Watching
Title: Watching
Author: Zippy88
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kate/Juliet
Spoilers: Season 3
The phantom grey lines have already flickered into view, dissolving their incoherent spits of static into finer details of their lives. You only hold a vague idea in your dulled head as to why you are sat there in the semi-darkness, your carefully scanning eyes fixed upon the array of television monitors. You hadn’t been told to go there. There hadn’t been any such order that demanded you sit there and watch these lives play out before your very eyes. The part of you that dares to give reasoning to your presence starts to already form inside your mind, the steady tone of your voice is gathering its last ounce of courage to tell him the excuse you’ve already planned. You just wanted to check them over. You thought it was in his best interest to see them with your own eyes.
You quickly scoff under your breath, a small ironic laugh tickles your throat, as you know the real reason why you’re here in this darkened, deselect place. You’re curious. You’ve read each of the vivid red plastic folders that contain files. Some were thicker than others, you remember. Some of the files had made you re-read some of the details. One in particular stands out far from the rest.
You casually glance back inside your mind, remembering the small black and white images that had been printed onto a sheet of white paper and carefully tucked inside the file. No one else had any kind of photograph inside their file. Maybe that’s why you can remember that file more than the others. Either way you quickly discover that it’s that file you are sat in the dampness of the former Darma Initiative station.
The two small photographs are etched beautifully inside your mind, ensuring that you will never forget that haunting face that stares back from the piece of paper. Those eyes burn you whenever you glance into the blackened ink there, a decaying hope lingers in them and you notice a bitter sadness has replaced whatever little innocence they had before. They had affected you more than you had first realised. You were first unaware of why that particular file sat neatly on your bedside table, why it was that file you chose to hungrily devour each night before you slipped off into tranquil dreams, why that file demanded so much of your attention. But now you know. Now you have come to realise the answers to all those wandering questions, just as she walks into view on one of the television monitors.
Her image is still shadowed with the murky greys of the screen’s resolution, the same colourless face that taunts you from those pictures back in her file that is still sitting on your bedside table. It’s the first time you have seen her for real, well as real as you can make it without her seeing you. An unconscious smile lifts at the corners of your mouth, as you study her casual movements around the station, just like you had studied her details in her file.
You’re caught off guard by how naturally beautiful she really is. You had noticed a hint of it in her photographs, it had certainly grabbed your unwavering attention. But those photographs didn’t move, they didn’t show the real behaviour of the woman. The monitors did though. You continue to follow her with your eyes across various different screens. Somehow you can’t quite place the information in her file at this woman’s feet. If you didn’t know any better you would have said that they were two different people. But no, you know this is her.
It’s unnerving you now that you know everything about her. You made sure that you hadn’t skipped over a single detail. You probably know all her most private secrets. Yet she knows nothing of you. She doesn’t even know you exist. You wonder silently to yourself as you watch her head into the pantry, if she would hate you. Judging by her personality that was so formally described in the file, you assume that she would. She would challenge you into a heated argument, a violent array of disgusting jibes, deliberately thrown punches, and perfectly timed vicious kicks. You would naturally fall into the heavy current of hatred that would spill out of her, just as he wanted.
You aren’t one of them, you remembering him saying. He always did have an irritating method of reminding you of where you were, what side you had landed on when the fated dice had been thrown. He had so cruelly refused your safe passage back home, away from the solitude of the island. You had tried your very hardest to make this foreign land of ardent fears your home. You had attempted to place your heart here, but it was all in vain. You don’t belong here, you knew that the day you were bought here. There’s nothing for you here. There’s no family, no friends, no special reason to wake up in the morning.
But as your eyes cast over her slender figure, while she gathers some things from the pantry, you begin to question whether all that has changed. Ever since you had handled her file there was a new refreshed live that breathed into you. The brightness of the morning’s dawning light came with a softened touch now. You no longer dread its warming glow on your skin. Is it really all because of her?
You flick one of the switches hurriedly, as you realise she’s disappeared out of sight from the monitor. The grey screen dances with its gentle white lines of interference, before she reappears in the showering room of the station. Your eyes blink slightly, unsure of whether you should be watching her anymore. You’ve never done this before. You’ve never stolen someone’s privacy without them knowing before. It’s new for you, and while your sensibility gentle speaks to you, warning you that this is not right, your vivid exciting has already grasped control over your eyes, forcing them to watch the screen in front of you.
The screen steadies itself against the constant flickering from the ageing technology, and you can see each and every movement that she makes. Your mouth falls open slightly, away from the tightly pursed smile that you felt you needed to hold. You hurriedly scramble to get to the switch that zooms into the screen, and it pans slowly in until there is just her that fills the monitor.
She struggles to free herself from her tightened blue jeans, kicking at her legs to escape the constricted bond that the material has over her. Fascinated, you bring your hand up to touch the corner of the screen; as if you think that it would somehow transport you there to help her take the jeans off. You notice her pad her way across the tiled floor towards the shower, her black underwear teasing your heart into beating faster. She’s turned on the water, and you can almost feel the warmth of its touch through the screen. The feverish excitement is toying with a passionate lust inside your mouth, and you haven’t tasted that before. It’s a strange flavour that’s a little too sweet for you, and you feel yourself swallowing down hard to try to rid your tongue of the invading taste.
She’s clever though. Something you should already know. It’s written there in her file, you read it maybe three or four times. She’s lifted her top over her head in one swift movement; the garment has already been tossed onto the side counter, before you’ve even had a chance to properly regain your focus. She’s already slipped away from sight behind the pillar of vapour that radiates out from the shower cubicle. She’s smart, even if she isn’t aware that she is being watched.
There’s nothing to see. You try to strain your eyes, but the camera just isn’t that sophisticated to zoom in any further. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, as you realise that there is no longer a point to sitting here in the dark station. It doesn’t matter now that you have seen her for her real, she will still hate you. To her you are nothing more than the enemy. She won’t see you any differently, no matter how much you try to convince her otherwise. It’s there, written in her file again. She won’t trust you, because you hide behind his name.
He has you prisoner on this island, she won’t believe you or understand you, but at least you know that there is some familiar, common ground between you and her. You know she will flinch at the word prisoner; the meaning of it will no doubt surround the young woman in her own dark memories. But it’s the only way that to make her realise that we are on the same side, even if we do wear different uniforms.
You’re already longing for the day to be able to tell her everything. What he makes you do, how you came to be on this forsaken island, and that you hate him so much that you want to kill him. But you’re not capable of murder. It simply isn’t in your nature. You speak of it like you know what it means, but they are only words. You remember how you fell apart into a whirlpool of self-blame when your ex-husband died before your very eyes. You had spoken the truth of wanting him dead in a moment of pure desperation, never once thinking that it would somehow develop into being real. You had crumbled into frightened hysteria when you finally got your wish. You weren’t made for death. So murder was certainly not an ability that washed your hands.
But she was. She was made for death. She was capable of murder underneath the innocent charm of a young devoted girl. It didn’t faze you like you had expected to be when you had read about it in her file. You had simply been eager to read more, as if her life was a best selling thriller from the local bookshop. You wanted to know why she was capable, why she could and you couldn’t.
The answers had shocked you, there was no denying that, but it hadn’t averted your attention from her file. You secretly wish that this is the person who is capable of saving you from him. She should hate him not me. You don’t want to hurt her, you don’t want to cause her any kind of pain, because you’re not made for that either. But he’s going to make you. He won’t give you an option. There will be threats made about your family back home, you know because you’ve heard them all before. You damn yourself for believing them, but in all honesty what else can you do? You’re weak. You’re so weak still, even though the island has toughened you up. She will see that probably. He’ll ask you not to show it to her, but there will be times when you can’t pretend.
She appears from the dying clouds of vapour, a simple dark towel wrapped around her middle. Her damp hair is hanging flatly down from her head, revealing the naked beauty that you can only dream about. She’s suddenly stopped in her tracks, staring at the entrance to the room, and you have to zoom out to see who she is looking at. It’s another one of them standing, presumably talking to her. You feel the first bites of jealousy run up your arms, it isn’t pleasant at all. The poison has already made its way into your stomach, raging against your insides, as you watch them exchange smiles.
There’s a crackling noise that jolts into life next to you. You unknowingly flinch away from its harsh sound, and then you sigh heavily when you hear his voice. Your name fills the space of the small station, and you don’t like how it sounds so vile and cruel on his tongue. You wished it was her saying your name. You wonder how it would sound. Would it be soft? Would she smile when she said it? Would her distant eyes warm in the octaves of her voice, as she repeated it?
You give up wondering, as you are ripped out of your thoughts violently by him again. You have no option but to answer the call from the black walkie-talkie that he makes you carry. You grab at the metal block from beside you, venom has started to build itself inside your voice, and you have to steady yourself to make sure that you don’t anger him.
You speak clearly into the black box, and you hear his answer come back. He wants to know what you’re doing, where you are. You think about lying to him. You don’t want to give away your secret that you’ve been watching her. Suddenly you remember your previously rehearsed excuse and you decide to go with that, because he would know that you were lying anyway. He’s clever like that.
You’re commanded to come back to the barracks. There isn’t a hint of a plea in his hardened voice. But that’s how it always is, he commands you around, and you just have to do it. He asks you as an after thought almost, who you have seen. You don’t have to think twice about saying her name. You’ve waited so long to be able to say her name out loud to him, as if you needed to prove that you had done your homework like you’ve been told to do.
There’s a moments silence, while the technology crackles in the background, your attention is snapped back to her face that has come into view onto one of the screens. You smile at her, knowing that his silence means you have finally got one over him. He doesn’t like how you have said her first name as though you know her. You laugh quietly to yourself, you do know her. You’ve read everything about her to know exactly who she is, you know her. But he still insists that you call her by her surname, to avoid confusion, he reminds me. The satisfied smile still sits on your face; you’re pleased that you’ve irritated him enough without being reprimanded for it.
Once again you’re commanded to make your way straight to the barracks. You’ve done well, he tells you, but you need to return back as quickly as possible because there are things that need doing. You tell him that you’ll start making your way back now, and the radio dies away, as communication is ended. You’re relieved that you didn’t have to speak to him longer than you had to. You’re still bitter that he’s ordered you back, ending your time to watch her. But your smile never fades, not while her face is still showing on the monitor.
You grab the bottom edge of your lip with your teeth gently, as you trace the outline of her facial features across the screen. You’re more intrigued than ever now. You want to meet her. But you know that is something you won’t decide, he’ll decide that. You draw in a long, deep breath and hold it, before you offer a small whisper to the screen, “see you soon, Kate.” You gather the walkie-talkie and turn to leave, knowing full well that you will be visiting that place again. You’ve got addicted now to watching her.