Forever Doesn't Last Long - Lost - Christian/Margo
Title: Forever Doesn't Last Long
Pairing: Christian/Margo
Word Count: 1544
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for lostfichallenge and writing_rainbow. Set very pre-series.
Summary: When he bought her a drink, he hadn't realised that that was the start of their life together. The most life-changing meetings can pass by uneventfully.
Her hair is tied and tamed under a flowing red headscarf and her cheeks are coloured a bright pink from the heat. She leans against the bar, waving a hand to try and catch the barman's attention. It doesn't take long. For a girl that looks like that, why would it?
Christian drinks deep from the beer on the table in front of him, his hand gripping the cold glass. His friends from medical school are sitting next to him in the booth; they have been talking loudly and obnoxiously all evening. Christian rarely joins in. It's Greg's birthday, but Christian doesn't even know why he was invited along to celebrate. It's a well known fact that he hates Greg and has done so ever since first year.
He's glad for the distraction in the form of this woman; her slim hips draw the eye and her long brown hair makes her look like a classical goddess. She orders her drink and waits at the bar, holding her purse in her hand as she rakes through it for the right change to pay with.
"I'll be right back," he says to his friends as he stands from the booth and walks forward. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a note: fast enough, he is by her side before the bartender comes back with her order. She's even more breath-taking this close up, and from the looks of things she's here by herself. Ordering one drink only; no other girls around. "This one's on me," he says, looking down at her, "if that's alright."
Her smile is coy and her cheeks blush a brighter pink. "Yeah, that's alright," she says, adding a nervous laugh at the end. This can't be the first time that a man has bought a drink for her, Christian is certain of that, but she does a damn good job of pretending like it is.
"What's your name?" he asks - because, right now, that seems like the most important thing in the world. He would give up all of the medical knowledge that he has learnt in his time here, and he would forget the last three years, as long as he gets to know the answer to meaning of life: this woman's name.
"I'm Margo," she says. Her drink arrives, a white wine. "And you?"
"Christian," he responds, leaning against the side of the bar.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Christian," she says. She raises her glass to her pale pink lips, her gaze never falling from his eyes. Decades later, Christian will reflect back on this moment, when his heart flipped and his groin tightened, and think: this is when it all started to go wrong.
*
His father thinks he's mad. "You're better than her, son," he declares, sitting in his chair by the window with his arms stiff by his sides. "Don't do it. You'll regret it: I did."
"I love her," Christian says. She's all he can think about every second of the day, all that he wants to think about. She is dizzying and exciting and, most of all, she is his. Through and through. "She's a fantastic woman."
His father doesn't say anything to argue with that, and perhaps the disapproving silence is worse than anything else he could have said. Christian has dealt with being a disappointment to his parents his entire life: never good enough, even when he's the best. Never as good with a scalpel as his father had been in his glory days; it doesn't count unless you're saving lives on a battlefield, according to his dad. It doesn't matter that Christian can perform a miracle a day and defy the will of God himself: it isn't a bullet-wound, this isn't a war, and it will never be as good as his father wanted him to be. He'll go easier on his own kids, if they ever have them.
"I'm going to ask her to marry me; she's going to say yes. There really is little that you can do about it."
And maybe it feels even better this way, Christian thinks. Forbidden love. Margo will get one hell of a kick out of it. Romeo and Juliet.
He tries not to think about how exactly that play ends.
*
"Congratulations," the stranger says, clapping a hand against his back.
Christian looks up at him, trying to clear his tired mind. He wants to get home and get to bed; this tube ride has taken forever. Weddings, especially without your parents on board, are expensive things. Both he and Margo have been working second jobs in order to save enough money, but he isn't sure if it's worth it. He'd rather pop into the local registry office and get it over with without any of the razzle-dazzle - but Margo wants the big white dress and the gaggle of bridesmaids and the biggest church, and even after all this time he is unable to say no to her. He's beginning to wonder if he ought to learn. He's beginning to wonder if he ought to bother with any of this.
There is a blond man sitting beside him on the tube. Most of the carriage is empty now as they are getting near to the end of the line. The crowds have filtered home to their beds and their wives and their blissful sleep. Christian hates them all on a principle.
"'Congratulations'?" he repeats, while wondering what he's missing.
"You made it to the end of the day. That's worth a congratulations," he says.
Christian nods slowly, while wondering what he's done to deserve being hounded by a too cheerful man at this time of night. He's not a bad person. Karma shouldn't have it out for him in this way. He saves lives on a regular basis. Doesn't that count for anything?
"Well, congratulations to you too," he responds in a tone that clearly conveys 'fuck the hell off', before picking up a newspaper that has been left behind by someone or other. It's not the kind of rag he usually reads, but he needs something to keep him busy.
"You look like you've been working hard," the stranger suggests, obliviously. "Busy day?"
"Busy life. I'm saving money for my wedding." He doesn't know why he's telling him this, but the words come forth as if he is talking to an old friend. It makes him uncomfortable even as he is relaxing.
"Keep at it," he is assured. "It'll be worth it, when you get there."
"Here's hoping..." Christian mutters. There are days when the thought of this union terrifies him. Living with Margo has been an eye-opening experience; it isn't all fun, it isn't all sex, it isn't all love. It's life and it's real and sometimes he can convince himself that that is even better.
"My stop's just coming up. See you around," the blond man says, beginning to get to his feet.
"Wait," Christian asks. "What's your name?"
And he already knows, somehow. There's something in the centre of his chest that is not at all surprised when a smile spreads on the man's face and he says, "Jacob."
God loves you as he loved Jacob, pops into Christian's head unbidden. Like a thought that does not belong to him at all, it makes him nervous. "I'm Christian. Nice meeting you."
They slow down and reach Jacob's stop: Christian is glad to have been left alone.
*
Two weeks after their wedding, Margo comes to find him in their bedroom. Her face is free from make-up and her eyes are tired yet bright with excitement. Lying on their bed, Christian places down the book he had been reading, removes the glasses from his eyes, and watches her. "What is it?" he asks.
The happiness on her face draws him in as much as it had on the day he'd first met her; it's enough to remind him why he fell for her in the first place. He remembers the day that she had been the most beautiful girl in the bar, and a welcome distraction from his then-friends. Now she has a career to chase and a wedding ring on her finger. She doesn't wear headscarves any more and she's swapped white wine for red.
"I didn't want to say anything until I was certain," she says - and as she sits down on the edge of the bed, her long, pink nightie flowing like silk over her curves, Christian has a moment where he already knows what is coming. This conversation is unnecessary. "I'm pregnant."
The world shatters, their futures morph, but Christian is not surprised. He knows the success rate of contraception and they've been prepared for this eventuality. They've wanted kids - in the future, far away, not now, please not now - and he's wanted to have a family with Margo since the moment they met. He smiles and places his book on the bedside cabinet. There is possibly even a laugh.
"That's great news," he says, holding out his arms for her. She leans into him and he holds her, his beautiful, pregnant wife. It seems a long time ago that he bought her a drink in a university bar; everything's changed. They've changed.
He breathes in deeply, smelling her hair, and he tells himself that they're not going to regret this, not for a second.
Pairing: Christian/Margo
Word Count: 1544
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for lostfichallenge and writing_rainbow. Set very pre-series.
Summary: When he bought her a drink, he hadn't realised that that was the start of their life together. The most life-changing meetings can pass by uneventfully.
Her hair is tied and tamed under a flowing red headscarf and her cheeks are coloured a bright pink from the heat. She leans against the bar, waving a hand to try and catch the barman's attention. It doesn't take long. For a girl that looks like that, why would it?
Christian drinks deep from the beer on the table in front of him, his hand gripping the cold glass. His friends from medical school are sitting next to him in the booth; they have been talking loudly and obnoxiously all evening. Christian rarely joins in. It's Greg's birthday, but Christian doesn't even know why he was invited along to celebrate. It's a well known fact that he hates Greg and has done so ever since first year.
He's glad for the distraction in the form of this woman; her slim hips draw the eye and her long brown hair makes her look like a classical goddess. She orders her drink and waits at the bar, holding her purse in her hand as she rakes through it for the right change to pay with.
"I'll be right back," he says to his friends as he stands from the booth and walks forward. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a note: fast enough, he is by her side before the bartender comes back with her order. She's even more breath-taking this close up, and from the looks of things she's here by herself. Ordering one drink only; no other girls around. "This one's on me," he says, looking down at her, "if that's alright."
Her smile is coy and her cheeks blush a brighter pink. "Yeah, that's alright," she says, adding a nervous laugh at the end. This can't be the first time that a man has bought a drink for her, Christian is certain of that, but she does a damn good job of pretending like it is.
"What's your name?" he asks - because, right now, that seems like the most important thing in the world. He would give up all of the medical knowledge that he has learnt in his time here, and he would forget the last three years, as long as he gets to know the answer to meaning of life: this woman's name.
"I'm Margo," she says. Her drink arrives, a white wine. "And you?"
"Christian," he responds, leaning against the side of the bar.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Christian," she says. She raises her glass to her pale pink lips, her gaze never falling from his eyes. Decades later, Christian will reflect back on this moment, when his heart flipped and his groin tightened, and think: this is when it all started to go wrong.
*
His father thinks he's mad. "You're better than her, son," he declares, sitting in his chair by the window with his arms stiff by his sides. "Don't do it. You'll regret it: I did."
"I love her," Christian says. She's all he can think about every second of the day, all that he wants to think about. She is dizzying and exciting and, most of all, she is his. Through and through. "She's a fantastic woman."
His father doesn't say anything to argue with that, and perhaps the disapproving silence is worse than anything else he could have said. Christian has dealt with being a disappointment to his parents his entire life: never good enough, even when he's the best. Never as good with a scalpel as his father had been in his glory days; it doesn't count unless you're saving lives on a battlefield, according to his dad. It doesn't matter that Christian can perform a miracle a day and defy the will of God himself: it isn't a bullet-wound, this isn't a war, and it will never be as good as his father wanted him to be. He'll go easier on his own kids, if they ever have them.
"I'm going to ask her to marry me; she's going to say yes. There really is little that you can do about it."
And maybe it feels even better this way, Christian thinks. Forbidden love. Margo will get one hell of a kick out of it. Romeo and Juliet.
He tries not to think about how exactly that play ends.
*
"Congratulations," the stranger says, clapping a hand against his back.
Christian looks up at him, trying to clear his tired mind. He wants to get home and get to bed; this tube ride has taken forever. Weddings, especially without your parents on board, are expensive things. Both he and Margo have been working second jobs in order to save enough money, but he isn't sure if it's worth it. He'd rather pop into the local registry office and get it over with without any of the razzle-dazzle - but Margo wants the big white dress and the gaggle of bridesmaids and the biggest church, and even after all this time he is unable to say no to her. He's beginning to wonder if he ought to learn. He's beginning to wonder if he ought to bother with any of this.
There is a blond man sitting beside him on the tube. Most of the carriage is empty now as they are getting near to the end of the line. The crowds have filtered home to their beds and their wives and their blissful sleep. Christian hates them all on a principle.
"'Congratulations'?" he repeats, while wondering what he's missing.
"You made it to the end of the day. That's worth a congratulations," he says.
Christian nods slowly, while wondering what he's done to deserve being hounded by a too cheerful man at this time of night. He's not a bad person. Karma shouldn't have it out for him in this way. He saves lives on a regular basis. Doesn't that count for anything?
"Well, congratulations to you too," he responds in a tone that clearly conveys 'fuck the hell off', before picking up a newspaper that has been left behind by someone or other. It's not the kind of rag he usually reads, but he needs something to keep him busy.
"You look like you've been working hard," the stranger suggests, obliviously. "Busy day?"
"Busy life. I'm saving money for my wedding." He doesn't know why he's telling him this, but the words come forth as if he is talking to an old friend. It makes him uncomfortable even as he is relaxing.
"Keep at it," he is assured. "It'll be worth it, when you get there."
"Here's hoping..." Christian mutters. There are days when the thought of this union terrifies him. Living with Margo has been an eye-opening experience; it isn't all fun, it isn't all sex, it isn't all love. It's life and it's real and sometimes he can convince himself that that is even better.
"My stop's just coming up. See you around," the blond man says, beginning to get to his feet.
"Wait," Christian asks. "What's your name?"
And he already knows, somehow. There's something in the centre of his chest that is not at all surprised when a smile spreads on the man's face and he says, "Jacob."
God loves you as he loved Jacob, pops into Christian's head unbidden. Like a thought that does not belong to him at all, it makes him nervous. "I'm Christian. Nice meeting you."
They slow down and reach Jacob's stop: Christian is glad to have been left alone.
*
Two weeks after their wedding, Margo comes to find him in their bedroom. Her face is free from make-up and her eyes are tired yet bright with excitement. Lying on their bed, Christian places down the book he had been reading, removes the glasses from his eyes, and watches her. "What is it?" he asks.
The happiness on her face draws him in as much as it had on the day he'd first met her; it's enough to remind him why he fell for her in the first place. He remembers the day that she had been the most beautiful girl in the bar, and a welcome distraction from his then-friends. Now she has a career to chase and a wedding ring on her finger. She doesn't wear headscarves any more and she's swapped white wine for red.
"I didn't want to say anything until I was certain," she says - and as she sits down on the edge of the bed, her long, pink nightie flowing like silk over her curves, Christian has a moment where he already knows what is coming. This conversation is unnecessary. "I'm pregnant."
The world shatters, their futures morph, but Christian is not surprised. He knows the success rate of contraception and they've been prepared for this eventuality. They've wanted kids - in the future, far away, not now, please not now - and he's wanted to have a family with Margo since the moment they met. He smiles and places his book on the bedside cabinet. There is possibly even a laugh.
"That's great news," he says, holding out his arms for her. She leans into him and he holds her, his beautiful, pregnant wife. It seems a long time ago that he bought her a drink in a university bar; everything's changed. They've changed.
He breathes in deeply, smelling her hair, and he tells himself that they're not going to regret this, not for a second.