(no subject)
Title: Who I Am Is Who I Am (But Who Am I)
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Libby, mentions of Desmond, Hurley, Kate, Jack, Sawyer
Word Count: 516
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #5 - Multiple Personality for psych_30
Author's Note: This is possibly implausible, but I've had this idea for awhile.
Summary: AU. "You're making a mistake."
Liz is young.
Too young to know how to hold her liquor properly, too young to yet understand the power held in those two words.
“I do.”
And it’s Vegas right, what happens in Vegas stays there and it all makes perfect sense from the bottom of the bottle when you’re nineteen.
Her mom yells, when she calls after and it’s all giggling on her end.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“So what if I am?”
The beep of the ‘end’ button is too loud in the hotel room.
She’s young. She has her whole life to make mistakes. She has her whole life to fix them too.
---
Beth is a liar.
That’s what he says anyways, when their fighting again in their silly little apartment.
“You were married before. You were married and didn’t think to tell me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He’s too angry, voice too incredulous, and she suddenly wants out, out, out.
She still doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
“He called, looking for you.”
She blinks. “Who?”
“Stop lying.”
Her pulse races, hand shaking, loose grip on the plate in her hand. It might shatter. Everything does.
“Vegas.”
“I’ve never even been on the west coast; I’m from Ohio.”
He lets it go, tells her maybe it was some sick joke, maybe it’s a mix-up, and she nods, and life goes on.
Or it would. Except he never truly believes her, not really.
He puts her in Santa Rosa Mental Hospital (“I just want you to get help”) and she gets that trip to the west coast.
---
Elizabeth is too giving.
David says he likes that, it’s his favorite quality of hers, and she smiles, and when he slips a ring on her finger she does what logic dictates.
They’re happy. For a while.
He’s rich. The mansion, the boat, the summer house, the clothes, expensive jewelry, it’s all hers, the perfect storybook ending.
Except it never quite feels right. Instead it’s stifling.
He dies.
He dies and leaves her with things she doesn’t want or need.
She just wants to be free. To breathe. That’s all.
“I have a boat. It was my husband's but he got sick. He wanted to sail the Mediterranean-he never-he passed away about a month ago.” She lets his condolences lay there and continues. “I want you to have it.”
The man in the coffee shop has himself a lucky day and she can sleep just a little easier.
---
Libby is eccentric.
Or that’s what she guesses they would call her. She watches Kate drift between the two men who were most likely to have been, in another life, models, all good looks and hard edges.
She likes personality, thank you very much.
And so there’s Hurley who she thinks might be just a little scared, a little out of practice, and really, it’s cute. They could be something.
She’d like that.
But he forgets the blankets.
The story ends there (or does it?)
---
Somewhere a mother mourns for the little girl she truly lost long ago.