The heart that I stole, I'm not giving back
Title: The heart that I stole, I'm not giving back
Author: Phelipa
Pairing: Claire, Juliet, Juliet/Sawyer
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for the lostsquee Prompt Ficlet challenge (Prompt words: Grimy, Pear) and philosophy_20 (Prompt: Caught in a form of limitation)
She’d thought that the afterlife would come with rainbows and harps and cleanliness, assumed that passage from one world to the next would result in a cleansing of the body as well as the soul.
When she opens her eyes she’s completely overwhelmed; her eyes burn in the sharp sunlight filtering through the trees, her naked skin prickles and aches on the hard ground, the slightest sound echoes in her sensitive ears and her aching head spins nauseatingly. She moves her limbs gingerly, a raw sound slipping past her chapped lips, and pain radiates through her broken body.
The fact that there’s pain after death seems utterly unfair.
She glances down and almost gags when she looks at her own body, caked in mud and mire, crusted with dark dried blood. The desire to cry is overwhelming and she closes her eyes tightly, feeling childish and ashamed.
A soft cracking sounds from behind her and she tilts her head to look, watching as a pair of dainty, bare feet approach. The figure crouches next to her, gently touching her, and she marvels at their outfit,a spotless white dress. She moves her arms in a futile attempt to cover her nakedness but a soft, lilting voice stops her,
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
She rolls her eyes upwards and she’s only mildly surprised to see Claire’s elfin face hovering over hers, drawn with concern.
Juliet watches as Claire disappears for a moment, returning with a soaking cloth. She shivers as the cold cloth meets her skin, rinsing away the grime and blood, revealing perfectly healed wounds. Her milk white skin dries and warms as clouds shift, letting bright sunlight flood the jungle floor as Claire meticulously bathes her.
The aches and pains disappear with the scars, skin knitting itself easily once Claire has carefully removed the layer of dirt and destruction. To her utter surprise, when Claire extends her hand and motions for her to stand, she does so painlessly, tentatively stretching her weak, trembling limbs.
Acutely aware of her nakedness, she wraps an arm around her breasts and murmurs,
“Do you...?”
Claire reaches into a soft cloth bag hanging from her shoulder and pulls out a white dress identical to her own, carefully easing it over Juliet’s head and zipping the back. She searches in her pack again and tugs out a perfectly ripe pear, holding it out to Juliet,
“You must be hungry.”
She takes the fruit eagerly, absentmindedly wondering where Claire managed to find a pear on a tropical island that was utterly pear-less for six years, and takes a bite. Her mouth aches as succulent flavour floods her tongue and she makes a light, surprised sound. Food has never tasted so good.
Claire smiles softly and takes a step into the trees,
“I have something to show you.”
Juliet follows a couple paces behind with the pear still clutched tightly in her hand, its sticky juices clinging to her delicate fingers. The ground turns to sand under her feet and she blinks rapidly, gazing out at the rolling waves as they break on the white sand shore.
Claire sits, carefully folding her dress beneath her as she eases down onto the warm sand, and Juliet follows suit. She glances around the empty beach in confusion before opening her mouth to ask what they’re looking at. Claire interrupts before she has a chance to speak, staring straight out at the horizon,
“Be patient.”
Moments later, a low whine thrums in the distance and she tilts her gaze upwards, watching with rapt attention as the same plane from six years splits into two and plummets to the ground below, the fuselage slamming into the earth not thirty feet from where they’re seated.
There are several moments before the scene erupts in utter chaos and she catches a glimpse of a blonde man stumbling away from the wreckage, choking and sputtering horribly as he collapses next to a pile of shrapnel. She struggles to her feet, hot tears pricking her eyes and voice cracking as she breathes,
“James.”
Claire catches her hand before she can run to him and shakes her head insistently,
“Not yet Juliet. Be patient.”