fanfiction; lost
(Three drabbles written for the lost_land drabble challenge)
The Things He Can't Say
Jack
After the wake, Jack avoids her calls; the silence is filled with all he can’t say.
I can’t see him, Kate.
Aaron, with his mother’s fair skin and the eyes of his grandfather, is the truth behind their lie.
I can’t talk about him, Kate.
Talk of coos and smiles will only remind him of the sister (father) he had failed (again).
He can’t tell her that this shiny new life of theirs is broken; he won’t take away the happiness that lights her up from the inside. So he stays away; the words linger unsaid.
He’s not yours, Kate.
Compartmentalization
Sawyer/Claire
It always ends with rough lips on skin, fingertips digging into flesh. Sunlight flickers into his tent and the world outside is nothing but ocean and trees.
This is what she needs.
He’s at the end of her daily walks and that suits him fine. There was too much damn responsibility on her side of the beach; he doesn’t blame her for needing an escape (it’s certainly one he’s happy to provide).
She doesn’t fool him, though; it’s the silence she comes for.
Every day she lingers longer; when she leaves, she never looks back. His eyes follow her home.
No Monsters Here
Kate/Kevin
Katie. Katherine. Kate.
He tests out her (real) names aloud as they linger beneath the sheets of their old bed. Her bare skin is full and warm and perfect against his.
(She’s done with monsters and heartbreak; she wants to feel safe again.)
For now, he doesn’t ask her questions.
(This time, she won’t tell him lies.)
He wonders if she sees the flecks of gray in his hair, the wrinkles around his eyes.
(She sees a man who isn’t broken.)
He still can’t decide on a name. His lips brush her forehead; he wonders if she’ll stay.
(She does.)