Following, Part Fourteen [Jack/Juliet] [R] [WIP]
Title: Following (Part Fourteen)
Characters: Juliet, Jack, Charlotte, Daniel, Hurley, Bernard & Rose (so far)
Pairing: Juliet/Jack, hints of Charlotte/Daniel
Rating: R (this part -- language, implied sex)
Spoilers: Season 4, Season 5 (sort of)
A/N: It's the talk! I had a mini-crisis deciding how to write this, so I hope it didn't turn out too terribly. In any case, I am quite excited because the next chapter will finally, finally deliver on the plot that I keep threatening. Comments are, as always, greatly appreciated! ♥
~~
The first time that he had wanted to learn about Juliet’s past, it had been because he’d thought that her story would make sense: it would have a clear beginning and end, it would explain the island, or, at the very least, it would explain what she was doing on it. It would help him understand all of the things about her that seemed inexplicable; it would help him untangle the impossible knot that was tying the island together. But tonight, even before they settled into Juliet’s bed, even before she began with “My sister-Rachel-had cancer,” he knew that her story wasn’t going to do any of those things-that part of why it was so painful for her was that it was just as full of holes, blanks, and absent causes as his.
And to listen to the holes in her story was harder than anything else: when her explanations trailed off doubtfully, when she began her sentences with shaky “I don’t knows,” the phrase echoed inside him, resonated painfully, reminded him of the way he had felt when he’d opened his father’s empty coffin.
Juliet spoke against his chest in a raw whisper, her eyes closed, and he found himself closing his eyes too, as if he could give her some kind of privacy that way. Yet even then, listening to her was astonishingly intimate: the things she said to him were things that you didn’t talk about until you had known somebody for years-things you might not talk about even then. When she spoke of her sister, he felt like he was hearing something that he had no right to hear.
When she began crying, he opened his eyes.
“Juliet-you don’t have to-” he said, “You know you can stop-” But she shook her head almost immediately.
“No-” she blinked up at him with glazed eyes, “If I stop now, I might never- Jack, I need to do this.”
He just nodded, looking back into her eyes, trying to reassure her even though he had never felt so uncertain: He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing. Because everything that she was telling him had already happened, was already over, and there was nothing left for him to do but listen.
The oddest part about Juliet’s story, in the end, was that it didn’t really explain her at all. Parts of it helped him understand some of the things she had done: when she told him about the man she’d been with--Goodwin--that Ben had sent off to be killed, Jack finally understood the look of worry in Juliet’s eyes whenever she looked at him. When she told him about the video of Rachel and Julian-and explained what Ben had threatened to do to them, he could finally appreciate the risk she had taken when she had asked him to intentionally botch Ben’s surgery.
But her story didn’t-couldn’t-explain how she still had the strength to stand after everything that Ben had put her through, why she had not crumpled or gone crazy: If anything, the story made her continued existence even more inexplicable. Jack held her against him, glad for whatever was inside her that had kept her from cracking, even though he didn’t think he would ever understand it.
When she had finished, all he could manage to say was, “I’m sorry: I wish I hadn’t given you such a hard time; I wish I had trusted you sooner. If I’d known-”
“You didn’t know,” she answered easily, lifting her eyes to look at him as his fingers retraced the paths that tears had followed over her face and neck, “And besides that-I liked the ‘hard time.’ You were being honest. I hadn’t heard anybody tell me what they really thought in three years. We couldn’t even tell the truth in book club-”
He tried not to raise his eyebrows at that, but couldn’t help it in the end. Her soft laughter was like the sound of someone emerging from deep water. He took it as tacit permission to ask.
“Book club?”
“We didn’t get Oprah,” she explained, smiling, but her expression went serious again as she rested her head against his shoulder.
“Jack- Do you have any-questions? I want-I want to tell you-whatever you want to know.”
He felt staggered by the offer, his mouth falling open a little as he looked at her. “I-Juliet-” he stuttered, and was about to tell her that she didn’t need to tell him anything else; that he already felt like an intruder for what he’d heard, when she covered his hand with hers, returning his gaze steadily.
“I mean it, Jack. Please.”
He wracked his brain, trying to think of something that he wanted to know that wouldn’t hurt her to tell him.
“You said-that it was Richard who recruited you?” he said after a moment, still not sure why he had chosen the question.
“And Ethan,” she amended, nodding at him matter-of-factly. He guessed he must have made a face, because she suddenly added, “I wasn’t exactly a good judge of character back then, Jack. I was naïve. I trusted people. I didn’t think-”
“I can’t imagine you that way at all,” he admitted, looking her over as if he could find traces of her former self if he looked hard enough.
“I almost can’t myself-not anymore,” she reflected, like she was trying to remember. After a few moments, it suddenly occurred to him why he had asked the question to begin with.
“Why Richard? I mean, Ethan I understand-he was a doctor-but Richard? How did he find out about you? Why did he want you to come to the island?”
“Richard works for Ben. Officially, he’s supposed to be some kind of advisor-that’s what everybody told me when I came to the Others’ camp. But I don’t think it’s worked that way for a long time. Since I first met Richard, it’s always seemed to me to be the other way around. Ben tells Richard what to do.” She took a deep breath, “And-what happened to Edmund-the bus-had ‘Ben’ written all over it. It’s what Ben does: he tries to teach people lessons, to show them-”
“Fuck.” He tightened his arms around her, trying not to grip her too hard, punch the wall or implode. Because if there was anything that Juliet’s story had clarified, it was his hatred for Ben-and his hatred for Ben had not needed clarification. “I’m going to kill him, Juliet- If I see him again-” And he knew it then, instinctively, that he would, whether he meant to intentionally or not-his loathing had reached such a point that he didn’t feel in control of his own impulses.
“Jack-” she gripped his arm as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and wanted to stop him. He turned to her, appalled.
“What-You can’t possibly be trying to defend him now-after what he did to you-?” For a second, his anger eclipsed everything else, and he felt like he was in a different time, back in the Others’ camp, back in the cage. Then he felt her squeeze his shoulder hard, drawing him back into the moment.
“I’m not-Jack, just stop,” she said forcefully, and, startled after hearing her tone, he did. She relaxed her hold on him almost instantly.
“I’m not worried about Ben: I’m worried about you. When I told you that Ben was powerful-I meant it. He always seems to know-somehow he always seems to know what’s going on, even when it’s impossible for him to have-” She paused as though she was trying to choose her words carefully, trying to convey something important. “Whatever’s happening to the island right now, you can be sure that Ben knows about it. He’ll be trying to control it, if he doesn’t have control over it already. It’s not just a matter of beating him up, or shooting him: he’s-connected-to this island. It’s like he’s part of it, like the island won’t let him die-”
“That’s exactly what he wants you to believe, Juliet,” he returned, trying to stay as calm as he could for both their sakes, “But it's not true: We almost killed him a few times already. When he was in the hatch- And he almost died in surgery. If I hadn’t sewn him back up- ” he winced at the truth of the admission, “He’s just a man. He’s not even-he’s not even that.”
She didn’t answer right away: she just looked at him, her deep, clear gaze moving over his features worriedly, “I know I can’t stop you,” she blinked, “I don’t even want to stop you, if you really can manage to- Just-” She pressed her lips together, “Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, that you won’t let yourself get killed trying to take Ben with you. I didn’t save your life because I wanted you to kill Ben. I saved it because I wanted you alive.”
She bit her lip and looked him over, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining. When she opened her mouth again, her lower lip trembled as though she couldn’t decide whether or not to say anything more. After a moment, she shifted closer to him, nuzzling his collarbone, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Jack, I can’t lose you,” she whispered faintly, as though she was revealing something shameful, “I can’t-I can’t lose anybody else that I-”
He felt a sudden heaviness in his throat that made him swallow hard, and tightened his arms around her as she trailed off, feeling her heart beat quickly against him, feeling his own pulse speed up as if they were part of the same system.
“Juliet,” he said, cupping her cheek, “You won’t lose me. I’m not-I’m not going anywhere.”
He kissed her for a long time after that, deep, slow, reassuring kisses that turned unexpectedly feverish when she shifted on top of him. Later, when they were lying side by side, trying to catch their breath, she reached out for him, putting her arms around his middle, the inside of her elbow resting painlessly over his stitches.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing his chest softly, “for listening.”
“You’re welcome,” he answered her automatically, “But-shouldn’t I be thanking you? You were the one telling me. I didn’t really do anything.”
She only smiled at him affectionately, a beautiful lightness in her eyes, and insisted,
“Yes, you did.”
~~
Part Fifteen
Characters: Juliet, Jack, Charlotte, Daniel, Hurley, Bernard & Rose (so far)
Pairing: Juliet/Jack, hints of Charlotte/Daniel
Rating: R (this part -- language, implied sex)
Spoilers: Season 4, Season 5 (sort of)
A/N: It's the talk! I had a mini-crisis deciding how to write this, so I hope it didn't turn out too terribly. In any case, I am quite excited because the next chapter will finally, finally deliver on the plot that I keep threatening. Comments are, as always, greatly appreciated! ♥
~~
The first time that he had wanted to learn about Juliet’s past, it had been because he’d thought that her story would make sense: it would have a clear beginning and end, it would explain the island, or, at the very least, it would explain what she was doing on it. It would help him understand all of the things about her that seemed inexplicable; it would help him untangle the impossible knot that was tying the island together. But tonight, even before they settled into Juliet’s bed, even before she began with “My sister-Rachel-had cancer,” he knew that her story wasn’t going to do any of those things-that part of why it was so painful for her was that it was just as full of holes, blanks, and absent causes as his.
And to listen to the holes in her story was harder than anything else: when her explanations trailed off doubtfully, when she began her sentences with shaky “I don’t knows,” the phrase echoed inside him, resonated painfully, reminded him of the way he had felt when he’d opened his father’s empty coffin.
Juliet spoke against his chest in a raw whisper, her eyes closed, and he found himself closing his eyes too, as if he could give her some kind of privacy that way. Yet even then, listening to her was astonishingly intimate: the things she said to him were things that you didn’t talk about until you had known somebody for years-things you might not talk about even then. When she spoke of her sister, he felt like he was hearing something that he had no right to hear.
When she began crying, he opened his eyes.
“Juliet-you don’t have to-” he said, “You know you can stop-” But she shook her head almost immediately.
“No-” she blinked up at him with glazed eyes, “If I stop now, I might never- Jack, I need to do this.”
He just nodded, looking back into her eyes, trying to reassure her even though he had never felt so uncertain: He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing. Because everything that she was telling him had already happened, was already over, and there was nothing left for him to do but listen.
The oddest part about Juliet’s story, in the end, was that it didn’t really explain her at all. Parts of it helped him understand some of the things she had done: when she told him about the man she’d been with--Goodwin--that Ben had sent off to be killed, Jack finally understood the look of worry in Juliet’s eyes whenever she looked at him. When she told him about the video of Rachel and Julian-and explained what Ben had threatened to do to them, he could finally appreciate the risk she had taken when she had asked him to intentionally botch Ben’s surgery.
But her story didn’t-couldn’t-explain how she still had the strength to stand after everything that Ben had put her through, why she had not crumpled or gone crazy: If anything, the story made her continued existence even more inexplicable. Jack held her against him, glad for whatever was inside her that had kept her from cracking, even though he didn’t think he would ever understand it.
When she had finished, all he could manage to say was, “I’m sorry: I wish I hadn’t given you such a hard time; I wish I had trusted you sooner. If I’d known-”
“You didn’t know,” she answered easily, lifting her eyes to look at him as his fingers retraced the paths that tears had followed over her face and neck, “And besides that-I liked the ‘hard time.’ You were being honest. I hadn’t heard anybody tell me what they really thought in three years. We couldn’t even tell the truth in book club-”
He tried not to raise his eyebrows at that, but couldn’t help it in the end. Her soft laughter was like the sound of someone emerging from deep water. He took it as tacit permission to ask.
“Book club?”
“We didn’t get Oprah,” she explained, smiling, but her expression went serious again as she rested her head against his shoulder.
“Jack- Do you have any-questions? I want-I want to tell you-whatever you want to know.”
He felt staggered by the offer, his mouth falling open a little as he looked at her. “I-Juliet-” he stuttered, and was about to tell her that she didn’t need to tell him anything else; that he already felt like an intruder for what he’d heard, when she covered his hand with hers, returning his gaze steadily.
“I mean it, Jack. Please.”
He wracked his brain, trying to think of something that he wanted to know that wouldn’t hurt her to tell him.
“You said-that it was Richard who recruited you?” he said after a moment, still not sure why he had chosen the question.
“And Ethan,” she amended, nodding at him matter-of-factly. He guessed he must have made a face, because she suddenly added, “I wasn’t exactly a good judge of character back then, Jack. I was naïve. I trusted people. I didn’t think-”
“I can’t imagine you that way at all,” he admitted, looking her over as if he could find traces of her former self if he looked hard enough.
“I almost can’t myself-not anymore,” she reflected, like she was trying to remember. After a few moments, it suddenly occurred to him why he had asked the question to begin with.
“Why Richard? I mean, Ethan I understand-he was a doctor-but Richard? How did he find out about you? Why did he want you to come to the island?”
“Richard works for Ben. Officially, he’s supposed to be some kind of advisor-that’s what everybody told me when I came to the Others’ camp. But I don’t think it’s worked that way for a long time. Since I first met Richard, it’s always seemed to me to be the other way around. Ben tells Richard what to do.” She took a deep breath, “And-what happened to Edmund-the bus-had ‘Ben’ written all over it. It’s what Ben does: he tries to teach people lessons, to show them-”
“Fuck.” He tightened his arms around her, trying not to grip her too hard, punch the wall or implode. Because if there was anything that Juliet’s story had clarified, it was his hatred for Ben-and his hatred for Ben had not needed clarification. “I’m going to kill him, Juliet- If I see him again-” And he knew it then, instinctively, that he would, whether he meant to intentionally or not-his loathing had reached such a point that he didn’t feel in control of his own impulses.
“Jack-” she gripped his arm as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and wanted to stop him. He turned to her, appalled.
“What-You can’t possibly be trying to defend him now-after what he did to you-?” For a second, his anger eclipsed everything else, and he felt like he was in a different time, back in the Others’ camp, back in the cage. Then he felt her squeeze his shoulder hard, drawing him back into the moment.
“I’m not-Jack, just stop,” she said forcefully, and, startled after hearing her tone, he did. She relaxed her hold on him almost instantly.
“I’m not worried about Ben: I’m worried about you. When I told you that Ben was powerful-I meant it. He always seems to know-somehow he always seems to know what’s going on, even when it’s impossible for him to have-” She paused as though she was trying to choose her words carefully, trying to convey something important. “Whatever’s happening to the island right now, you can be sure that Ben knows about it. He’ll be trying to control it, if he doesn’t have control over it already. It’s not just a matter of beating him up, or shooting him: he’s-connected-to this island. It’s like he’s part of it, like the island won’t let him die-”
“That’s exactly what he wants you to believe, Juliet,” he returned, trying to stay as calm as he could for both their sakes, “But it's not true: We almost killed him a few times already. When he was in the hatch- And he almost died in surgery. If I hadn’t sewn him back up- ” he winced at the truth of the admission, “He’s just a man. He’s not even-he’s not even that.”
She didn’t answer right away: she just looked at him, her deep, clear gaze moving over his features worriedly, “I know I can’t stop you,” she blinked, “I don’t even want to stop you, if you really can manage to- Just-” She pressed her lips together, “Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, that you won’t let yourself get killed trying to take Ben with you. I didn’t save your life because I wanted you to kill Ben. I saved it because I wanted you alive.”
She bit her lip and looked him over, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining. When she opened her mouth again, her lower lip trembled as though she couldn’t decide whether or not to say anything more. After a moment, she shifted closer to him, nuzzling his collarbone, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Jack, I can’t lose you,” she whispered faintly, as though she was revealing something shameful, “I can’t-I can’t lose anybody else that I-”
He felt a sudden heaviness in his throat that made him swallow hard, and tightened his arms around her as she trailed off, feeling her heart beat quickly against him, feeling his own pulse speed up as if they were part of the same system.
“Juliet,” he said, cupping her cheek, “You won’t lose me. I’m not-I’m not going anywhere.”
He kissed her for a long time after that, deep, slow, reassuring kisses that turned unexpectedly feverish when she shifted on top of him. Later, when they were lying side by side, trying to catch their breath, she reached out for him, putting her arms around his middle, the inside of her elbow resting painlessly over his stitches.
“Thank you,” she said, kissing his chest softly, “for listening.”
“You’re welcome,” he answered her automatically, “But-shouldn’t I be thanking you? You were the one telling me. I didn’t really do anything.”
She only smiled at him affectionately, a beautiful lightness in her eyes, and insisted,
“Yes, you did.”
~~
Part Fifteen