Happy Birthday Lenina!
Title: Drowning your Sorrows by Land and by Sea (1/4)
Characters: Jack, Penny, Kate, Hurley, Sayid
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Lost does not belong to me. This is what it would look like if it did.
Warning: Spoilers up until Eggtown. The rest is just speculation.
Summary: Some lies are just waiting to be confessed to the right person.
A/N: This story is dedicated to a dear friend in honour of her birthday. lenina20, you deserve a fic that is more align with your interests but my muse was uncooperative. So please accept this humble offering and my enthusiastic birthday wishes. Won "Best Fic Featuring an Unusual Pairing" in February 2008 and "Fic that should have been canon" at Best Damn Fic Awards OF 2008" at lost_fic_awards.
banner by isis2015
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x x x
Frankly Jack had expected her sooner. Upon arrival in Los Angeles, he had scanned the crowd greeting the survivors even though he was not quite sure what she looked liked. Blonde and rich was all he had to go on; determined and sceptical, he expected. He was primed for her to emerge from the sunlight or shadows with the will and evidence to challenge their lies.
When months passed and Penny Widmore had not attempted to contact Jack or any of the others, he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. It was possible she too had been forced to swallow their story, for her own safety or because the search for a man who couldn’t be found proved too frustrating. He hadn’t entirely discounted the possibility that her quest had only ever existed in the fractured recesses of Desmond’s mind.
Just when Jack had stopped craning his neck for her, he found a flyer tucked under the wiper of his car, and from what he could see, every vehicle surrounding his in the hospital parking lot. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought except he had seen the same one stapled to a telephone pole outside the entrance to Elysian Park where he ran every evening and another posted in the mailroom of his condo. Across the top, the word “MISSING” was printed in block letters and in the centre was a photocopy of a little black dog. At the bottom it listed a phone number and promised a reward for information leading to the return of Desmond. When he got home, Jack searched the internet to confirm what he already suspected; the dog was indeed a Scottish terrier.
The flyer lay folded in his glove compartment for a week before he decided to call the number from a pay phone outside a bar in Encino. It took three beers and two shots of tequila before his fingers were steady enough to dial.
A woman answered on the third ring, her voice, barely a whisper. “Hello?” Those two syllables came across tense with anticipation, a greeting masquerading as a plea and a promise. Jack did not intend to say anything, which he realized then, was almost the same as saying everything. He was about to cut his silent confession off when she spoke again in a more demanding tone.
“Hello? Dr. Shephard? Ja-.”
Appalled at her certainty that it was him, he hung up. Jack wiped his clammy hands on his jeans and returned to the bar where he ordered another beer and shot. It had been a test, one which he had decidedly failed. If she tried again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. Her response indicated he was her only target. Hurley and Kate’s current confinements made it difficult for Penny to play the same tricks with them. The Kwons were on the other side of the world, and so desperate to remain unscathed that they were the least likely to break. As for Sayid, he didn’t seem to be staying in any one place for very long.
Jack sat at the bar for a while longer but left the new drinks untouched. The alcohol only made his dreams more vivid and there was no doubt that sleep would take him to the island that night. When he woke later, his heart hammering, legs twisted in the sheets and body slick with sweat, he didn’t remember a thing but he knew he had gone back to a time and place that he claimed never existed. It didn’t matter. Saying what really happened might ease his conscience but the truth wouldn’t bring peace to anyone.
Penny waited until Kate’s trial was over to ambush him again. Although her choice for a meeting was most likely arranged with practicality in mind, for Jack it was altogether too poignant in its familiarity. He had gone running after his shift, the one part of the day he truly felt free. When he ran it was harder for everything to catch up, he could settle into a groove, calmed by the beat of his feet and banish everything, everyone. He could believe he was no longer being chased; he was in pursuit, one step ahead.
That night he had circled the ravine twice and was cooling down with a jog through the arboretum when he found a woman huddled on the side of the path holding her right ankle. It was rare this late to come across anyone, let alone a woman by herself. This was the classic bait for a mugging so he was already on alert when he approached her.
He slowed to a walk and lifted his shirt to wipe his face. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I think I twisted my ankle.”
“Let me take a look at it. I’m a doctor.” He approached her, showing her his hands, realizing she had probably more reason to be afraid of him.
“Just my luck.”
Jack knelt in front of her, tenderly probing the joint. He unlaced her runner and gently removed the shoe and sock. After a cursory exam, he looked up, mildly confused. “I don’t see any redness or swelling. Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
That’s when he knew. It wasn’t the mess of blonde hair under the ball cap or the accent or the fact that her ankle looked perfectly fine. It was Penny’s eyes; they were full of judgement and reminded him of Hurley’s and Kate’s and his own, except unlike theirs, hers was still twinged with optimism.
His eyes dropped to the dirt and his hands left her foot. It took all his effort not to flee. “Well, keep it elevated and try to stay off it for a while.”
“Can’t you help me?”
Jack stood and took a step back. “Are you parked nearby? I can help you to your car.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He forced himself to look her in the eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Jack.”
He let his jaw drop as if it was only dawning on him now that things were not as they appeared. “I don’t talk to reporters.”
Penny held his eyes as she pulled on her sock and shoe. “Maybe you don’t know who I am and if that’s the case, I’m truly sorry. If so then it won’t be hard to look me in the eye and tell me Charlie Pace did not survive the plane crash.”
Her words should have made him flinch but they only awoke the lies. “Look, a lot people have come to me, wanting me to tell them something about their loved ones. I’m sorry. Even if I saw your friend on the plane, smiled at him at the check-in, caught his eye while we were going down, I don’t remember.”
This is where he should have walked away. He knew staying would only feed her suspicion but he felt stuck, trapped by her gaze. Finally Penny stood up, dusting the dirt from her shorts and legs.
“What happens to the body when a person drowns?”
The lungs fill with water and the body is deprieved of oxygen. If not revived in time, the patient goes into cardiac arrest. He almost said this to her but he sensed she was not looking for a clinical response.
“Have you ever watched a man drown? Do you know what that sounds like, Jack?”
Boone came to mind but the memory of dragging him from the water was overshadowed by watching him die far from the ocean. That wasn’t the point. His anger was for real now. She had no right to talk to him this way and he didn’t want to know where she was going with this line of questioning. “This has to stop now.”
She grabbed his arm before he could move away. He tried to shake off her grip but she held tight, digging her nails into his arm like he was her lifeline to a distance shore. With her free hand, Penny unzipped the pouch at her waist removed a CD in a case and pressed it against his chest.
“The video cuts out after thirty seconds, but the audio lasts a lot longer. If you can still deny me after watching this, then there’s no point in us meeting again. Otherwise, you have my number.”
With that ultimatum, she let go of the CD and he caught it. Penny turned and jogged away without a backward glance. He watched her go, tiny clouds of dust kicked up at her heels. Even when she was out of sight, the thrall she had over him was slow to subside. He bent over and busied himself, tightening and retying his laces, the CD still clutched in one hand. He’s not sure how long he fiddled with his shoes, long enough for him to decide he’s not watching anything. If a few minutes alone with a stranger can tempt him to renege on everything, he’s afraid at what the sight of something more familiar would do. He straightens, up roots himself and starts walking back toward his car.
On his way, Jack contemplates tossing the CD into the woods or a trashcan but he knows seen or unseen, what’s on this video cannot so easily be discarded.
x x x
“When does it end, Jack?” Kate asks. “What privileges this woman’s grief above everyone else’s, above our safety? She’s not the first or the last to want answers and she has the money and resources to be a real problem. I can’t believe you’re considering speaking to her.”
“I know.” Jack sighs and folds over in his chair with his head in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, the only way he ever looks at Aaron these days, he watches the boy place a red cube on top of a tower of blocks. It’s leaning precariously to one side but Aaron’s not daunted. He places another and then stands with a handful of rainbow coloured blocks so he can better reach the teetering column.
Jack has not revealed to Kate or anyone that he has already spoken to Penny. Nor has he mentioned that for over a week he’s been in possession of a CD that he’s certain contains footage of Charlie in the Looking Glass. In an attempt to gauge her reaction, all he’s shown Kate is the lost dog poster.
“She’s better off not knowing.”
“Is she?”
“What would you tell her? Do you really have the words for what happened?”
It’s not that the words that are hard to come by, even for him. There are plenty of verbs and adjectives to describe those last days and all that came before. It’s the meaning behind them that he thinks would not translate well to anyone who had not bared witness. Who would understand the significance of finding Locke on his knees in the surf, cradling Aaron, had they not seen Charlie do the same thing once? You had to have lived and fought alongside Juliet and Sawyer to be able to distinguish their tiny figures from a dozen others scrambling for cover when the canisters fell from the sky. Would Penny understand what he meant if he explained the last time he saw Desmond he was digging a grave that he claimed was for Charlie but everyone knew was really for him?
“I know, it’s crazy. I guess, I just needed to hear you say it.”
“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it too.” Kate’s voice drops to a murmur. “Part of me wants to track down his real dad or anyone in Claire’s family.” She says this watching Aaron play across the room. He’s standing on his tiptoes appearing as wobbly as his tower as he stretches to triumphantly place the last block on top. As he does, the blocks scatter and Aaron tumbles too. He doesn’t cry out but he looks a bit stunned and Kate goes to him.
Jack chooses this opportunity to leave. He had timed his visit to coincide with Aaron’s nap but had instead arrived just when he woke up. Seeing the boy, still drowsy, crawl into Kate’s lap and making it look like it’s the most comfortable and safest place on earth, doesn’t warm his heart. He can only see Aaron as another piece of evidence, proof of the unwritten and unnatural history attached to all of them.
“I have to go.”
She follows him to the door with the boy in her arms. “Jack, please, stay for dinner.”
“Thanks, but I have to work.”
“You said you came from work.”
“Another time, Kate.”
Kate looks like she wants to say more and take him aside for hug or a lecture or something. Instead she simply says, “Sure, another time.”
He manages a wave for both of them but he doesn’t wait to watch them respond similarly. It’s not until he sees the sign showing the distance to Santa Barbara that Jack realizes he’s driven twenty miles north of his exit, the last forty minutes lost to a dialogue that’s taking shape in his head. Even though he’s nowhere near empty, he stops for gas and fills up. He cleans the windshield and checks his tires and oil. It’s the right things to do before setting off on a journey, even if his is only taking him a few steps to the phone booth outside the station.
He had her number committed to memory but Jack brings the flyer with him. Like his fussiness with the car, going to see Kate had only been procrastination. As soon as he called Penny the first time, he knew he would end up telling her everything at some point.
She answers the phone immediately, suggesting it rarely leaves her hand. “Hello.”
“Penny?” It’s the first time he’s said her name out loud and he almost chokes on the awkward intimacy.
“Jack.”
A silence hangs between them but it’s a necessary buffer, giving them the time to brace themselves for whatever comes next. When he finally speaks he says, “If you want justice I can’t help you, but if you’re looking for answers I might have some.”
Penny doesn’t reply immediately. He can almost hear her weighing the sincerity of his proposition. It’s doubtful she trusts him completely, but like him, she’s gone too far to turn back. Her exhale comes out shaky, however her voice sounds bright. “Alright.”
He has no idea if she’s still in California. “Can you be in Grover Beach the day after tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
He thinks if he had suggested the moon she would have answered the same. “Meet me at 55 Cypress Street,” he says, giving her the address of the Silverman beach house. “It’s a cottage just off Pismo State Beach.”
“Jack, thank you.”
His instinct is to reply with some blithe comment about not thanking him yet but instead he just hangs up. The dial tone hisses an unnecessary warning that echoes in his ear all the back the way to the car.
x x x
Part Two
Characters: Jack, Penny, Kate, Hurley, Sayid
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Lost does not belong to me. This is what it would look like if it did.
Warning: Spoilers up until Eggtown. The rest is just speculation.
Summary: Some lies are just waiting to be confessed to the right person.
A/N: This story is dedicated to a dear friend in honour of her birthday. lenina20, you deserve a fic that is more align with your interests but my muse was uncooperative. So please accept this humble offering and my enthusiastic birthday wishes. Won "Best Fic Featuring an Unusual Pairing" in February 2008 and "Fic that should have been canon" at Best Damn Fic Awards OF 2008" at lost_fic_awards.
banner by isis2015
.
x x x
Frankly Jack had expected her sooner. Upon arrival in Los Angeles, he had scanned the crowd greeting the survivors even though he was not quite sure what she looked liked. Blonde and rich was all he had to go on; determined and sceptical, he expected. He was primed for her to emerge from the sunlight or shadows with the will and evidence to challenge their lies.
When months passed and Penny Widmore had not attempted to contact Jack or any of the others, he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. It was possible she too had been forced to swallow their story, for her own safety or because the search for a man who couldn’t be found proved too frustrating. He hadn’t entirely discounted the possibility that her quest had only ever existed in the fractured recesses of Desmond’s mind.
Just when Jack had stopped craning his neck for her, he found a flyer tucked under the wiper of his car, and from what he could see, every vehicle surrounding his in the hospital parking lot. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought except he had seen the same one stapled to a telephone pole outside the entrance to Elysian Park where he ran every evening and another posted in the mailroom of his condo. Across the top, the word “MISSING” was printed in block letters and in the centre was a photocopy of a little black dog. At the bottom it listed a phone number and promised a reward for information leading to the return of Desmond. When he got home, Jack searched the internet to confirm what he already suspected; the dog was indeed a Scottish terrier.
The flyer lay folded in his glove compartment for a week before he decided to call the number from a pay phone outside a bar in Encino. It took three beers and two shots of tequila before his fingers were steady enough to dial.
A woman answered on the third ring, her voice, barely a whisper. “Hello?” Those two syllables came across tense with anticipation, a greeting masquerading as a plea and a promise. Jack did not intend to say anything, which he realized then, was almost the same as saying everything. He was about to cut his silent confession off when she spoke again in a more demanding tone.
“Hello? Dr. Shephard? Ja-.”
Appalled at her certainty that it was him, he hung up. Jack wiped his clammy hands on his jeans and returned to the bar where he ordered another beer and shot. It had been a test, one which he had decidedly failed. If she tried again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. Her response indicated he was her only target. Hurley and Kate’s current confinements made it difficult for Penny to play the same tricks with them. The Kwons were on the other side of the world, and so desperate to remain unscathed that they were the least likely to break. As for Sayid, he didn’t seem to be staying in any one place for very long.
Jack sat at the bar for a while longer but left the new drinks untouched. The alcohol only made his dreams more vivid and there was no doubt that sleep would take him to the island that night. When he woke later, his heart hammering, legs twisted in the sheets and body slick with sweat, he didn’t remember a thing but he knew he had gone back to a time and place that he claimed never existed. It didn’t matter. Saying what really happened might ease his conscience but the truth wouldn’t bring peace to anyone.
Penny waited until Kate’s trial was over to ambush him again. Although her choice for a meeting was most likely arranged with practicality in mind, for Jack it was altogether too poignant in its familiarity. He had gone running after his shift, the one part of the day he truly felt free. When he ran it was harder for everything to catch up, he could settle into a groove, calmed by the beat of his feet and banish everything, everyone. He could believe he was no longer being chased; he was in pursuit, one step ahead.
That night he had circled the ravine twice and was cooling down with a jog through the arboretum when he found a woman huddled on the side of the path holding her right ankle. It was rare this late to come across anyone, let alone a woman by herself. This was the classic bait for a mugging so he was already on alert when he approached her.
He slowed to a walk and lifted his shirt to wipe his face. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I think I twisted my ankle.”
“Let me take a look at it. I’m a doctor.” He approached her, showing her his hands, realizing she had probably more reason to be afraid of him.
“Just my luck.”
Jack knelt in front of her, tenderly probing the joint. He unlaced her runner and gently removed the shoe and sock. After a cursory exam, he looked up, mildly confused. “I don’t see any redness or swelling. Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
That’s when he knew. It wasn’t the mess of blonde hair under the ball cap or the accent or the fact that her ankle looked perfectly fine. It was Penny’s eyes; they were full of judgement and reminded him of Hurley’s and Kate’s and his own, except unlike theirs, hers was still twinged with optimism.
His eyes dropped to the dirt and his hands left her foot. It took all his effort not to flee. “Well, keep it elevated and try to stay off it for a while.”
“Can’t you help me?”
Jack stood and took a step back. “Are you parked nearby? I can help you to your car.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He forced himself to look her in the eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Jack.”
He let his jaw drop as if it was only dawning on him now that things were not as they appeared. “I don’t talk to reporters.”
Penny held his eyes as she pulled on her sock and shoe. “Maybe you don’t know who I am and if that’s the case, I’m truly sorry. If so then it won’t be hard to look me in the eye and tell me Charlie Pace did not survive the plane crash.”
Her words should have made him flinch but they only awoke the lies. “Look, a lot people have come to me, wanting me to tell them something about their loved ones. I’m sorry. Even if I saw your friend on the plane, smiled at him at the check-in, caught his eye while we were going down, I don’t remember.”
This is where he should have walked away. He knew staying would only feed her suspicion but he felt stuck, trapped by her gaze. Finally Penny stood up, dusting the dirt from her shorts and legs.
“What happens to the body when a person drowns?”
The lungs fill with water and the body is deprieved of oxygen. If not revived in time, the patient goes into cardiac arrest. He almost said this to her but he sensed she was not looking for a clinical response.
“Have you ever watched a man drown? Do you know what that sounds like, Jack?”
Boone came to mind but the memory of dragging him from the water was overshadowed by watching him die far from the ocean. That wasn’t the point. His anger was for real now. She had no right to talk to him this way and he didn’t want to know where she was going with this line of questioning. “This has to stop now.”
She grabbed his arm before he could move away. He tried to shake off her grip but she held tight, digging her nails into his arm like he was her lifeline to a distance shore. With her free hand, Penny unzipped the pouch at her waist removed a CD in a case and pressed it against his chest.
“The video cuts out after thirty seconds, but the audio lasts a lot longer. If you can still deny me after watching this, then there’s no point in us meeting again. Otherwise, you have my number.”
With that ultimatum, she let go of the CD and he caught it. Penny turned and jogged away without a backward glance. He watched her go, tiny clouds of dust kicked up at her heels. Even when she was out of sight, the thrall she had over him was slow to subside. He bent over and busied himself, tightening and retying his laces, the CD still clutched in one hand. He’s not sure how long he fiddled with his shoes, long enough for him to decide he’s not watching anything. If a few minutes alone with a stranger can tempt him to renege on everything, he’s afraid at what the sight of something more familiar would do. He straightens, up roots himself and starts walking back toward his car.
On his way, Jack contemplates tossing the CD into the woods or a trashcan but he knows seen or unseen, what’s on this video cannot so easily be discarded.
x x x
“When does it end, Jack?” Kate asks. “What privileges this woman’s grief above everyone else’s, above our safety? She’s not the first or the last to want answers and she has the money and resources to be a real problem. I can’t believe you’re considering speaking to her.”
“I know.” Jack sighs and folds over in his chair with his head in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, the only way he ever looks at Aaron these days, he watches the boy place a red cube on top of a tower of blocks. It’s leaning precariously to one side but Aaron’s not daunted. He places another and then stands with a handful of rainbow coloured blocks so he can better reach the teetering column.
Jack has not revealed to Kate or anyone that he has already spoken to Penny. Nor has he mentioned that for over a week he’s been in possession of a CD that he’s certain contains footage of Charlie in the Looking Glass. In an attempt to gauge her reaction, all he’s shown Kate is the lost dog poster.
“She’s better off not knowing.”
“Is she?”
“What would you tell her? Do you really have the words for what happened?”
It’s not that the words that are hard to come by, even for him. There are plenty of verbs and adjectives to describe those last days and all that came before. It’s the meaning behind them that he thinks would not translate well to anyone who had not bared witness. Who would understand the significance of finding Locke on his knees in the surf, cradling Aaron, had they not seen Charlie do the same thing once? You had to have lived and fought alongside Juliet and Sawyer to be able to distinguish their tiny figures from a dozen others scrambling for cover when the canisters fell from the sky. Would Penny understand what he meant if he explained the last time he saw Desmond he was digging a grave that he claimed was for Charlie but everyone knew was really for him?
“I know, it’s crazy. I guess, I just needed to hear you say it.”
“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it too.” Kate’s voice drops to a murmur. “Part of me wants to track down his real dad or anyone in Claire’s family.” She says this watching Aaron play across the room. He’s standing on his tiptoes appearing as wobbly as his tower as he stretches to triumphantly place the last block on top. As he does, the blocks scatter and Aaron tumbles too. He doesn’t cry out but he looks a bit stunned and Kate goes to him.
Jack chooses this opportunity to leave. He had timed his visit to coincide with Aaron’s nap but had instead arrived just when he woke up. Seeing the boy, still drowsy, crawl into Kate’s lap and making it look like it’s the most comfortable and safest place on earth, doesn’t warm his heart. He can only see Aaron as another piece of evidence, proof of the unwritten and unnatural history attached to all of them.
“I have to go.”
She follows him to the door with the boy in her arms. “Jack, please, stay for dinner.”
“Thanks, but I have to work.”
“You said you came from work.”
“Another time, Kate.”
Kate looks like she wants to say more and take him aside for hug or a lecture or something. Instead she simply says, “Sure, another time.”
He manages a wave for both of them but he doesn’t wait to watch them respond similarly. It’s not until he sees the sign showing the distance to Santa Barbara that Jack realizes he’s driven twenty miles north of his exit, the last forty minutes lost to a dialogue that’s taking shape in his head. Even though he’s nowhere near empty, he stops for gas and fills up. He cleans the windshield and checks his tires and oil. It’s the right things to do before setting off on a journey, even if his is only taking him a few steps to the phone booth outside the station.
He had her number committed to memory but Jack brings the flyer with him. Like his fussiness with the car, going to see Kate had only been procrastination. As soon as he called Penny the first time, he knew he would end up telling her everything at some point.
She answers the phone immediately, suggesting it rarely leaves her hand. “Hello.”
“Penny?” It’s the first time he’s said her name out loud and he almost chokes on the awkward intimacy.
“Jack.”
A silence hangs between them but it’s a necessary buffer, giving them the time to brace themselves for whatever comes next. When he finally speaks he says, “If you want justice I can’t help you, but if you’re looking for answers I might have some.”
Penny doesn’t reply immediately. He can almost hear her weighing the sincerity of his proposition. It’s doubtful she trusts him completely, but like him, she’s gone too far to turn back. Her exhale comes out shaky, however her voice sounds bright. “Alright.”
He has no idea if she’s still in California. “Can you be in Grover Beach the day after tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
He thinks if he had suggested the moon she would have answered the same. “Meet me at 55 Cypress Street,” he says, giving her the address of the Silverman beach house. “It’s a cottage just off Pismo State Beach.”
“Jack, thank you.”
His instinct is to reply with some blithe comment about not thanking him yet but instead he just hangs up. The dial tone hisses an unnecessary warning that echoes in his ear all the back the way to the car.
x x x
Part Two