Lost: Still Here
Title: Still Here
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Juliet/Sawyer
Rating: PG
Word count: 500
Summary: A Dharmaville drabble set.
Notes: Set of five drabbles, spanning the first year in Dharmaville. Written for flipflop-diva as part of fandom-stocking. Spoilers through episode 5.08, LaFleur.
Still Here
Two Weeks
She decides to stay.
Says she's fine. Says it's her own choice and she's okay with it.
He ain't so sure.
Gettin' people to bend to his will is easy. He's been Sawyer too long, and he believes what he said about tigers and their stripes. He wants her to stay: he can't even tell anymore, but maybe he worked his usual magic on her.
But, hell - what if he did? Yeah, he hopes it actually was her choice. But what matters is that she ain't leavin' him.
Don't matter why.
(In three years, it'll matter. More than anythin'.)
Two Months
She doesn't know who lies more: him or her.
The difference is that his lies keep them safe. His lies got them jobs, food, beds, a house. Something that could almost be a life, maybe. One day.
Her lies are utterly useless.
He wants to know what happened to her.
She gives him bare facts. No lies, but no emotion either. (Anything to keep herself from crying in front of him.)
When she's done, he's quiet. Snaps open a beer, hands her the black-and-white can.
"They really screwed you, Jules."
She plays with her hair. Shrugs. "Doesn't matter anymore." Lies.
Six Months
It hits him one Tuesday, outta nowhere, that his memories of her are fadin' away.
He can remember her face, sure, but only if he really tries.
Honestly, he don't often bother anymore.
"I wish we had a cat."
Juliet stirs a cup of tea, stares out the window all thoughtful.
"What, like a puma?"
"Smart ass." She throws a dishcloth at him. "A cat cat. Something to sit on my lap and purr when it's raining."
He needs a spoon for his coffee, so he steals hers. "I could do that, y'know."
She rolls her eyes. "Keep the spoon."
Nine Months
This is the day it happens:
He (completely intentionally) gets an eighties power ballad stuck in her head at breakfast.
She spends the workday catching herself humming, and then cursing him under her breath.
He makes dinner.
She does the dishes.
He sits on the couch, lost in something by Orwell.
She tries to read, but can't even get through one sentence. She can't concentrate.
He notices. "Hey. You alright?"
She will be. "I will be."
Two seconds later, both books lie forgotten. He's on his back while she presses kisses against his throat, his fingers tangled in her hair.
One Year
It's too damn early, but the thunder woke him up ages ago. Rain hammers against the window; patrol duty's gonna be a bitch today.
He rolls onto his side. "You awake?" he whispers into her hair.
"Mmm." She yawns, pulls the blankets closer.
He rests his forehead against her back. In exactly two hours, Miles'll start his ritual whinin' session about never gettin' to drive the van.
He sighs, and lightly brushes his thumb over her hip. "You're still here."
"It's only five thirty, James," she murmurs. "Of course I'm still here."
He kisses her shoulder. "Not what I meant."
end
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Juliet/Sawyer
Rating: PG
Word count: 500
Summary: A Dharmaville drabble set.
Notes: Set of five drabbles, spanning the first year in Dharmaville. Written for flipflop-diva as part of fandom-stocking. Spoilers through episode 5.08, LaFleur.
Still Here
Two Weeks
She decides to stay.
Says she's fine. Says it's her own choice and she's okay with it.
He ain't so sure.
Gettin' people to bend to his will is easy. He's been Sawyer too long, and he believes what he said about tigers and their stripes. He wants her to stay: he can't even tell anymore, but maybe he worked his usual magic on her.
But, hell - what if he did? Yeah, he hopes it actually was her choice. But what matters is that she ain't leavin' him.
Don't matter why.
(In three years, it'll matter. More than anythin'.)
Two Months
She doesn't know who lies more: him or her.
The difference is that his lies keep them safe. His lies got them jobs, food, beds, a house. Something that could almost be a life, maybe. One day.
Her lies are utterly useless.
He wants to know what happened to her.
She gives him bare facts. No lies, but no emotion either. (Anything to keep herself from crying in front of him.)
When she's done, he's quiet. Snaps open a beer, hands her the black-and-white can.
"They really screwed you, Jules."
She plays with her hair. Shrugs. "Doesn't matter anymore." Lies.
Six Months
It hits him one Tuesday, outta nowhere, that his memories of her are fadin' away.
He can remember her face, sure, but only if he really tries.
Honestly, he don't often bother anymore.
"I wish we had a cat."
Juliet stirs a cup of tea, stares out the window all thoughtful.
"What, like a puma?"
"Smart ass." She throws a dishcloth at him. "A cat cat. Something to sit on my lap and purr when it's raining."
He needs a spoon for his coffee, so he steals hers. "I could do that, y'know."
She rolls her eyes. "Keep the spoon."
Nine Months
This is the day it happens:
He (completely intentionally) gets an eighties power ballad stuck in her head at breakfast.
She spends the workday catching herself humming, and then cursing him under her breath.
He makes dinner.
She does the dishes.
He sits on the couch, lost in something by Orwell.
She tries to read, but can't even get through one sentence. She can't concentrate.
He notices. "Hey. You alright?"
She will be. "I will be."
Two seconds later, both books lie forgotten. He's on his back while she presses kisses against his throat, his fingers tangled in her hair.
One Year
It's too damn early, but the thunder woke him up ages ago. Rain hammers against the window; patrol duty's gonna be a bitch today.
He rolls onto his side. "You awake?" he whispers into her hair.
"Mmm." She yawns, pulls the blankets closer.
He rests his forehead against her back. In exactly two hours, Miles'll start his ritual whinin' session about never gettin' to drive the van.
He sighs, and lightly brushes his thumb over her hip. "You're still here."
"It's only five thirty, James," she murmurs. "Of course I'm still here."
He kisses her shoulder. "Not what I meant."
end