrong, all wrong. If Jack is guilty of anything it is of needing to be fixed, made whole in a way that Sarah could not understand. The second kiss is a promise, either to never stop kissing or never to start again. He pulls back slowly, his eyes on Kate’s face. Kate laughing. Kate loving. Him. Jack grins softly into her cheek and he does not have all the answers. He is not a miracle worker. Kate laughs tearfully and Jack kisses her again, drawing her flush against him as the water swirls at their feet. He cannot stop something that has not even begun.
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Jack/Kate and some Ana
Rating: G I think.
Summary: That kiss, that fucking fairy kiss.
Spoilers: Through to "The Hunting Party"
Author's Note: Okay. So this is bad but I feel the need to put anything and everything I write out there for criticism because I haven't written anything in so long, fanfic or otherwise. I woke up at 3pm and this is the first thing I thought of doing. It's unbetaed filled with all my writer quirks like random semicolons and such. Also, I don't know who I want to beat up more in Lost right now. Jack or Kate they are both such commitment phobes...
Jack can still smell the filth of the man, dark wild eyes and mud for war paint. He remembers trying to identify the make and model of the gun and getting nowhere. Some relic World War II perhaps, he wonders why he believed that it could hurt Kate. Kate. Jack stifles the urge to feel down into the pit of his stomach. His life is a succession of apologies, the whispers rolling off the wind into an eastern sky. East. Home. I’m sorry I kissed you back, and he cannot help wondering if it’s for the shadow of Kate or Gabriella. Ana-Lucia is sitting next to him with his water bottle between her knees. She is army building in her head and the evening light fades to a grey wash across her bronzed cheek.
He is tired of fear. Tired of the strain that pulls him taut over the bones of a man he left fifty days behind him. He will stop trying now. There are no more miracles to invoke as the sad sound of Charlie’s guitar curls itself into the ridged curve of his ear. A sorrow waiting to be noticed. Jack brushes the thought away briskly. All of his doctor parlour tricks pale in comparison to the strange vastness of his current reality. Kate with a pistol to her neck. Kate blindfolded and gagged. Preferring the darkness, he turned from the sound of her voice calling his name. It slapped his cheek with responsibility, more lies than any man should swallow. Sawyer loves her. Ana-Lucia peers at Jack as he glares into the horizon. They are silent as the cheerful cries of people surrounding a bonfire scold her for her solitude. Jack turns with a smile in the half-dusk and kisses her on the forehead. Quickly. Chastely.
"They may never forgive you but they will accept you," he murmurs into her dusty hair. They will accept you because they fear you, he thinks darkly and Jack ignores the stain of wet salt on her cheek as he stands, long shadows pulling at his shoulders as Ana-Lucia smiles.
"The worst part is over, right?" she jokes huskily and he grimaces a reply. Kate is standing at the shore, bonfire to her back. No. It is not.
Kate’s back stiffens as Jack approaches, She turns her head slowly and it is Jack who startles as her face flickers in the orange gold light. Kate tied up. Kate handcuffed. Kate in an orange jumpsuit. They pause, two pawns in a chess match of the island’s design. Jack tries to read the copper flecked green of her eyes. His gaze falls to the abrasions on her wrists and without forethought he is pulling her towards him, already reaching for bandages Jack knows she will refuse. Silence. Jack sighs softly as he cleans the cuts, begins wrapping the deceptively delicate bones as her stare burns its way through every defense he has managed to devise.
"Jack. I’m sorry," Kate whispers, the words soft treason because Sarah was sorry and Gabriella was sorry. But they got what they wanted while he lay spent; empty and raw. His trust a dying thing because he never saw it coming: the goodbye kiss, his thorough work meaningless; the dishes washed, her suitcase by the door. Jack shakes his head in denial. He holds both her wrists in one hand, gently because as much as he is hurting, he cannot hurt her, refuses to hurt more. If I cannot trust Sarah, how the hell can I trust you with my- He is tired of apologies.
"I’m not mad," he finally replies, his tone cool even to his ears. "But if you can’t understand why I wanted you in the hatch instead of with me, I can’t explain it to you". The truth is he would never know where to begin. The waves push gently against the shore and they are sinking in the sand. Jack’s hand shakes around her wrists and Kate looks up into his eyes. She wants him to tell her why the stoicism. Why the silence and she slips her wrists out of his grasp to touch his cheeks. Jack shakes his head furiously. "You didn’t even have a gun, Kate!" he gasps heatedly. "What would have happened if they meant to hurt you? Kill you?"
He stops. I can trust her with a gun but not with me. Jack laughs at the irony, pulls away and Kate is right. She can’t. He can’t. The desire to protect her too fierce for logic already. Jack looks at her now, caught between the fire and the sea, still sinking, and God does he know how that feels. They will never know where that kiss might have led, never know if what he thinks existed in that moment, in the space between his breath and hers could have been as perfect as it was painful. Kate is still. She is looking at him, her eyes wide and uncertain because this is the second time he’s yelled today and yes, he knows, she’s sorry. But what he finds he does not have the guts to ask is whether she’s apologizing for the kiss or the capture.
"I don’t know what else to say Jack," she murmurs neutrally and they both know she is lying. Jack sighs. He steps closer because when he is near Kate, there is only Kate and close proximity is all he will allow himself. Jack hugs Kate, feels her hold him tightly in response and with sudden clarity he recalls what his first girlfriend told him. The first kiss is a double dare. He touches his forehead to hers as he thinks back to the kiss, their kiss. He strokes her cheek with his trembling hand and he reconsiders. Sarah’s words searing him: a white hot pain down his spine. You will always need something to fix. Jack cannot help hoping that she is wrong. He is learning to let go.
"I’m sorry Kate," he whispers and he thinks that Kate was daring someone to feel for her, daring to feel something in return. Jack always did prefer truth as green eyes flutter with uncertainty, and Kate opens her mouth to speak only to lose her words with Jack’s lips. The shaking he feels quelled to a gentle quiver as he slides his tongue along the seam of her mouth; tasting the one truth she has to offer for all it is worth. His heart slows, the comfort of her warmth invading him and Sarah was wrong, all wrong. If Jack is guilty of anything it is of needing to be fixed, made whole in a way that Sarah could not understand. The second kiss is a promise, either to never stop kissing or never to start again. He pulls back slowly, his eyes on Kate’s face. Kate laughing. Kate loving. Him. Jack grins softly into her cheek and he does not have all the answers. He is not a miracle worker. Kate laughs tearfully and Jack kisses her again, drawing her flush against him as the water swirls at their feet. He cannot stop something that has not even begun.