[TM] 234 - Utopia

[_complex_guy_]

There ain’t no such thing. Utopia...just a stupid pipe dream is all. Even here, in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere it ain’t real. I’d say in the middle of God’s country and nowhere, but we’re closer t’ nowhere, and I ain’t entirely sure God’s still keeping His eye on this hunk of rock...if He exists at all.

Comments

[repo_woman]

Juliet had been trying to figure out what exactly to do now. It seemed that every option off the island met it's doom in a fiery explosion, of course this time at least John Locke wasn't behind it. The white light... the last time something that vibrant shook the island...

There were no planes in the sky though, no crashing debris... just nothing. The plume of smoke that had been on the horizon was gone, and the air felt different. Moving down the shoreline she saw James sitting there. Tipping her head aside she regarded him for a moment, he had his chance... and now it seemed leaving it all behind made it better for him.

Moving toward him she settled on the sand beside him, "Hello James."

[_complex_guy_]

At the sound of her voice, he rolled his eyes and tried to call up some form of real annoyance...something other than the shellshock and the numbness that covered the pain of knowing that they were more than screwed...more than just plain done.

They were dead. And he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it

[repo_woman]

Juliet smiled at the remark on his name, but she didn't really care. She'd read his file, knew all about him... about his life, his parents. "I'm pretty sure until you start using my real name? I can use whichever name of yours I like."

It was a bit cold, but she was pushing herself to try and not actually come to grips with what exactly had happened along the skyline. Shifting she brought her knees up so her arms could rest there for a moment as she stared out at the ocean.

"No tunnels that I know of, but I do know that something... I don't even know how to say it but it does feel just different."

[_complex_guy_]

"Yer funeral, Princess." he shot back, although there was really very little actual rancor in his tone. He was long past threats and malicious thoughts...there wasn't enough room for it in his own head anymore. All there was room for was a pillar of black smoke that showed up every damn time he closed his eyes. Then, of course, there was the drunkeness and the conversations with Jack's dead father.

He was really glad the bottle had run dry, and that he had so little motivation to get up and track down another.

Her observation cut him, though, and he didn't like it. The slice of feeling, the urge to move and act and do...he didn't want to be motivated. He wanted to get drunk and mourn. Goddamnit, he wanted to wallow