[fic] the cure; lost, alex/richard; r
title; rating: the cure, r
fandom, pariing; count: lost, alex/richard; 1378
notes: completely au, prompt amnesia, for bittersweet_fic and the five acts meme
There's a red sunset on the eve that Richard forgets.
Alex watches the sky turn colors outside of his shelter, listens to quiet voices coming from inside the tent, waits for twilight.
"Amnesia," Mikhail says when he steps outside, with little reverence, like it's just another word, like he knows it well enough for it to be inconsequential. It isn't until then that Alex realizes she knows nothing of Mikhail's past. She wonders about this strangeness briefly and then shakes away the thought and stands.
"I'll watch over him," she tells him, as if anyone doubted she would.
-
The next few weeks are unexpected.
Richard has always known more than her. Even if she lived for centuries, he would always know more. Now, the tables turned, she feels some kind of shift that she can't explain and isn't sure she particularly likes.
She watches him limp to the watering hole, sees the age and the knowledge moving with him, hiding somewhere just under the surface without his knowing it. The sight of it unnerves her and Alex has to look away.
-
At times, Richard asks too many questions, completely oblivious to even some of the smallest details of their situation. At other times, he seems to just intrinsically know certain things. Alex wonders about that, how it all works, this amnesia. How is it possible to know some things and not others? Richard remembers how to skin a rabbit. He knows how to fire a rifle and how to track a kill, despite his new physical handicap. He even seems to know the lay of the land.
But sometimes, without noticing, he speaks to her in a language she doesn't understand. His voice sounds small, scared almost, and Alex wants to reach out and touch his face. Yet, she can't.
That's another thing Richard has forgotten.
He treats her like a child. He asks about her parents. She is still young, after all. She's a woman now, but barely just. Nineteen. And she's certainly more than an age or two younger than Richard. So he treats her as such. She's just one of the many faces in the camp.
She's just a kid.
No lover, no woman, no object of desire.
-
"I'm tired," Richard says to her one day on a hunt, limping a few more feet forward before crouching down to rest in a bed of deep roots.
Alex glances at him from her spot in the branches a few yards above him, her gun at her side. "It's hard work," she tells him. "You must have forgotten what it's like out here."
Richard shakes his head. "It seems unnatural to be this tired all the time," he says.
Alex speaks before she can think better of it. "You're older than you look," she tells him, and this is the first she's spoken of it. And so am I, she doesn't say.
Richard holds out a hand and they both freeze at the sounds of a rustling boar up ahead in the underbrush.
Alex raises her gun and takes aim.
-
Richard calls out in his sleep.
He speaks names that Alex doesn't recognize.
She moves her single cot out underneath the stars, far enough away from the tent that she won't be able to hear him.
-
She becomes something of a joke amongst the others, following him around, as she does.
Alex pays no attention when they laugh, huddled together, voices just low enough not to hear the nature of their jest.
Who else will take care of him if she doesn't?
Who else will take care of her?
-
The hunts lately have been plentiful and it almost seems pointless to go out into the woods anymore. Some days it's like the boars come to them. Alex knows it is because their numbers are so few now, and she tries not to think about the past. Richard watches her intently as she prepares meats for the smokehouse, a veritably useless act given how bountiful the island is year round. She tells him it will give them some down time from traipsing into the jungle every day, tells him he should rest his leg. Plus, he might not remember it, but he used to like a good jerky.
Richard nods as if he understands, but there's still a look in his eyes that makes Alex believe that wasn't at all what was on his mind.
-
Two days later at sunrise he insists they go out again. Alex groans from her cot and she tells him she wants to sleep, pulling her blanket over her head. But in the end, she gets up and gets dressed and follows him into the woods.
Thirty minutes later, Richard has her pinned against the trunk of a tree, his hands on either side of her. He had startled her when he turned and though she backed up instinctively, she hadn't flinched.
"I've been noticing something," he breathes the words close to her ear, so close that Alex almost shivers. "I find myself thinking of you," he says. "These thoughts, they make it hard to be near you all the time."
Alex doesn't move. She swallows roughly, but she hasn't been this close to him in months and she doesn't dare move for fear of ruining it.
"You're not scared?" Richard asks her.
"Why would I have a reason to be?" she counters.
"You don't know these thoughts," Richard warns. He looks at her with a plea in his eyes, like he wants her to slap him, to push him away, to tell him he's crazy and inappropriate and maybe that she feels the same way too.
Alex meets his look, hopes he can see the truth in her eyes. "I do," she says quietly.
Richard searches her face until recognition settles across his features. "You and I?" he says, a question, but not.
Alex nods almost imperceptibly and in that tiny movement Richard's lips are crushing against hers. Alex finally moves, her arms encircling his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair and pulling. Richard lets his hand slide up her shirt and Alex fumbles to tug his off of him and together they go crashing down to the hard earth. The day is hot and the jungle is sticky with humidity and their skin sticks together in an almost uncomfortable way. Alex wishes it would rain, but soon these thoughts dissolve away with the feel of Richards hand between her thighs, the feel of him hard against her leg.
There's a rock below her back and Alex lets out a sound that's half plea and half pain as she removes her hands from his shoulders and reaches behind her to remove the offending object. Richard lifts up slightly to let her, and as soon as her hands are back on him he crushes her once again with his weight, nipping at her shoulders, reaching down between them to guide himself into her.
Alex calls out his name, and Richard smiles into her kiss as he thrusts into her. Out here, they are one, one with each other and one with nature. Alex imagines, her legs wrapped around him, that he will remember after this. That somehow, being with her in the flesh will bring it all back. She hopes that it will. Wishes, even.
Richard takes one nipple into his mouth and Alex keens, no longer caring about lost memories or the bruises she's sure to have afterward.
-
They walk back to camp that evening hand-in-hand, and Alex knows the group will realize they have reunited. She doesn't care. And she's pretty sure Richard doesn't either.
He kisses her, soft and deep, before they enter the tent, both breathless by the end of it, his forehead resting on hers.
"You have to tell me our story," he says. And Alex puts a hand on his cheek. She knows there is so much more to tell him. So much life he may never get back, so many things that neither she nor anyone else can remember for him. But she also knows that will have to come in time.
"I will," she tells him. "I promise."
She smiles then, taking his hand and leading him inside.
-fin
fandom, pariing; count: lost, alex/richard; 1378
notes: completely au, prompt amnesia, for bittersweet_fic and the five acts meme
There's a red sunset on the eve that Richard forgets.
Alex watches the sky turn colors outside of his shelter, listens to quiet voices coming from inside the tent, waits for twilight.
"Amnesia," Mikhail says when he steps outside, with little reverence, like it's just another word, like he knows it well enough for it to be inconsequential. It isn't until then that Alex realizes she knows nothing of Mikhail's past. She wonders about this strangeness briefly and then shakes away the thought and stands.
"I'll watch over him," she tells him, as if anyone doubted she would.
-
The next few weeks are unexpected.
Richard has always known more than her. Even if she lived for centuries, he would always know more. Now, the tables turned, she feels some kind of shift that she can't explain and isn't sure she particularly likes.
She watches him limp to the watering hole, sees the age and the knowledge moving with him, hiding somewhere just under the surface without his knowing it. The sight of it unnerves her and Alex has to look away.
-
At times, Richard asks too many questions, completely oblivious to even some of the smallest details of their situation. At other times, he seems to just intrinsically know certain things. Alex wonders about that, how it all works, this amnesia. How is it possible to know some things and not others? Richard remembers how to skin a rabbit. He knows how to fire a rifle and how to track a kill, despite his new physical handicap. He even seems to know the lay of the land.
But sometimes, without noticing, he speaks to her in a language she doesn't understand. His voice sounds small, scared almost, and Alex wants to reach out and touch his face. Yet, she can't.
That's another thing Richard has forgotten.
He treats her like a child. He asks about her parents. She is still young, after all. She's a woman now, but barely just. Nineteen. And she's certainly more than an age or two younger than Richard. So he treats her as such. She's just one of the many faces in the camp.
She's just a kid.
No lover, no woman, no object of desire.
-
"I'm tired," Richard says to her one day on a hunt, limping a few more feet forward before crouching down to rest in a bed of deep roots.
Alex glances at him from her spot in the branches a few yards above him, her gun at her side. "It's hard work," she tells him. "You must have forgotten what it's like out here."
Richard shakes his head. "It seems unnatural to be this tired all the time," he says.
Alex speaks before she can think better of it. "You're older than you look," she tells him, and this is the first she's spoken of it. And so am I, she doesn't say.
Richard holds out a hand and they both freeze at the sounds of a rustling boar up ahead in the underbrush.
Alex raises her gun and takes aim.
-
Richard calls out in his sleep.
He speaks names that Alex doesn't recognize.
She moves her single cot out underneath the stars, far enough away from the tent that she won't be able to hear him.
-
She becomes something of a joke amongst the others, following him around, as she does.
Alex pays no attention when they laugh, huddled together, voices just low enough not to hear the nature of their jest.
Who else will take care of him if she doesn't?
Who else will take care of her?
-
The hunts lately have been plentiful and it almost seems pointless to go out into the woods anymore. Some days it's like the boars come to them. Alex knows it is because their numbers are so few now, and she tries not to think about the past. Richard watches her intently as she prepares meats for the smokehouse, a veritably useless act given how bountiful the island is year round. She tells him it will give them some down time from traipsing into the jungle every day, tells him he should rest his leg. Plus, he might not remember it, but he used to like a good jerky.
Richard nods as if he understands, but there's still a look in his eyes that makes Alex believe that wasn't at all what was on his mind.
-
Two days later at sunrise he insists they go out again. Alex groans from her cot and she tells him she wants to sleep, pulling her blanket over her head. But in the end, she gets up and gets dressed and follows him into the woods.
Thirty minutes later, Richard has her pinned against the trunk of a tree, his hands on either side of her. He had startled her when he turned and though she backed up instinctively, she hadn't flinched.
"I've been noticing something," he breathes the words close to her ear, so close that Alex almost shivers. "I find myself thinking of you," he says. "These thoughts, they make it hard to be near you all the time."
Alex doesn't move. She swallows roughly, but she hasn't been this close to him in months and she doesn't dare move for fear of ruining it.
"You're not scared?" Richard asks her.
"Why would I have a reason to be?" she counters.
"You don't know these thoughts," Richard warns. He looks at her with a plea in his eyes, like he wants her to slap him, to push him away, to tell him he's crazy and inappropriate and maybe that she feels the same way too.
Alex meets his look, hopes he can see the truth in her eyes. "I do," she says quietly.
Richard searches her face until recognition settles across his features. "You and I?" he says, a question, but not.
Alex nods almost imperceptibly and in that tiny movement Richard's lips are crushing against hers. Alex finally moves, her arms encircling his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair and pulling. Richard lets his hand slide up her shirt and Alex fumbles to tug his off of him and together they go crashing down to the hard earth. The day is hot and the jungle is sticky with humidity and their skin sticks together in an almost uncomfortable way. Alex wishes it would rain, but soon these thoughts dissolve away with the feel of Richards hand between her thighs, the feel of him hard against her leg.
There's a rock below her back and Alex lets out a sound that's half plea and half pain as she removes her hands from his shoulders and reaches behind her to remove the offending object. Richard lifts up slightly to let her, and as soon as her hands are back on him he crushes her once again with his weight, nipping at her shoulders, reaching down between them to guide himself into her.
Alex calls out his name, and Richard smiles into her kiss as he thrusts into her. Out here, they are one, one with each other and one with nature. Alex imagines, her legs wrapped around him, that he will remember after this. That somehow, being with her in the flesh will bring it all back. She hopes that it will. Wishes, even.
Richard takes one nipple into his mouth and Alex keens, no longer caring about lost memories or the bruises she's sure to have afterward.
-
They walk back to camp that evening hand-in-hand, and Alex knows the group will realize they have reunited. She doesn't care. And she's pretty sure Richard doesn't either.
He kisses her, soft and deep, before they enter the tent, both breathless by the end of it, his forehead resting on hers.
"You have to tell me our story," he says. And Alex puts a hand on his cheek. She knows there is so much more to tell him. So much life he may never get back, so many things that neither she nor anyone else can remember for him. But she also knows that will have to come in time.
"I will," she tells him. "I promise."
She smiles then, taking his hand and leading him inside.
-fin