The End of the Equation
Synopsis: A reunion between Daniel Faraday and his constant, Desmond Hume. Written for Queen lenina20who wanted to see the leavers and the left behinds brought back together.
Characters: Faraday, Desmond.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Author's Note: Lenina, I appologise because I'm no good at writing the pairings you like best. But you have put so much into this Luau, so I wanted to fulfill your request in some small way. I hope this little ficlet is okay. Also thanks to elliotsmelliotwho recommended 'Oryx and Crake' by Atwood to me. As you can see Faraday is turning into Snowman here. This is also for dustyirish2003who hasn't got a Queen Day (though she deserves one). I know she would likely request our dear Daniel.
The End of the Equation
He couldn't remember his own name anymore. Funny...he always thought his name would be the last thing to go astray. He had written it down on the front page of his notebook in bold letters just in case he started to forget. Ever since his notes were lost in the fire, his name had been shifting to the edges of his scattering thoughts. A few days ago it had slipped into the grey storm of his confusion, together with his birthday, his childhood memories and all the discoveries of his lifelong research.
Now he was simply a man lost in the jungle. There was no other person who could remind him of anything more. It had been different when he was travelling with the woman. The red-haired woman with the English accent and the deck of cards. He missed her. He couldn't remember what her name was either, nor could he recall what had happened to her. Every time he tried his mind was filled with visions of black smoke and a roaring noise that rang in his ears. Strange...it must be one of the side effects of his condition.
He knew that he wasn't alone on this island. There were other survivors. They had a camp on one of the beaches, but he couldn't find his way back there. He caught sight of them in the jungle some times. In recent weeks he had grown timid and mistrustful of them. Often he would see people who he was quite certain were dead. Maybe he was remembering wrongly. As time wore on he found that he couldn't recognise any of them. He didn't know who was his friend or who was a threat. He couldn't remember anyone being especially friendly to him on this island. Except for the red-haired girl and the dog that some times followed him around. So if he ever heard the rustle of their footsteps or saw their shadows against the trees, he would scramble for a hiding place.
His suit was hanging his rags now; his shoes flapping at the heels. His tie was bunched in a stiff knot close to his throat. He could feel the material shrinking around his tattered collar. The tie would be choking him soon. He wished he could remember how to loosen or unfasten the knot. His hands left his neck and scratched at his dirty cheeks. There was dry blood around his nostrils and tears soaking his beard. He didn't know why he was crying. He supposed he didn't need a reason.
His face felt like a clay mask with ugly growths sprouting from it. He doubted he would recognise his own reflection. He was vaguely aware that he was starving. He had been struggling to remember to eat. Sometimes he would come across yellow things or orange things on the jungle floor. He would sink his teeth into their skin and taste the sweet pulpy fruit in his mouth; nourishing him and refreshing him. Other times he would bite down on rocks or pieces of wood, which sent sharp pains into the roots of his crumbling teeth. It was embarrassing that he couldn't tell the difference between vegetable and mineral anymore. His headaches seemed to have rendered him colourblind. His sense of smell was dulled too and he was terribly thirsty. He knew there were caves with pools of clear fresh water somewhere in the jungle. The last time he had visited them he had left a trail of markers so he could find his way back. But he couldn't remember what those markers were now. He hadn't been able to write it down.
The grey fog stretched over his mind again. He blinked his eyes and found that he was now lying on the ground. He was staring up at the clear blue sky. He could hear the birds cawing in the trees. There was the scent of crushed berries in the air. He wondered if maybe he was dying. There was something strangely familiar about all of this.
"Brother...is that you?" said a voice. "Is it...Professor Faraday?!"
He blinked his eyes again. He remembered now.
Name, Daniel Faraday. Birthday, May 12th. Professor of Physics at Queens College, Oxford University. Eloise, his lab rat. His experiments. The maze, the electromagnetism. The Scottish man who travelled back through time and came to him for help. Eight years later he had lived in Essex, Massachusetts. His caretaker's name was Sophie. Then there was Matthew Abanddon, Naomi Dorritt, the Kahana, the mission to the island...
"Christ...are you alright, brother?" said the voice, closer now.
He felt a hand on the side of his face. He opened his eyes to see the worried face of Desmond Hume. His constant. If anything goes wrong Desmond Hume will be my constant. It was written in his notebook in red ink. He smiled. It seemed that he had chosen the right man for his anchor after all. Desmond had arrived just in time for him to complete his equations. He knew the answer now.
"You came..." he rasped. "You made the connection for me." He wheezed out a laugh, which soon became a coughing fit. Desmond lifted him by the shoulders, cradling him to his chest. "Thank you. You saved me."
Desmond shook his head, miserably. "I was never too good at saving people, mate. You're in a bad way. We've got to get you to the rescue helicopter. Christ, I'm sorry...I'm sorry that we left you for so long..."
Faraday felt his body being lifted from the ground. Desmond was carrying him through the jungle, fast as he could go. He was yelling for him to hang on, they would reach the chopper and the medics soon...then he would be leaving the bloody island forever.
Well, Faraday knew that wasn't going to happen. He had experienced this moment before. He remembered it now. In a few more minutes...he was going to die in Desmond's arms. He would take his last breath before they reached the helicopter. Faraday believed it was a heart attack that killed him. Too much excitement for his frail weakling body. It surely wasn't a brain aneurysm that caused him to expire. With Desmond here, the stress and confusion had evaporated from his mind and his memories were clear as the blue sky above them.
Faraday was thankful for this clarity. In his last moments, his consciousness had never felt more powerful. He was strong enough to travel. He was hungering for that freedom. He just wished he could summon his voice into his dry throat to tell Desmond that it would be okay. They would see each other again. He knew the answer now.
Only fools are enslaved by time and space...
The End
Characters: Faraday, Desmond.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Author's Note: Lenina, I appologise because I'm no good at writing the pairings you like best. But you have put so much into this Luau, so I wanted to fulfill your request in some small way. I hope this little ficlet is okay. Also thanks to elliotsmelliotwho recommended 'Oryx and Crake' by Atwood to me. As you can see Faraday is turning into Snowman here. This is also for dustyirish2003who hasn't got a Queen Day (though she deserves one). I know she would likely request our dear Daniel.
The End of the Equation
He couldn't remember his own name anymore. Funny...he always thought his name would be the last thing to go astray. He had written it down on the front page of his notebook in bold letters just in case he started to forget. Ever since his notes were lost in the fire, his name had been shifting to the edges of his scattering thoughts. A few days ago it had slipped into the grey storm of his confusion, together with his birthday, his childhood memories and all the discoveries of his lifelong research.
Now he was simply a man lost in the jungle. There was no other person who could remind him of anything more. It had been different when he was travelling with the woman. The red-haired woman with the English accent and the deck of cards. He missed her. He couldn't remember what her name was either, nor could he recall what had happened to her. Every time he tried his mind was filled with visions of black smoke and a roaring noise that rang in his ears. Strange...it must be one of the side effects of his condition.
He knew that he wasn't alone on this island. There were other survivors. They had a camp on one of the beaches, but he couldn't find his way back there. He caught sight of them in the jungle some times. In recent weeks he had grown timid and mistrustful of them. Often he would see people who he was quite certain were dead. Maybe he was remembering wrongly. As time wore on he found that he couldn't recognise any of them. He didn't know who was his friend or who was a threat. He couldn't remember anyone being especially friendly to him on this island. Except for the red-haired girl and the dog that some times followed him around. So if he ever heard the rustle of their footsteps or saw their shadows against the trees, he would scramble for a hiding place.
His suit was hanging his rags now; his shoes flapping at the heels. His tie was bunched in a stiff knot close to his throat. He could feel the material shrinking around his tattered collar. The tie would be choking him soon. He wished he could remember how to loosen or unfasten the knot. His hands left his neck and scratched at his dirty cheeks. There was dry blood around his nostrils and tears soaking his beard. He didn't know why he was crying. He supposed he didn't need a reason.
His face felt like a clay mask with ugly growths sprouting from it. He doubted he would recognise his own reflection. He was vaguely aware that he was starving. He had been struggling to remember to eat. Sometimes he would come across yellow things or orange things on the jungle floor. He would sink his teeth into their skin and taste the sweet pulpy fruit in his mouth; nourishing him and refreshing him. Other times he would bite down on rocks or pieces of wood, which sent sharp pains into the roots of his crumbling teeth. It was embarrassing that he couldn't tell the difference between vegetable and mineral anymore. His headaches seemed to have rendered him colourblind. His sense of smell was dulled too and he was terribly thirsty. He knew there were caves with pools of clear fresh water somewhere in the jungle. The last time he had visited them he had left a trail of markers so he could find his way back. But he couldn't remember what those markers were now. He hadn't been able to write it down.
The grey fog stretched over his mind again. He blinked his eyes and found that he was now lying on the ground. He was staring up at the clear blue sky. He could hear the birds cawing in the trees. There was the scent of crushed berries in the air. He wondered if maybe he was dying. There was something strangely familiar about all of this.
"Brother...is that you?" said a voice. "Is it...Professor Faraday?!"
He blinked his eyes again. He remembered now.
Name, Daniel Faraday. Birthday, May 12th. Professor of Physics at Queens College, Oxford University. Eloise, his lab rat. His experiments. The maze, the electromagnetism. The Scottish man who travelled back through time and came to him for help. Eight years later he had lived in Essex, Massachusetts. His caretaker's name was Sophie. Then there was Matthew Abanddon, Naomi Dorritt, the Kahana, the mission to the island...
"Christ...are you alright, brother?" said the voice, closer now.
He felt a hand on the side of his face. He opened his eyes to see the worried face of Desmond Hume. His constant. If anything goes wrong Desmond Hume will be my constant. It was written in his notebook in red ink. He smiled. It seemed that he had chosen the right man for his anchor after all. Desmond had arrived just in time for him to complete his equations. He knew the answer now.
"You came..." he rasped. "You made the connection for me." He wheezed out a laugh, which soon became a coughing fit. Desmond lifted him by the shoulders, cradling him to his chest. "Thank you. You saved me."
Desmond shook his head, miserably. "I was never too good at saving people, mate. You're in a bad way. We've got to get you to the rescue helicopter. Christ, I'm sorry...I'm sorry that we left you for so long..."
Faraday felt his body being lifted from the ground. Desmond was carrying him through the jungle, fast as he could go. He was yelling for him to hang on, they would reach the chopper and the medics soon...then he would be leaving the bloody island forever.
Well, Faraday knew that wasn't going to happen. He had experienced this moment before. He remembered it now. In a few more minutes...he was going to die in Desmond's arms. He would take his last breath before they reached the helicopter. Faraday believed it was a heart attack that killed him. Too much excitement for his frail weakling body. It surely wasn't a brain aneurysm that caused him to expire. With Desmond here, the stress and confusion had evaporated from his mind and his memories were clear as the blue sky above them.
Faraday was thankful for this clarity. In his last moments, his consciousness had never felt more powerful. He was strong enough to travel. He was hungering for that freedom. He just wished he could summon his voice into his dry throat to tell Desmond that it would be okay. They would see each other again. He knew the answer now.
Only fools are enslaved by time and space...
The End