(no subject)
The counter hung innocuously from the wall of his hut, numbers forever stuck between 79 and 78, collecting a thin layer of dust. All it was good for, anymore. He'd done everything he was supposed to, everything the islands asked of him, but when the counter stopped, so did he. He lived the normal, safe, boring life of a man without a destiny. A salesman. An office worker for a box company. He had hobbies instead of duties. Retired from his fate.
That kind of freedom is tainted with disappointment. Regret piling up around him, and by mid-January, the snow long-since melted and the island showering them all with gifts to keep them fat and happy and complacent, John was walking with a cane, the feeling in his left leg gone almost completely. He'd mentioned it to no one. A torn ligament, if anyone asked, but every day he woke up and felt his miracle slipping away, just a little more.
Benjamin Linus was the last person he wanted to see.
But a man needed to eat, and as much as he fought against it, hunting on his own wasn't an option any more. So, he went into the compound. He fixed himself a sandwich and looked for something to read and that's... That's when he found it. A small tin can reel labeled Orientation, not unlike one he'd seen before.
Chuckling to himself, John sat down heavily in a chair, the can held in his lap. "You just don't give up..." he said, looking up at the ceiling, at the sky, at the island with a crooked smile.
[[This is not a canon puncture. He's found a short, spliced instructional video from his own canon, which he'll probably show it to you, if you ask nicely. ST/LT always welcome. I'm probably about to go to sleep, myself.]]
That kind of freedom is tainted with disappointment. Regret piling up around him, and by mid-January, the snow long-since melted and the island showering them all with gifts to keep them fat and happy and complacent, John was walking with a cane, the feeling in his left leg gone almost completely. He'd mentioned it to no one. A torn ligament, if anyone asked, but every day he woke up and felt his miracle slipping away, just a little more.
Benjamin Linus was the last person he wanted to see.
But a man needed to eat, and as much as he fought against it, hunting on his own wasn't an option any more. So, he went into the compound. He fixed himself a sandwich and looked for something to read and that's... That's when he found it. A small tin can reel labeled Orientation, not unlike one he'd seen before.
Chuckling to himself, John sat down heavily in a chair, the can held in his lap. "You just don't give up..." he said, looking up at the ceiling, at the sky, at the island with a crooked smile.
[[This is not a canon puncture. He's found a short, spliced instructional video from his own canon, which he'll probably show it to you, if you ask nicely. ST/LT always welcome. I'm probably about to go to sleep, myself.]]