In Two (Desmond, PG)
Title: In Two
Character: Desmond
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Note: Set in some vague early season four time.
In Two
He doesn't tell anyone the real story about Charlie. It's not important. He was a reckless idiot and a foolish idealist, but he still would've been both without his visions. They were something private, for both of them a sort of uncertain certainty, decisive but impossible to believe or to bear.
He no longer thinks the dreams meant him to save Charlie and be the sacrifice instead, but that doesn't stop him from wishing with every breath that things might've been different. That's the part he can't tell, the easy decision to step into the breach and end his months, his years of misery, and then the way it was taken away from him by some bloody course correction. Apparently, it was not his lot to do, only to say. A report that tears the camp in two, but it's much more personal than that for him.
Not Penny's boat: another uncertain certainty--equally impossible to bear, but he can surely believe it. By now, he readily expects separation and suffering. He doesn't need to tell anyone the whole truth to see the way the look at him with pity, sympathy for his pain. But they don't understand, not really. He can't tell them of a heart torn in two jagged, unequal pieces: watching the water rise and rise and cover him, watching his years of hope blink out again like the light in Charlie's eyes as they go blank, his hand still pressed to the window.
~
Character: Desmond
Rating: PG
Word Count: 250
Note: Set in some vague early season four time.
In Two
He doesn't tell anyone the real story about Charlie. It's not important. He was a reckless idiot and a foolish idealist, but he still would've been both without his visions. They were something private, for both of them a sort of uncertain certainty, decisive but impossible to believe or to bear.
He no longer thinks the dreams meant him to save Charlie and be the sacrifice instead, but that doesn't stop him from wishing with every breath that things might've been different. That's the part he can't tell, the easy decision to step into the breach and end his months, his years of misery, and then the way it was taken away from him by some bloody course correction. Apparently, it was not his lot to do, only to say. A report that tears the camp in two, but it's much more personal than that for him.
Not Penny's boat: another uncertain certainty--equally impossible to bear, but he can surely believe it. By now, he readily expects separation and suffering. He doesn't need to tell anyone the whole truth to see the way the look at him with pity, sympathy for his pain. But they don't understand, not really. He can't tell them of a heart torn in two jagged, unequal pieces: watching the water rise and rise and cover him, watching his years of hope blink out again like the light in Charlie's eyes as they go blank, his hand still pressed to the window.
~