Fic: Sometimes They Just Need A Little Push

Aug 09, 2009 21:29

Title: Sometimes They Just Need A Little Push
Characters: Jacob, Miles, Charlotte, Daniel, Frank
Rating: PG
Word Count: 800. It could easily be separated into four stand-alone 200-word drabbles. Word limits are fun.
Spoilers: Through "The Incident"
Disclaimer: LOST is not mine, obviously.
Summary: Jacob visits the freighties.
A/N: A very belated offering to aurilly who requested Jacob and Jacob/freighties. I set out to write something slashy Jacob/Miles, but alas... I ended up with this instead. Hopefully your former Majesty approves anyway.

This isn't how he usually works, lurking in the shadows of a child's bedroom. He prefers hiding in plain sight, but it's virtually impossible to approach a three-year-old without alerting the mother. She's sleeping peacefully in the next room now, completely oblivious to Jacob's presence.

The child, however, is very much awake, sitting in his crib with his face pressed against the wooden bars, watching him more with curiosity than fear. He doesn't cry out, even when Jacob approaches the crib and reaches in to hold him. He doesn't resist, he just leans back against Jacob's arm and studies the man's face seriously.

"Are you a ghost?"

Jacob smiles at the irony. "Have you seen ghosts before, Miles?"

Miles shakes his head. Jacob runs his hand gently over the boy's forehead. A gift, he thinks but he doesn't say it, knowing that's the last word Miles will ever use to describe it. A curse, a burden that he never asked to bear. One day, Jacob thinks. Maybe one day Miles will understand why Jacob chose him.

"Give it time," Jacob says and tucks Miles back into his crib, making sure the child is sound asleep before he leaves.

* * * * * * * * * *

"I've seen you somewhere before."

Actually, she hasn't. And she has. Of course, there's no way she'd understand that yet.

"I just have one of those faces," Jacob says.

"You're lying."

"Hasn't your mother ever told you not to talk to strangers?"

His tone pisses her off. He can see I'm fifteen years old, I'm not a child, thank you very much written all over her face but she just scowls and looks out the bus window, tucking a red curl behind her ear.

"I'll tell you where you've seen me if you promise me something."


"Go home, Charlotte."

She laughs more than a little bitterly. This isn't the first time she's run away, and it won't be the last. Not that she has anywhere to go. But she keeps trying, keeps searching. One day she'll find the only place she's ever belonged.

"Alright, deal," she says. "So let's have it."

Jacob puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'm from the island."

Her head jerks around to face him, blue eyes wide. She stares at him, speechless, as the bus comes to a halt. Jacob gets to his feet and turns to her one last time.

"Don't give up."

* * * * * * * * * *

Knowledge has always been Jacob's curse. He knows exactly what is going to happen to each and every one of them sometimes before they're even born. He feels no regret for the sacrifices that have to be made, but at times, like now, knowing the end of the story before it ever begins is a burden.

He stands against the wall of the crowded hallway, waiting, and sees the tragedy that will eventually come of a supposedly chance encounter.

Then Jacob sees him coming down the hall, head down, and he speaks up casually as he passes. "Excuse me? Are you Daniel Faraday?"

The man looks up. "That's right."

"I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time." Jacob shakes Daniel's hand, and they move a little to the left, to just the right spot.


The woman's books tumble to the floor and Daniel spins around. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," he mutters and bends down to gather her scattered papers.

"It's okay, you don't have to do that," Theresa says.

Their eyes meet for a second and there it is - the beginning. Jacob smiles and walks away completely unnoticed. Only he can see the end.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Two hundred bucks and my left nut says they don't have shot in hell."

"What makes you so sure?"

"The Sox'll never win the Series. It's destiny or something."

Jacob laughs, continuing to feign interest in baseball long enough to slide one last drink in front of the man sitting next to him. "One more, Frank?"

Frank hesitates. "No, I really shouldn't. I have a flight in the morning."

Jacob pushes the beer in front of him anyway. Frank may have lost count of the drinks he's had, but Jacob hasn't. He's kept him talking, kept his mind on baseball so that he doesn't think about his flight the next morning.

He'll already be too hungover to fly. Jacob pats him on the back. "Trust me, one more won't matter."

Frank raises his eyebrows and picks up the bottle. "What the hell."

They talk more about the World Series and the Red Sox's doomed fate, and half an hour later Jacob makes sure Frank is in a cab and on his way to the hotel.

He already knows what Frank will tell them the next morning, already knows that Seth Norris will pilot Flight 815 in his place. It's destiny.

fic: lost: jacob, fanfiction, fic: lost: luau 2009, fic: lost: daniel, fic: lost: charlotte, fic: lost: frank, fic: lost, fic: lost: miles

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