Lost fic: Good With Kids
Title: Good with Kids
Author: sedauny
Rating: PG for child ghosts (but no one we know)
Characters: Miles, Daniel
Summary: That was one of the ones that hadn’t survived the crash, and he’d have to go out and deal with it.
Disclaimer: Not mine this time, either
Word count: 1275
A baby’s wail interrupted Miles’ dream. Why is it that every time you fly on an airplane, you get stuck with at least one screaming baby? Is it some FAA rule that no flight can leave the ground without at least one passenger under the age of three aboard? Except-Miles struggled awake, weighted down with fatigue-he wasn’t on an airplane. This was a beach, occupied by airplane crash survivors; there was no baby here, but the crying persisted. Miles sat up and stared bleakly at the door of the tent. That was one of the ones that hadn’t survived the crash, and he’d have to go out and deal with it. Had to be a toddler; the plane crash had been months ago and an infant would have made it to the River by now-they didn’t have the endurance for prolonged haunting. Toddlers tended to stick around; they had endurance, stubbornness, and no attention span to speak of, so they didn’t remember where they were supposed to go long enough to get there. He listened to Daniel’s breathing and really wanted to lie down and go back to sleep, but the ghost’s screaming wasn’t going to stop and it wasn’t fair to the kid just to leave it there.
The moon was past full but still provided almost enough light as Miles carefully picked his way across the beach. He kind of liked the blue glow and he loved the stars-living in the city all his life, he hadn’t known there were so many stars-but camping was not his thing and he hated all the little dark spots you could trip over. From the sound of things, he had to get clear over to the first beach, where the others had lived before erosion had taken the plane wreckage and half their camp out to sea. He’d walked over there during the day several times, so his feet kind of knew where they were going, but you never knew how much you relied on your eyes until you were taking a cross-country hike after midnight. He was glad when he finally reached the former beach, now narrow and with the partial skeleton of a jet visible when the tide was out.
Miles walked more warily still into the shallows. There was lots of stuff to step on or trip over here, detritus of both the plane and the camp. He listened carefully to the crying, now fading into tired sniffles with occasional bursts of sobs. C’mon, c’mon, he was all the way out here now, so where was the kid? A wave, larger than usual, hit him suddenly, tossing cold water in his face and a small, cold shape against his legs. He grabbed at the shape, gasping as the cold seemed to solidify from an armful of wave to a sobbing child. The spirit arched away from him, looking around for someone familiar, then sagged against his shoulder for a few sobs before pulling away again. He cuddled it (him? her? he couldn’t tell), singing bits and pieces of whatever came to mind, while he backed out of the ocean until he found a place to sit, safely above the tide line. When it quieted at last, he sighed with relief, tucking it more securely against his shoulder and resting his chin against its head, aware that it was pulling heat out of him like a block of ice, but not minding. If he ignored the cold, he could almost pretend he was back in LA, cuddling his cousin’s little daughter, while Tor and Lisa made coffee and chatted.
“You got that kid to shut up? That’s good,” said a scrap of shadow, drifting over to stand nearby, looking half-enviously at Miles and his chilly armful. “I could hear her, but she wouldn’t be quiet for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“Maybe, or not. They cry when they cry,” Miles offered. He looked over the new arrival, wondering if this was to be his night for junior ghosts. “You waiting for someone?”
“Mom and Dad. I thought I was supposed to go out of the plane, but then I couldn’t hear them behind me, so I stopped and waited, but they never came. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go now, and I’m probably in big trouble, but I waited for them and they weren’t there!” The boy sounded scared and close to tears, but was glaring like he was trying to head off pity.
“Sit down and rest a while. You’ll remember where to go soon.” Once another cold shape was sitting close by, Miles added, “They wouldn’t mean to leave you behind. Everything was so mixed up, I bet they walked straight by and never saw you, and you didn’t see them. I bet they’re trotting along now, saying ‘We’ve got to be catching up to him soon!’ Relax and watch the waves a while and you’ll remember where to go.”
“I didn’t mean to wait, but I wanted to find them. I wasn’t supposed to go so far alone, was I? Am I really in trouble?”
“Of course not. You were worried about them and you stopped to wait; that’s a kindness and nothing to be sorry for. You’ll know where to go in just a minute.” Miles had no real idea, but it wasn’t his business to offer eternal truths. His job was to get dead things settled down and on their way.
Miles sat and watched the stars. A cold weight pressed on his shoulder, another sat at his side. If it were not for the chill, he might have fallen asleep right there. He roused when the ghost at his side jumped up.
“Oh, there! Why didn’t I see that path before? Did it just show up now?” Miles felt cold brush his arm lightly. “Good night, mister. Thanks. Good night, brat. I’m glad you finally stopped yelling.” The cold shape vanished quickly and Miles silently wished him well. The child in his arms stirred and turned her head to look after the departing spirit.
“You’re next, love,” Miles said, turning back to the stars. “Whenever you’re ready and no doubt after you’ve sucked every last bit of heat out of me.” He was trying to figure out if the constellations he saw were the same as in California when he felt the kid shift, and then the weight was gone. He lifted his head and listened, but the little ghost was well and truly gone, off where she should be. He rubbed his numb arms and sighed. He wanted to go home, but the only place that offered was a tent on a beach.
Miles stumbled into his tent, with bruised shins and low spirits. He knocked something over while pulling his boots off and flinched at the noise. He could hear Daniel stir and mutter as he felt around for his discarded blanket. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Dan. “Go back to sleep.”
“What? What happened? You’re freezing.” Daniel shifted and wrapped himself around Miles, pausing to ask, “Do you mind? You feel good on my sunburn. Where you been?”
“Out. Working. Being useful. Turning myself into a ghost-powered portable icepack for you.”
“Mmm. Everyone needs one of those.”
A laugh bubbled up inside Miles, surprising himself. He glanced back, searching for a retort, but Dan was already asleep. He leaned back into the warmth, listened to the silence with a mixture of grief and satisfaction, and waited for sleep.
Author: sedauny
Rating: PG for child ghosts (but no one we know)
Characters: Miles, Daniel
Summary: That was one of the ones that hadn’t survived the crash, and he’d have to go out and deal with it.
Disclaimer: Not mine this time, either
Word count: 1275
A baby’s wail interrupted Miles’ dream. Why is it that every time you fly on an airplane, you get stuck with at least one screaming baby? Is it some FAA rule that no flight can leave the ground without at least one passenger under the age of three aboard? Except-Miles struggled awake, weighted down with fatigue-he wasn’t on an airplane. This was a beach, occupied by airplane crash survivors; there was no baby here, but the crying persisted. Miles sat up and stared bleakly at the door of the tent. That was one of the ones that hadn’t survived the crash, and he’d have to go out and deal with it. Had to be a toddler; the plane crash had been months ago and an infant would have made it to the River by now-they didn’t have the endurance for prolonged haunting. Toddlers tended to stick around; they had endurance, stubbornness, and no attention span to speak of, so they didn’t remember where they were supposed to go long enough to get there. He listened to Daniel’s breathing and really wanted to lie down and go back to sleep, but the ghost’s screaming wasn’t going to stop and it wasn’t fair to the kid just to leave it there.
The moon was past full but still provided almost enough light as Miles carefully picked his way across the beach. He kind of liked the blue glow and he loved the stars-living in the city all his life, he hadn’t known there were so many stars-but camping was not his thing and he hated all the little dark spots you could trip over. From the sound of things, he had to get clear over to the first beach, where the others had lived before erosion had taken the plane wreckage and half their camp out to sea. He’d walked over there during the day several times, so his feet kind of knew where they were going, but you never knew how much you relied on your eyes until you were taking a cross-country hike after midnight. He was glad when he finally reached the former beach, now narrow and with the partial skeleton of a jet visible when the tide was out.
Miles walked more warily still into the shallows. There was lots of stuff to step on or trip over here, detritus of both the plane and the camp. He listened carefully to the crying, now fading into tired sniffles with occasional bursts of sobs. C’mon, c’mon, he was all the way out here now, so where was the kid? A wave, larger than usual, hit him suddenly, tossing cold water in his face and a small, cold shape against his legs. He grabbed at the shape, gasping as the cold seemed to solidify from an armful of wave to a sobbing child. The spirit arched away from him, looking around for someone familiar, then sagged against his shoulder for a few sobs before pulling away again. He cuddled it (him? her? he couldn’t tell), singing bits and pieces of whatever came to mind, while he backed out of the ocean until he found a place to sit, safely above the tide line. When it quieted at last, he sighed with relief, tucking it more securely against his shoulder and resting his chin against its head, aware that it was pulling heat out of him like a block of ice, but not minding. If he ignored the cold, he could almost pretend he was back in LA, cuddling his cousin’s little daughter, while Tor and Lisa made coffee and chatted.
“You got that kid to shut up? That’s good,” said a scrap of shadow, drifting over to stand nearby, looking half-enviously at Miles and his chilly armful. “I could hear her, but she wouldn’t be quiet for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“Maybe, or not. They cry when they cry,” Miles offered. He looked over the new arrival, wondering if this was to be his night for junior ghosts. “You waiting for someone?”
“Mom and Dad. I thought I was supposed to go out of the plane, but then I couldn’t hear them behind me, so I stopped and waited, but they never came. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go now, and I’m probably in big trouble, but I waited for them and they weren’t there!” The boy sounded scared and close to tears, but was glaring like he was trying to head off pity.
“Sit down and rest a while. You’ll remember where to go soon.” Once another cold shape was sitting close by, Miles added, “They wouldn’t mean to leave you behind. Everything was so mixed up, I bet they walked straight by and never saw you, and you didn’t see them. I bet they’re trotting along now, saying ‘We’ve got to be catching up to him soon!’ Relax and watch the waves a while and you’ll remember where to go.”
“I didn’t mean to wait, but I wanted to find them. I wasn’t supposed to go so far alone, was I? Am I really in trouble?”
“Of course not. You were worried about them and you stopped to wait; that’s a kindness and nothing to be sorry for. You’ll know where to go in just a minute.” Miles had no real idea, but it wasn’t his business to offer eternal truths. His job was to get dead things settled down and on their way.
Miles sat and watched the stars. A cold weight pressed on his shoulder, another sat at his side. If it were not for the chill, he might have fallen asleep right there. He roused when the ghost at his side jumped up.
“Oh, there! Why didn’t I see that path before? Did it just show up now?” Miles felt cold brush his arm lightly. “Good night, mister. Thanks. Good night, brat. I’m glad you finally stopped yelling.” The cold shape vanished quickly and Miles silently wished him well. The child in his arms stirred and turned her head to look after the departing spirit.
“You’re next, love,” Miles said, turning back to the stars. “Whenever you’re ready and no doubt after you’ve sucked every last bit of heat out of me.” He was trying to figure out if the constellations he saw were the same as in California when he felt the kid shift, and then the weight was gone. He lifted his head and listened, but the little ghost was well and truly gone, off where she should be. He rubbed his numb arms and sighed. He wanted to go home, but the only place that offered was a tent on a beach.
Miles stumbled into his tent, with bruised shins and low spirits. He knocked something over while pulling his boots off and flinched at the noise. He could hear Daniel stir and mutter as he felt around for his discarded blanket. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Dan. “Go back to sleep.”
“What? What happened? You’re freezing.” Daniel shifted and wrapped himself around Miles, pausing to ask, “Do you mind? You feel good on my sunburn. Where you been?”
“Out. Working. Being useful. Turning myself into a ghost-powered portable icepack for you.”
“Mmm. Everyone needs one of those.”
A laugh bubbled up inside Miles, surprising himself. He glanced back, searching for a retort, but Dan was already asleep. He leaned back into the warmth, listened to the silence with a mixture of grief and satisfaction, and waited for sleep.