Lost Fic: I'll Be Bogie, You Be Raines
To joyyjpg: Okay confession, this isn’t the fic I originally intended to give you, but I hit a wall with that one and I wanted to give you a Miles fic before we both grew old, so I came up with an epically long Miles/Hurley buddy fic instead. I hope it’s to your liking. :)
Title: I’ll Be Bogie, You Be Raines
Characters: Miles and Hurley; ensemble
Words: 5,094
Rating: PG-13 (some language)
Summary: After they get off the island, Miles just wants to return to his old life. Hurley has other plans.
Warnings: Mentions of off-screen character deaths.
A/N: This was written for the ever-patient former queen, joyyjpg who requested Miles fic a really long time ago. I hope you like it!
Miles and Hurley sat next to each other on the flight back to Los Angeles. They slept most of the way, both of them still too exhausted to comprehend the fact that they made it off that damn island alive. There won’t be any fanfare when they return to the real world, what’s left of the Dharma Initiative made sure of that. Each of the survivors will be given a tidy sum of money in exchange for their discretion and quietly returned to their old lives, which is fine by Miles. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to explaining what went down there to the world at large.
One time Miles wakes up to the sound of Hurley laughing. He looks over to find the guy happily watching the in-flight movie.
“Hey, you mind keeping it down, man?” Miles grumbles.
Hurley pulls his headphones away from his ears and grins. “Sorry, Dude. They’re showing Groundhog Day.”
Miles can’t decide if he’s more impressed by Hurley’s resilience or the fact that he still finds that movie funny.
“We just escaped from the island of doom where I spent three years trapped in the ‘70s. That movie isn’t a comedy anymore, it’s a fucking tragedy. The poor bastard is practically us.”
Hurley just shrugs and puts his headphones back on.
“I figured you were more of a Ghostbusters kind of guy anyway.”
Miles shakes his head, feeling completely baffled.
“I’m going back to sleep now.”
***
After they land, what’s left of the survivors (Flight 815 and otherwise) make their way to baggage claim, not that they have much by way of baggage. Miles sees an opportunity to make a quick escape. He had never been one for long goodbyes. Jin and Sun took a separate flight to South Korea, so Miles had already parted ways with his old housemate, and the last he had seen of Kate she was heading to Australia, something about picking up her kid. That just left Jim, Juliet, Frank, and Hurley.
He shakes hands with Jim and Frank, giving Jim a quick, “It was fun, Boss.” He then hugs Juliet; she whispers “take care of yourself” in his ear and kisses his cheek. That just leaves Hurley.
Miles awkwardly extends his hand to the larger man. “Well, it was nice knowing you…”
Hurley rolls his eyes and waves Miles’s hand away.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
“In most cultures they call it a handshake.”
Hurley was looking at Miles like he was missing something obvious. Miles was beginning to lose his patience.
“We live in the same town. Come on, we can share a cab.”
“I live in Encino.”
“Right, that’s like twenty minutes from my parent’s place. Besides, do you have anywhere to you know…go?”
Miles hadn’t considered this. He had been too busy focusing on the not being chased by smoke monsters anymore part of things to think about the fact that he hadn’t actually set foot in Encino in three years.
“I’ll…stay with a friend or something.”
Of course even as the words left his mouth, he knew he was screwed. He hadn’t exactly had a ton of friends to start with and anyone he called was bound to ask him where the hell he had been for the last three years. He was pretty sure saying he was stuck on a magical island in the decade of disco and pot wasn’t going to go over well. They might believe the pot part though.
“Come on,” Hurley said. “You can stay at my place. My mom won’t mind.”
Miles wasn’t crazy about this plan. He knew Hurley’s heart was in the right place, but all he wanted to do was make a clean break. He was looking forward to returning to some kind of normal, and he couldn’t do that if he was bunking with one of his old time-traveling partners.
“That’s…nice of you, but I’ll be fine. I’ll get a hotel room for the night.”
A look of disappointment clouded Hurley’s formerly happy face. “Okay, I guess. But here’s my address if you change your mind.”
Miles jotted the address down on the back of a travel brochure touting the wonders of the tar pits and shoved it into his back pocket, before shaking Hurley’s hand.
“I’ll see you,” Miles said without really meaning it.
He was already heading towards the exit when he heard Hurley glumly call, “Bye, Dude.”
Miles felt relief wash over him the moment he stepped out of LAX into the bright, L.A. sunshine. He tried to push Hurley’s crestfallen face out of his mind. The guy would be fine, he told himself. The best thing for all of them was to get back to real life and forget they were ever on that stupid island in the first place.
***
Four hours later and the L.A. sunshine was pissing him off. As he had suspected his old apartment had been rented out. The happy couple inside had no idea where his stuff might of ended up, but suggested he call the old manager, Bill. Bill it turned out had sold all of Miles’s stuff, including his record collection that contained a near mint condition Dark Side of the Moon album two months after Miles had disappeared. After throwing a few choice expletives at the guy, Miles hung up and decided to call his old buddy from the police station only to find out he had moved to Chicago a year ago with his new wife Dawn.
If he was honest with himself, none of this was exactly surprising. He couldn’t expect the world to stop just because he went AWOL for a few years. Of course, he hadn’t expected the world to sell the record collection he had been assembling since he was thirteen for three hundred bucks either. Still, it wasn’t that big a deal really. He was just tired; he needed to find a place to crash for the night and then he could start thinking about things like employment and replacing his Miles Davis records in the morning.
Sadly, Hanso and his lackeys had only given the survivors a bit of cash to start out with. The rest was supposed to be transferred to a bank account after they settled down somewhere. After an afternoon of paying cabbies to drive him around L.A., Miles was down to two hundred bucks. It looked like his best option was a crap hotel if he wanted to eat and get around for the next few days.
He found a hotel that looked like it was frequented by a combination of horny business men having nooners with their secretaries, drug dealers, and maybe the occasional business man whose wife had kicked his ass out after finding out about the nooners.
The air conditioner in his room wouldn’t stop blowing hot air and the shower had a layer of grime that was so impressive it suggested that it hadn’t actually been cleaned since the place was built. However, it did have a bed. A dusty bed with mystery stains that it was probably best not to think about too much, but a bed all the same. It wasn’t much, but it only cost twenty-five dollars a night and right now that was a ringing enough endorsement for Miles.
Even though it was barely 7:30, Miles stretched across the bed without bothering to pull the covers down or take off his shoes. He was asleep before his head hit the paisley covered pillowcase.
Thirty minutes later he was jolted awake by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. He sat up quickly, his heart thudding in his chest. For a moment he expected to find himself back on the beach with a gun pointed at his head. He wasn’t exactly comforted when he realized he was still in his room at the Bates Hotel’s homely cousin.
He listened, straining to hear if something was going on outside. Things sounded okay though, a little bit of laughter, nothing ominous. Now that Miles was no longer convinced he was going to be murdered in his sleep he thought about curling back up on the bed again, but his stomach rumbled in protest. He was startled to realize he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten something more substantial than a bag of chips.
This hotel did come with one perk. It was a mere three blocks away from his favorite taco stand. He didn’t relish the thought of walking alone in the dark after hearing gunshots outside his door, but he hadn’t had a decent taco in years. In the end, the taco won.
He pulled on his coat and walked the short distance to the taco stand only to find that it had been converted into an adult video store. Miles stood in front of what used to be the best taco stand in Encino, bathed in the neon glow of three red X’s, and shook his head in disbelief. He was tired, hungry, homeless, and after sleeping on that damn bed he smelled like he had been rolling around in a garbage can. This day was not going how he had planned.
The thought of walking back to that hotel to eat forty year old Fritos out of the vending machine was too depressing to consider. He could feel the corners of the tar pit brochure poking him in the back. Defeated, he hailed a cab and gave the driver Hurley’s address. Normal clearly wasn’t going to happen tonight, so he figured he might as well stay somewhere he could shower without fear of catching Typhus.
***
The ride to Hurley’s was mercifully short. When the cabbie pulled up to a mansion, Miles groaned inwardly thinking Hurley had given him them wrong address. He paid his fare and made his way up the driveway to ring the doorbell.
To his surprise, Hurley himself answered. His face broke into a grin the moment he saw Miles standing on his doorstep.
“Dude, you came!”
Miles just shook his head in confusion. “This isn’t a house. This is the fucking Taj Mahal.”
Hurley looked sheepish. “Come on in, I’ll introduce you to my parents.”
Miles took a hesitant step into the foyer. Hurley wrinkled his nose as he passed him.
“Dude, you smell like crap.”
Miles took a deep breath and dead panned, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
***
Hurley’s parents seemed nice enough, but his mother wouldn’t stop eyeing Miles suspiciously. This was nothing new though, Miles had never been good with mothers. He pretended not to notice her staring at him and concentrated on eating his tacos instead. Hurley had asked the chef to prepare them while Miles took a much needed shower.
“Hugo, where did you two meet?”
“I told you Ma, on the island. He’s cool.”
“Cool, like your friend Sayid, who got you arrested?”
Hurley’s face darkened. “Sayid was a good guy. He saved my life.”
Mrs. Reyes looked chastened and quickly changed the subject. “How are your tacos, Miles? Would you like some more? You’re too skinny; did they not feed you boys on that island?”
Mr. Reyes joined the conversation. “Leave them alone Carmen, they look like they’ve been through hell. Let them eat in peace.”
“I’m not bothering them. Am I boys? Can’t a mother worry about her son and his friend? Hugo was gone for a whole month; I thought I would never see him again.”
Miles tried not to laugh when Mrs. Reyes sniffled dramatically.
“Chill, Ma. You’re scaring Miles.”
“You two always gang up on me,” Mrs. Reyes said to her husband and son. “I’m not scaring you, am I Miles? Here take another taco.”
Miles watched as she slid a fourth taco onto his plate. Between the rapid conversation and the never-ending stream of food he was beginning to feel a tad overwhelmed. Everything about Hurley’s family was big; the house, the food, the emotions. It was a bit like sensory overload, especially after a day of plane flights and aimless wandering around LA.
“I’m not scared Mrs. Reyes,” Miles mumbled through a mouthful of taco.
“Good boy,” Mrs. Reyes turned her attention back to her son. “Hugo, go up and make sure Miles’s room is ready. He looks like he’s going to fall asleep in his plate.”
Yeah, this was definitely not how Miles was expecting this day to go.
***
Miles stayed with Hurley and his family for a week before the Dharma folks finally got around to setting up his bank account. The experience was surreal, and that’s saying something for a guy who talks to ghosts on a regular basis and occasionally time travels.
Miles grew up with just his Mom. They never had many visitors, and when they did they never stayed long. At Hurley’s house there seemed to be a never ending stream of people---aunts, uncles, cousins, random people that appeared to wander in off the street. There was always someone around, laughing or talking or eating. Usually eating. It was bizarre.
Miles tried to keep to himself for the most part, but whenever he slipped away Hurley or Mrs. Reyes would appear out of nowhere to drag him back downstairs. It was nice in a way; they wanted him to feel included, but Miles was never big on socializing. Every time Hurley pulled him out of his room, he seemed to end up offending someone. In his defense though, how was he supposed to know that cousin Sammy wasn’t pregnant… or a woman?
All in all, he was relieved for more reasons than one to see all of those zeroes show up in his bank account.
Hurley looked the opposite of relieved. Over the past week he had been…well, clingy was the nicest way to put it. Miles could barely go to the bathroom without Hurley trailing behind him. The guy wanted to talk about the island constantly. One night he sat on the end of Miles’s bed talking about Jack.
“Do you think he’s still alive?” Hurley asked.
Miles had buried his head under his pillow in an attempt to drown out Hurley and to muffle his eventual screaming if Hurley didn’t stop talking in circles.
“No, Hurley. I think the guy is very dead. Just like I did ten minutes. The island went boom, remember?”
“Yeah…but maybe it just looked like it blew up,” Hurley said hopefully.
Miles groaned.
“Sure, man. He’s alive, Santa’s real, and Old Yeller was just playing dead at the end of the movie. Can I go to sleep, now?”
Hurley became so quiet Miles started to regret snapping at him. Miles sighed and rolled over on his back to look at Hurley. The big guy’s brow was furrowed and he looked so damn sad, Miles couldn’t help but feel like an ass.
“Maybe it did just look like it blew up.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah, Hurley, I really think so.”
He didn’t get to sleep until almost 4:00 after that.
***
“You could stay a little longer. You know, just until you find your own place?”
“Thanks Hurley, but I’ve already booked a hotel room. This was…awesome though.”
The cabbie outside honked impatiently and Miles let Hurley pull him into an awkward hug. Miles patted him on his back a couple of times before disentangling himself.
“Don’t be a stranger, Dude,” Hurley said wistfully.
Miles gave him what he hoped was a sincere smile. “I’ll see you around, Hurley.”
***
The first thing Miles did was buy himself a decent car. He had spent enough time riding around with sullen cab drivers in the past week to last him a couple of lifetimes.
After that he set about procuring himself somewhere to live. He found a nice apartment above an old Kinko’s that was dirt cheap since the owner couldn’t find anyone who wanted to rent a place where two people had blown their brains out.
It had apparently been some sort of murder/suicide pact. Miles saw it as a great way to get a kickass apartment for half the price. Once he moved in, he found out Alice had shot Karl because he was screwing some chick named Paula. Oldest story in the book. After that was sorted, he went about the business of buying a couch and a new record player. Now that he had his own place and a stack of records it was becoming easier to pretend he had never left Encino.
He spent one fruitless afternoon down at the police department trying to find a new contact before he gave up and resigned himself to returning to a freelance career. He started scouring the obituaries like they were want ads.
It wasn’t exactly the same as before though. He felt lighter since he returned from the island. Now when he pulled a job, he found he actually gave a shit about his clients. He tried to be honest with them, even though that technique had already cost him two paychecks. Still, it felt good not walking around with a chip on his shoulder all of the time.
After a month back in the real world he was finally feeling settled. He had even found a new taco stand. Of course that was the moment Hurley decided to show up on his doorstep.
***
“Dude, where have you been?”
Hurley started talking before Miles even had a chance to register who was standing in front of him. Miles arched an eyebrow in confusion.
“I’ve been here. A better question is why you are?”
“We thought you were dead!”
“Who’s “we”?”
“Everyone. Me, my mom, Juliet. Dude, even Jin’s worried and he’s in Korea. He’s been sending you letters to my place.”
Hurley brandished a fistful of letters and postcards as if they were evidence of some sort of crime Miles had committed. This was appropriate given the fact that Miles was beginning to feel like he was on trial. He took the mail from Hurley and began thumbing through it.
“I didn’t know we were all going to be pen pals,” Miles said.
“This is serious, Dude. Juliet was freaking out the last time I talked to her.”
Hurley fished around in his pocket for a moment until he came up with his cell phone. He immediately flipped it open and began dialing. Miles looked on still feeling like he was about five steps behind this conversation.
“What are you doing now?”
Hurley stopped dialing for a moment. “I’m calling Juliet. She was trying to convince Sawyer to fly out here to look for you.”
Miles felt completely baffled.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?”
Hurley shook his head as if Miles were exceedingly slow.
“You fell off the grid. We were worried. Now here, talk to Juliet.”
Hurley thrust the ringing phone into Miles’s hand before pushing past him to make himself at home on Miles’s couch.
***
Twenty minutes later Miles had finally managed to assure a very pissed off Juliet that he was not in fact dead, kidnapped, or trapped under some large piece of furniture. After she was satisfied that he was still in one piece, she proceeded to lecture him on the fine art of not scaring the hell out of your friends. By the time he hung up the phone, he had not only gotten Juliet’s number, but he had also given her his cell phone number, his address, and the number of the pizza place across the street in case of furniture related mishaps. As he was hanging up the phone, he could have sworn he heard Jim laughing his ass off in the background.
Feeling deeply annoyed, he turned back to Hurley who was now intently watching a rerun of The Cosby Show.
“Comfy?” Miles asked pointedly.
“Yeah, Dude. I’m kind of thirsty though.”
Miles opened his mouth to say something, but he found he was too stunned to actually form words. Instead, he crossed the room and stood expectantly in front of Hurley.
“What?”
“What…What do you mean what? How the hell did you find out where I live?”
Hurley shrugged. “I was starting to get worried and my cousin Carlos was over last week, you know he works at the police department. Anyway, he said this guy had been down there asking about work…ghost talking kind of stuff. I figured it had to be you. Carlos gave me the address you left with them. Hey, did you know people like died in your apartment?”
Miles was pretty sure this is what going crazy would feel like it. Part of him wanted to kick Hurley out of his apartment and go about his day, but the other part was still reeling over the fact that he apparently now possessed the ability to make people freak out simply by not calling them. This was a new development. In the end, he sighed and flopped down on the couch next to Hurley.
“Yeah, man, I know. There’s beer in the fridge.”
Hurley smiled. “Awesome.”
***
After that Hurley started showing up pretty much every afternoon. Miles was annoyed at first but after awhile it just became part of the day, much like the weekly phone calls from Juliet and Jim, and the monthly letters from Jin. Somehow he had managed to accumulate people without even trying. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about this development yet, but he did note that the one Tuesday when Juliet forgot to call he had spent most of the night staring at his phone until she called the next morning apologizing for forgetting.
One day Miles was sitting across from Hurley trying to figure out how the hell the guy had gotten so good at chess when Hurley made him a business proposition.
“You know that empty place downstairs?” Hurley asked casually.
“Yeah,” Miles replied absently as he tried to decide whether or not to move his Knight.
“We should buy it.”
Miles snorted. “For what?”
“It could be an office, for us…for our business.”
“When did we get a business?”
“You know how you do the ghostbusting thing? Well, I was thinking I could help. It might be fun.”
Miles smirked at Hurley. “How are you going to help me talk to dead people?”
“Not the dead ones, Dude, the alive ones. Your people skills…they kinda suck.”
Miles tried to look offended, but he knew it was true.
“So, you want to be my secretary?”
“Your partner. I could deal with making appointments, and like advertising and stuff. I’m good with people.”
“That’s a secretary, man.”
“Partner,” Hurley replied stubbornly before taking Miles’s knight.
“Damn it,” snarled Miles.
***
Three weeks later Miles found himself co-signing the lease to the building downstairs. Hurley looked delighted when he passed Miles the pen.
“This is going to be awesome, Dude.”
“It better be; this place didn’t come with a murder discount.”
Hurley laughed and patted Miles on the back. “I was thinking we could call it “Reyes and Straume, P.I.’s”…only the P. I. would stand for paranormal investigators instead of private. Cool, right?”
“Your name is not going first,” Miles said flatly.
“Alphabetically, Dude.”
“Which one of us can talk to the dead?”
Hurley sighed, looking defeated.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Okay, but I was thinking we could print “we ain’t afraid of no ghosts” on the bottom of our business cards…you know from Ghostbusters? It could be an inside joke sort of thing.”
“Yeah, make sure you let me be there the first time you hand one of those cards to some guy whose wife just died.”
“Oh…I didn’t think of that,” Hurley said sheepishly.
“And I thought you were supposed to be the people person.”
***
As much as Miles hated to admit it, he kind of liked having a partner. Hurley was in fact very good with people. By the time they had been open for two weeks, Miles had worked eight jobs, double what he had been doing alone. Hurley had a way of comforting the customers that had always eluded Miles.
Plus he never came to work without a box of doughnuts, and the guy made good coffee. The only drawback he could see was Hurley’s weakness for a sob story.
“Hurley, if the lady says she can’t pay, that means she’s out of luck. We’re not a charity.”
Hurley looked at Miles with disappointment. “Her Grandma died. We could do it for free just this once, it’s good karma.”
“I don’t need karma. I need cash.”
“That’s not cool, Dude. Her Grandma was like ninety, and she didn’t get to say goodbye because she was pulling the night shift at the hospital. She said her Grandma was like her mom, because her real mom died when she was a kid and her dad just left…”
“If I do it, will you shut up?” Miles interrupted.
Hurley nodded.
“Fine.”
As Miles sat in his chair he couldn’t help but wonder when he had become such a pushover. He glanced over at Hurley who was already chatting with Mrs. Sob Story on the phone and thought it was probably around the time he went for a joy ride with a guy who decided to rewrite a Star Wars movie.
***
Six months after they became business partners, Hurley approached Miles with one last proposition. They were sitting on Miles’s couch attempting to save the world from an alien invasion through the magic of the X-Box, when Hurley suddenly hit pause.
“What are you doing?” Miles protested.
“I need to ask you something,” Hurley said seriously. “It’s kind of big.”
“I’m not marrying you Hurley. I don’t care if you need a green card.”
Hurley rolled his eyes. “I want to move out of my parent’s house.”
Miles looked thoughtful. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Yeah…well, I thought I could maybe move in here.”
Miles wasn’t sure how to respond to that. On the one hand, Hurley was here most of the time anyway. On the other hand, Hurley would be here all of the time if he said yes.
“I don’t know, man…”
“Yeah, it was a stupid idea,” Hurley said quickly. “Just forget it.”
Miles glanced at Hurley out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t say no.”
Hurley grinned. “Dude, this is going to be so cool.”
“I didn’t say yes, either,” Miles replied quickly, but it was too late, Hurley was already talking about combining their DVD collections.
***
On September 22, 2008, Hurley woke Miles up at an ungodly hour to invite him to brunch.
“Sawyer and Juliet are flying in from Miami and Kate’s bringing Aaron. Even Jin and Sun are coming from Korea and I think they’re bringing Ji Yeon. You’ve got to come, Dude.”
Miles hesitated. “It’s an 815 reunion thing, right?”
“It’s just a reunion thing. You know a chance to catch up and stuff.”
“I don’t know,” Miles yawned.”It sounds like a private thing. I wasn’t on the plane and I don’t even know Kate or Sun that well, I should probably just pass. Just tell Jin and Jim and Juliet to stop by later.”
Hurley pulled his comforter away leaving Miles exposed in his boxers.
“Hey!”
“Dude, Juliet wasn’t on the plane either. It doesn’t matter, you’re one of us. Now get dressed, you’re coming.”
Hurley left the room before Miles had a chance to say anything else.
***
Four hours later Miles found himself sitting between Jim and Hurley, drinking iced tea and listening to Jin tell everyone about the time Miles managed to convince Phil that Jim was planning on kicking his ass after their shift ended.
“That was the longest that guy ever went without smarting off about something,” laughed Jim. “I just thought he was sucking up.”
“God, he was an asshole,” Miles said almost wistfully.
They had spent the last two hours trading stories about everything from Dharma barbeques to shooting polar bears. It felt like old times. Old times Miles hadn’t even realized he missed.
“Sometimes, I almost miss that place,” said Jim as if he was reading Miles’s mind.
Juliet snorted. “Speak for yourself.”
“Oh come on, we had some good times there.” Jim winked at her to illustrate his point.
“Yeah, but we have good times here to,” Kate chimed in as she kissed the top of Aaron’s blond head.
Miles nodded his agreement. “I’m with her. Plus there’s less running for your life here.”
“It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since we left that place,” said Sun.
The table fell silent, remembering that last day.
“I wish Jack were here to see this,” Kate said quietly.
Jim cleared his throat and raised his glass, “To the Doc, for making sure we got the hell off that rock.”
Beside him Hurley lifted his as well. “And to Charlie for trying to save us.”
They went around the table then, lifting their glasses to the people that should have been with them.
“To Claire,” said Kate sadly.
“To Michael,” said Jin.
“To Sayid,” said Sun.
“To Alex,” said Juliet.
When they reached Miles, he already knew who he was going to say. He lifted his glass and smiled. “To Dan and Charlotte. And my Dad.”
“And to everybody else who died on that damn island,” Jim finished.
Together they drank in the memory of the ones who didn’t come home, people from the plane, the island, and the freighter. It didn’t matter much where they came from anymore. Miles stared at the people around him and wondered how he could have considered not coming.
***
They all started leaving a few hours later, until it was just Miles and Hurley. Miles stood up and stretched.
“What do you want to do tonight, Buddy?”
Hurley shrugged. “Whatever. I was thinking we could watch a movie or something.”
“Nothing with Adam Sandler,” said Miles warily.
“You pick then.”
“Fine, we’re watching The Maltese Falcon.”
“Dude, that movie’s ancient!” whined Hurley.
“It’s not ancient, it’s a classic.”
“It’s lame. Let’s watch Star Wars instead…”
Miles shook his head in disgust. They continued arguing as they walked away from the café side by side.