Straight Line [3/3] [PG] [Jack, Juliet]
Title: Straight Line [3 of 3]
Characters: Jack, Juliet
Pairing: Jack/Juliet implied
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season 5 AU (Jack jumps, Charlotte lives, Juliet gets pregnant, they decide to leave the island during the 1970s)
A/N: After his conversation with Claire, Jack returns to Juliet
~
He steps down the ladder carefully, trying to be silent, light, but his body feels heavy, and on the last rung, his foot slips.
“Jack?”
He swallows, catching himself before he turns to look at her. She’s sitting on one of the bunks, leaning forward, her hands clasped loosely over her belly.
“I-I thought you might be sleeping,” he says awkwardly, like an old record slipping back into a familiar groove, remembering suddenly that they’re supposed to be arguing.
“I can’t sleep.”
“How’s the nausea?” he can’t help asking, “Are you still feeling dizzy?”
She spends a long time looking at him as if she’s deciding how she wants to respond. Finally, she smiles at him lopsidedly, heaving an exasperated sigh.
“Jack, we’re in a submarine. Aren’t you feeling nauseous and dizzy?”
“Uh,” he looks at her, dumbly, “yeah.” He takes a few steps toward her, sits down cautiously on the edge of the bed before setting his hand tentatively on hers. “But-the medication-you’re sure you don’t want to take anything?”
She shakes her head calmly but insistently, pushing her back against the wall.
“It won’t hurt him,” he begins, “You know that right? You know I would never-” He thinks suddenly of Claire, and he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He wonders dimly if his father ever made any promises like this one.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
And then, all at once, she curls against him, her arms bent softly around his waist, her belly pressed up against his side. He looks down at her in surprise as she rests her head against his shoulder: she doesn’t do this-doesn’t lean on him-not even now, since she's been pregnant.
“It isn’t?”
“They drugged me.” Her voice becomes indifferent, like the way she used to sound when he was still her prisoner, trapped at the bottom of the ocean. The hair on the back of his neck stands up at her tone, but he’s still trying to figure out what she means when she continues. “When I first came to the island, Ethan and Richard put tranquillizer in my orange juice. I drank the whole thing in about three gulps. I don’t even remember getting into the submarine.” She tells the story like it’s the punchline of a joke that she’s still trying to understand, and Jack squeezes her in his arms, tries to surround her. They have never talked about this, he realizes strangely-she has never offered, and he’s always been too afraid to ask.
“When I woke up, we were already there. I slept the whole way.”
“Juliet,” he says softly, like he’s begging, but he doesn’t know quite what he wants.
“They both knew-the whole time they were lying to me, telling me I’d be back in time for- They knew that I wasn’t ever coming back. And afterward, when I realized what had happened, where I was, I thought I-I thought I knew it too. That’s why-” she begins, lifting her face to look at him, “That’s why I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to be awake when we dock, when we’re home.”
Before he can say anything else, something jabs against the inside of his forearm where it’s resting across her stomach.
She half laughs, half chokes as David begins to kick inside her.
“I guess that makes two of us.”
Jack leans down to stroke her belly as it moves under his fingertips, still not quite used to the way it feels, even after all this time, and the kicks get harder, as if David knows, and wants to protest all the louder now that he knows he has an audience.
“He’s got a lot of energy,” Jack murmurs into Juliet’s hair.
“He wants out.” She smiles ruefully, squeezing her eyes shut. “I like to think of it as his version of pulling on the chains.”
“Stubborn,” Jack translates, wiping at the moisture at the corner of her eyes until she opens them again.
“Yeah,” she says, looking up at him slowly. Her eyes meet his steadily. “It runs in the family.”
It feels like the moment on the roller coaster where the bottom suddenly drops out and the world turns upside down, and he jerks in surprise, not ready for it, even though he should have known all along.
“Juliet,” he says, “I need to let her go,” or maybe it’s “I want to let her go.” He doesn’t hear the words, and he has no way of knowing afterward because it could be either one; it feels like both. He feels it like chains pulling inside him, inexorably, like he will cease to exist-become another person in another universe, if he doesn’t let her go.
The words jar against each other as he opens his throat, trying to explain what he can barely understand himself, and he feels like he’s drowning until Juliet touches his shoulder.
“Jack,” she says, “I know.”
~
Characters: Jack, Juliet
Pairing: Jack/Juliet implied
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season 5 AU (Jack jumps, Charlotte lives, Juliet gets pregnant, they decide to leave the island during the 1970s)
A/N: After his conversation with Claire, Jack returns to Juliet
~
He steps down the ladder carefully, trying to be silent, light, but his body feels heavy, and on the last rung, his foot slips.
“Jack?”
He swallows, catching himself before he turns to look at her. She’s sitting on one of the bunks, leaning forward, her hands clasped loosely over her belly.
“I-I thought you might be sleeping,” he says awkwardly, like an old record slipping back into a familiar groove, remembering suddenly that they’re supposed to be arguing.
“I can’t sleep.”
“How’s the nausea?” he can’t help asking, “Are you still feeling dizzy?”
She spends a long time looking at him as if she’s deciding how she wants to respond. Finally, she smiles at him lopsidedly, heaving an exasperated sigh.
“Jack, we’re in a submarine. Aren’t you feeling nauseous and dizzy?”
“Uh,” he looks at her, dumbly, “yeah.” He takes a few steps toward her, sits down cautiously on the edge of the bed before setting his hand tentatively on hers. “But-the medication-you’re sure you don’t want to take anything?”
She shakes her head calmly but insistently, pushing her back against the wall.
“It won’t hurt him,” he begins, “You know that right? You know I would never-” He thinks suddenly of Claire, and he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He wonders dimly if his father ever made any promises like this one.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
And then, all at once, she curls against him, her arms bent softly around his waist, her belly pressed up against his side. He looks down at her in surprise as she rests her head against his shoulder: she doesn’t do this-doesn’t lean on him-not even now, since she's been pregnant.
“It isn’t?”
“They drugged me.” Her voice becomes indifferent, like the way she used to sound when he was still her prisoner, trapped at the bottom of the ocean. The hair on the back of his neck stands up at her tone, but he’s still trying to figure out what she means when she continues. “When I first came to the island, Ethan and Richard put tranquillizer in my orange juice. I drank the whole thing in about three gulps. I don’t even remember getting into the submarine.” She tells the story like it’s the punchline of a joke that she’s still trying to understand, and Jack squeezes her in his arms, tries to surround her. They have never talked about this, he realizes strangely-she has never offered, and he’s always been too afraid to ask.
“When I woke up, we were already there. I slept the whole way.”
“Juliet,” he says softly, like he’s begging, but he doesn’t know quite what he wants.
“They both knew-the whole time they were lying to me, telling me I’d be back in time for- They knew that I wasn’t ever coming back. And afterward, when I realized what had happened, where I was, I thought I-I thought I knew it too. That’s why-” she begins, lifting her face to look at him, “That’s why I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to be awake when we dock, when we’re home.”
Before he can say anything else, something jabs against the inside of his forearm where it’s resting across her stomach.
She half laughs, half chokes as David begins to kick inside her.
“I guess that makes two of us.”
Jack leans down to stroke her belly as it moves under his fingertips, still not quite used to the way it feels, even after all this time, and the kicks get harder, as if David knows, and wants to protest all the louder now that he knows he has an audience.
“He’s got a lot of energy,” Jack murmurs into Juliet’s hair.
“He wants out.” She smiles ruefully, squeezing her eyes shut. “I like to think of it as his version of pulling on the chains.”
“Stubborn,” Jack translates, wiping at the moisture at the corner of her eyes until she opens them again.
“Yeah,” she says, looking up at him slowly. Her eyes meet his steadily. “It runs in the family.”
It feels like the moment on the roller coaster where the bottom suddenly drops out and the world turns upside down, and he jerks in surprise, not ready for it, even though he should have known all along.
“Juliet,” he says, “I need to let her go,” or maybe it’s “I want to let her go.” He doesn’t hear the words, and he has no way of knowing afterward because it could be either one; it feels like both. He feels it like chains pulling inside him, inexorably, like he will cease to exist-become another person in another universe, if he doesn’t let her go.
The words jar against each other as he opens his throat, trying to explain what he can barely understand himself, and he feels like he’s drowning until Juliet touches his shoulder.
“Jack,” she says, “I know.”
~