Lost fic: The Other Juliet [PG, spoilers through S5 finale]
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine, no infringement intended.
Warnings: Spoilers through the season 5 finale. Angsty & stuff. Rated PG. 650 words.
Notes: Written for cliche-bingo, "Character study."
The Other Juliet
by eponine119
July 2, 2009
She has to press the button because of him. She has to detonate the bomb, herself, this whole stupid crazy island where she has lived for three miserable years and three beautiful ones, because of Sawyer. It's the only way to save him.
Her first instinct was selfish. To deaden the pain that flooded her heart and her body like a lightning strike when she saw the way he looked at Kate. She didn't trust him, this man she loved. She couldn't believe he'd changed so completely, down to the core, because she hadn't.
Squelched down inside was the crying, mewling, frizzy-haired weakling she had once been. The one whose eyes had only widened when her husband -- her first husband -- cheated on her, right in front of her. She'd buried her anger just like she buried everything else she ever wanted: happiness, recognition, children and a white picket fence.
On the island, that woman had to die. Not by degrees, but all at once. Otherwise she never would have survived it. But her hand faltered, and she hadn't the strength to do it. So she locked her away, in the deep stone caverns of her heart. Sometimes that other Juliet would force open the door and she would find herself drowning again in salt tears.
She isn't crying now.
Earlier, she would have, if there had been time. If he wouldn't have touched her and melted her resolve. So instead she sided with Jack. The hope of inspiring jealousy flickered inside her like a dying fire. The words scratched at her soul -- better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. She thought she chose not at all. She thought it would hurt less than standing by and losing again. If she fought for him, she would only lose and lose badly. She couldn't cry any more. She couldn't wish him under a bus. She could only wish it all undone, like the dark part of a fairy story. And hadn't her life been an enchanted tale for these past three years?
They were just words. A bomb to turn back time? She believed in science, not this.
Dying changed all that. He changed all that.
She saw Sawyer's face, red and lined with anguish. She heard his voice, broken and screaming. He tried to come after her.
She isn't crying now.
Life really did flash before her eyes, as her body was ripped and crushed and battered. His life. He had never lied to her, although she knew he thought he was lying to himself when they were "playing house" together. His voice was soft and deep and warm against her ear as he told her every secret hurt and hope and loss. She closed her eyes and held him tight in the darkness, night after night, until he had no more to tell. They'd thought the past was done then and there was only future. The circle of gold on her finger should have reminded her that everything came back around.
It didn't matter what she undid now. She would still be dead. A bright flash or the blood choking her, either way, dead was dead. Already the pain was fading away. She wouldn't hurt any more.
But he would.
She had to detonate the damn bomb, had to believe it would reset all of this, make it so it never happened, not so that she wouldn't die or she would never love him. He would never love her. He would never be abandoned again by the one person who whispered in his ear that she would never leave him. She would be gone, and what he couldn't remember would never hurt him.
She isn't crying now. Not as the heat and the light and the silence of her success wash over her. She won't cry again.
(end)
Warnings: Spoilers through the season 5 finale. Angsty & stuff. Rated PG. 650 words.
Notes: Written for cliche-bingo, "Character study."
The Other Juliet
by eponine119
July 2, 2009
She has to press the button because of him. She has to detonate the bomb, herself, this whole stupid crazy island where she has lived for three miserable years and three beautiful ones, because of Sawyer. It's the only way to save him.
Her first instinct was selfish. To deaden the pain that flooded her heart and her body like a lightning strike when she saw the way he looked at Kate. She didn't trust him, this man she loved. She couldn't believe he'd changed so completely, down to the core, because she hadn't.
Squelched down inside was the crying, mewling, frizzy-haired weakling she had once been. The one whose eyes had only widened when her husband -- her first husband -- cheated on her, right in front of her. She'd buried her anger just like she buried everything else she ever wanted: happiness, recognition, children and a white picket fence.
On the island, that woman had to die. Not by degrees, but all at once. Otherwise she never would have survived it. But her hand faltered, and she hadn't the strength to do it. So she locked her away, in the deep stone caverns of her heart. Sometimes that other Juliet would force open the door and she would find herself drowning again in salt tears.
She isn't crying now.
Earlier, she would have, if there had been time. If he wouldn't have touched her and melted her resolve. So instead she sided with Jack. The hope of inspiring jealousy flickered inside her like a dying fire. The words scratched at her soul -- better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. She thought she chose not at all. She thought it would hurt less than standing by and losing again. If she fought for him, she would only lose and lose badly. She couldn't cry any more. She couldn't wish him under a bus. She could only wish it all undone, like the dark part of a fairy story. And hadn't her life been an enchanted tale for these past three years?
They were just words. A bomb to turn back time? She believed in science, not this.
Dying changed all that. He changed all that.
She saw Sawyer's face, red and lined with anguish. She heard his voice, broken and screaming. He tried to come after her.
She isn't crying now.
Life really did flash before her eyes, as her body was ripped and crushed and battered. His life. He had never lied to her, although she knew he thought he was lying to himself when they were "playing house" together. His voice was soft and deep and warm against her ear as he told her every secret hurt and hope and loss. She closed her eyes and held him tight in the darkness, night after night, until he had no more to tell. They'd thought the past was done then and there was only future. The circle of gold on her finger should have reminded her that everything came back around.
It didn't matter what she undid now. She would still be dead. A bright flash or the blood choking her, either way, dead was dead. Already the pain was fading away. She wouldn't hurt any more.
But he would.
She had to detonate the damn bomb, had to believe it would reset all of this, make it so it never happened, not so that she wouldn't die or she would never love him. He would never love her. He would never be abandoned again by the one person who whispered in his ear that she would never leave him. She would be gone, and what he couldn't remember would never hurt him.
She isn't crying now. Not as the heat and the light and the silence of her success wash over her. She won't cry again.
(end)