Those left behind
Those left behind
Word count: 1410
Timeline: Series finale - highly spoilery.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This is a fictional, nonprofit work for entertainment purpose only. The copyright in the TV show LOST and its components is owned by "American Broadcast Companies, Inc.", which reserves all rights therein.
Author’s Notes: This is me trying to cope with one of the things that troubled me the most about the flash-sideways universe. What can I do, I really loved that kid. :)
As she walks amidst the empty chairs and tables, seeing the last few people scatter away, she realizes - much against her own wishes - that all this is finally coming to an end. No, she scoffs; not “finally”. Only fools are enslaved by time and space, she remembers with a tinge of irony, thinking that sometimes being the fool was the better way out. There is good reason behind the old saying that “ignorance is bliss”, and Eloise Hawking of all people knows the validity of that statement.
Because she knows what is happening to those people who attended the concert and to their friends. And she also knows what it means when Daniel leaves the place in the company of that beautiful redhead Charlotte (she has to chuckle at the thought that all mothers have to go through that moment of seeing their boys going away with another woman). And she dares thinking that “it’s only a matter of time now” before correcting herself - is it really?
Lost in thought, she almost doesn’t notice that she is, in fact, not alone out there. The timid chords of the piano bring her attention to the stage.
Every war has its casualties, indeed.
She puts a polite smile on her face and walks to the boy, noticing on close inspection that he seemed to be holding back tears. Does he know? She isn’t willing to risk a guess.
“I should advise you that my son is quite jealous of that piano.”
Her stern, albeit playful, voice interrupts him mid-chord. “Oh, I’m... sorry, I... I asked if I could...” He stammers, startled.
“It’s ok,” Eloise adds reassuringly, sitting by his side on the piano bench. A lovely boy he is, this young David lad. It’s easy to see his father in him, on his facial expressions and little quirks, even in the tone of his voice. And yet there are those little bits of his mother - the eyes, those little detached looks while he watched the band playing - that could easily make him more his mother’s son than his father’s, depending on your point of view. How fitting that the boy would come out like that.
He rubs his eyes quickly, as if it wasn’t too late for her to notice he had been crying. “Your son is great, you know. I, uh… I saw him at the Conservatory last month, that was amazing.”
“I know,” she answers with a nod. “He always loved music. I tried to get him interested in science, but...” A pause as she runs a hand over the piano keys. “This is his call.” And it hurts her to admit it out loud that only here could Daniel pursue his dreams freely. She knows it was out of her hands since the beginning; she knows the Universe has this annoying trend to course-correct itself, eluding them all with promises of free will. And yet, she can’t but wonder... “I’m guessing you are a musician too, if playing the piano moves you so much.” It’s better to change the subject before her mind starts dwelling on dangerous territory.
“I’m studying,” he says humbly, unsure about his own potential, and at that moment he is 100 percent his father’s son. “My grandfather and my dad used to play it, before they went to Medicine school and... you know doctors, they didn’t have the time and all that.” There is a cloud over his eyes as he fiddles with the keys, scratching the ivory surface of a C with his nail to remove a little dirt. “Dad says I really should try. I mean, professionally, you know?” He gives a quick laugh. “It’s... it’s cool of him to think that, but it’s kinda scary too.”
“Are they here with you, your parents?” She knows the answer, but she needs to know his answer.
He glances at her briefly, clearly thinking she is onto something; then averts his gaze again to the piano and answers “No” with a shrug and a frown. “My father couldn’t come. He had this… unexpected patient all of a sudden, so I came with mom and my aunt. But then the hospital called and my mother, she’s a doctor too, she had to go there. But it’s their job, I completely understand…” There is a growing worry in his eyes, as if deep down he can sense (if not completely grasp yet) that something is terribly wrong. She wishes she could tell him that things are actually going to be all right, but it would be a lie for the two of them. “And then,” he continues, “then my aunt leaves the table in the middle of the show, and she tells me she’s just going to the toilet, but I’ve looked for her everywhere and I couldn’t find her. And she’s, you know, extremely pregnant, so… there was this woman who knew her on our table and she went after her to see if she needed anything, but I couldn’t find her either. And dad was supposed to pick me up so we could go to my grandfather’s funeral, but...”
“Do you know why we are here, David?” she cuts him out. As expected, he gives her a curious look. He certainly didn’t think she knew his name.
“Uh, sorry?”
“We are here, all of us, because we mean something to someone else.” Taking a deep breath, Eloise moves the boy’s hair out of his face. “We all have a role on the larger scheme of things. Perhaps I am here because my son needs me here, or Desmond, or Charles. Perhaps I will still be here for my grandson, when or if he needs me.” She reaches for his hand, and he is too confused to take it away. “You, dear… you are here - you exist - because if it wasn’t for you, there would still be a gap in your parents’ lives, holding them back. If it wasn’t for you, your father would never have been able to understand how hard it was to be a father, to be his father. If not for you, your mother would never have been able to feel the joy she witnessed on so many women during her life. If not for you, the relationship between them would never have received a proper closure; it would remain an eternal ‘what if’ to get in the way of the true happiness they deserved. You, David, are here because your parents needed you to make their own existences complete. And that is no small feat, son.”
He looks at her with a question mark hanging over his features for another moment or so; then out of a sudden, his gaze gets lost somewhere way past Eloise’s head, his face contorted with a barely-held sob; and she knows that it means he woke up.
“They’re not coming back, are they,” it dawns on the boy with a sad certainty, to which Eloise answers only “It was time for them to move on.”
And then he can’t hold back the tears any longer, and she puts her arms around him and rocks him back and forth, as she did with her own child so many times, haunted by the horrible knowledge that he would meet (or had met) his demise at those same hands. And yet all her knowledge fails her as she realizes she has no idea how this boy is feeling; she has no idea what will be of him now that the people who needed him - the ones that gave him a “life” - are gone. All there is for her to do is pat his back and mumble an empty “it’s ok” as the boy manages to articulate between sobs, “and I couldn’t even say goodbye.”
It takes some time (or something akin to time that rules their existences in that plane) before the boy has shed enough tears. He lets out long, deep sighs, his blue eyes glossy and completely lost as he looks at Eloise and hesitatingly asks, “I’m all alone now, ain’t I?”
And then, looking at those scared eyes, she realizes that the universe has strange little ways of course-correcting. She holds both his hands, in her heart the comfort - however small - of a mother who lost a child, but can still protect another. “Nobody is alone, David,” is what she tells him, and there is nothing else in the world she wants to believe more.
Word count: 1410
Timeline: Series finale - highly spoilery.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This is a fictional, nonprofit work for entertainment purpose only. The copyright in the TV show LOST and its components is owned by "American Broadcast Companies, Inc.", which reserves all rights therein.
Author’s Notes: This is me trying to cope with one of the things that troubled me the most about the flash-sideways universe. What can I do, I really loved that kid. :)
As she walks amidst the empty chairs and tables, seeing the last few people scatter away, she realizes - much against her own wishes - that all this is finally coming to an end. No, she scoffs; not “finally”. Only fools are enslaved by time and space, she remembers with a tinge of irony, thinking that sometimes being the fool was the better way out. There is good reason behind the old saying that “ignorance is bliss”, and Eloise Hawking of all people knows the validity of that statement.
Because she knows what is happening to those people who attended the concert and to their friends. And she also knows what it means when Daniel leaves the place in the company of that beautiful redhead Charlotte (she has to chuckle at the thought that all mothers have to go through that moment of seeing their boys going away with another woman). And she dares thinking that “it’s only a matter of time now” before correcting herself - is it really?
Lost in thought, she almost doesn’t notice that she is, in fact, not alone out there. The timid chords of the piano bring her attention to the stage.
Every war has its casualties, indeed.
She puts a polite smile on her face and walks to the boy, noticing on close inspection that he seemed to be holding back tears. Does he know? She isn’t willing to risk a guess.
“I should advise you that my son is quite jealous of that piano.”
Her stern, albeit playful, voice interrupts him mid-chord. “Oh, I’m... sorry, I... I asked if I could...” He stammers, startled.
“It’s ok,” Eloise adds reassuringly, sitting by his side on the piano bench. A lovely boy he is, this young David lad. It’s easy to see his father in him, on his facial expressions and little quirks, even in the tone of his voice. And yet there are those little bits of his mother - the eyes, those little detached looks while he watched the band playing - that could easily make him more his mother’s son than his father’s, depending on your point of view. How fitting that the boy would come out like that.
He rubs his eyes quickly, as if it wasn’t too late for her to notice he had been crying. “Your son is great, you know. I, uh… I saw him at the Conservatory last month, that was amazing.”
“I know,” she answers with a nod. “He always loved music. I tried to get him interested in science, but...” A pause as she runs a hand over the piano keys. “This is his call.” And it hurts her to admit it out loud that only here could Daniel pursue his dreams freely. She knows it was out of her hands since the beginning; she knows the Universe has this annoying trend to course-correct itself, eluding them all with promises of free will. And yet, she can’t but wonder... “I’m guessing you are a musician too, if playing the piano moves you so much.” It’s better to change the subject before her mind starts dwelling on dangerous territory.
“I’m studying,” he says humbly, unsure about his own potential, and at that moment he is 100 percent his father’s son. “My grandfather and my dad used to play it, before they went to Medicine school and... you know doctors, they didn’t have the time and all that.” There is a cloud over his eyes as he fiddles with the keys, scratching the ivory surface of a C with his nail to remove a little dirt. “Dad says I really should try. I mean, professionally, you know?” He gives a quick laugh. “It’s... it’s cool of him to think that, but it’s kinda scary too.”
“Are they here with you, your parents?” She knows the answer, but she needs to know his answer.
He glances at her briefly, clearly thinking she is onto something; then averts his gaze again to the piano and answers “No” with a shrug and a frown. “My father couldn’t come. He had this… unexpected patient all of a sudden, so I came with mom and my aunt. But then the hospital called and my mother, she’s a doctor too, she had to go there. But it’s their job, I completely understand…” There is a growing worry in his eyes, as if deep down he can sense (if not completely grasp yet) that something is terribly wrong. She wishes she could tell him that things are actually going to be all right, but it would be a lie for the two of them. “And then,” he continues, “then my aunt leaves the table in the middle of the show, and she tells me she’s just going to the toilet, but I’ve looked for her everywhere and I couldn’t find her. And she’s, you know, extremely pregnant, so… there was this woman who knew her on our table and she went after her to see if she needed anything, but I couldn’t find her either. And dad was supposed to pick me up so we could go to my grandfather’s funeral, but...”
“Do you know why we are here, David?” she cuts him out. As expected, he gives her a curious look. He certainly didn’t think she knew his name.
“Uh, sorry?”
“We are here, all of us, because we mean something to someone else.” Taking a deep breath, Eloise moves the boy’s hair out of his face. “We all have a role on the larger scheme of things. Perhaps I am here because my son needs me here, or Desmond, or Charles. Perhaps I will still be here for my grandson, when or if he needs me.” She reaches for his hand, and he is too confused to take it away. “You, dear… you are here - you exist - because if it wasn’t for you, there would still be a gap in your parents’ lives, holding them back. If it wasn’t for you, your father would never have been able to understand how hard it was to be a father, to be his father. If not for you, your mother would never have been able to feel the joy she witnessed on so many women during her life. If not for you, the relationship between them would never have received a proper closure; it would remain an eternal ‘what if’ to get in the way of the true happiness they deserved. You, David, are here because your parents needed you to make their own existences complete. And that is no small feat, son.”
He looks at her with a question mark hanging over his features for another moment or so; then out of a sudden, his gaze gets lost somewhere way past Eloise’s head, his face contorted with a barely-held sob; and she knows that it means he woke up.
“They’re not coming back, are they,” it dawns on the boy with a sad certainty, to which Eloise answers only “It was time for them to move on.”
And then he can’t hold back the tears any longer, and she puts her arms around him and rocks him back and forth, as she did with her own child so many times, haunted by the horrible knowledge that he would meet (or had met) his demise at those same hands. And yet all her knowledge fails her as she realizes she has no idea how this boy is feeling; she has no idea what will be of him now that the people who needed him - the ones that gave him a “life” - are gone. All there is for her to do is pat his back and mumble an empty “it’s ok” as the boy manages to articulate between sobs, “and I couldn’t even say goodbye.”
It takes some time (or something akin to time that rules their existences in that plane) before the boy has shed enough tears. He lets out long, deep sighs, his blue eyes glossy and completely lost as he looks at Eloise and hesitatingly asks, “I’m all alone now, ain’t I?”
And then, looking at those scared eyes, she realizes that the universe has strange little ways of course-correcting. She holds both his hands, in her heart the comfort - however small - of a mother who lost a child, but can still protect another. “Nobody is alone, David,” is what she tells him, and there is nothing else in the world she wants to believe more.