What Else Is There (Locke/Danielle, PG)
Title: What Else Is There
Author: cloudytea
Characters: John Locke, Danielle Rousseau, mentions of Claire and Aaron.
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: And for once, he is unsure of what to say. 554 words. For katje0711 .
Locke.
Her voice slices through the darkness of the jungle, causing John to swiftly turn towards the source, his fingers grazing his knife handle. The full moon is looming high over the trees, casting a strange gleam upon the ground. He finds Danielle Rousseau half-peeking from behind the bark of a cottonwood, rifle strapped to her back.
He gives her a warm smile and nods, releasing his grasp on the hilt of his knife. Danielle.
John rarely says her name, but finds that she deserves some sense of normality: after sixteen years of being alone, the woman still had human rights that he would not take away from her.
What brings you into the jungle at this time of night? she questions him, her voice half-suspicious, half-curious. He could ask her the same thing, but wanted to avoid any conflict with this woman.
Needed some fresh air. I’ve been down in the Hatch for nearly two days and I suppose some exercise would do me good.
You are going to the beach. It wasn’t a question.
He shrugs his shoulders at her directness. Sure am. Wanna come?
I will walk with you until the camp is in sight. She comes out from behind the tree and joins him at his side. He takes short, careful strides, not wanting to reach the beach too soon.
Must be difficult, living on your own for the past sixteen years. I can’t imagine living out here that long, he says, trying to make conversation. But the truth is, he can imagine it, because there was nothing else in his life that he wanted so much: the salty smell of the sea breeze, the perspiring humidity of the green jungle, the sweet taste of fresh mangoes while being greeted by the golden rays of the Oceania sun
He brings himself back to the here and now, to the darkness of the jungle, to the woman walking by his side towards the camp.
I have learned to make my way, just as you will. It does not take long to accept that this is all your life will ever be.
He nods at her statement, blocking out the bluntness of her words. She walks slightly ahead of him, careful not to outstay her welcome and suddenly be greeted by a handful of strangers and their warm food, fresh water, and friendly smiles. He watches her tall, lithe figure, hardened by the many years of loneliness and admits that she is a beautiful woman, even after all this time of solitary confinement.
In the darkness, her eyes are black, but he recalls the blueness that they shine in the midday gleam peaking through the trees. While her body may seem hard and mean, he knows it can also be gentle and careful and soft, tanned skin glazing over the scars and the imperfections, making her into someone she was once before she came here, to this Island.
I’m sorry, Danielle, he manages to whisper just before he can spot the blazes of the campfires and Claire’s distant cooing of baby Aaron.
She turns to him, ready to go back to wherever she came from. For what?
And for once, he is unsure of what to say. Just before he returns to the camp through the small passage of bushes, John puts a hand on her shoulder.
Everything.
Author: cloudytea
Characters: John Locke, Danielle Rousseau, mentions of Claire and Aaron.
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: And for once, he is unsure of what to say. 554 words. For katje0711 .
Locke.
Her voice slices through the darkness of the jungle, causing John to swiftly turn towards the source, his fingers grazing his knife handle. The full moon is looming high over the trees, casting a strange gleam upon the ground. He finds Danielle Rousseau half-peeking from behind the bark of a cottonwood, rifle strapped to her back.
He gives her a warm smile and nods, releasing his grasp on the hilt of his knife. Danielle.
John rarely says her name, but finds that she deserves some sense of normality: after sixteen years of being alone, the woman still had human rights that he would not take away from her.
What brings you into the jungle at this time of night? she questions him, her voice half-suspicious, half-curious. He could ask her the same thing, but wanted to avoid any conflict with this woman.
Needed some fresh air. I’ve been down in the Hatch for nearly two days and I suppose some exercise would do me good.
You are going to the beach. It wasn’t a question.
He shrugs his shoulders at her directness. Sure am. Wanna come?
I will walk with you until the camp is in sight. She comes out from behind the tree and joins him at his side. He takes short, careful strides, not wanting to reach the beach too soon.
Must be difficult, living on your own for the past sixteen years. I can’t imagine living out here that long, he says, trying to make conversation. But the truth is, he can imagine it, because there was nothing else in his life that he wanted so much: the salty smell of the sea breeze, the perspiring humidity of the green jungle, the sweet taste of fresh mangoes while being greeted by the golden rays of the Oceania sun
He brings himself back to the here and now, to the darkness of the jungle, to the woman walking by his side towards the camp.
I have learned to make my way, just as you will. It does not take long to accept that this is all your life will ever be.
He nods at her statement, blocking out the bluntness of her words. She walks slightly ahead of him, careful not to outstay her welcome and suddenly be greeted by a handful of strangers and their warm food, fresh water, and friendly smiles. He watches her tall, lithe figure, hardened by the many years of loneliness and admits that she is a beautiful woman, even after all this time of solitary confinement.
In the darkness, her eyes are black, but he recalls the blueness that they shine in the midday gleam peaking through the trees. While her body may seem hard and mean, he knows it can also be gentle and careful and soft, tanned skin glazing over the scars and the imperfections, making her into someone she was once before she came here, to this Island.
I’m sorry, Danielle, he manages to whisper just before he can spot the blazes of the campfires and Claire’s distant cooing of baby Aaron.
She turns to him, ready to go back to wherever she came from. For what?
And for once, he is unsure of what to say. Just before he returns to the camp through the small passage of bushes, John puts a hand on her shoulder.
Everything.