Three Misc. Lost Fics
Three more old fics.
***
Title: Belonging
Pairing: Jacob/Miles/Richard
Rating: R
Warning: Character deaths.
Words: 742
Summary: Jacob gives Miles eternity. Richard shows him what that means.
Jacob and Richard walk the blood soaked sand of the beach, kneeling occasionally to examine the bodies looking for signs of life.
Only one is breathing and barely so. Jacob reaches out to him and Richard catches his wrist.
“No,” he says.
Jacob gently removes Richard’s hand.
“Yes.”
He kneels down and presses his hand to the boy’s bloody temple. His eyelids flutter and open, for a moment he stares at the two men blankly and then---
“What the fuck?”
Miles coughs and slowly sits up, his hands exploring his body looking for wounds that should have never healed.
“I’m not dead. How am I not dead?” Miles asks.
Jacob laughs and helps the boy to his feet.
“I saved you.”
Richard turns away from them and stares into the sun until his vision blurs.
He damned you, he thinks. Again.
*
Miles sits next to Hurley’s body, his head bent, his lips moving without forming words. Richard stands behind him, observing. Jacob asked him to stay by the boy’s side. Teach him, he said.
Richard knows this life can not be learned.
Miles laughs mirthlessly. “He was thinking of his mom. How she would never know what happened to him. And about how his last meal was mangoes. He was pretty pissed about that.”
Miles’s voice cracks and he swipes the back of his hand across his eyes angrily.
“He was a good guy.”
Richard places a hand on Miles’s shoulder. After a moment Miles stands and moves to the next body.
*
Jacob accompanies them to the Temple. He stands by and watches as Richard performs the ritual. When it’s done, he kisses them both. He kisses Richard roughly, possessively. The kiss he presses to Miles’s cheek is chaste, brotherly in contrast.
Miles waits until Jacob leaves before he turns to Richard, eyebrows arched.
“What the hell was that about?”
“He doesn’t want us to forget who we belong to,” Richard replies.
Miles snorts. “So he’s a delusional god. Well, this is going to be tons of fun.”
Richard smiles despite himself.
*
“So…I’m going to live forever.”
Miles and Richard are sitting side by side; the sky above them is dotted with stars.
“Yes.”
Miles is quiet for a moment.
“And he thinks that’s a gift?”
Richard sighs.
“I think he does.”
“He’s an idiot.”
Richard leans back and stares up at the night sky. It stretches on forever; he remembers a time when that made him nauseous.
“Yes he is.”
*
“I made him for you,” Jacob says one day.
He has Richard pressed against the wall of the statue, his hands slipping under Richard’s button-down shirt.
“So you’ll never be alone.”
*
Five years pass and Miles doesn’t change, his face is still youthful, unlined; his hair still jet black but for a few silver hairs at his temple.
He groans as Richard grinds his hips against his. Outside their tent it’s raining.
When he comes he says, Fuck. And then Richard, and it sounds rough like gravel.
They curl against each other, exhausted and spent.
“I’ve got to sleep,” Miles mutters.
Richard nods and runs his hand through the boy’s hair.
He’ll never tell Jacob that he’s grateful.
*
Thirty years and Miles stands on the beach, his eyes trained on the horizon.
Richard joins him. He’s just come from the statue and he knows he stinks of sex and sweat. Miles doesn’t look at him.
“I hate him,” he hisses.
There’s anger humming in his words. Richard sighs.
“I know.”
*
Jacob watches Richard and Miles from afar. They’re wrapped around each other, every touch full of lust even after decades.
He tells himself he is not jealous. He tells himself this was his intention.
He turns and heads back to the remnants of his statue, his mind mapping out a new corner of the tapestry.
*
Miles wakes to find Richard cold. He panics, then he cries. Then he listens.
Richard’s last thought was of him. His last thought was, I’m sorry.
*
“Let me go,” the boy doesn’t ask, he commands. Jacob smiles and pulls Miles against him, kissing him until his teeth sink into Miles’s lips.
He shoves Miles away gently. The boy spits blood onto the floor.
“No,” Jacob says simply.
*
One hundred years and Miles tells Jacob he spotted a ship on the horizon. Jacob pats his shoulder, tells him to go meet the newcomers at the shore.
Title: His Sister’s Keeper
Pairing: Boone/Shannon
Rating: PG-13
Words: 905
Summary: He just wants to be a good brother.
The club is hot and overcrowded, the music thrumming so loudly that Boone can feel it in his temples. The alcohol helps though; it has him relaxed (maybe too much so from the way the room is swaying.)
Shannon’s dancing a few feet in front of him, her blonde hair spilling out of the complicated bun she had twisted it into before they left. She’s laughing, sandwiched between two men, their hands all over her.
Boone closes his eyes. This is why he never goes out with his sister. Because she does this, dances with other men and throws her head back and laughs and it’s all so fucking fake it makes him want to scream or jerk her off the floor and put her in a cab. And he tells himself that’s okay---that’s natural, that’s what big brother’s do.
The song ends and for a split second there’s quiet. Shannon catches his eye and motions for him to come over. He shakes his head, but then she’s pushing her way through the crowd until she’s right in front of him.
The music has started again, something that’s all beat, no words. Shannon grabs his arm and leans in so that he can feel her breathe cool against his ear.
“Hey dumbass, come dance with me,” she shouts.
She pulls back and she’s grinning, beaming, shimmering even (body glitter, he reminds himself.) She’s beautiful and she knows it and so does every other man in this place---but he’s not supposed to notice that sort of thing.
“I don’t think so Shan,” he shouts back, but she’s already pulling him towards the floor.
“I needed to get those assholes off my back, so I told them I was here with you. Don’t make a liar out of me.”
She turns and wraps her arms around his neck and after a moment he places his hands on her hips and tries not to think about how smooth the material of her dress feels under his hands. She moves closer to him, her hips swaying in time to the music and Boone finds himself moving with her.
Then her fingers are playing with the hair at the back of his neck and his hands have slipped around to her back and he’s holding her against him as he rolls his hips against hers---and he is really fucking drunk, he realizes just a few moments too late.
He leans down to kiss her and she meets him half way, shoves her tongue into his mouth and she tastes like cherry’s and cinnamon (lip gloss and gum, he thinks.) His head is spinning so he pulls away from her, bile rising in his throat; he heads towards the men’s room without looking back.
If she calls after him, he doesn’t hear her.
He hits the door hard and hurries to the first empty stall. His knees slam into the cold tile floor painfully as he falls. He catches himself on the dirty lid of the commode and begins to wretch, his head bent over the toilet. Someone knocks on the stall and asks him if he’s okay.
“Fine,” he rasps. “I’m fine.”
He gets up slowly, his legs quaking, barely holding him up. He makes it to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, cups his hand under the stream and brings some to his mouth to gargle. He spits and turns off the tap. When he looks up he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There’s blue glitter smeared across the side of his face.
***
He finds Shannon outside the club leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette---menthol by the smell of it. He doesn’t ask her when this started, just leans next to her, carefully keeping enough distance between them so nothing touches.
“Shannon,” he starts but she cuts him off with a laugh.
“God, Boone, when did you get to be such a lightweight?”
He shrugs. “I’m out of practice, I guess.”
She moves closer and hooks her arm through his, dragging him away from the wall.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. This place is full of losers anyway.”
He lets her lead him towards the curb and raises his hand to hail a cab. The air’s cooler out here and the spinning in his head is being replaced by a slow-throbbing headache. It’s been a hell of a night. Shannon’s shivering and it’s no wonder, she had refused to bring a decent jacket, opting instead for something cropped and frilly and completely impractical.
Boone shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over her shoulders. She rolls her eyes.
“That’s my big brother, ladies and gentleman, a knight in fricking shining armor.”
Boone laughs, but it sounds hollow. A cab slows to a stop in front of them and he opens the door for his sister because that’s what big brothers do---they open doors and make sure their sisters get home safe and scare off the bastards they bring home.
He slides in next to her and tells the cabbie where to go, then he leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. The taste of cherries lingers on his tongue. He laughs softly to himself.
“What?” Shannon asks.
“It’s nothing,” he replies.
He’s pretty fucking sure big brothers aren’t supposed to know what their little sister’s lip gloss tastes like.
Title: Sometimes We Get a Second Chance
Pairing: Shannon/Sayid
Rating: PG
Words: 424
Summary: Sayid wakes up on a plane. Again.
He wakes up with a gasp, his lungs burning with the effort it takes to draw such a deep breath. His hand immediately goes to his stomach searching for the bullet wound, but there’s nothing there--- no blood, no hole.
He wonders briefly if he’s dead and blinks trying valiantly to focus on his surroundings. He’s on a plane surrounded by screaming people; he can feel the floor shuddering beneath his feet. Maybe I am dead, he thinks.
This is certainly his idea of hell.
Then the shaking stops and the plane levels out; a few nervous giggles ripple through the passengers, they’re relieved that they’re not going to die today. Sayid wishes he had their conviction.
He looks down at his hands and finds them trembling. Something certainly isn’t right here.
“What is this?” He wonders out loud.
“I don’t know, but if we land on craphole island again, Walt is on his fucking own.”
Sayid looks up, startled. He knows that voice…but it’s not possible. He watched her die, he held her in his arms…
“Shannon?” he asks looking up at the young woman in disbelief.
She’s standing next to his seat, completely and utterly alive. She pushes a strand of her blonde hair out of her face and rolls her eyes.
“Close your mouth before something flies in.”
He reaches out and catches her wrist, his fingers searching for a pulse. He finds it immediately, strong and steady under his fingertips.
She smiles at him grimly and shrugs. “Bet you didn’t see this coming, huh?”
“How?” he asks.
Shannon sighs and slips into the empty seat next to him.
“Hell if I know. But, hey, I’m not dead anymore so I’m not going to complain. So, what’s new with you?” she teases.
Sayid reaches out and cups her face in his hands. If he is dead, at least he knows this isn’t hell. Shannon’s eyes search his and after a moment he smiles. Funny, he thought he had forgotten how.
“I became a carpenter, shot a ten year old, and may have died,” he says dryly.
Shannon snorts.
“So nothing interesting then?”
He leans in and presses his lips gently against hers; they’re soft and warm, just like he remembered. She laughs and he can feel his heart beating too fast in his chest. He doesn’t understand this, but he knows better than to question it lest it disappear.
“No, not really.”
She winks and kisses him again, roughly this time, greedily even. God, he has missed this.
“Yeah, it’s been hella boring for me too,” she says.
***
Title: Belonging
Pairing: Jacob/Miles/Richard
Rating: R
Warning: Character deaths.
Words: 742
Summary: Jacob gives Miles eternity. Richard shows him what that means.
Jacob and Richard walk the blood soaked sand of the beach, kneeling occasionally to examine the bodies looking for signs of life.
Only one is breathing and barely so. Jacob reaches out to him and Richard catches his wrist.
“No,” he says.
Jacob gently removes Richard’s hand.
“Yes.”
He kneels down and presses his hand to the boy’s bloody temple. His eyelids flutter and open, for a moment he stares at the two men blankly and then---
“What the fuck?”
Miles coughs and slowly sits up, his hands exploring his body looking for wounds that should have never healed.
“I’m not dead. How am I not dead?” Miles asks.
Jacob laughs and helps the boy to his feet.
“I saved you.”
Richard turns away from them and stares into the sun until his vision blurs.
He damned you, he thinks. Again.
*
Miles sits next to Hurley’s body, his head bent, his lips moving without forming words. Richard stands behind him, observing. Jacob asked him to stay by the boy’s side. Teach him, he said.
Richard knows this life can not be learned.
Miles laughs mirthlessly. “He was thinking of his mom. How she would never know what happened to him. And about how his last meal was mangoes. He was pretty pissed about that.”
Miles’s voice cracks and he swipes the back of his hand across his eyes angrily.
“He was a good guy.”
Richard places a hand on Miles’s shoulder. After a moment Miles stands and moves to the next body.
*
Jacob accompanies them to the Temple. He stands by and watches as Richard performs the ritual. When it’s done, he kisses them both. He kisses Richard roughly, possessively. The kiss he presses to Miles’s cheek is chaste, brotherly in contrast.
Miles waits until Jacob leaves before he turns to Richard, eyebrows arched.
“What the hell was that about?”
“He doesn’t want us to forget who we belong to,” Richard replies.
Miles snorts. “So he’s a delusional god. Well, this is going to be tons of fun.”
Richard smiles despite himself.
*
“So…I’m going to live forever.”
Miles and Richard are sitting side by side; the sky above them is dotted with stars.
“Yes.”
Miles is quiet for a moment.
“And he thinks that’s a gift?”
Richard sighs.
“I think he does.”
“He’s an idiot.”
Richard leans back and stares up at the night sky. It stretches on forever; he remembers a time when that made him nauseous.
“Yes he is.”
*
“I made him for you,” Jacob says one day.
He has Richard pressed against the wall of the statue, his hands slipping under Richard’s button-down shirt.
“So you’ll never be alone.”
*
Five years pass and Miles doesn’t change, his face is still youthful, unlined; his hair still jet black but for a few silver hairs at his temple.
He groans as Richard grinds his hips against his. Outside their tent it’s raining.
When he comes he says, Fuck. And then Richard, and it sounds rough like gravel.
They curl against each other, exhausted and spent.
“I’ve got to sleep,” Miles mutters.
Richard nods and runs his hand through the boy’s hair.
He’ll never tell Jacob that he’s grateful.
*
Thirty years and Miles stands on the beach, his eyes trained on the horizon.
Richard joins him. He’s just come from the statue and he knows he stinks of sex and sweat. Miles doesn’t look at him.
“I hate him,” he hisses.
There’s anger humming in his words. Richard sighs.
“I know.”
*
Jacob watches Richard and Miles from afar. They’re wrapped around each other, every touch full of lust even after decades.
He tells himself he is not jealous. He tells himself this was his intention.
He turns and heads back to the remnants of his statue, his mind mapping out a new corner of the tapestry.
*
Miles wakes to find Richard cold. He panics, then he cries. Then he listens.
Richard’s last thought was of him. His last thought was, I’m sorry.
*
“Let me go,” the boy doesn’t ask, he commands. Jacob smiles and pulls Miles against him, kissing him until his teeth sink into Miles’s lips.
He shoves Miles away gently. The boy spits blood onto the floor.
“No,” Jacob says simply.
*
One hundred years and Miles tells Jacob he spotted a ship on the horizon. Jacob pats his shoulder, tells him to go meet the newcomers at the shore.
Title: His Sister’s Keeper
Pairing: Boone/Shannon
Rating: PG-13
Words: 905
Summary: He just wants to be a good brother.
The club is hot and overcrowded, the music thrumming so loudly that Boone can feel it in his temples. The alcohol helps though; it has him relaxed (maybe too much so from the way the room is swaying.)
Shannon’s dancing a few feet in front of him, her blonde hair spilling out of the complicated bun she had twisted it into before they left. She’s laughing, sandwiched between two men, their hands all over her.
Boone closes his eyes. This is why he never goes out with his sister. Because she does this, dances with other men and throws her head back and laughs and it’s all so fucking fake it makes him want to scream or jerk her off the floor and put her in a cab. And he tells himself that’s okay---that’s natural, that’s what big brother’s do.
The song ends and for a split second there’s quiet. Shannon catches his eye and motions for him to come over. He shakes his head, but then she’s pushing her way through the crowd until she’s right in front of him.
The music has started again, something that’s all beat, no words. Shannon grabs his arm and leans in so that he can feel her breathe cool against his ear.
“Hey dumbass, come dance with me,” she shouts.
She pulls back and she’s grinning, beaming, shimmering even (body glitter, he reminds himself.) She’s beautiful and she knows it and so does every other man in this place---but he’s not supposed to notice that sort of thing.
“I don’t think so Shan,” he shouts back, but she’s already pulling him towards the floor.
“I needed to get those assholes off my back, so I told them I was here with you. Don’t make a liar out of me.”
She turns and wraps her arms around his neck and after a moment he places his hands on her hips and tries not to think about how smooth the material of her dress feels under his hands. She moves closer to him, her hips swaying in time to the music and Boone finds himself moving with her.
Then her fingers are playing with the hair at the back of his neck and his hands have slipped around to her back and he’s holding her against him as he rolls his hips against hers---and he is really fucking drunk, he realizes just a few moments too late.
He leans down to kiss her and she meets him half way, shoves her tongue into his mouth and she tastes like cherry’s and cinnamon (lip gloss and gum, he thinks.) His head is spinning so he pulls away from her, bile rising in his throat; he heads towards the men’s room without looking back.
If she calls after him, he doesn’t hear her.
He hits the door hard and hurries to the first empty stall. His knees slam into the cold tile floor painfully as he falls. He catches himself on the dirty lid of the commode and begins to wretch, his head bent over the toilet. Someone knocks on the stall and asks him if he’s okay.
“Fine,” he rasps. “I’m fine.”
He gets up slowly, his legs quaking, barely holding him up. He makes it to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, cups his hand under the stream and brings some to his mouth to gargle. He spits and turns off the tap. When he looks up he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There’s blue glitter smeared across the side of his face.
***
He finds Shannon outside the club leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette---menthol by the smell of it. He doesn’t ask her when this started, just leans next to her, carefully keeping enough distance between them so nothing touches.
“Shannon,” he starts but she cuts him off with a laugh.
“God, Boone, when did you get to be such a lightweight?”
He shrugs. “I’m out of practice, I guess.”
She moves closer and hooks her arm through his, dragging him away from the wall.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. This place is full of losers anyway.”
He lets her lead him towards the curb and raises his hand to hail a cab. The air’s cooler out here and the spinning in his head is being replaced by a slow-throbbing headache. It’s been a hell of a night. Shannon’s shivering and it’s no wonder, she had refused to bring a decent jacket, opting instead for something cropped and frilly and completely impractical.
Boone shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over her shoulders. She rolls her eyes.
“That’s my big brother, ladies and gentleman, a knight in fricking shining armor.”
Boone laughs, but it sounds hollow. A cab slows to a stop in front of them and he opens the door for his sister because that’s what big brothers do---they open doors and make sure their sisters get home safe and scare off the bastards they bring home.
He slides in next to her and tells the cabbie where to go, then he leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. The taste of cherries lingers on his tongue. He laughs softly to himself.
“What?” Shannon asks.
“It’s nothing,” he replies.
He’s pretty fucking sure big brothers aren’t supposed to know what their little sister’s lip gloss tastes like.
Title: Sometimes We Get a Second Chance
Pairing: Shannon/Sayid
Rating: PG
Words: 424
Summary: Sayid wakes up on a plane. Again.
He wakes up with a gasp, his lungs burning with the effort it takes to draw such a deep breath. His hand immediately goes to his stomach searching for the bullet wound, but there’s nothing there--- no blood, no hole.
He wonders briefly if he’s dead and blinks trying valiantly to focus on his surroundings. He’s on a plane surrounded by screaming people; he can feel the floor shuddering beneath his feet. Maybe I am dead, he thinks.
This is certainly his idea of hell.
Then the shaking stops and the plane levels out; a few nervous giggles ripple through the passengers, they’re relieved that they’re not going to die today. Sayid wishes he had their conviction.
He looks down at his hands and finds them trembling. Something certainly isn’t right here.
“What is this?” He wonders out loud.
“I don’t know, but if we land on craphole island again, Walt is on his fucking own.”
Sayid looks up, startled. He knows that voice…but it’s not possible. He watched her die, he held her in his arms…
“Shannon?” he asks looking up at the young woman in disbelief.
She’s standing next to his seat, completely and utterly alive. She pushes a strand of her blonde hair out of her face and rolls her eyes.
“Close your mouth before something flies in.”
He reaches out and catches her wrist, his fingers searching for a pulse. He finds it immediately, strong and steady under his fingertips.
She smiles at him grimly and shrugs. “Bet you didn’t see this coming, huh?”
“How?” he asks.
Shannon sighs and slips into the empty seat next to him.
“Hell if I know. But, hey, I’m not dead anymore so I’m not going to complain. So, what’s new with you?” she teases.
Sayid reaches out and cups her face in his hands. If he is dead, at least he knows this isn’t hell. Shannon’s eyes search his and after a moment he smiles. Funny, he thought he had forgotten how.
“I became a carpenter, shot a ten year old, and may have died,” he says dryly.
Shannon snorts.
“So nothing interesting then?”
He leans in and presses his lips gently against hers; they’re soft and warm, just like he remembered. She laughs and he can feel his heart beating too fast in his chest. He doesn’t understand this, but he knows better than to question it lest it disappear.
“No, not really.”
She winks and kisses him again, roughly this time, greedily even. God, he has missed this.
“Yeah, it’s been hella boring for me too,” she says.