I've been dead and I wanna come out
Title: I've been dead and I wanna come out
Author: Phelipa
Pairing: Juliet/Ben
Rating: PG
Summary: For
missy_useless who requested Ben/Juliet (H is for Hunt) for the alphabet meme. She'll be back.
AN: I hope this turned out alright - it gave me a lot of trouble and I'm ot sure how I feel about the outcome...
Hazy, diffuse lighting blinds his aching eyes and he blinks rapidly, trying to clear his muddled vision.
She hovers over him, an angel in white scrubs, and he lets his eyes skim her body. They follow the narrow tapering of her thin waist and the almost imperceptible swell of her breasts underneath the loose garment as she examines the aching wound.
Her hands are cool, comforting on his feverish brow and when she catches him with his eyes open, she touches his shoulder gently, murmuring something soothing that he can’t decipher. He struggles to cling to consciousness when his vision blurs and fades away as she injects clear liquid through the IV port snaking its way into his vein.
*
Pain sears in his chest; a burning, fiery ache that intensifies as he’s bumped and jostled. Her voice is soft and melodic, but it’s not directed at him. Another voice joins hers and he struggles against the sedative, fighting to see what’s going on. She touches him again, a light hand on her shoulder and a reassuring word, and an engine roars next to his ear, pulling her away from him.
He doesn’t see her for several days and he’s moved in a strange, drug induced trance, watching the wild green of the jungle spin around him as words are spoken and fiery hot liquid is smoothed over the gaping, oozing chest wound. Something strange courses through his body, something unfamiliar and frightening, and he no longer hears or sees anything. His other senses sharpen and he’s suddenly acutely aware of a warm presence at his side.
Ages later (or so it feels) a man’s voice emerges from the black abyss and calmly says,
“Welcome, Ben.”
*
When he returns the world is clear, clear as crystal, and it’s as though a hazy shade has been lifted from his eyes.
When he sees her for the first time he can almost feel himself salivating, he wants her like he’s never wanted anything in his entire life. She’s oddly cautious around him, there’s always a distance between them or an additional person in the room, and every so often he notices her shudder lightly when she turns away from him. It spurs him on, knowing that somewhere deep inside she harbours a completely rational fear of him.
He feels his strength returning, little by little, and the day he feels well enough to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, she disappears.
Rage stirs in his chest, a fury that he’s never felt before, and it consumes him. He works harder, works longer, to get himself up and as soon as he’s able to keep himself steady he tears her house apart from top to bottom, looking for any lingering sign of her.
When Horace finds the mess, hours later, he’s careful to retreat to the infirmary and roll over on his side, keeping his eyes shut tight when they come in to check on him. His chest shudders, almost giving him away, but he forces himself to steady his breathing and control the surge of anger that floods his veins.
She’ll be back. He can sense it, so strong that he doesn’t doubt it for a second, and when she does he’ll be ready.
*
When she does return, decades later, she steps off the submarine a new, unfamiliar person.
She stumbles out of the ship like a fawn testing out its legs for the first time, eyes wide with fear and doe-eyed innocence, and he feels something inside his chest let out a victorious, anticipatory roar as he clutches her hand tightly in his and flashes a disarming smile,
“Welcome to the Island, Dr. Burke.”
*
Author: Phelipa
Pairing: Juliet/Ben
Rating: PG
Summary: For
missy_useless who requested Ben/Juliet (H is for Hunt) for the alphabet meme. She'll be back.
AN: I hope this turned out alright - it gave me a lot of trouble and I'm ot sure how I feel about the outcome...
Hazy, diffuse lighting blinds his aching eyes and he blinks rapidly, trying to clear his muddled vision.
She hovers over him, an angel in white scrubs, and he lets his eyes skim her body. They follow the narrow tapering of her thin waist and the almost imperceptible swell of her breasts underneath the loose garment as she examines the aching wound.
Her hands are cool, comforting on his feverish brow and when she catches him with his eyes open, she touches his shoulder gently, murmuring something soothing that he can’t decipher. He struggles to cling to consciousness when his vision blurs and fades away as she injects clear liquid through the IV port snaking its way into his vein.
*
Pain sears in his chest; a burning, fiery ache that intensifies as he’s bumped and jostled. Her voice is soft and melodic, but it’s not directed at him. Another voice joins hers and he struggles against the sedative, fighting to see what’s going on. She touches him again, a light hand on her shoulder and a reassuring word, and an engine roars next to his ear, pulling her away from him.
He doesn’t see her for several days and he’s moved in a strange, drug induced trance, watching the wild green of the jungle spin around him as words are spoken and fiery hot liquid is smoothed over the gaping, oozing chest wound. Something strange courses through his body, something unfamiliar and frightening, and he no longer hears or sees anything. His other senses sharpen and he’s suddenly acutely aware of a warm presence at his side.
Ages later (or so it feels) a man’s voice emerges from the black abyss and calmly says,
“Welcome, Ben.”
*
When he returns the world is clear, clear as crystal, and it’s as though a hazy shade has been lifted from his eyes.
When he sees her for the first time he can almost feel himself salivating, he wants her like he’s never wanted anything in his entire life. She’s oddly cautious around him, there’s always a distance between them or an additional person in the room, and every so often he notices her shudder lightly when she turns away from him. It spurs him on, knowing that somewhere deep inside she harbours a completely rational fear of him.
He feels his strength returning, little by little, and the day he feels well enough to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, she disappears.
Rage stirs in his chest, a fury that he’s never felt before, and it consumes him. He works harder, works longer, to get himself up and as soon as he’s able to keep himself steady he tears her house apart from top to bottom, looking for any lingering sign of her.
When Horace finds the mess, hours later, he’s careful to retreat to the infirmary and roll over on his side, keeping his eyes shut tight when they come in to check on him. His chest shudders, almost giving him away, but he forces himself to steady his breathing and control the surge of anger that floods his veins.
She’ll be back. He can sense it, so strong that he doesn’t doubt it for a second, and when she does he’ll be ready.
*
When she does return, decades later, she steps off the submarine a new, unfamiliar person.
She stumbles out of the ship like a fawn testing out its legs for the first time, eyes wide with fear and doe-eyed innocence, and he feels something inside his chest let out a victorious, anticipatory roar as he clutches her hand tightly in his and flashes a disarming smile,
“Welcome to the Island, Dr. Burke.”
*