i am a photograph taken (juliet, libby) pg
title: i am a photograph taken
fandom: lost
character(s)/pairing(s): juliet, libby
rating: pg
word count: 249
prompt: beryllium for femslash100's periodic table challenge (progress 14/30)
spoilers: the incident
author's note: title from sarah slean's "me, i'm a thief"
summary: death is quiet.
Death is quiet.
You remember noise; that, rationally, somewhere it must still exist. But all that seems very far away, like a dream you had once that never really stuck.
(You existed once too.)
There’s a hand on your shoulder, or at least where you think your shoulder used to be, and a voice.
“Juliet.”
You can feel your eyelids again, only to realize they had been closed. You don’t remember doing that.
Nothingness flickers to white beaches, to pale water and sun.
“I’m still here.” You say it like one might realize they had a third arm they never noticed before.
The blonde beside you nods.
“You are.”
Your eyes dart down to your lap, the sand coating the skin of your hands. A memory deep in your mind irks your attention, like catching a flicker out of the corner of your eye.
“I’m supposed to be doing something. There’s somewhere-,“ you glance down at your watch to check the time, only to find the hands have frozen at four twenty-six. “Oh.” You flick the dial, but the copper hands stick obstinately.
A pale hand rests over your wrist.
“Don’t worry, Juliet. You’ve done everything you’re supposed to.”
You follow her lead, lying back on the sand, and you think this is probably uncharacteristic for you to accept this without questions. You’re not sure.
“Do I know you?”
There. That’s a question.
The woman grins.
“No, but you will. I’m Libby.”
You nod. Libby’s a nice name.
fandom: lost
character(s)/pairing(s): juliet, libby
rating: pg
word count: 249
prompt: beryllium for femslash100's periodic table challenge (progress 14/30)
spoilers: the incident
author's note: title from sarah slean's "me, i'm a thief"
summary: death is quiet.
Death is quiet.
You remember noise; that, rationally, somewhere it must still exist. But all that seems very far away, like a dream you had once that never really stuck.
(You existed once too.)
There’s a hand on your shoulder, or at least where you think your shoulder used to be, and a voice.
“Juliet.”
You can feel your eyelids again, only to realize they had been closed. You don’t remember doing that.
Nothingness flickers to white beaches, to pale water and sun.
“I’m still here.” You say it like one might realize they had a third arm they never noticed before.
The blonde beside you nods.
“You are.”
Your eyes dart down to your lap, the sand coating the skin of your hands. A memory deep in your mind irks your attention, like catching a flicker out of the corner of your eye.
“I’m supposed to be doing something. There’s somewhere-,“ you glance down at your watch to check the time, only to find the hands have frozen at four twenty-six. “Oh.” You flick the dial, but the copper hands stick obstinately.
A pale hand rests over your wrist.
“Don’t worry, Juliet. You’ve done everything you’re supposed to.”
You follow her lead, lying back on the sand, and you think this is probably uncharacteristic for you to accept this without questions. You’re not sure.
“Do I know you?”
There. That’s a question.
The woman grins.
“No, but you will. I’m Libby.”
You nod. Libby’s a nice name.