(no subject)
Lost fic. All Monster-centric because I have nothing better to do and I don't really want to write anything about any other characters I like till I rewatch more so I can be sure I don't write something stupid. This is still painfully stupid but I really wanted to write something with him because AT THIS POINT ANYTHING IS MORE FUN THAN SOBBING BROKENLY FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER.
DON'T JUDGE.
no seriously this shit is fuckin awful but if I didn't write it I'd be more irritated with myself so.
Don't question the use of tense. Think of it like the flash sideways'. Or, in other terms, my mind is full of fuck.
fandom: Lost
characters: MiB, implied Eko & Jacob, Eloise
spoilers: FUCKIN EVERYTHING
He has been preparing for this for days now. The deceit almost feels natural, or as natural as anything feels anymore.
The world is distorted without eyes. The forests and jungles of his childhood are a place of shadows and jarring colours and the bamboo are bars, the vines chains. He has no freedom, he has no body, and he has no family anymore. The world has every right to be ugly anymore.
The only of those things he can have now is freedom, and he will not be denied any longer, not with this power at his fingertips - not that he has fingertips now, but this borrowed set will do for now.
"Jacob," he calls, a sharp tone that can't match her ring but is the fairest impersonation any could muster. He will have to study this better, but for now it is enough to make his brother jump and turn.
He meets Jacob's eyes for the first time since he was thrown into the light with with his mother's cold, dead gaze.
Leaves rustle behind Eloise, and her hand seeks the trigger of the gun at her side as she turns. Behind her is a face she's only seen once and already knows she will remember for the rest of her life. Daniel smiles weakly, and spreads his hands at his side in a peaceful gesture.
She puts both shells into him, and his smile falls briefly before it's replaced with a very different one.
"You would kill me again?" he asks, though even from the brief time she saw, she knows Daniel will not smile with the corners of his mouth up like that, never was so immune to bullets, never will meet her eyes with force enough to make her want to look away. Her hands move quickly, trying to reload as swiftly as possible even as she knows it won't chase this thing wearing her son's face away.
She sneers, "Get the hell out of here." His smile widens, and he saunters around, slowly moving in a wide circle around her.
"Or what, you'll call Richard?" He pauses for a step, and she raises the gun again. "Oh, I will - on one condition." The Others know little enough about some of the island's strangest mysteries, but there is one rule they have been taught clearly. Strangers are not to be trusted, and talkative, clever strangers that look like dead people are to be shot on sight, repeatedly. Eloise does not run for help, and she does not fear the unknown. She is beginning to wonder, however, if these are mistakes.
"I need not have died in vain, Mother."
"You are not my son," Eloise chokes out between her teeth. She gestures with her gun, the comforting weight of it's sweet capacity for violence the only thing grounding her at this moment, even as she logically knows she's already lost it. The vile thing lets her have the small menaces of her usual power. With intelligent people, there's no need to demonstrate twice.
"He need not have died in vain, then," he wet his lips, and looks at her, Daniel's sad eyes mesmerizing. "Can Jacob promise you that?"
Eloise scoffs, and tries not to turn around and run. She is not hearing this. Her breath is not coming faster than usual between parted lips, her eyes aren't blinking. She is going to go back, she is going to tell Richard what this beast has told her. No, she is going to wake up and this will be a bad dream. The island, the constant vigilence, is getting to her.
"Jacob," she begins, one finger slipping up and down on it's grip on her shotgun, her toe digging into the ground as she shifts her weight. The silence of the forest is palpable. She feels like a lone actor on a stage, forgetting her lines, and wondering why no one can whisper them to her. Jacob has never spoken to her. She will not doubt Jacob.
"Jacob," he pronounces the word with a disdain she's never heard before, "didn't save him. Jacob wanted him to die, for his own purposes. You might even say for a game." He looks wistful for a moment, before he shifts once more to an immitation far too faithful for her already tattered nerves to Daniel's pleading, dying gaze.
"I just need one favor. In the future. You can be the one to save the island, to make your son a hero."
Eloise is used to control. Her words are obeyed. She does not feel alone or confused. She is not spoken down to or swayed by strange men in the jungle. She doesn't stare at her feet.
"You can make up your mind later. I trust you'll make the right decision." There are no sounds, but he is gone and Eloise is alone once more.
She swears, and kicks a tree, before heading back to their camp.
She does not tell anyone.
In his jungle, the fake Daniel Faraday nods to himself. It will take many years. Perhaps as many as he spent living with the Roman survivor camp, as many as once seemed like a lifetime.
Millenia have taught him a different definition of patience. He is not certain if he was a patient man before, and he certainly doesn't consider himself one now - if only because he doesn't consider himself a man anymore. But semantics are not the argument at hand, nor is Jacob's perverted versions of justice.
He has, as he has had for decades, centuries, variables afloat. He doesn't assign them silly figures, as his brother does; his variables are people, and they are worthy of more than abstraction and leaps of faith. The man in black understands his variables, people that they are, and unlike his brother he doesn't judge them for their faults. Monsters do not evaluate other's sins, at least, not as anything other than reflections of their own nature.
The son who killed his mother can get some use yet out of the mother who killed her son.
The priest would kill for his brother. If the Monster had eyes, it would close them now, to keep in it's feelings. If he had a mouth he would sigh.
But his brother has stolen these things from him. He can only possess them by stealing. The fake priest knows much of stealing as well. His brother has taught him what stealing is, what killing is, as well. The Monster remembers a simpler life, a barefoot life on a beach, and wonders why his brother could not find faith in his heart as Eko's could. He would breathe heavier, he would frown, had he the humanity left that such required.
He chitters a peculiar mechanical sound at Eko, and departs.
"And with it, I did my best."
He will not be the only brother to be judged and found unworthy.
If the priest cannot be used, cannot be stirred and dragged into his plans by blame, he will not be abided. He understands this man only too well, his own faults and pain met him in those brown eyes, and if he cannot have freedom and forgiveness, then these are not things this man deserves either.
The envy in his voice tastes like contempt, he narrows his eyes. "You speak to me as if I were your brother."
The bullet in his back hurt like nothing had, not in the last couple thousand years. The fall hurt more.
There was the sound of something cracking, and he couldn't feel his legs - a coincidence too wrong and right at the same time to consider.
He died with a body, with his humanity. With what he'd wanted for so long he'd forgotten why he'd wanted it returned. The irony hurt, but not so bad as everything else did. As imprisonment his whole life had, as his mother's and Jacob's subsequent betrayals had, as years of anger as his only companion had.
The cliff shook underneath him, and then nothing hurt ever again.
DON'T JUDGE.
no seriously this shit is fuckin awful but if I didn't write it I'd be more irritated with myself so.
Don't question the use of tense. Think of it like the flash sideways'. Or, in other terms, my mind is full of fuck.
fandom: Lost
characters: MiB, implied Eko & Jacob, Eloise
spoilers: FUCKIN EVERYTHING
He has been preparing for this for days now. The deceit almost feels natural, or as natural as anything feels anymore.
The world is distorted without eyes. The forests and jungles of his childhood are a place of shadows and jarring colours and the bamboo are bars, the vines chains. He has no freedom, he has no body, and he has no family anymore. The world has every right to be ugly anymore.
The only of those things he can have now is freedom, and he will not be denied any longer, not with this power at his fingertips - not that he has fingertips now, but this borrowed set will do for now.
"Jacob," he calls, a sharp tone that can't match her ring but is the fairest impersonation any could muster. He will have to study this better, but for now it is enough to make his brother jump and turn.
He meets Jacob's eyes for the first time since he was thrown into the light with with his mother's cold, dead gaze.
Leaves rustle behind Eloise, and her hand seeks the trigger of the gun at her side as she turns. Behind her is a face she's only seen once and already knows she will remember for the rest of her life. Daniel smiles weakly, and spreads his hands at his side in a peaceful gesture.
She puts both shells into him, and his smile falls briefly before it's replaced with a very different one.
"You would kill me again?" he asks, though even from the brief time she saw, she knows Daniel will not smile with the corners of his mouth up like that, never was so immune to bullets, never will meet her eyes with force enough to make her want to look away. Her hands move quickly, trying to reload as swiftly as possible even as she knows it won't chase this thing wearing her son's face away.
She sneers, "Get the hell out of here." His smile widens, and he saunters around, slowly moving in a wide circle around her.
"Or what, you'll call Richard?" He pauses for a step, and she raises the gun again. "Oh, I will - on one condition." The Others know little enough about some of the island's strangest mysteries, but there is one rule they have been taught clearly. Strangers are not to be trusted, and talkative, clever strangers that look like dead people are to be shot on sight, repeatedly. Eloise does not run for help, and she does not fear the unknown. She is beginning to wonder, however, if these are mistakes.
"I need not have died in vain, Mother."
"You are not my son," Eloise chokes out between her teeth. She gestures with her gun, the comforting weight of it's sweet capacity for violence the only thing grounding her at this moment, even as she logically knows she's already lost it. The vile thing lets her have the small menaces of her usual power. With intelligent people, there's no need to demonstrate twice.
"He need not have died in vain, then," he wet his lips, and looks at her, Daniel's sad eyes mesmerizing. "Can Jacob promise you that?"
Eloise scoffs, and tries not to turn around and run. She is not hearing this. Her breath is not coming faster than usual between parted lips, her eyes aren't blinking. She is going to go back, she is going to tell Richard what this beast has told her. No, she is going to wake up and this will be a bad dream. The island, the constant vigilence, is getting to her.
"Jacob," she begins, one finger slipping up and down on it's grip on her shotgun, her toe digging into the ground as she shifts her weight. The silence of the forest is palpable. She feels like a lone actor on a stage, forgetting her lines, and wondering why no one can whisper them to her. Jacob has never spoken to her. She will not doubt Jacob.
"Jacob," he pronounces the word with a disdain she's never heard before, "didn't save him. Jacob wanted him to die, for his own purposes. You might even say for a game." He looks wistful for a moment, before he shifts once more to an immitation far too faithful for her already tattered nerves to Daniel's pleading, dying gaze.
"I just need one favor. In the future. You can be the one to save the island, to make your son a hero."
Eloise is used to control. Her words are obeyed. She does not feel alone or confused. She is not spoken down to or swayed by strange men in the jungle. She doesn't stare at her feet.
"You can make up your mind later. I trust you'll make the right decision." There are no sounds, but he is gone and Eloise is alone once more.
She swears, and kicks a tree, before heading back to their camp.
She does not tell anyone.
In his jungle, the fake Daniel Faraday nods to himself. It will take many years. Perhaps as many as he spent living with the Roman survivor camp, as many as once seemed like a lifetime.
Millenia have taught him a different definition of patience. He is not certain if he was a patient man before, and he certainly doesn't consider himself one now - if only because he doesn't consider himself a man anymore. But semantics are not the argument at hand, nor is Jacob's perverted versions of justice.
He has, as he has had for decades, centuries, variables afloat. He doesn't assign them silly figures, as his brother does; his variables are people, and they are worthy of more than abstraction and leaps of faith. The man in black understands his variables, people that they are, and unlike his brother he doesn't judge them for their faults. Monsters do not evaluate other's sins, at least, not as anything other than reflections of their own nature.
The son who killed his mother can get some use yet out of the mother who killed her son.
The priest would kill for his brother. If the Monster had eyes, it would close them now, to keep in it's feelings. If he had a mouth he would sigh.
But his brother has stolen these things from him. He can only possess them by stealing. The fake priest knows much of stealing as well. His brother has taught him what stealing is, what killing is, as well. The Monster remembers a simpler life, a barefoot life on a beach, and wonders why his brother could not find faith in his heart as Eko's could. He would breathe heavier, he would frown, had he the humanity left that such required.
He chitters a peculiar mechanical sound at Eko, and departs.
"And with it, I did my best."
He will not be the only brother to be judged and found unworthy.
If the priest cannot be used, cannot be stirred and dragged into his plans by blame, he will not be abided. He understands this man only too well, his own faults and pain met him in those brown eyes, and if he cannot have freedom and forgiveness, then these are not things this man deserves either.
The envy in his voice tastes like contempt, he narrows his eyes. "You speak to me as if I were your brother."
The bullet in his back hurt like nothing had, not in the last couple thousand years. The fall hurt more.
There was the sound of something cracking, and he couldn't feel his legs - a coincidence too wrong and right at the same time to consider.
He died with a body, with his humanity. With what he'd wanted for so long he'd forgotten why he'd wanted it returned. The irony hurt, but not so bad as everything else did. As imprisonment his whole life had, as his mother's and Jacob's subsequent betrayals had, as years of anger as his only companion had.
The cliff shook underneath him, and then nothing hurt ever again.