Lost Fic - Yet Shall They Live
Title: Yet Shall They Live
Author: tinkerbell99
Characters: Oceanic Six, Ben, others
Word Count: 1720
Spoilers: Through the end of S4
Summary: It begins slowly. There's a face in the crowd, a voice on the phone, a dead man's song playing softly on a broken radio. By the time they're aware, it's already too late. (There's no reason to go back now.)
***
It begins slowly.
There's a face in the crowd, a voice on the phone, a dead man's song playing softly on a broken radio. By the time they're aware, it's already too late.
(There's no reason to go back now.)
***
"So tell me, Sayid," Ben stepped forward into the light. "Do you see them, too?"
Brown-red flecks fell away from dark hands, the soiled water sliding in muddy rivers against the sink. Sayid continued scrubbing before he spoke. "I don't know what you are referring to." The words were practiced; the response was planned. He never turned away from his task.
"Your friends from the island." Ben moved closer, his pale face glowing under the fluorescent light. He removed a towel from the rack on the wall and fingered it thoughtfully before offering it to Sayid. "The ones you thought you buried in the sand. Do you see them?"
"I told you. I don't know what you are talking about."
"Your friend Mr. Reyes sees them."
"Hurley is," Sayid swallowed and turned off the water, shook drops from his hands, careful not to raise his eyes to the mirror hanging crookedly over the sink. The gun he'd used hours ago waited nearby. "His mind is gone."
Ben nodded, eyes wide and lips tight. "Of course." Sayid snatched the towel. "But you should know by now, Sayid. Nothing stays buried on that island for long. Contrary to the belief, dead men do tell a tale."
Drying his hands, Sayid remained silent, eyes steady on the smaller man. When finished with the towel, he pushed on toward the door. "My task here is done. You'll notify me when I'm needed again."
"You never answered my question." Ben's voice halted his retreat. "Do you see them?"
The words fell heavy in the tiny room. Above them, the light buzzed louder, filling their ears. Sayid took a breath.
"Of course not."
He'd left, metal door slamming in his wake.
Ben's eyes flickered to the towel left crumpled on the sink. Blood red stains darkened its perfect fibers. He fingered the cloth gently.
"You may not see them now, Sayid," Ben muttered as he folded and placed the towel carefully on its rack, "but you will."
His daughter's eyes followed him as he picked up the gun.
***
This was their warning.
(It came too late.)
***
It begins slowly, but for all of them there is a moment.
"What's this one?" Kate asks, resting one hand on top of Aaron's rumpled hair. Sunlight streams in through the open window as they snuggle on the couch.
"That one's Sparkles," he giggles, pointing to the brightly crayoned picture Kate holds in her lap.
"Oh, I see. You even drew the yellow tip on the end of her tail."
"This one's for you," he says proudly, pulling out a rainbow framed with a strip of green grass and bright blue border up above. "I drew it at school today."
Fingers trace the rainbow's arch. "It's beautiful, Aaron. Why don't we put it on the fridge?" As she takes it from the pile, another paper slides to the floor. Kate's breath catches as she picks it up. She studies the picture as dread begins to crowd her throat. "This...Is this you, Sweetie?"
"Yes." His chubby hands find a plastic fire truck between the cushions of the couch.
"Aaron," Kate's voice begins to shake. "Who's next to you in this picture?"
"My mommy," he careens the truck along the edge of the couch, supplying it with siren noises along the way.
"You mean me? I'm next to you?"
"No." The truck crashes against a pillow.
"But I'm your mommy," and still she tries to smile.
Aaron's hand releases the truck, and startling blue eyes rise to meet Kate's. "That's not what the lady said." Salty air invades the room.
"What lady, Aaron?"
"The one that talks to me. I drew her in the picture." He fingers the woman's yellow hair while giggles escape from his lips. "She has a funny voice." He looks toward the window and back to Kate. "She's here right now."
The paper flutters from Kate's hand as Claire watches them both.
(It's already much too late.)
***
Sun talks to Michael in empty rooms.
It's incongruous, somehow. The unblemished yellow silk she wears and the act she knows she's about to commit. Her fingers are steady as she catches the final clasp of her blouse. Dark hair is knotted exquisitely into the polished chignon of a businesswoman, and the slightest blush of red sweeps across her lips.
Ji Yeon watches from her mother's bed with shining dark eyes as Sun chooses a perfume and mists it carefully on delicate wrists. She grins when Sun allows her a spray of her own and a careful swipe of expensive powder across her tiny nose.
"Be good while I am gone." Sun kisses her good-bye, and Ji Yeon scampers from the room to greet her nanny.
He comes to her in empty rooms.
"She's beautiful."
"Thank you," Sun murmurs, tucking one stray lock back in place behind her ear.
Over her shoulder now, so close she can feel his breath warm on her neck, "You should stay here with her."
"I am doing this for her."
"Jin wouldn't want you to -"
"I am doing this for him." The words rush forward in a tumble she struggles to control. "He hasn't come to me. He's still alive." Delicate fingers ease open a mahogany drawer.
"You believe that?"
She doesn't answer, just closes the drawer and unwraps the silk scarf she's bound many times. Layer by layer, the cloth is unraveled, fluttering in waves to be forgotten on the floor. The metal of the gun is left cool in her hand.
Michael is quiet when he speaks. "You'd kill for him?"
She slips the gun into her purse. "I kill to keep my child safe." She pauses. "Just as you did."
"Mommy?" Ji Yeon has wandered back in, a book in her hand. "Who are you talking to?" Her puzzled eyes search the empty room.
"No one, sweetheart. It's time for me to go."
Michael waits for her return. The yellow silk is marred with red.
They're all murderers now.
***
When Jack drinks, it isn't alone.
"You know why men like us become doctors, Jack?" Christian waits for his son to answer before continuing. "Because we like to play God."
Jack shakes his head and focuses red eyes on his glass. The tiny motel table is scarred and ringed from nights such as these. The bed’s sheets are strewn; the television silenced. Cheap curtains keep away the light.
"Being a surgeon, Jack, is as close to being in charge of fate as we mere mortals can get. Deciding who lives and dies, well, it's power, Jack. Absolute power."
Jack's finger circles the rim of his glass. "I am not," he whispers, "I am not my father."
Christian laughs darkly. "Are you so sure of that?" He takes a drink. "Absolute power, as they say, corrupts absolutely."
The silence is heavy while Jack pours.
"But you already know that, don't you, son? Corruption? Remember that poor marshal, Jack?"
His fingers rise to his forehead, grinding away at his father's words.
"Of course, it's too late now." He raises a glass in a mockery of a toast. "To playing God," he laughs, and all falls into silence.
In a flash of light, it's morning.
Jack pulls back the curtains. Edward Mars grins up at him from the parking lot below.
Two empty glasses glisten in the sun.
***
Sayid sees them, too.
These rooms are always the same. Darkened spaces high off the ground with muffled sounds from the streets below. The city, the language, the details never matter. A suit lies draped over a chair and the lock on the door is always used. The guns are kept under the bed. These rooms are always the same. He stays in them even after Ben stops.
He waits for them inside these rooms. It's always only a matter of time.
In dreams, Shannon watches him from a blanket down the beach, a smile flirting across pink lips.
He wakes in these rooms to feel her hair brushing against his shoulder and her lips caressing against his neck. They make love in the dim light of dawn as sirens wail far below. Her breath comes in hot gasps against his ear, and then he hears nothing at all.
He would believe this to be a dream were it not for Boone's cold stare from across the room.
***
"They'll come to you, Hurley. They'll tell you that they need to go back to the island. That they need to rectify what they've done." Ben pauses. "They see them, too, you know. Oh, not all of them. At least, not yet. But you have to tell them, Hugo. You have to make them understand that it's too late. Can you do that?"
Ben waits. A nurse bustles past Hurley's room pushing a silver cart of colored pills. "Can you help them understand it doesn't matter now?"
A moment later, Hurley nods.
***
They come to Santa Rosa just as Ben said. They find him alone, seated at a sterile table across from an empty folding chair. They usher away the nurses and speak in desperate, hushed tones as Hurley drops checkers into a crooked game of Connect Four. Jack pleads with reddened eyes. Kate stays near the window with Sayid at her side. Sun stands coldly alone against the wall. We have to go back.
(It's already much too late.)
Hurley looks to the others, the ones they can't see.
Sawyer shakes his head from an unfinished poker game in the corner of the room. John Locke watches Jack with accusation in his eyes. Rose rests one hand on Hurley's shoulder and turns away. Jin stands unseen beside his wife.
"It's too late," is all he can say. The island is empty, silent now.
After a time, they leave him, a madman dropping single pieces into a game meant for two.
Ben plays a checker. "Well done, Hugo."
(There's no reason to go back now.)
***
***
Author: tinkerbell99
Characters: Oceanic Six, Ben, others
Word Count: 1720
Spoilers: Through the end of S4
Summary: It begins slowly. There's a face in the crowd, a voice on the phone, a dead man's song playing softly on a broken radio. By the time they're aware, it's already too late. (There's no reason to go back now.)
***
It begins slowly.
There's a face in the crowd, a voice on the phone, a dead man's song playing softly on a broken radio. By the time they're aware, it's already too late.
(There's no reason to go back now.)
***
"So tell me, Sayid," Ben stepped forward into the light. "Do you see them, too?"
Brown-red flecks fell away from dark hands, the soiled water sliding in muddy rivers against the sink. Sayid continued scrubbing before he spoke. "I don't know what you are referring to." The words were practiced; the response was planned. He never turned away from his task.
"Your friends from the island." Ben moved closer, his pale face glowing under the fluorescent light. He removed a towel from the rack on the wall and fingered it thoughtfully before offering it to Sayid. "The ones you thought you buried in the sand. Do you see them?"
"I told you. I don't know what you are talking about."
"Your friend Mr. Reyes sees them."
"Hurley is," Sayid swallowed and turned off the water, shook drops from his hands, careful not to raise his eyes to the mirror hanging crookedly over the sink. The gun he'd used hours ago waited nearby. "His mind is gone."
Ben nodded, eyes wide and lips tight. "Of course." Sayid snatched the towel. "But you should know by now, Sayid. Nothing stays buried on that island for long. Contrary to the belief, dead men do tell a tale."
Drying his hands, Sayid remained silent, eyes steady on the smaller man. When finished with the towel, he pushed on toward the door. "My task here is done. You'll notify me when I'm needed again."
"You never answered my question." Ben's voice halted his retreat. "Do you see them?"
The words fell heavy in the tiny room. Above them, the light buzzed louder, filling their ears. Sayid took a breath.
"Of course not."
He'd left, metal door slamming in his wake.
Ben's eyes flickered to the towel left crumpled on the sink. Blood red stains darkened its perfect fibers. He fingered the cloth gently.
"You may not see them now, Sayid," Ben muttered as he folded and placed the towel carefully on its rack, "but you will."
His daughter's eyes followed him as he picked up the gun.
***
This was their warning.
(It came too late.)
***
It begins slowly, but for all of them there is a moment.
"What's this one?" Kate asks, resting one hand on top of Aaron's rumpled hair. Sunlight streams in through the open window as they snuggle on the couch.
"That one's Sparkles," he giggles, pointing to the brightly crayoned picture Kate holds in her lap.
"Oh, I see. You even drew the yellow tip on the end of her tail."
"This one's for you," he says proudly, pulling out a rainbow framed with a strip of green grass and bright blue border up above. "I drew it at school today."
Fingers trace the rainbow's arch. "It's beautiful, Aaron. Why don't we put it on the fridge?" As she takes it from the pile, another paper slides to the floor. Kate's breath catches as she picks it up. She studies the picture as dread begins to crowd her throat. "This...Is this you, Sweetie?"
"Yes." His chubby hands find a plastic fire truck between the cushions of the couch.
"Aaron," Kate's voice begins to shake. "Who's next to you in this picture?"
"My mommy," he careens the truck along the edge of the couch, supplying it with siren noises along the way.
"You mean me? I'm next to you?"
"No." The truck crashes against a pillow.
"But I'm your mommy," and still she tries to smile.
Aaron's hand releases the truck, and startling blue eyes rise to meet Kate's. "That's not what the lady said." Salty air invades the room.
"What lady, Aaron?"
"The one that talks to me. I drew her in the picture." He fingers the woman's yellow hair while giggles escape from his lips. "She has a funny voice." He looks toward the window and back to Kate. "She's here right now."
The paper flutters from Kate's hand as Claire watches them both.
(It's already much too late.)
***
Sun talks to Michael in empty rooms.
It's incongruous, somehow. The unblemished yellow silk she wears and the act she knows she's about to commit. Her fingers are steady as she catches the final clasp of her blouse. Dark hair is knotted exquisitely into the polished chignon of a businesswoman, and the slightest blush of red sweeps across her lips.
Ji Yeon watches from her mother's bed with shining dark eyes as Sun chooses a perfume and mists it carefully on delicate wrists. She grins when Sun allows her a spray of her own and a careful swipe of expensive powder across her tiny nose.
"Be good while I am gone." Sun kisses her good-bye, and Ji Yeon scampers from the room to greet her nanny.
He comes to her in empty rooms.
"She's beautiful."
"Thank you," Sun murmurs, tucking one stray lock back in place behind her ear.
Over her shoulder now, so close she can feel his breath warm on her neck, "You should stay here with her."
"I am doing this for her."
"Jin wouldn't want you to -"
"I am doing this for him." The words rush forward in a tumble she struggles to control. "He hasn't come to me. He's still alive." Delicate fingers ease open a mahogany drawer.
"You believe that?"
She doesn't answer, just closes the drawer and unwraps the silk scarf she's bound many times. Layer by layer, the cloth is unraveled, fluttering in waves to be forgotten on the floor. The metal of the gun is left cool in her hand.
Michael is quiet when he speaks. "You'd kill for him?"
She slips the gun into her purse. "I kill to keep my child safe." She pauses. "Just as you did."
"Mommy?" Ji Yeon has wandered back in, a book in her hand. "Who are you talking to?" Her puzzled eyes search the empty room.
"No one, sweetheart. It's time for me to go."
Michael waits for her return. The yellow silk is marred with red.
They're all murderers now.
***
When Jack drinks, it isn't alone.
"You know why men like us become doctors, Jack?" Christian waits for his son to answer before continuing. "Because we like to play God."
Jack shakes his head and focuses red eyes on his glass. The tiny motel table is scarred and ringed from nights such as these. The bed’s sheets are strewn; the television silenced. Cheap curtains keep away the light.
"Being a surgeon, Jack, is as close to being in charge of fate as we mere mortals can get. Deciding who lives and dies, well, it's power, Jack. Absolute power."
Jack's finger circles the rim of his glass. "I am not," he whispers, "I am not my father."
Christian laughs darkly. "Are you so sure of that?" He takes a drink. "Absolute power, as they say, corrupts absolutely."
The silence is heavy while Jack pours.
"But you already know that, don't you, son? Corruption? Remember that poor marshal, Jack?"
His fingers rise to his forehead, grinding away at his father's words.
"Of course, it's too late now." He raises a glass in a mockery of a toast. "To playing God," he laughs, and all falls into silence.
In a flash of light, it's morning.
Jack pulls back the curtains. Edward Mars grins up at him from the parking lot below.
Two empty glasses glisten in the sun.
***
Sayid sees them, too.
These rooms are always the same. Darkened spaces high off the ground with muffled sounds from the streets below. The city, the language, the details never matter. A suit lies draped over a chair and the lock on the door is always used. The guns are kept under the bed. These rooms are always the same. He stays in them even after Ben stops.
He waits for them inside these rooms. It's always only a matter of time.
In dreams, Shannon watches him from a blanket down the beach, a smile flirting across pink lips.
He wakes in these rooms to feel her hair brushing against his shoulder and her lips caressing against his neck. They make love in the dim light of dawn as sirens wail far below. Her breath comes in hot gasps against his ear, and then he hears nothing at all.
He would believe this to be a dream were it not for Boone's cold stare from across the room.
***
"They'll come to you, Hurley. They'll tell you that they need to go back to the island. That they need to rectify what they've done." Ben pauses. "They see them, too, you know. Oh, not all of them. At least, not yet. But you have to tell them, Hugo. You have to make them understand that it's too late. Can you do that?"
Ben waits. A nurse bustles past Hurley's room pushing a silver cart of colored pills. "Can you help them understand it doesn't matter now?"
A moment later, Hurley nods.
***
They come to Santa Rosa just as Ben said. They find him alone, seated at a sterile table across from an empty folding chair. They usher away the nurses and speak in desperate, hushed tones as Hurley drops checkers into a crooked game of Connect Four. Jack pleads with reddened eyes. Kate stays near the window with Sayid at her side. Sun stands coldly alone against the wall. We have to go back.
(It's already much too late.)
Hurley looks to the others, the ones they can't see.
Sawyer shakes his head from an unfinished poker game in the corner of the room. John Locke watches Jack with accusation in his eyes. Rose rests one hand on Hurley's shoulder and turns away. Jin stands unseen beside his wife.
"It's too late," is all he can say. The island is empty, silent now.
After a time, they leave him, a madman dropping single pieces into a game meant for two.
Ben plays a checker. "Well done, Hugo."
(There's no reason to go back now.)
***
***