FIC: Sand (Lost)
It's suddenly like 70 out, isn't it suppost to be cold and stuff? I'm wearing flip-flops for pete's sake! Not like I'm complaining or anything. It's just weird.
Finishing up my violence in Algeria paper this afternoon, then it's a little relaxation and packing time, since I head home to DC tomorrow afternoon. Just cross your fingers that my mother will be in a good mood. Last year one of her first conversations with me started "Well it's looks like you've gain some weight" *face palm* And she wonders why I have body issues. But I have high hopes, mostly cause there is the prospect of shopping, and I so need some H&M therapy!
Here is my latest (finished) Lost fic (not the wip skinny dipping one). I hope people like it, it didn't turn out to be anything like what I wanted, porn!, but I think I finally got some of my ideas about character issues out. It's a little off canon, since I wrote it awhile ago, so no caves or anything. Feedback would make my day, as always, and help me to push through the other fic I'm working on. This one is Jack/Kate, which I adore and I know some other people do too, I think.
Sand
Lost // Jack/Kate // PG-13-ish (some language I guess?) // Part one of one
And my heart is sick of being in chains ~Tori Amos
I've got a hold on something new
I'm not a grain of sand
I don't care what's written in your hand
Cause it's bound to change ~ Damien Rice
Her hair was just absurd. They had only been on the island a little over a month and a half and it looked like she hadn’t been near a hairdresser in years. Between the lack of washing and the constant winds; she thought she looked like a hobo. It looked like a bird's nest perched on her head she was just sick of it blowing over her eyes. If she had been in a real place, as opposed to this island of mysteries, she’d go get a trim. Right now she just wants to take one of Locke’s knives to the whole lot.
She’d spent the day on the beach, under the palm that over hangs from the forest. Claire was sitting next to her, watching Shannon and Boone bicker up and down the beach. Locke, Sawyer and Sayid had just gotten back from hunting with something that looked very much like a overgrown rat. She had been avoiding the meat, even though she stopped eating meat for ethical reasons, and she sure as hell knew where it came from; she was still picky. After one afternoon of light-headed babbling, Jack made her eat some. It tasted horrible, but afterwards she wasn’t so tired. after. Boar was one thing, giant rat was another.
Leaning back against the tree, she scans the beach, still just sand and water. Charlie’s over by the rocks with Hurley and Jack; she hopes they catch something, anything for her to choose over giant rat. The tree is rough against her back, she can feel every flaking bit of bark through her thin shirt. Claire draws little things in the sand, figures, numbers; then brushes them gone with a flick of the wrist. She’s interesting, with her round belly and easy smile.
All of them have stories, some mundane, some less so, but everyone is hiding something, she thinks. Squinting out over the flat blue of the ocean, she thinks for a moment she sees a ship, or perhaps just a cloud, or glare. Shifting in the sand, she’s covered in grime, the kind that doesn’t wash off with a quick dip in the salt water. She pushes phantom locks from her sticky forehead, fighting the urge to pull at them with anger.
Claire’s fallen asleep, the sun lowering slowly in the sky. Kate looks down at her body, curled up, face resting against a folded blanket. She knows it must be hard for her, alone., Claire's unable to help like the others, and fear must be so present in her mind. Leaving her alone, letting her rest, Kate gets up and heads towards the main fire, where people are gathering to help with the food.
She picks up one of the crates that they use a table. Dinner is a free for all, with people vying for the choicest bits of food, but there always seems to be enough to go around though. Not because of people like Sawyer who always seems to end up with the best bit even if they don’t try. Claire and Walt always get a little more then the adults. Walt puts some of his aside for Vincent, even if Michael does the same.
Kate smiles as she puts the crate down, watching Walt throw sticks for the golden dog. She never had a pet growing up, her brother was allergic to just about anything with fur. Wonder what Mom and Dad are thinking right now. She wonders if they even had a service for her, or they just wrote her off as gone long before the plane fell from the sky. Been over a year since she last heard from them, sent a postcard to her brother Sean, from Prague in the spring. Just pretending she was still just off seeing the world, instead of running for her life.
Now she has nowhere to run. It feels good, never having to think of who’s watching, or when someone’s face will pop up and it’s on the road again. But part of her misses it, being a chamaeleon; a student one day, a heiress the other. She’s just Kate on the island; no pretending, no hiding. Yet she’s not, she’s not herself, not the little girl from a small town. She’s something else, like the real her is slowly unfolding from its shell.
As she sits by the fire, the sun is burning bronze in the sky. She thinks about going to wake up Claire , but a glance in that direction tell her that Charlie got there first. They are both smiling; his hands don’t shake so much anymore.
Everyone is pairing off, if not in romantic ways, then just building a family from the survivors. Boone and Shannon, Michael and Walt; Claire and Charlie, Jin and Sun. Then there are also Sawyer and Sayid, who seem to have bonded through a mutual hate. Locke, the ‘great white hunter’ as Charlie calls him, he has his knifes which seems enough for him. Hurley, moves between all the little groups, making everyone laugh with his stories. That leaves Kate, well and Jack too.
Everyone has paired them off, except that they haven’t paired off yet exactly. Sure, they tend to sit next to each other, and they have long talks out by the water’s edge, but she’s not sure that they should be considered a pair really. They talk, - not about the past, and not really dwelling on the future; they just talk.
She looks up from her perch near the fire, watching the coals flare red and yellow. What about Jack, and more over what about her and Jack has been the question on her mind. It’s been a more then a month, and still there have been no planes, and only one ship too far out to see the fire. Even Sayid is digging in, helping to build new shelters near the rocks and close to the valley. She’s still sleeping by the fire, for the ostensive purpose of keeping it going, but mostly to avoid the question of where to spread her blanket.
What’s the harm really? Everyone would expect it, no one would shun either of them. Jack’s open smile, open arms; his warm body against hers. What’s the harm really?
Maybe it’s the fear that there is something more there than just a few lingering looks. Maybe it’s ‘cause she knows that if they get off the island, she’s in chains. But then again, maybe it’s time not to worry so much. Got to live a little, Katherine.
Jack is down by the water, washing his hands or so it seems from here. She squints, as the daylight fading fast. Bringing her legs to her chest, she waits. Not ready, not yet, to make the first step. He walks up towards the fire, sweeping her eyes away, suddenly very interested in the animated conversation Charlie and Hurley are having.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
Maybe it’s just the breeze blowing, but she swears that she can feel his hand brush her shoulder as he sits besides her. Get a grip, girl.
“We got some fish today, for once.”
“Yeah, I saw you guys. Looks like they put up a mighty fight.”
He smiles in profile, something about his smile that just makes her chest open, breathe. He laughs so openly, like the tension can just float away with a sound.
“You could have come over, nice way to pass the afternoon.”
“I was keeping Claire company.”
“I saw.”
A pause. Fire crackles, and laughter drifts from one side of the ring of people to the other. Her legs are stiff, muscles overworked from the constant walking and no soft bed. Stretching her legs out, she ends up shoulder to shoulder with him, palms flat in the sand. Her body is angled towards him, and he reaches out, brushing the grains of sand from her jeans, but he lingers. They're so close, bodies almost touching, god when was the last time someone touched her like that. She lets her fingers splay out in the sand, grazing his; everything seems like a blur of gold and heat.
He’s looking at her, she’s looking back; for a moment it all seem perfect until….
“Why lookie, seems like the Hero finally found his balls.”
Sawyer.
“Fuck off asshole.”
Her head whips around, was that really Jack who said that? She knows that he has this other side, - the tattoos, the silence when she asks about his family -, but this is different. He’s all about getting along as well as we can on the island, can’t afford division. This is the Jack who nurses everyone along; she flushes, splotchy red all over her face.
She doesn’t need him to protect her, arms strong from the labor on the beach. Sawyer she can handle, has been handling, just a part of her likes it. Like having someone stand up for her, a protective hand.
“What, Hero, don’t like me looking at your girl?”
He’s on his feet., Sawyer’s bulk blocks out the firelight, eyes seem to flash in the dimming light. Her temples start to throb, and her head aches with the thought of them fighting, fighting over her.
“Wait-”
Her voice sounds stale in her throat, like it forcing it’s way out, pushing past her judgement and letting the words fly.
“What do you want Sawyer? Little entertainment? Leave it.”
“No worries, Freckles, just havin’ a little fun. No reason to get your panties in a twist. Not that you need any help.”
“Shove off Sawyer.”
He smirks and goes back to sit next to Shannon, who mirrors his look. For a moment she’s afraid to look into the other eyes that peer out from the dark. She sits back down, setting into the sand, wanting to curl up and lose herself in dreams. She used to be able to throw lines with the best of them, but now she’s lost all her edge. Just a month and all the things she learned running are gone, and she’s out in the open, all soft edges and wants.
Jack is reclining in the sand, leaning back on his hands, his chest rises and falls with a slow pattern. She wonders if she should say anything, noting that his hands are still balled in fists. Squaring her shoulders, eyes flashing for a moment at Sawyer; she gets up. Dinner is long forgotten.
“Jack?”
“Hrm-”
He looks up, sitting up, doesn’t seem to be fazed by the gazes of all those gathered around the campfire.
“Do you - do you want to take a walk?”
He smiles, slightly, edges of his mouth curving upwards. The hollows under his eyes - under everyone’s eyes - don’t look so dark when his eyes glow like that. He’s just as tired as the rest of them, but he never lets his shoulder drop, never lets his temper get the upper hand. So many spiteful things were said over the dinner fire, before the food mellowed everyone’s nerves.
“Sure.”
Walking away from the fire, a clear distance between them, neither of them looking back to wonder what is being murmured about them. After they clear the first curve, near the place where she pricked his flesh, sewed him up with sore wrists and long gone nerves; she finds herself closer to him. Lingering slightly behind him, one step behind, just enough for her to see where they are going. Not too far from the camp, still the danger lurks in the woods, all seeing, unbidden.
“Sit for awhile?”
He’s turned around, she’s fallen a few paces behind, wrapped up in thoughts.
“Yeah.”
She flops down with no grace at all. A laugh escapes her mouth, echoing a little in the breeze. He sits besides her, closer then common courtesy would suggest. But then again, things seem to be coming to some sort of peak tonight, she thinks.
She starts to speak to say something pointless, anything to avoid the memory of Sawyer’s words. But he stops her with a kiss.
She’s never understood how that would work, seemingly too melodramatic of a phrase. But with lips parted she opens her mouth to speak, and his hand slides to the side of her face. She blinks at the sudden touch - skin to skin - then his lips are on her, and that’s all she can think of. What ever words were poised to leap from her lips are forgotten with one touch. And he kisses well, kisses like it's more then just a spontaneous thing, like he was planning this. She kisses him back, sliding her body closer to his.
His hand in her hair, that blasted hair.
Parting for a little breath, her body almost in his lap. She rests her head on his chest, feeling his heart pulse.
“Meant to do that earlier - for days, just couldn’t - find the moment.”
The words sputter from his mouth, like he can’t take a breath for fear of losing his courage. She turns her head so she can see his face, and see him, sees Jack. Not the hero, or the doctor, or the scar on his back; she see a man with a open heart and swollen lips. She wouldn’t have given him the time of day two months ago, - not that she wouldn’t have looked; just that she couldn’t have thought that a man like him, a good man, would even look back at her.
She kisses his chin, rough with stubble and sand. Lifting her eyes to his, she smiles ‘cause that’s all she can muster in away of reply, other then to kiss him again. But he beats her to that.
It goes on and on until he’s on top of her in the sand, and her hands have found their way under his shirt. She giggles - when was the last time she giggled - when his lips reach a soft spot right behind her ears.
“Why are you laughing Jack?”
“‘Cause you are.”
She was so unhappy, before this whole thing, before the plane crashed. Happiness seemed something that she could only experience looking at other people, not feeling in bubble out of herself. But here she was, stuck on a slightly odd island in the middle of nowhere and she was happier then she thinks she has been since she was a little girl in a green dress twirling on Easter.
“Beautiful ...”
His voice gets lost with his lips pressed up against her skin. He rolls off of her, and she lays her head on his chest. It’s totally dark now, and the stars flash and fade in the sky. They talk a little, - nothing of substance, mostly they just lay there and enjoy the feeling of someone next to them. She closes her eyes, and between the surf and his breathing she almost feels comfortable on the sand.
“Jac-K!”
Charlie’s clipped voice rises over the dunes, she stirs as he starts to get up. He lets his fingers brush the sand from her, but they seem to be more interested in mapping her body. Her feet are sleepy and she leans against him, as Charlie wonders over the dune.
“People where just wondering where you guys were off to, you know with the whole man-eating invisible thing about.”
“We’re fine, Charlie.”
“Okay, just checking, might want to wander back before all the food is gone.”
His voice fades off as he hands back towards the camp. She’s leaning against him, cheeks flushed and he lays a kiss on her hair.
“I hate it.”
“What?”
She smiles, looking up at the look of confusion flood his face as they walk back towards the fire, side by side.
“My hair, there is too much of it.”
“I think it’s nice.”
“You don’t have to deal with it. Men are so lucky.”
“We have other issues that I don’t think you’d like to deal with. And besides, Sayid has as much hair as you do.”
“Just wait until Shannon runs out of sun screen, then we’ll really have a problem."
“Kate - ”
She turns back as his fingers clasp over her wrist, and pull her in the direction of the jungle. Part of her want to yell at him, about the thing that lives there; but the rest of her, recognizes the look in his eyes and lets herself go with him.
Dinner can wait just a little longer.
cross posted to some places ...
Finishing up my violence in Algeria paper this afternoon, then it's a little relaxation and packing time, since I head home to DC tomorrow afternoon. Just cross your fingers that my mother will be in a good mood. Last year one of her first conversations with me started "Well it's looks like you've gain some weight" *face palm* And she wonders why I have body issues. But I have high hopes, mostly cause there is the prospect of shopping, and I so need some H&M therapy!
Here is my latest (finished) Lost fic (not the wip skinny dipping one). I hope people like it, it didn't turn out to be anything like what I wanted, porn!, but I think I finally got some of my ideas about character issues out. It's a little off canon, since I wrote it awhile ago, so no caves or anything. Feedback would make my day, as always, and help me to push through the other fic I'm working on. This one is Jack/Kate, which I adore and I know some other people do too, I think.
Sand
Lost // Jack/Kate // PG-13-ish (some language I guess?) // Part one of one
And my heart is sick of being in chains ~Tori Amos
I've got a hold on something new
I'm not a grain of sand
I don't care what's written in your hand
Cause it's bound to change ~ Damien Rice
Her hair was just absurd. They had only been on the island a little over a month and a half and it looked like she hadn’t been near a hairdresser in years. Between the lack of washing and the constant winds; she thought she looked like a hobo. It looked like a bird's nest perched on her head she was just sick of it blowing over her eyes. If she had been in a real place, as opposed to this island of mysteries, she’d go get a trim. Right now she just wants to take one of Locke’s knives to the whole lot.
She’d spent the day on the beach, under the palm that over hangs from the forest. Claire was sitting next to her, watching Shannon and Boone bicker up and down the beach. Locke, Sawyer and Sayid had just gotten back from hunting with something that looked very much like a overgrown rat. She had been avoiding the meat, even though she stopped eating meat for ethical reasons, and she sure as hell knew where it came from; she was still picky. After one afternoon of light-headed babbling, Jack made her eat some. It tasted horrible, but afterwards she wasn’t so tired. after. Boar was one thing, giant rat was another.
Leaning back against the tree, she scans the beach, still just sand and water. Charlie’s over by the rocks with Hurley and Jack; she hopes they catch something, anything for her to choose over giant rat. The tree is rough against her back, she can feel every flaking bit of bark through her thin shirt. Claire draws little things in the sand, figures, numbers; then brushes them gone with a flick of the wrist. She’s interesting, with her round belly and easy smile.
All of them have stories, some mundane, some less so, but everyone is hiding something, she thinks. Squinting out over the flat blue of the ocean, she thinks for a moment she sees a ship, or perhaps just a cloud, or glare. Shifting in the sand, she’s covered in grime, the kind that doesn’t wash off with a quick dip in the salt water. She pushes phantom locks from her sticky forehead, fighting the urge to pull at them with anger.
Claire’s fallen asleep, the sun lowering slowly in the sky. Kate looks down at her body, curled up, face resting against a folded blanket. She knows it must be hard for her, alone., Claire's unable to help like the others, and fear must be so present in her mind. Leaving her alone, letting her rest, Kate gets up and heads towards the main fire, where people are gathering to help with the food.
She picks up one of the crates that they use a table. Dinner is a free for all, with people vying for the choicest bits of food, but there always seems to be enough to go around though. Not because of people like Sawyer who always seems to end up with the best bit even if they don’t try. Claire and Walt always get a little more then the adults. Walt puts some of his aside for Vincent, even if Michael does the same.
Kate smiles as she puts the crate down, watching Walt throw sticks for the golden dog. She never had a pet growing up, her brother was allergic to just about anything with fur. Wonder what Mom and Dad are thinking right now. She wonders if they even had a service for her, or they just wrote her off as gone long before the plane fell from the sky. Been over a year since she last heard from them, sent a postcard to her brother Sean, from Prague in the spring. Just pretending she was still just off seeing the world, instead of running for her life.
Now she has nowhere to run. It feels good, never having to think of who’s watching, or when someone’s face will pop up and it’s on the road again. But part of her misses it, being a chamaeleon; a student one day, a heiress the other. She’s just Kate on the island; no pretending, no hiding. Yet she’s not, she’s not herself, not the little girl from a small town. She’s something else, like the real her is slowly unfolding from its shell.
As she sits by the fire, the sun is burning bronze in the sky. She thinks about going to wake up Claire , but a glance in that direction tell her that Charlie got there first. They are both smiling; his hands don’t shake so much anymore.
Everyone is pairing off, if not in romantic ways, then just building a family from the survivors. Boone and Shannon, Michael and Walt; Claire and Charlie, Jin and Sun. Then there are also Sawyer and Sayid, who seem to have bonded through a mutual hate. Locke, the ‘great white hunter’ as Charlie calls him, he has his knifes which seems enough for him. Hurley, moves between all the little groups, making everyone laugh with his stories. That leaves Kate, well and Jack too.
Everyone has paired them off, except that they haven’t paired off yet exactly. Sure, they tend to sit next to each other, and they have long talks out by the water’s edge, but she’s not sure that they should be considered a pair really. They talk, - not about the past, and not really dwelling on the future; they just talk.
She looks up from her perch near the fire, watching the coals flare red and yellow. What about Jack, and more over what about her and Jack has been the question on her mind. It’s been a more then a month, and still there have been no planes, and only one ship too far out to see the fire. Even Sayid is digging in, helping to build new shelters near the rocks and close to the valley. She’s still sleeping by the fire, for the ostensive purpose of keeping it going, but mostly to avoid the question of where to spread her blanket.
What’s the harm really? Everyone would expect it, no one would shun either of them. Jack’s open smile, open arms; his warm body against hers. What’s the harm really?
Maybe it’s the fear that there is something more there than just a few lingering looks. Maybe it’s ‘cause she knows that if they get off the island, she’s in chains. But then again, maybe it’s time not to worry so much. Got to live a little, Katherine.
Jack is down by the water, washing his hands or so it seems from here. She squints, as the daylight fading fast. Bringing her legs to her chest, she waits. Not ready, not yet, to make the first step. He walks up towards the fire, sweeping her eyes away, suddenly very interested in the animated conversation Charlie and Hurley are having.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
Maybe it’s just the breeze blowing, but she swears that she can feel his hand brush her shoulder as he sits besides her. Get a grip, girl.
“We got some fish today, for once.”
“Yeah, I saw you guys. Looks like they put up a mighty fight.”
He smiles in profile, something about his smile that just makes her chest open, breathe. He laughs so openly, like the tension can just float away with a sound.
“You could have come over, nice way to pass the afternoon.”
“I was keeping Claire company.”
“I saw.”
A pause. Fire crackles, and laughter drifts from one side of the ring of people to the other. Her legs are stiff, muscles overworked from the constant walking and no soft bed. Stretching her legs out, she ends up shoulder to shoulder with him, palms flat in the sand. Her body is angled towards him, and he reaches out, brushing the grains of sand from her jeans, but he lingers. They're so close, bodies almost touching, god when was the last time someone touched her like that. She lets her fingers splay out in the sand, grazing his; everything seems like a blur of gold and heat.
He’s looking at her, she’s looking back; for a moment it all seem perfect until….
“Why lookie, seems like the Hero finally found his balls.”
Sawyer.
“Fuck off asshole.”
Her head whips around, was that really Jack who said that? She knows that he has this other side, - the tattoos, the silence when she asks about his family -, but this is different. He’s all about getting along as well as we can on the island, can’t afford division. This is the Jack who nurses everyone along; she flushes, splotchy red all over her face.
She doesn’t need him to protect her, arms strong from the labor on the beach. Sawyer she can handle, has been handling, just a part of her likes it. Like having someone stand up for her, a protective hand.
“What, Hero, don’t like me looking at your girl?”
He’s on his feet., Sawyer’s bulk blocks out the firelight, eyes seem to flash in the dimming light. Her temples start to throb, and her head aches with the thought of them fighting, fighting over her.
“Wait-”
Her voice sounds stale in her throat, like it forcing it’s way out, pushing past her judgement and letting the words fly.
“What do you want Sawyer? Little entertainment? Leave it.”
“No worries, Freckles, just havin’ a little fun. No reason to get your panties in a twist. Not that you need any help.”
“Shove off Sawyer.”
He smirks and goes back to sit next to Shannon, who mirrors his look. For a moment she’s afraid to look into the other eyes that peer out from the dark. She sits back down, setting into the sand, wanting to curl up and lose herself in dreams. She used to be able to throw lines with the best of them, but now she’s lost all her edge. Just a month and all the things she learned running are gone, and she’s out in the open, all soft edges and wants.
Jack is reclining in the sand, leaning back on his hands, his chest rises and falls with a slow pattern. She wonders if she should say anything, noting that his hands are still balled in fists. Squaring her shoulders, eyes flashing for a moment at Sawyer; she gets up. Dinner is long forgotten.
“Jack?”
“Hrm-”
He looks up, sitting up, doesn’t seem to be fazed by the gazes of all those gathered around the campfire.
“Do you - do you want to take a walk?”
He smiles, slightly, edges of his mouth curving upwards. The hollows under his eyes - under everyone’s eyes - don’t look so dark when his eyes glow like that. He’s just as tired as the rest of them, but he never lets his shoulder drop, never lets his temper get the upper hand. So many spiteful things were said over the dinner fire, before the food mellowed everyone’s nerves.
“Sure.”
Walking away from the fire, a clear distance between them, neither of them looking back to wonder what is being murmured about them. After they clear the first curve, near the place where she pricked his flesh, sewed him up with sore wrists and long gone nerves; she finds herself closer to him. Lingering slightly behind him, one step behind, just enough for her to see where they are going. Not too far from the camp, still the danger lurks in the woods, all seeing, unbidden.
“Sit for awhile?”
He’s turned around, she’s fallen a few paces behind, wrapped up in thoughts.
“Yeah.”
She flops down with no grace at all. A laugh escapes her mouth, echoing a little in the breeze. He sits besides her, closer then common courtesy would suggest. But then again, things seem to be coming to some sort of peak tonight, she thinks.
She starts to speak to say something pointless, anything to avoid the memory of Sawyer’s words. But he stops her with a kiss.
She’s never understood how that would work, seemingly too melodramatic of a phrase. But with lips parted she opens her mouth to speak, and his hand slides to the side of her face. She blinks at the sudden touch - skin to skin - then his lips are on her, and that’s all she can think of. What ever words were poised to leap from her lips are forgotten with one touch. And he kisses well, kisses like it's more then just a spontaneous thing, like he was planning this. She kisses him back, sliding her body closer to his.
His hand in her hair, that blasted hair.
Parting for a little breath, her body almost in his lap. She rests her head on his chest, feeling his heart pulse.
“Meant to do that earlier - for days, just couldn’t - find the moment.”
The words sputter from his mouth, like he can’t take a breath for fear of losing his courage. She turns her head so she can see his face, and see him, sees Jack. Not the hero, or the doctor, or the scar on his back; she see a man with a open heart and swollen lips. She wouldn’t have given him the time of day two months ago, - not that she wouldn’t have looked; just that she couldn’t have thought that a man like him, a good man, would even look back at her.
She kisses his chin, rough with stubble and sand. Lifting her eyes to his, she smiles ‘cause that’s all she can muster in away of reply, other then to kiss him again. But he beats her to that.
It goes on and on until he’s on top of her in the sand, and her hands have found their way under his shirt. She giggles - when was the last time she giggled - when his lips reach a soft spot right behind her ears.
“Why are you laughing Jack?”
“‘Cause you are.”
She was so unhappy, before this whole thing, before the plane crashed. Happiness seemed something that she could only experience looking at other people, not feeling in bubble out of herself. But here she was, stuck on a slightly odd island in the middle of nowhere and she was happier then she thinks she has been since she was a little girl in a green dress twirling on Easter.
“Beautiful ...”
His voice gets lost with his lips pressed up against her skin. He rolls off of her, and she lays her head on his chest. It’s totally dark now, and the stars flash and fade in the sky. They talk a little, - nothing of substance, mostly they just lay there and enjoy the feeling of someone next to them. She closes her eyes, and between the surf and his breathing she almost feels comfortable on the sand.
“Jac-K!”
Charlie’s clipped voice rises over the dunes, she stirs as he starts to get up. He lets his fingers brush the sand from her, but they seem to be more interested in mapping her body. Her feet are sleepy and she leans against him, as Charlie wonders over the dune.
“People where just wondering where you guys were off to, you know with the whole man-eating invisible thing about.”
“We’re fine, Charlie.”
“Okay, just checking, might want to wander back before all the food is gone.”
His voice fades off as he hands back towards the camp. She’s leaning against him, cheeks flushed and he lays a kiss on her hair.
“I hate it.”
“What?”
She smiles, looking up at the look of confusion flood his face as they walk back towards the fire, side by side.
“My hair, there is too much of it.”
“I think it’s nice.”
“You don’t have to deal with it. Men are so lucky.”
“We have other issues that I don’t think you’d like to deal with. And besides, Sayid has as much hair as you do.”
“Just wait until Shannon runs out of sun screen, then we’ll really have a problem."
“Kate - ”
She turns back as his fingers clasp over her wrist, and pull her in the direction of the jungle. Part of her want to yell at him, about the thing that lives there; but the rest of her, recognizes the look in his eyes and lets herself go with him.
Dinner can wait just a little longer.
cross posted to some places ...