One Road
Title: One Road
Rating: PG
Characters: Daniel Faraday, Charlotte Lewis
Summary: This time, Daniel's warning gets through.
Spoilers: Up to 5x08.
Disclaimer: None of it is mine. Quote at the end is from John Dewey.
Author's Notes: I may have played with the dates/Lost's rules of time travel a little, so bear with. The story picks up after the series' finale; it's presumed that Charlotte took Daniel's warning seriously and never actually came back to the island in 2004, while Daniel and the others eventually left for the mainland.
----
1977
Daniel Faraday has never been a man for much courage.
He’s a runner - he splits when things get bad, hightails it out of unsolvable situations. Poor Theresa is a shining example of that, abandoned to her mumbling and a bed-ridden life. Mostly, he’s a coward, happy to hide behind books and equations and the “mad scientist” role. He doesn’t always play to type, though - only (weeks? months? years?) before, Charlotte had drawn something out of him, a reluctant leader of sorts. The kind of man he’d always wanted to be.
But as Daniel stands on the front lawn of the sunny yellow bungalow, he is very aware a decidedly not-brave feeling welling inside. He’s flip-flopped for - well, three years - over this decision, weighing every potential consequence, damages versus possibilities. He’s abandoned his own sacred rules, the very same he spouted with such authority to Desmond, Jack and Miles. Three years later and still drifting like a ghost through the Dharma compound, “what happened, happened” isn’t a very convincing argument anymore.
Dan has avoided this particular house his entire time with the rag-tag bunch of hippie isolationists, moving numbly from his own small home to the Orchid and back, a dreary routine only broken by occasional company from Jin or Miles or Sawyer. Juliet tries her hardest to draw him out, appearing at his door some nights with a soft smile and a bottle of whiskey. He appreciates the effort, especially on such a lost cause, and he always offers an hour or two of conversation in return. He’s never told any of them, though, about Charlotte’s revelation - even on the first night when he glimpsed a three-year-old version cheerfully scampering down a Dharma pathway. It’s my burden, Daniel thinks, and mine alone.
Still, he finds himself standing in a spot he’s always studiously avoided, trying to come up with any opening line that doesn’t sound completely insane. Knowing it’s a fruitless effort, Daniel swallows back his fear and starts to tread across the lawn. Rapping on the front door, he’s half-desperate no one’s home and half-praying someone answers. Then the screen door swings open abruptly.
“Hello,” comes a sweet chirp of British drawl. “Who are you?”
Daniel gulps, closing his eyes briefly.
Why her?, he thinks, gazing down at the red-haired, smiling child. Charlotte, peering shyly out from behind the door. Why the hell did it have to be her?
Looking down at the earnest, freckled face, Daniel has to choke back tears. Even if this works, he considers to himself, she won’t be the same. She won’t be your Charlotte. You won’t ever see her again. He expels those thoughts as quickly as he arrives at them, however, because her life is more important than his wants. Knowing that she’s still living, breathing - whether there’s an ocean between them, it’ll be enough.
“My name is Daniel Faraday,” he says. “I need to speak with your mom.”
----
Exiting the house, Daniel shuts the screen door behind him and makes a beeline for the pathway. There are a million and one things to process, but right now he’s simply trying to focus on one foot in front of the other, one deep breath at a time. Charlotte is on a nearby swing set, her tiny legs pumping as she flies higher and higher into the air. At the sight of Daniel, though, she slows and leaps off the swing.
“Oi! Where are you goin’ now?” shouts the precocious little girl, her auburn curls flying as she stumbles to Daniel’s side. “Are you leaving?”
He kneels down next to the preschool-aged version of his lost love, smiling gently.
“Hey, I have to get going, Charlotte,” he says. “But I had a nice talk with your mom. It was … it was very nice to meet you.”
She crinkles her nose a little in confusion.
“Okay,” she shrugs. “I’m gonna go swing.”
“Alright, sure,” Dan replies, desperately relieved she’s too young to pick up on his expression, awash with lingering sadness and regret. He never wants to be that man - the one who scared her so deeply, who may have even propelled her further in her search for the island. “I’ll see you later, Charlotte.”
She gives him a sunny smile, and then just as quickly turns on her heel and races towards the playset, pale arms flying. Daniel allows himself a moment more to drink in the sight, hoping against hope that “later” may exist.
He takes one last look at Charlotte Staples Lewis, and is gone.
----
2010
As easily as he was banished from Oxford - a headcase, “crazy Professor Faraday,” whispers of illegal research and, god forbid, human testing - he’s back on campus. It’s been almost a decade since his forced retirement, and many of his former colleagues have moved on, retired. He doesn’t recognize anyone in the Physics department, but he figures it’s best that way - a clean slate. He can’t help but feel grateful to Widmore for that.
He turns 40 this year, but his time on the island has stunted his aging somewhat - a fact for which he is vainly grateful. Only a few streaks of grey around his temple, a couple more lines on his face, give away his age - otherwise Daniel Faraday looks strangely young for a tenured Oxford professor.
He’s back to the grind in no time - giving lectures, grading papers, marking exams. The bright spots in his life are few and far between - a breakthrough in research, an occasional beer at the pub with a colleague, a rare e-mail or late-night phone call from Sawyer, Jin or Desmond. He’s trying hard to rebuild, he is, but it’s difficult to forge a connection when so much is a lie, when the past is something you can’t reveal. After three months back in the world of academics, Daniel hasn’t really gotten close to any other faculty members - or anyone, really - and he partly wonders if it’s the pain in his eyes that drives them away.
But then everything changes.
The first time he sees her, it’s across the quad on campus. His books nearly tumble out of his hands as he registers the shock, then scrambles behind a nearby stone pillar. Trying to slow his racing mind, Daniel peers out from behind the column, straining for a glimpse of her.
He panics for a moment, and then - then, it’s Charlotte.
(redcurlssoftlipsthebloodohgodtheblood)
(“nothing’s forever”)
(“I said what I said because I meant it, Charlotte”)
She’s strolling across the grass, engaged in conversation with another woman, younger and talking animatedly. Charlotte smiles and nods, interjecting the occasional word. After a few moments, they seem to wrap up their discussion and Charlotte bids her companion goodbye, moving to a nearby bench.
Daniel lingers in his hiding spot for almost an hour, watching her flip through textbooks, willing himself to go speak with her. But his feet feel like lead bricks, and courage evades him. It’s not right, he scolds himself, she has no clue who you are - let her live her life. It’s not fair to lay that burden on her - who you think she should be.
His heart firmly lodged in his throat, Daniel steals once last glance - his mind slipping to that sunny, unspoiled morning in the Dharma compound, when he said a final goodbye to her six-year-old self and the warning her mother believed - and leaves, gaining strange looks from passing students for the tears rolling down his cheeks.
The second time, it’s in a coffeehouse near the university, as Daniel pours cream into his triple-grande-something or other. He happens to glance up and see her settled into an armchair near the window, pouring over notes with a pen between her lips. She sighs to herself, looking frustrated, and then eases the pen out of her mouth and scribbles something. The midday sun catches her auburn mane and seems to set it on fire, glinting off the curls thrown casually over her shoulder.
Daniel can’t help but stare, entranced by the rosy flush of her cheeks, her pink lips, her studious expression - living, breathing Charlotte Staples Lewis. It’s almost worse, he thinks, being so close. But he still thanks his lucky stars he knows she’s alive and well, and turns back to his coffee.
Trying to juggle his drink, a briefcase and 30 lab reports, Daniel turns to leave - and finds himself within a foot of the woman he’s loved through decades.
“Excuse me,” she says, gazing up at him with a bemused expression. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Her smell, her nearness is too much. Daniel feels his heart go into overdrive, and the rush of ‘fight or flight’ adrenaline kick in. He has to get out of here.
“Ah, no - I don’t think so,” he mumbles, shuffling his belongings once again.
“Sorry, I’m Charlotte Lewis,” she catches herself, extending a hand. “Maybe from the college? I teach there.”
She seems determined to make the link, while all Daniel can think about is racing out of that coffeeshop before he pulls her into his arms and never lets go.
“What, uh, department?” he questions with some difficulty, trying to concentrate on keeping up appearances as her hands slips into his for a quick shake.
"Earth sciences," is Charlotte’s reply. "Specialization in geophysics palaeobiology and palaeoenvironment. Oh, and I dabble in anthropologic research as well."
Daniel manages to stifle a laugh. (Even through time and space, some things never change, he thinks.)
“Maybe - I’m in the physics department,” he explains. “Daniel Faraday. I’m pretty new still.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Daniel,” Charlotte says, still a look of confusion creasing her brow. He can practically see her brain furiously at work, trying to determine a connection that keeps eluding her. She seems grasping for ways to keep the conversation going. “I … like your tie.”
“Uh, thanks?” Daniel replies with a patented half-grin, fingering the grey silk material. “I like … ties.”
They both laugh after a moment, stilted but genuine.
“I don’t know why, but I feel like I know that,” Charlotte muses. “Anyway” - she seems to shake herself out of a reverie - “I should get back to grading, but I hope we’ll see each other around campus sometime.”
“Yeah,” Daniel smiles, fighting against the urge to cut Charlotte free - to let her go. “I’d like that.”
The third time he sees her, he’s strolling through the town centre, admiring the Christmas lights already strung up to mark the upcoming season. Another holiday he’ll be spending in the quiet, alone, but it’s not such a gloomy thought this time around. Maybe he’ll swing down to London to see Penny and Desmond before the New Year, he thinks, or hell - buy a plane ticket to the States and drop in for a visit to his friends in Los Angeles. Anything seems possible in the weeks since his conversation with Charlotte - he feels rejuvenated, refreshed. Daniel knows he’s just a stranger to her - some bumbling, nerdy professor who looks at her just a little too long - but her presence still fills him with a profound joy. It may not be the typical happy ending, but it's bound to be the happiest he'll get, and somehow that's enough.
Lost in his thoughts, he fails to notice the red head of hair bounding towards him, Christmas packages tucked under one arm.
“Daniel, hi!” she says, a little breathless. (Did she run just to catch up with me?, he wonders, his heart skipping a little at the thought.) “How are you?”
“Oh, fine, fine … getting ready for the holidays and all that,” he smiles, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “You?”
“Good - busy, but good,” Charlotte replies. “Happy to be done with classes, thank god. There’s only so many last-ditch effort papers I can mark before I go bonkers.”
They share a laugh, and then there’s silence.
“Listen,” Charlotte begins haltingly. “This may seem a little … sudden, but I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime?”
Off his shocked expression, she hurriedly adds, “I just … I know we’re virtual strangers, but I’d really like to get to know you, and I don’t know how else to start that but chance looking like a bumbling idiot … so here I am.”
She grins up at him, unabashed, and her smile is all it takes for Daniel to lose his resolve and reach out his hand to gently stroke her cheek, his distant demeanour crumbling.
“Charlotte,” he whispers, his voice hitching. “Oh, Char.”
He expects her to draw back, slap his hand away and run for the hills, but instead the contact seems to awake something inside of her, draw out some long-lost emotion.
“Daniel, I …” comes her faltering reply. Her eyes wide, Charlotte slowly lifts her hand to his face, curling her fingers around his neck in a gesture so familiar he almost weeps. Then there are no more words, because her lips are on his and her perfectly-wrapped gifts are tumbling to the ground and all Daniel can think is -
“… finally.”
"Faith in the possibilities of continued and rigorous inquiry does not limit access to truth to any channel or scheme of things. It does not first say that truth is universal and then add there is but one road to it."