Fanfiction: LOST (Jack/Kate)
I haven't written fanfiction in ages, but last night's episode of "LOST" gave me the following idea, and I ran with it. Enjoy!
Title: A Hole Five Seconds Deep
Fandom: "LOST"
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack/Kate
Setting: shortly after the end of 6.14
Notes: !!MAJOR SPOILERS!! for 6.14 ("The Candidate")
Words: 1351
A Hole Five Seconds Deep
Forty-three seconds to reach the surface (how many more seconds until the air?) one hundred and seventeen between breaking into the open air and falling onto the sand (the waves helped bring them to shore), one second of thoughtlessness, of gratefulness that she was alive (but only one second), only half a second to realize they were alone (how many more seconds left below the surface?). Ten seconds of agony (every heavy, terrified breath felt like it lasted a hundred) until the split-second between blinking and seeing a dark mass farther down the beach (it was too small to be five or six people, or even four), fifteen seconds to hobble across the sand (she counted every one).
One hundred and eighty-seven seconds that felt like one hundred and eighty-seven thousand.
It had been countless more seconds since she stopped keeping count (the moment she felt his pulse racing against her cheek), and the impenetrable, immeasurable blue-blackness of the night and the water were turning to a dusty navy. She sat still, unbelievably still, for what might have been hundreds of thousands of seconds, had she not known that it was mere hours.
The inability to go anywhere, for the time being, left them time to mourn. The saltwater that had seeped into wounds left them time to be still, for the dangers were no longer immediate.
It left Kate time with the hole in her shoulder left by a bullet, one that might as well have gone through her heart and lodged in her soul, rather than tearing through cotton and flesh and slipping into the water behind her. Other things had slipped away into the water, too, and if she could not have them back, then at least she could have the bullet. The bullet that saved her life, that’s power made her weak and forbade her to stay behind and help, that led her to the surface and onto the beach instead of to the bottom of the ocean in an enclosed death trap.
“It should have been me,” she finally said, breaking the silence in which she’d remained since saying their names and spiraling down into tears. She stared out into the ocean, eyes transfixed on the rolling waves under which the people who helped her keep her last shred of hope now lay in their watery graves. Kate herself was not drowning, but the hole in her shoulder was, drenched with seawater and smothered by Jack’s waterlogged shirt. It should have been her.
The pressure lessened on her shoulder; perhaps the wound was not drowning after all. “What should have been you, Kate?” She did not look at him. Not because of how haggard he surely appeared, not because seeing him without his shirt on (even to take care of her) reminded her of what they’d had that had ended, not because she was afraid. Her eyes could not, and would not, leave the water.
“Them,” she stated, so fervently it was more a prayer than an answer, a ‘them’ that was gone and would never return, a testament to their lack of control. “Sun and Jin.”
Jack put more pressure on her shoulder again, and again she was drowning vicariously through her wound. The salt had hours ago lost its sting upon hitting her torn flesh, and she nearly told him to stop - stop, Jack, you’ve fixed it enough - but she didn’t have the words, and even if she did, she was done telling him to stop. She could feel her name coming from his mouth, “Kate…” before he even said it, knowing the exact second at which he’d let himself say it, and just the combination of anguish and admonition that would be in his voice.
“I wasn’t afraid,” Kate stopped him, still staring out at the dusky blue water. “To die,” she added. If she never had to live up to her willingness to meet her death hours earlier, then she could at least live up to saying so, could at least not be afraid to say it herself, rather than letting Jack decipher it for himself. If he could give himself up to whatever fate awaited them here, then she could still hold on to the moments in which she could be the master of her own fate; she was not afraid to say that she was not afraid to die.
Again. “Kate…” She had yet to look at him. It didn’t seem right to her to do it, but she knew that it was killing him that she didn’t. The pressure on her shoulder relented again.
“When Sayid…when he detonated that bomb, and I hit the floor…and when the room started to flood, and when I was underwater,” she was still looking at the ocean, and not at Jack, “I thought…that was it. My shoulder…everything burned, and the water was everywhere, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t get up. And I thought it was over. I was going to die. I was going to die in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean.” The tide was going out; the water seemed farther away than it had before.
“And all I could think about was Claire, and the water, and that if Aaron couldn’t have her then at least he shouldn’t lose me too. And I was so…scared, so…lost, and I hated myself for letting this happen, for…for dying, before I could do the only thing I came back here to do.” Jack had pulled the shirt away now, and the cold air hit the wound on her shoulder, like it had surfaced and would not drown after all.
“I did what you told me to, and…and I started to count. One…two…three...” the numbers get harder to say, each one suffocating her more, “…four…five.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the water was still there, Sun and Jin still dead beneath it. “And I was…I was so ready to die. And then you pulled me out of the water, and…”
A third time. “Kate.” This time, it’s definitive. Four. “Kate…you…you were not supposed to die…”
“But I should have,” she said, just as definitively, her shoulder burning with its cold gasping for air, and her eyes became the part of her that was drowning. “I should have, Jack, I…” Saying his name made her throat close again; in all the times she’s said it, never has it felt more desperate than now. Not when she screamed for him through the rain in the jungle what felt like an eternity ago, not in all the times he came home to Aaron’s excited, jumping embrace - Jack! from him, and hi, Jack, from her - not even as she shouted, cried, yelled for him as he leaped into the water (the same water where Sun and Jin would rest eternally), and she thought it was the last time she’d see him.
Five. “Kate,” he reached in front of her face, placed his palm (still large, but colder) against her far cheek and turned her to look at him, made her look away from the water. “You were not supposed to die.” He said it like it was the truth, and she believed him, because she was looking at him and when he looked back at her that way - I’ve always been with you - that was just what she did; she just believed him.
Two seconds they stayed that way (she was looking anywhere but directly at him, into him), half a second to look back at the ocean (she couldn’t help it) and another half to decide to look at him and find his eyes (I couldn’t find you…I couldn’t find you), one second in which she would have said thank you had she been able to find the words (he didn’t save her life, the bullet did), another second and saltwater was everywhere (her eyes, his eyes, trickling down their faces and slipping between their lips so they could taste each other’s).
Five seconds that felt like five thousand. She - not her shoulder - was drowning again, and she was not afraid to die.
Title: A Hole Five Seconds Deep
Fandom: "LOST"
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack/Kate
Setting: shortly after the end of 6.14
Notes: !!MAJOR SPOILERS!! for 6.14 ("The Candidate")
Words: 1351
A Hole Five Seconds Deep
Forty-three seconds to reach the surface (how many more seconds until the air?) one hundred and seventeen between breaking into the open air and falling onto the sand (the waves helped bring them to shore), one second of thoughtlessness, of gratefulness that she was alive (but only one second), only half a second to realize they were alone (how many more seconds left below the surface?). Ten seconds of agony (every heavy, terrified breath felt like it lasted a hundred) until the split-second between blinking and seeing a dark mass farther down the beach (it was too small to be five or six people, or even four), fifteen seconds to hobble across the sand (she counted every one).
One hundred and eighty-seven seconds that felt like one hundred and eighty-seven thousand.
It had been countless more seconds since she stopped keeping count (the moment she felt his pulse racing against her cheek), and the impenetrable, immeasurable blue-blackness of the night and the water were turning to a dusty navy. She sat still, unbelievably still, for what might have been hundreds of thousands of seconds, had she not known that it was mere hours.
The inability to go anywhere, for the time being, left them time to mourn. The saltwater that had seeped into wounds left them time to be still, for the dangers were no longer immediate.
It left Kate time with the hole in her shoulder left by a bullet, one that might as well have gone through her heart and lodged in her soul, rather than tearing through cotton and flesh and slipping into the water behind her. Other things had slipped away into the water, too, and if she could not have them back, then at least she could have the bullet. The bullet that saved her life, that’s power made her weak and forbade her to stay behind and help, that led her to the surface and onto the beach instead of to the bottom of the ocean in an enclosed death trap.
“It should have been me,” she finally said, breaking the silence in which she’d remained since saying their names and spiraling down into tears. She stared out into the ocean, eyes transfixed on the rolling waves under which the people who helped her keep her last shred of hope now lay in their watery graves. Kate herself was not drowning, but the hole in her shoulder was, drenched with seawater and smothered by Jack’s waterlogged shirt. It should have been her.
The pressure lessened on her shoulder; perhaps the wound was not drowning after all. “What should have been you, Kate?” She did not look at him. Not because of how haggard he surely appeared, not because seeing him without his shirt on (even to take care of her) reminded her of what they’d had that had ended, not because she was afraid. Her eyes could not, and would not, leave the water.
“Them,” she stated, so fervently it was more a prayer than an answer, a ‘them’ that was gone and would never return, a testament to their lack of control. “Sun and Jin.”
Jack put more pressure on her shoulder again, and again she was drowning vicariously through her wound. The salt had hours ago lost its sting upon hitting her torn flesh, and she nearly told him to stop - stop, Jack, you’ve fixed it enough - but she didn’t have the words, and even if she did, she was done telling him to stop. She could feel her name coming from his mouth, “Kate…” before he even said it, knowing the exact second at which he’d let himself say it, and just the combination of anguish and admonition that would be in his voice.
“I wasn’t afraid,” Kate stopped him, still staring out at the dusky blue water. “To die,” she added. If she never had to live up to her willingness to meet her death hours earlier, then she could at least live up to saying so, could at least not be afraid to say it herself, rather than letting Jack decipher it for himself. If he could give himself up to whatever fate awaited them here, then she could still hold on to the moments in which she could be the master of her own fate; she was not afraid to say that she was not afraid to die.
Again. “Kate…” She had yet to look at him. It didn’t seem right to her to do it, but she knew that it was killing him that she didn’t. The pressure on her shoulder relented again.
“When Sayid…when he detonated that bomb, and I hit the floor…and when the room started to flood, and when I was underwater,” she was still looking at the ocean, and not at Jack, “I thought…that was it. My shoulder…everything burned, and the water was everywhere, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t get up. And I thought it was over. I was going to die. I was going to die in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean.” The tide was going out; the water seemed farther away than it had before.
“And all I could think about was Claire, and the water, and that if Aaron couldn’t have her then at least he shouldn’t lose me too. And I was so…scared, so…lost, and I hated myself for letting this happen, for…for dying, before I could do the only thing I came back here to do.” Jack had pulled the shirt away now, and the cold air hit the wound on her shoulder, like it had surfaced and would not drown after all.
“I did what you told me to, and…and I started to count. One…two…three...” the numbers get harder to say, each one suffocating her more, “…four…five.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the water was still there, Sun and Jin still dead beneath it. “And I was…I was so ready to die. And then you pulled me out of the water, and…”
A third time. “Kate.” This time, it’s definitive. Four. “Kate…you…you were not supposed to die…”
“But I should have,” she said, just as definitively, her shoulder burning with its cold gasping for air, and her eyes became the part of her that was drowning. “I should have, Jack, I…” Saying his name made her throat close again; in all the times she’s said it, never has it felt more desperate than now. Not when she screamed for him through the rain in the jungle what felt like an eternity ago, not in all the times he came home to Aaron’s excited, jumping embrace - Jack! from him, and hi, Jack, from her - not even as she shouted, cried, yelled for him as he leaped into the water (the same water where Sun and Jin would rest eternally), and she thought it was the last time she’d see him.
Five. “Kate,” he reached in front of her face, placed his palm (still large, but colder) against her far cheek and turned her to look at him, made her look away from the water. “You were not supposed to die.” He said it like it was the truth, and she believed him, because she was looking at him and when he looked back at her that way - I’ve always been with you - that was just what she did; she just believed him.
Two seconds they stayed that way (she was looking anywhere but directly at him, into him), half a second to look back at the ocean (she couldn’t help it) and another half to decide to look at him and find his eyes (I couldn’t find you…I couldn’t find you), one second in which she would have said thank you had she been able to find the words (he didn’t save her life, the bullet did), another second and saltwater was everywhere (her eyes, his eyes, trickling down their faces and slipping between their lips so they could taste each other’s).
Five seconds that felt like five thousand. She - not her shoulder - was drowning again, and she was not afraid to die.