(no subject)
Title: The Story Of Us All
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Nadia, Cass, Margo, obvious mentions of Sayid, Sawyer and Jack.
Word Count: 592
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The news report breaks into whatever late-afternoon talk show she has on in the background. It's 4:23.
The news report breaks into whatever late afternoon talk show she has on in the background, interrupting her mid-sentence in the hook she’s been reading for the past hour and a half.
“Oceanic Air Flight 815 lost contact with air traffic controllers nearly an hour ago. They have since disappeared off radar.”
It’s 4:23.
---
She watches pictures flash across the screen, half-interested. She doesn’t think she knows anyone on Flight 815.
Clementine wobbles on legs she isn’t yet used to walking on. She picks her baby girl up, sets her in her lap.
The picture of a man they call James Ford appears.
---
“We hear there was an Iraqi man on board; do you suspect that terrorism is involved?” The very white, very blonde newscaster asks the president of something or other.
That catches Nadia’s attention. Every time a plane crashes that’s all she hears. Was it part of a terrorism plot.
“There was a brief exchange between the man, Mr. Jarrah, and officials before he boarded, and from what I’ve heard it’s safe to say that is not a concern we have at this time.”
After he says the man’s last name she doesn’t really hear the rest of what he has to say. She knows, somehow, that the man in question is the same man who shot himself in the leg to save her life.
---
She calls Marc. She calls Marc because she doesn’t know what flight Jack, her own son, was on and Marc’s best friend he should know, he has to know.
“Uh, it was eight-something. 815 maybe.” There’s a pause. “Why?”
“Turn on the news.”
Her heart drops as she drops the phone back into its receiver.
---
It feels like an earthquake (and she’s never actually felt an earthquake - she lives in Iowa for God’s sake - but she imagines this is what it would feel like; ground feeling like its shifting her feet, gnawing fear in the pit of her stomach).
Her daughter notices the change in her demeanor, and says something that could probably be interpreted as “mama, what’s wrong?”
“Do you have any idea where they might have crashed?”
“We believe somewhere in the South Pacific, but at the moment it’s nearly impossible to tell.”
She won’t tell her; she wouldn’t understand it anyway. Years later Cass will concoct a story about her daddy being in jail, or about him doing some big important government job.
Her mouth is dry as she says, “Nothing.”
---
She once wrote “you will see me in the next life, if not this one” on the back of a photo of herself and left him with it.
Now, wishing she had a photo of him (seven years and she’s starting to forget his face), she guesses it’s the latter.
---
Margo pops pills.
Christian had an alcohol problem; she has what some would call a drug problem. Legal drugs of course (somehow that makes it better, at least in her social circle), things her personal physician can prescribe (not her husband, not her son).
Point is they’re just enough to make her forget, for the time being, that her husband, and now her son, are dead.
---
Here’s what these three women will be thinking about when they try to sleep on this night:
Every thing they didn’t get to say.
Every promise they’ve ever broken.
Everything they could’ve been.
And meanwhile the pictures of their loved ones will flash across the screens for all the world to see before their televisions fade to black.
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Nadia, Cass, Margo, obvious mentions of Sayid, Sawyer and Jack.
Word Count: 592
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The news report breaks into whatever late-afternoon talk show she has on in the background. It's 4:23.
The news report breaks into whatever late afternoon talk show she has on in the background, interrupting her mid-sentence in the hook she’s been reading for the past hour and a half.
“Oceanic Air Flight 815 lost contact with air traffic controllers nearly an hour ago. They have since disappeared off radar.”
It’s 4:23.
---
She watches pictures flash across the screen, half-interested. She doesn’t think she knows anyone on Flight 815.
Clementine wobbles on legs she isn’t yet used to walking on. She picks her baby girl up, sets her in her lap.
The picture of a man they call James Ford appears.
---
“We hear there was an Iraqi man on board; do you suspect that terrorism is involved?” The very white, very blonde newscaster asks the president of something or other.
That catches Nadia’s attention. Every time a plane crashes that’s all she hears. Was it part of a terrorism plot.
“There was a brief exchange between the man, Mr. Jarrah, and officials before he boarded, and from what I’ve heard it’s safe to say that is not a concern we have at this time.”
After he says the man’s last name she doesn’t really hear the rest of what he has to say. She knows, somehow, that the man in question is the same man who shot himself in the leg to save her life.
---
She calls Marc. She calls Marc because she doesn’t know what flight Jack, her own son, was on and Marc’s best friend he should know, he has to know.
“Uh, it was eight-something. 815 maybe.” There’s a pause. “Why?”
“Turn on the news.”
Her heart drops as she drops the phone back into its receiver.
---
It feels like an earthquake (and she’s never actually felt an earthquake - she lives in Iowa for God’s sake - but she imagines this is what it would feel like; ground feeling like its shifting her feet, gnawing fear in the pit of her stomach).
Her daughter notices the change in her demeanor, and says something that could probably be interpreted as “mama, what’s wrong?”
“Do you have any idea where they might have crashed?”
“We believe somewhere in the South Pacific, but at the moment it’s nearly impossible to tell.”
She won’t tell her; she wouldn’t understand it anyway. Years later Cass will concoct a story about her daddy being in jail, or about him doing some big important government job.
Her mouth is dry as she says, “Nothing.”
---
She once wrote “you will see me in the next life, if not this one” on the back of a photo of herself and left him with it.
Now, wishing she had a photo of him (seven years and she’s starting to forget his face), she guesses it’s the latter.
---
Margo pops pills.
Christian had an alcohol problem; she has what some would call a drug problem. Legal drugs of course (somehow that makes it better, at least in her social circle), things her personal physician can prescribe (not her husband, not her son).
Point is they’re just enough to make her forget, for the time being, that her husband, and now her son, are dead.
---
Here’s what these three women will be thinking about when they try to sleep on this night:
Every thing they didn’t get to say.
Every promise they’ve ever broken.
Everything they could’ve been.
And meanwhile the pictures of their loved ones will flash across the screens for all the world to see before their televisions fade to black.