Fan fiction: "The Dark Side"
Title: "The Dark Side"
Author: mooncove
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Sayid, implied Ben
Rating: PG
Word count: 643
Warnings/spoilers: Angst, spoilers up through 5x10 ("He's Our You")
Description: Attempting to come to terms with the outcome of last night's episode
Author's notes: Dashed off fairly quickly as a therapeutic exercise, not beta'd; feedback/constructive criticism greatly appreciated :)
Darkness engulfed him. The indignant moon had withdrawn behind a curtain of clouds, and he had lost the path some time ago. Still he ran, through the brush and tangling vines, numb to the bark and vegetation that scratched his bare face and hands, to the aching exhaustion in his legs and his battered feet, to the unforgiving earth that slammed against him again and again but could not interrupt his flight from the voices. The whispers followed him without footsteps, repeating words he could barely make out. No matter how fast or where he ran, one rang out clearly again and again. There was no escaping it: "Killer."
He did not remember ramming headlong into the wall, but he suddenly found his fingers clawing anxiously at its cryptic raised designs and felt the blood still hot on his face, pouring into his useless eyes from his tingling forehead. His comedown was complete now; the drugs had worn off. Yet still the word "killer" slithered through every crevice of his brain.
Kneeling before the barrier, he wiped the sticky mixture of tears and blood from his eyes and wondered if the morning would ever come, if he would ever see light again.
"O, Allah! What have I done?" he sobbed. "I am not a killer. I'm not! He made me do it. I never wanted to kill anyone, not even him. He made me this way! He made me a killer. Took advantage of my weakness, brought out the worst in me, got me addicted to the feeling of power. It made me feel like a man. But why? Why would he do this to me?
"He of all people knew what it was like to grow up with such a harsh father. Such a gentle boy, such a good heart. What happened to that compassion? And what happened to mine? My God, I shot a child. A 12-year-old boy. Was that my true purpose? He looked up to me, saw me as a way out of that harshness. And I could have protected him, taught him the things I learned the hard way, brought out the goodness in him so that in time, he might have brought out the goodness in me. Richard and the Others helped us to leave the island; they are no worse than the DHARMA Initiative.
"But what did I do instead? Tried to put the poor child out of his misery, like I wish someone had done for me? It was their drugs that put such foolishness into my head. And now that I've done it, what will it accomplish? Was this really my purpose? Is there any purpose? Can the future really be changed? If it could, would I still be on this bloody island? Or am I?"
He felt around him, ran his fingers over the hieroglyphic-like bosses protruding from the stone. Where was he? He crawled along its base on his hands and knees, feeling his way until he reached a corner, the corner of a building. The whispers had stopped now, not as if they were gone but as if they were holding their breath. Listening.
Listening for what? Could they see him as well?
"Who are you?" he implored them. "Where are you?" Reflexively, he reached for his gun.
The only answer was the breeze shivering the thick canopy above and a rattling hiss below. No, not quite a rattling, more like a clicking, coming in intermittent bursts intermingled with almost-mechanical undertones, coming closer, closer, up out of the ground, crushing branches in its way and making its way towards him.
A misty purple began to tinge the sky at last. Sayid froze at the sight of the snaking column of smoke slowly approaching. This time, it was coming for him. They both knew there was no point in running as he raised the gun to his temple and opened his eyes, daring to look into nebulous blackness and finding something unexpectedly familiar within.
"Nadia?"
cross-posted to henrygalelovers and enigmaticlovers
Author: mooncove
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Sayid, implied Ben
Rating: PG
Word count: 643
Warnings/spoilers: Angst, spoilers up through 5x10 ("He's Our You")
Description: Attempting to come to terms with the outcome of last night's episode
Author's notes: Dashed off fairly quickly as a therapeutic exercise, not beta'd; feedback/constructive criticism greatly appreciated :)
Darkness engulfed him. The indignant moon had withdrawn behind a curtain of clouds, and he had lost the path some time ago. Still he ran, through the brush and tangling vines, numb to the bark and vegetation that scratched his bare face and hands, to the aching exhaustion in his legs and his battered feet, to the unforgiving earth that slammed against him again and again but could not interrupt his flight from the voices. The whispers followed him without footsteps, repeating words he could barely make out. No matter how fast or where he ran, one rang out clearly again and again. There was no escaping it: "Killer."
He did not remember ramming headlong into the wall, but he suddenly found his fingers clawing anxiously at its cryptic raised designs and felt the blood still hot on his face, pouring into his useless eyes from his tingling forehead. His comedown was complete now; the drugs had worn off. Yet still the word "killer" slithered through every crevice of his brain.
Kneeling before the barrier, he wiped the sticky mixture of tears and blood from his eyes and wondered if the morning would ever come, if he would ever see light again.
"O, Allah! What have I done?" he sobbed. "I am not a killer. I'm not! He made me do it. I never wanted to kill anyone, not even him. He made me this way! He made me a killer. Took advantage of my weakness, brought out the worst in me, got me addicted to the feeling of power. It made me feel like a man. But why? Why would he do this to me?
"He of all people knew what it was like to grow up with such a harsh father. Such a gentle boy, such a good heart. What happened to that compassion? And what happened to mine? My God, I shot a child. A 12-year-old boy. Was that my true purpose? He looked up to me, saw me as a way out of that harshness. And I could have protected him, taught him the things I learned the hard way, brought out the goodness in him so that in time, he might have brought out the goodness in me. Richard and the Others helped us to leave the island; they are no worse than the DHARMA Initiative.
"But what did I do instead? Tried to put the poor child out of his misery, like I wish someone had done for me? It was their drugs that put such foolishness into my head. And now that I've done it, what will it accomplish? Was this really my purpose? Is there any purpose? Can the future really be changed? If it could, would I still be on this bloody island? Or am I?"
He felt around him, ran his fingers over the hieroglyphic-like bosses protruding from the stone. Where was he? He crawled along its base on his hands and knees, feeling his way until he reached a corner, the corner of a building. The whispers had stopped now, not as if they were gone but as if they were holding their breath. Listening.
Listening for what? Could they see him as well?
"Who are you?" he implored them. "Where are you?" Reflexively, he reached for his gun.
The only answer was the breeze shivering the thick canopy above and a rattling hiss below. No, not quite a rattling, more like a clicking, coming in intermittent bursts intermingled with almost-mechanical undertones, coming closer, closer, up out of the ground, crushing branches in its way and making its way towards him.
A misty purple began to tinge the sky at last. Sayid froze at the sight of the snaking column of smoke slowly approaching. This time, it was coming for him. They both knew there was no point in running as he raised the gun to his temple and opened his eyes, daring to look into nebulous blackness and finding something unexpectedly familiar within.
"Nadia?"
cross-posted to henrygalelovers and enigmaticlovers