Title: Wandering Down The Wrong Aisle
Author:
lostpuffinRecipient:
jenthegypsyPairing or Characters: Desmond, mentions of Penny, Little Charlie, Claire, Ben
Rating: PG
warnings: none, except vague spoilers for season 5
Prompt: Desmond, hallucinations
Summary: Desmond goes grocery shopping but finds more than just peanut butter.
Author notes: 'Doing the messages': Scot slang for going grocery shopping. Merry Christmas
jenthegypsy! Ho ho ho.
Tomatoes. Mustn't forget to get some of those, though Penny often found fault with his idea of what was the best pick of the crop. But she was the one that had sent him on this grocery spree, wasn't she? Then she would just have to settle with how he did the messages, Desmond thought as he put one ripe, red fruit down and picked up what had been his original first choice. Ah, who was he kidding? Her 'griping' about the produce he brought home was really always good natured and only meant to goad him into half-pretend affront and indignation, and then she would carry on about the proper way to choose fruits and vegetables... and one thing would lead to another until they were in each other's arms and making up. It was all part of her well laid out plan, it was. Desmond smiled to himself and added another slightly unripe tomato to the cart.
When he passed by the section with it's selection of mangoes Desmond walked a little faster, just as he usually did. No need to stop for any of those. Penny never asked for them, Charlie had tried one once but had spit it out, screwing up his little face and pouting, and Desmond just didn't care if he never saw another one of those things again. Sure, he liked them fine, but...
"Oh, sorry. Excuse me."
Turning at the apology, which had come from a woman who had just jostled by him through the crowd, all Desmond saw was a flash of yellow hair as the lady hustled on her way. No matter. Bread. And peanut butter. Now those were important things, at least to the little boy waiting on the boat for his Da's return.
Back on the boat was where he really wanted to be. On the boat and sailing away from this place. It had seemed so important at the time to come to Los Angeles, but now? Now he wondered what on earth had possessed him to...
Over there. Was that the same woman? The blond haired one who had bumped into him and then just disappeared? If it was, then she was right quick, already making it to the end of the aisle he had just started down. Desmond caught just another flash of bright hair, as before, as the woman rounded the corner and once again she was gone. This time he had to suppress a shiver. She was just another woman doing her weekly grocery shopping, of course, but even only viewed from the back she reminded him so much of...
Peanut butter. Yeah, there it was. Did brand matter? Surely not. Not to Charlie, anyway. Desmond picked the jar with the bright blue label, dropped it in his basket, and made his way down the aisle. What next? Had Penny wanted eggs too? They were probably in the next aisle... as was the woman with the hair that looked so familiar.
No, next aisle was 'Soup, Rice, Pasta'. No eggs here. And no Claire-like woman.
Claire. Desmond hadn't thought of Claire in a long long time... except if he was truthful with himself he would admit that she practically lived in her own special niche in the corner of his mind. He didn't need anything in this aisle. That was why he walked so quickly through it and rounded the corner to the next. It wasn't because he wanted to get a better look at this mysterious woman, if he could catch her that is, speedy as she seemed to be. It was just because he didn't need the things in that aisle, so why linger? Besides, he just wanted to get back to the boat and out of this place with it's too many people and the jostling and the unexpectedly seeing people from his past that he never imagined he'd see again, people who had the insane idea of going back to that island because of swinging pendulums and diagrams drawn on the floor and white haired women making crazy pronouncements about what was supposed to happen. It was crazy! What on earth were they thinking? Well, they could go back for all he cared. He wasn't. He was going home to his boat and his wife and his boy...
Bloody hell... Claire?? No! No way. She was just someone with an uncanny resemblance. Someone who had somehow again made it to the end of the aisle that he just now rounded and started down, but just before she disappeared around the corner again she had turned... turned and looked straight at him and had smiled... and... and she looked just like Claire.
Not thinking, not daring to, not able to, Desmond turned his cart around. No need for this aisle either, even though he had no clue what the shelves contained. The next one, yeah, the next one there would be items he needed. And the woman. This 'Claire but not Claire because it was impossible'. She would be in the next aisle because there was no way that she could be that quick...
But she wasn't there. She wasn't there, there were no grocery items that he needed in this section, and Desmond began to feel a little bit stupid. It was because he was tired, and stressed... yes, that was it. Too much stress lately, and it had been difficult to sleep. He hadn't wanted any more of those dreams. Yes, yes, that was it. Stress and not enough sleep.
Desmond turned his cart once more, but this time carefully and at a more reasonable pace. Taking a calming breath, he cleared his mind and began to think of Penny's shopping list. The one in his head, not the one that she hadn't written down because he'd insisted that he could remember everything. Now he had to prove himself right. Right?
Milk! She wanted milk. And lettuce. Hell, he'd forgotten the lettuce! He'd have to go back to the fresh produce, damn it all.
~~~
Well, he'd better have remembered everything, because there was no way he was leaving this check-out line. Desmond shifted from one foot to the other, re-dispersing his weight. Hopefully the cashier would be quick with the customers ahead of him. Looking to his left, he contemplated picking up either the over-the-top gossip rag or the TV Guide. He didn't want, nor did he need, either one of them.
"Probably should have gotten in the next line, you think?"
A feeling like an electric shock ran from Desmond's toes up to his head, stopping at his chest first to make his heart skip an all important beat. His head shot up and his jaw went slack at the sight of the petite, ruefully smiling woman with the half full cart just ahead of him.
"It's always the way. You get in what you think is the shortest line, and it turns out to be the slowest." Claire shook her head and laughed.
Desmond's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
"And just when I'm in a hurry, too! I really need to get home. My son is waiting for me." She looked away for a moment, beginning to load the groceries from her cart onto the conveyor to be scanned. She was up next.
"Claire?" The hoarse, almost soundless utterance forced from Desmond's mouth was still enough to make her look up in response.
"I need to get home. So do you. Right away, Desmond. Right away." The sentence was spoken so calmly Desmond wasn't quite sure he'd heard her right. She looked away again, stretching into her basket for the last item, her blond hair falling over her face.
"Claire... my god..." Not as hoarse. Louder this time. Loud enough to make Claire glance back up.
Claire? No. It wasn't. Blond, yes. Petite and pretty, yes. But not Claire, and looking askance at Desmond as if she suspected he were responsible for every unsolved crime in Los Angeles.
~~~
Putting the car in park, Desmond wiped a hand over his face, pausing in that act to rub at his eyes. It was because he was tired. And stressed. That was it. He needed sleep, good sleep.
How the hell had he thought that the woman at the market was Claire? Crazy, is what it was. A figment of his recently over-taxed mind. That wasn't Claire, that was just a woman who wanted to get home to her son.
But... but she had called him Desmond. She had! Hadn't she? Thinking back on it now, had he actually heard her right? He'd set some kind of speed record for getting back to the marina, "I need to get home. So do you. Right away, Desmond.", heeding what he'd thought was some sort of warning, but now... well hell.
"Bloody hell..."
Desmond shook his head to clear it, opened the door, and walked around to the back of the car to begin getting the paper sacks of groceries out of the back. He may have been hallucinating, but at least he'd remembered the milk.
No more seeing people that weren't supposed to be there. A promise to himself, in addition to Penny and Charlie. It was time to leave and get on with their lives.
Desmond turned from the trunk of the auto, arms laden with groceries, to glance over at the boat where his family was waiting for him...
Ben?