and in the spring we'll leave this room (Ilana/Dogen, PG-13)
Title: and in the spring we'll leave this room
Characters/Parings: Ilana/Dogen, brief Ilana/Lennon. Mentions of Sayid and Jacob.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 417
Summary: He has eyes that scream loneliness and lips that say nothing. For knopflergroupie's Luau.
She is barely sixteen when she is brought to the Temple, a juvenile mess whose string of foster homes is only outnumbered by the number of felonies she’s been charged with.
It isn’t long until Ilana realizes this isn’t really a summer rehabilitation camp for endangered teenagers, like the brochure given to her foster mother promises. Latin lessons from some skinny, fumbling man not much older than she whose glasses are about twenty years out of style are her first clue, and the second being a nameless fear that haunted the jungle at night, whose ripping and roaring seemed to echo throughout the entire Temple.
When she is eighteen years old, a man comes to the Temple: he has eyes that scream loneliness and lips that say nothing. He holds an unlimited amount of power that Ilana finds alluring. His sad looks are but a visage that mask something she has always wanted, always craved every since she was a child: the promise of something she can never have.
Ilana is no stranger to motive-driven lust (she has already begun to lose track of all the men she screwed here to gain the respect she deserves. Even his translator knows the sweet taste of her lips, the deceptive warmth of her hands), but with him things are different and she is unsure if she can handle the lack of control she has over him. One night, in between sheets rustled by desire, he whispers to her the secrets of his past, his reason for being here.
A car accident fuelled by alcohol delivers his injured son into the hands of a man he barely even trusts. It is then that she learns his sad eyes are not an illusion, but an illustration: an illustration of whole-hearted love and sacrifice, both feelings alien to her wanton heart.
Ilana is sent away not long after that; she wonders if it’s all his doing. Of course, how can she blame him? Any signs of emotional investment could easily overthrow his ability to lead the people whose lives he has been entrusted with.
From then on, Jacob places a pistol in her hand and she finds it difficult to let go; the feeling of a warm gun is almost equal to those nights spent underneath sweaty sheets: both give her a rush unlike any other, a rush that almost resembles that of love, or something like it.
Fifteen years from now, a man in a bar whispers to her sweet words about temptation. Three Scotches later, she remembers why she likes sad men.
Characters/Parings: Ilana/Dogen, brief Ilana/Lennon. Mentions of Sayid and Jacob.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 417
Summary: He has eyes that scream loneliness and lips that say nothing. For knopflergroupie's Luau.
She is barely sixteen when she is brought to the Temple, a juvenile mess whose string of foster homes is only outnumbered by the number of felonies she’s been charged with.
It isn’t long until Ilana realizes this isn’t really a summer rehabilitation camp for endangered teenagers, like the brochure given to her foster mother promises. Latin lessons from some skinny, fumbling man not much older than she whose glasses are about twenty years out of style are her first clue, and the second being a nameless fear that haunted the jungle at night, whose ripping and roaring seemed to echo throughout the entire Temple.
When she is eighteen years old, a man comes to the Temple: he has eyes that scream loneliness and lips that say nothing. He holds an unlimited amount of power that Ilana finds alluring. His sad looks are but a visage that mask something she has always wanted, always craved every since she was a child: the promise of something she can never have.
Ilana is no stranger to motive-driven lust (she has already begun to lose track of all the men she screwed here to gain the respect she deserves. Even his translator knows the sweet taste of her lips, the deceptive warmth of her hands), but with him things are different and she is unsure if she can handle the lack of control she has over him. One night, in between sheets rustled by desire, he whispers to her the secrets of his past, his reason for being here.
A car accident fuelled by alcohol delivers his injured son into the hands of a man he barely even trusts. It is then that she learns his sad eyes are not an illusion, but an illustration: an illustration of whole-hearted love and sacrifice, both feelings alien to her wanton heart.
Ilana is sent away not long after that; she wonders if it’s all his doing. Of course, how can she blame him? Any signs of emotional investment could easily overthrow his ability to lead the people whose lives he has been entrusted with.
From then on, Jacob places a pistol in her hand and she finds it difficult to let go; the feeling of a warm gun is almost equal to those nights spent underneath sweaty sheets: both give her a rush unlike any other, a rush that almost resembles that of love, or something like it.
Fifteen years from now, a man in a bar whispers to her sweet words about temptation. Three Scotches later, she remembers why she likes sad men.