LOST - crawling towards the sun
Title: crawling towards the sun
Pairing: Dan/Charlotte
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Warnings: AU.
Summary: Dan and Charlotte meet in an alternate reality, after the bomb goes off.
Author's Note: For the amazing valhalla37. Also for un_love_you, This cancels out the hurt.
Dan is not a psychologist. The hows and whys (and whens) of the human psyche are beyond his comprehension, or rather, beyond his area of expertise. He does not know why the sight of this woman makes him want to cry, why he is just barely able to restrain the tears threatening to run down his face hot and thick and painful. Her eyes are sharp and clear and the warm vital color in her cheeks is the loveliest shade of pink he's ever seen. She orders her coffee black and asks the barista to recount her change, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter, her other hand in her jacket pocket. His fingernails make stinging half-moon circles against the skin of his palm. She turns around then, coffee in hand, long red hair falling across her forehead, and scans the crowded shop, looking for an empty chair. Her eyes finally meet Dan's and she purses her lips, striding up to his table like she owns the place. His heart clenches beneath the weight of an iron fist.
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
He stares for a moment too long and then nods, frantically, furiously; his head jerks almost spasmodically, as if he is a puppet on a string. His hands shake as he hurriedly grabs at his papers, clearing a space for her. He knows that there is something about this woman--he knows, he knows, he knew, he will know--his head throbs with the incessant ache of questioning. It is an ache he's grown accustomed to.
If she raises her eyebrows any further he thinks they will recede into her hairline. "Thanks." She takes a big sip and hisses audibly, biting down on her red lower lip. She catches him looking and holds her hands up, mistaking the look on his face for annoyance. "Burnt my tongue. Sorry."
"No--no. It's just--" He looks down into his lap. His hands are quivering visibly; his journal smiles innocently up at him, glistening in the low faux-natural lighting as if to say you're losing it, Dan.. He looks up--she is still looking at him, but this time the look is reluctantly kind, almost pitying. He thinks of his mother and his mind flips, nauseous--he thinks of the ocean--of waves crashing up against the shore and her hair curling in his palm and her lips burning an irreversible, indelible mark on his cheek, hot and metallic on his lungs--a red dress against green grass and salt on his lips--
He gasps it out. "Do I know you?"
She presses her lips together and tilts her head a little. "I'm Charlotte. Don't think so." He nods and opens his mouth to apologize, but she suddenly smiles big and true and he finds himself speechless. "And who are you?"
He swallows hard. "Dan. Daniel Faraday, actually." His voice is little more than a breath. He smoothes down his tie with one hand and grasps her fingers gingerly with the other. He hopes she doesn't notice the goosebumps rising up on his skin.
"It's a pleasure, Dan."
Her eyes gleam electric. His heart stutters and waits.
Pairing: Dan/Charlotte
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Warnings: AU.
Summary: Dan and Charlotte meet in an alternate reality, after the bomb goes off.
Author's Note: For the amazing valhalla37. Also for un_love_you, This cancels out the hurt.
Dan is not a psychologist. The hows and whys (and whens) of the human psyche are beyond his comprehension, or rather, beyond his area of expertise. He does not know why the sight of this woman makes him want to cry, why he is just barely able to restrain the tears threatening to run down his face hot and thick and painful. Her eyes are sharp and clear and the warm vital color in her cheeks is the loveliest shade of pink he's ever seen. She orders her coffee black and asks the barista to recount her change, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter, her other hand in her jacket pocket. His fingernails make stinging half-moon circles against the skin of his palm. She turns around then, coffee in hand, long red hair falling across her forehead, and scans the crowded shop, looking for an empty chair. Her eyes finally meet Dan's and she purses her lips, striding up to his table like she owns the place. His heart clenches beneath the weight of an iron fist.
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
He stares for a moment too long and then nods, frantically, furiously; his head jerks almost spasmodically, as if he is a puppet on a string. His hands shake as he hurriedly grabs at his papers, clearing a space for her. He knows that there is something about this woman--he knows, he knows, he knew, he will know--his head throbs with the incessant ache of questioning. It is an ache he's grown accustomed to.
If she raises her eyebrows any further he thinks they will recede into her hairline. "Thanks." She takes a big sip and hisses audibly, biting down on her red lower lip. She catches him looking and holds her hands up, mistaking the look on his face for annoyance. "Burnt my tongue. Sorry."
"No--no. It's just--" He looks down into his lap. His hands are quivering visibly; his journal smiles innocently up at him, glistening in the low faux-natural lighting as if to say you're losing it, Dan.. He looks up--she is still looking at him, but this time the look is reluctantly kind, almost pitying. He thinks of his mother and his mind flips, nauseous--he thinks of the ocean--of waves crashing up against the shore and her hair curling in his palm and her lips burning an irreversible, indelible mark on his cheek, hot and metallic on his lungs--a red dress against green grass and salt on his lips--
He gasps it out. "Do I know you?"
She presses her lips together and tilts her head a little. "I'm Charlotte. Don't think so." He nods and opens his mouth to apologize, but she suddenly smiles big and true and he finds himself speechless. "And who are you?"
He swallows hard. "Dan. Daniel Faraday, actually." His voice is little more than a breath. He smoothes down his tie with one hand and grasps her fingers gingerly with the other. He hopes she doesn't notice the goosebumps rising up on his skin.
"It's a pleasure, Dan."
Her eyes gleam electric. His heart stutters and waits.