LOST: three assorted ficlets
[All written for various fic memes over the past few weeks or months. Reposted for archiving purposes.]
Title: wish i was worth it
Pairing: Juliet/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
A/N: AU after 4x10 (Something Nice Back Home). Prompt: shiver. For un_love_you, Thought I needed this.
It's raining too hard for her to go back to her tent, and that's the only reason she stays. (Really.)
“Juliet--” he mumbles, mouth against her temple and he’s holding her too tightly. They'll get suspicious, she's sure of it. His people, she means. They'll look at her face in the morning and see it all written there and they'll have even more reason to hate her than they already do. But they're already suspicious. She'd like to think that this can't hurt, can't hurt either of them, and most especially not herself. She listens to the sound the air makes as it rushes in and out of his lungs, quick and shallow, feels the sweat stuck to his skin making her shiver. She thinks about exerting herself, contemplates lifting her arm up from where it lies limply in the sand and sliding it across his waist, staking her claim. It would be so easy. It would make her happy, and maybe even him, too, for a little while at least.
When she opens her eyes she sees that Jack is looking down at her, an expectant, vaguely worried shadow cast across his face, and as his grip on her slackens a little, unsure. She has to look away--the light in his eyes is too bright. The night air is cold and damp and she shivers a little beneath the blanket. This isn't love, no matter how much she wishes it was. There's a flush high in her cheeks and he's breathing hard and for the moment they are all right, but they won't always be. She bites her tongue, swallows down all the things she wants to say but can't, can't for fear of his reaction, his rejection, that half-determined, half-guilty look that he gets sometimes when he looks at her or doesn't. You're wrong, he'd whispered earlier, breath hot against her neck, arms tight around her waist, desperate. Still trying to prove something. It was never about her, he insists. She doesn't believe a word that he says, but she kisses him back to shut him up, lets him have his delusions. Whatever makes him happy. She can give him that, at least, and that has to count for something. Okay, Jack. Whatever you say.
-
Title: swallowed in the sea
Pairing: Kate/Daniel
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
A/N: AU. Prompt: proxy. For un_love_you, I want to need you.
His skin is so soft and his voice so low that when she closes her eyes she can almost imagine he isn’t there. The boat rocks slowly with the waves, first forwards, then back, and then forwards again, and she’d be sick if it weren’t for the reassuring familiarity and unreality of his hands on hers, the knowledge that she has been here before and she has made it out alive and she will again. She keeps her eyes open because if she closes them he will disappear and then she will be alone, all alone. They always leave her in the end. He’s muttering, still, whispering about constants and variables and skipping stones in a pond, and it comforts her, the idea that he understands, that he has a plan, that he might somehow, somewhere, sometime find a way to get them out of this endless loop. His fingers twist gently in her hair, and she’s glad that it’s dark so he won’t have to see the color, and she runs her hands down his back, feeling for muscles and scars that aren’t there, and she never, never, never never will let him go.
Do you think there’s a way out? she murmurs later, when the storm has stopped and so have they.
Never again, he sighs. She only hears again.
-
Title: five people claire littleton never fell in love with
Pairing(s): Claire/Kate, Claire/Charlie, Claire/not!Locke, Claire/Sawyer, Claire/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
A/N: For un_love_you, Author's Choice.
1) Kate is a Gemini--restless, you know the type--and so Claire isn't really surprised when she leaves two months after they reach the mainland. She leaves a note and everything. Claire traces the spaces between the words, crumbles the postcard in her fist and hides it in one of Kate's old drawers, beneath a perfume-scented sheer little nightgown that Claire can't imagine Kate wearing in a million years. Claire still doesn't know how to be a mother and she's positive that she doesn't know how to do it without Kate, but she doesn't try to stop her. Claire's used to being left behind. Kate calls every so often, never asks about Aaron. Claire never asks why.
2) She was supposed to love Charlie. She likes to think that she would have, eventually. She truly believes that she would have. Because he loved her so much that it actually killed him and he (probably) loved her more than his drugs and she thinks that's something to be grateful for. Sometimes when the air conditioning is keeping her up at night and her mum is with Aaron and she doesn't know what to do with her tiny, shaking hands she imagines that he is beside her, smiling face gently resting on the empty pillow next to hers. She always imagines him with his eyes closed. Her body aches in all the places he hasn't touched her. She doesn't miss him as much as she misses the idea of him being there, always, with her, beside her. Beside. Her. Always. It could've been nice.
3) He wasn't your friend, Claire. He wasn't your friend. That's what they all say, as if they think she's too crazy or too stupid to figure that out for herself. He wasn't John, silly, but he wasn't anyone, really, and if she still has nightmares at least she knows why. She remembers dark nights and darker days and secret smiles but she doesn't remember friendship. She remembers. Too much. Everything. Nothing at all.
4) Maybe there's something to be said for the sweep-in-and-save-the-maiden type after all. That's what she thinks when she thinks about Sawyer--James--whatever--sometimes. She still remembers the way it felt to have a house collapse in on her, the way her hair reeked of smoke for days afterwards. The way his big dirty hands had felt holding her tight to his chest. He smokes a lot now that there's no one around to tell him not to, she can tell from the stain of his teeth and the smell of his jacket. He thinks she doesn't know, thinks he's got her fooled. She couldn't ever love a con. His eyes are too green, too much like the island. She hates the way they turn blue in the shade.
5) She doesn't see their father in her dreams anymore. It's usually just Jack, eyes wide and terrified and still. There's a cut on his neck like he's been stabbed and in her dreams she's always holding the knife, the knife that she keeps tucked beneath her mattress. Sometimes when she's half-asleep and the alarm clock has yet to ring and Aaron isn't stirring yet and her blankets are warm and soft she imagines that he's real and making breakfast for her and that he is really the big brother she never wanted 'til she lost him. The voice(s) in her head disapprove: Could you ever love a ghost? No. The answer is always no. She'd die first.
(She refuses to believe that he isn't alive.)
Title: wish i was worth it
Pairing: Juliet/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
A/N: AU after 4x10 (Something Nice Back Home). Prompt: shiver. For un_love_you, Thought I needed this.
It's raining too hard for her to go back to her tent, and that's the only reason she stays. (Really.)
“Juliet--” he mumbles, mouth against her temple and he’s holding her too tightly. They'll get suspicious, she's sure of it. His people, she means. They'll look at her face in the morning and see it all written there and they'll have even more reason to hate her than they already do. But they're already suspicious. She'd like to think that this can't hurt, can't hurt either of them, and most especially not herself. She listens to the sound the air makes as it rushes in and out of his lungs, quick and shallow, feels the sweat stuck to his skin making her shiver. She thinks about exerting herself, contemplates lifting her arm up from where it lies limply in the sand and sliding it across his waist, staking her claim. It would be so easy. It would make her happy, and maybe even him, too, for a little while at least.
When she opens her eyes she sees that Jack is looking down at her, an expectant, vaguely worried shadow cast across his face, and as his grip on her slackens a little, unsure. She has to look away--the light in his eyes is too bright. The night air is cold and damp and she shivers a little beneath the blanket. This isn't love, no matter how much she wishes it was. There's a flush high in her cheeks and he's breathing hard and for the moment they are all right, but they won't always be. She bites her tongue, swallows down all the things she wants to say but can't, can't for fear of his reaction, his rejection, that half-determined, half-guilty look that he gets sometimes when he looks at her or doesn't. You're wrong, he'd whispered earlier, breath hot against her neck, arms tight around her waist, desperate. Still trying to prove something. It was never about her, he insists. She doesn't believe a word that he says, but she kisses him back to shut him up, lets him have his delusions. Whatever makes him happy. She can give him that, at least, and that has to count for something. Okay, Jack. Whatever you say.
-
Title: swallowed in the sea
Pairing: Kate/Daniel
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
A/N: AU. Prompt: proxy. For un_love_you, I want to need you.
His skin is so soft and his voice so low that when she closes her eyes she can almost imagine he isn’t there. The boat rocks slowly with the waves, first forwards, then back, and then forwards again, and she’d be sick if it weren’t for the reassuring familiarity and unreality of his hands on hers, the knowledge that she has been here before and she has made it out alive and she will again. She keeps her eyes open because if she closes them he will disappear and then she will be alone, all alone. They always leave her in the end. He’s muttering, still, whispering about constants and variables and skipping stones in a pond, and it comforts her, the idea that he understands, that he has a plan, that he might somehow, somewhere, sometime find a way to get them out of this endless loop. His fingers twist gently in her hair, and she’s glad that it’s dark so he won’t have to see the color, and she runs her hands down his back, feeling for muscles and scars that aren’t there, and she never, never, never never will let him go.
Do you think there’s a way out? she murmurs later, when the storm has stopped and so have they.
Never again, he sighs. She only hears again.
-
Title: five people claire littleton never fell in love with
Pairing(s): Claire/Kate, Claire/Charlie, Claire/not!Locke, Claire/Sawyer, Claire/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine.
A/N: For un_love_you, Author's Choice.
1) Kate is a Gemini--restless, you know the type--and so Claire isn't really surprised when she leaves two months after they reach the mainland. She leaves a note and everything. Claire traces the spaces between the words, crumbles the postcard in her fist and hides it in one of Kate's old drawers, beneath a perfume-scented sheer little nightgown that Claire can't imagine Kate wearing in a million years. Claire still doesn't know how to be a mother and she's positive that she doesn't know how to do it without Kate, but she doesn't try to stop her. Claire's used to being left behind. Kate calls every so often, never asks about Aaron. Claire never asks why.
2) She was supposed to love Charlie. She likes to think that she would have, eventually. She truly believes that she would have. Because he loved her so much that it actually killed him and he (probably) loved her more than his drugs and she thinks that's something to be grateful for. Sometimes when the air conditioning is keeping her up at night and her mum is with Aaron and she doesn't know what to do with her tiny, shaking hands she imagines that he is beside her, smiling face gently resting on the empty pillow next to hers. She always imagines him with his eyes closed. Her body aches in all the places he hasn't touched her. She doesn't miss him as much as she misses the idea of him being there, always, with her, beside her. Beside. Her. Always. It could've been nice.
3) He wasn't your friend, Claire. He wasn't your friend. That's what they all say, as if they think she's too crazy or too stupid to figure that out for herself. He wasn't John, silly, but he wasn't anyone, really, and if she still has nightmares at least she knows why. She remembers dark nights and darker days and secret smiles but she doesn't remember friendship. She remembers. Too much. Everything. Nothing at all.
4) Maybe there's something to be said for the sweep-in-and-save-the-maiden type after all. That's what she thinks when she thinks about Sawyer--James--whatever--sometimes. She still remembers the way it felt to have a house collapse in on her, the way her hair reeked of smoke for days afterwards. The way his big dirty hands had felt holding her tight to his chest. He smokes a lot now that there's no one around to tell him not to, she can tell from the stain of his teeth and the smell of his jacket. He thinks she doesn't know, thinks he's got her fooled. She couldn't ever love a con. His eyes are too green, too much like the island. She hates the way they turn blue in the shade.
5) She doesn't see their father in her dreams anymore. It's usually just Jack, eyes wide and terrified and still. There's a cut on his neck like he's been stabbed and in her dreams she's always holding the knife, the knife that she keeps tucked beneath her mattress. Sometimes when she's half-asleep and the alarm clock has yet to ring and Aaron isn't stirring yet and her blankets are warm and soft she imagines that he's real and making breakfast for her and that he is really the big brother she never wanted 'til she lost him. The voice(s) in her head disapprove: Could you ever love a ghost? No. The answer is always no. She'd die first.
(She refuses to believe that he isn't alive.)