(no subject)
Title: Another White Dash (Part 1/4: West)
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Claire, Jack, mentions of other characters.
Word Count: 1,218
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Part two to be posted tonight, keep your eyes open for it.
Summary: AU, post island. Claire can't sleep for long. She never sleeps more than five hours a night. This morning it's only four, and she wakes before the sun. It's not that she isn't tired -- she is -- but the dreams get to her. And if it's not them it's that sound. A baby's cry. But when she wakes up she's alone.
She’ll always think it was poetic that they got rescued in the spring. It’s the season of new life after all. She can open the drapes in her room, on the second floor, and see flowers blooming, and budding trees, and it all speaks of birth and beginnings. That’s what this is for her. A new beginning, a chance to start over. She can do anything with the money she knows they’ll get in the settlement; she can be anyone she wants. She’s in a new country, and a new state of mind, no longer content (as if she ever was) with the life she led back in Australia.
Except she can’t move on.
Claire can’t sleep for long. She stays up all night, occupying herself anyway she can, and she usually passes out somewhere around one in the morning. She never sleeps more than five hours. This morning it’s only four, and she wakes up before the sun. It’s not that she isn’t tired, she is, but the dreams get to her. And if it’s not them it’s that sound. A baby’s cry. Quiet, somewhere far off in the distance. When she opens her eyes she’s alone in the room.
She doesn’t stay in bed and try to go back to sleep. Once she’s up, she’s up; she’s long since stopped trying to change that. Instead, she rises in the dark, finding her way out of her room and into the bathroom, the next door over, easily. She hits the light switch and the bulbs over the sink snap on as she shields her eyes from the bright assault. After a few seconds her eyes adjust, and she looks into the mirror. It’s what she does in the morning, to remind herself of who she is, and where she is. That the island is now the past, and she survived everything it threw at her - at all of them. It’s a silly ritual, but it helps her somehow.
After a minute she goes back to her room, closing the door quietly as possible. She doesn’t want to wake anyone up.
Under dim lights she tries to read, but can’t seem to get past the first few lines. It’s not the book, it’s her. She’s restless.
There’s footsteps outside her room, one’s that pause at the door. She knows he’s trying to figure out if she’s gone back to sleep, doesn’t want to wake her on the off chance she has. It’s been a month and he should know better, but she can’t fault him for being concerned. She intentionally drops the book down next to her, the soft sound a sign to him that she’s awake.
The door cracks a second later, and he pokes his head in. She gives him a weak smile and nods for him to come in.
“You’re up early,” Jack tells her, sitting down on the edge of her bed, opposite of where she sits in the seat in front of the window. She likes to watch the sun break through the sky, and here she can see the edges of the sky start to turn a faint orange.
“I’m always up early,” she replies, fingers absentmindedly toying with the fringed bookmark she’s been using. “You’re not.”
“I heard you get up.” His room is on the other side of hers. She hears him get up at four-thirty a few days a week. He’s starting back at the hospital, easing in. She thinks it’s less his desire to get back to work and more that there isn’t much to do around here all day. Life is monotonous, and it makes her miss the island because at least it kept them on their toes.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
He shrugs, “I don’t mind.” She doesn’t say anything to him because there’s nothing to say. Sometimes she thinks it’s harder to talk to him than before she knew he was her half-brother. It shouldn’t be like that, they should be able to find common ground there. But they’re still getting used to this. She’s still getting used to the idea of having actual family, after having just her aunt for the past few years before the island. His protective instinct sure hadn’t taken long to kick in though, she thinks. “Are you okay?”
She looks at him like he should already know the answer, but he doesn’t drop his eyes, and she asks, “Are any of us?”
“Right.” Now he looks away.
“I know you’re just trying to help, Jack, but this is just something I have to deal with on my own.” She hates to have to say it, but if she doesn’t he’ll just keep prying, just keep asking. “We all have to put this behind us on our own time, in our own way.”
This time it’s him that says “sorry”. She nods, even though his apology really isn’t necessary. If he had his way though he’d apologize for every death, every mistake made, on that island, including the ones that weren’t even indirectly his fault. A part of her thinks it’s almost therapeutic for him, that he’s apologizing for other indiscretions, and so she lets him.
“I can’t stay here.” She doesn’t realize that she actually said it out loud, until he reacts.
“I don’t mind you being here.” He tells her, completely misinterpreting her statement.
“No, I mean -“ she gets so tired of having to explain everything sometimes. “I can’t be here. Sure, this is fine now, but at some point I have to do something with the rest of my life.” She sighs. “I might as well start now.”
Jack doesn’t fight her on it. She almost expects him to, and the fact that he doesn’t is almost disappointing, even though it wouldn’t have mattered. “Where are you going to go?”
“I have no idea,” she replies. He probably thinks she doesn’t want him to be able to find her, but that’s not it at all. She’s got all these possibilities, all these places she can go - that she wants to go - and she honestly has no idea where to start.
Out of the corner of her eye she can see him playing with his hands in his lap. He’s fighting the instinct to reach out to her. She curls in on herself, and looks away from him, back towards the window. He sits there for a moment longer before he gets up and leaves her.
---
She leaves the second week of April. Packs up everything she still has in a single suitcase, and hops the first bus of the day. He’s gone in early to work, left at five. She leaves no note, and she can’t leave contact information because she doesn’t know where she’s going. The important thing is that she has his number; she’ll find him again when she’s in the state of mind for trying to be his sister, trying to be his family or whatever he seems to want from her.
The thought of leaving everything behind - of finally starting over - it excites her and scares her at the same time. She’s got nothing and everything to lose.
With her head pressed to the window of the bus, she watches the sun rise on a new day.
Part 2: South
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Claire, Jack, mentions of other characters.
Word Count: 1,218
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Part two to be posted tonight, keep your eyes open for it.
Summary: AU, post island. Claire can't sleep for long. She never sleeps more than five hours a night. This morning it's only four, and she wakes before the sun. It's not that she isn't tired -- she is -- but the dreams get to her. And if it's not them it's that sound. A baby's cry. But when she wakes up she's alone.
She’ll always think it was poetic that they got rescued in the spring. It’s the season of new life after all. She can open the drapes in her room, on the second floor, and see flowers blooming, and budding trees, and it all speaks of birth and beginnings. That’s what this is for her. A new beginning, a chance to start over. She can do anything with the money she knows they’ll get in the settlement; she can be anyone she wants. She’s in a new country, and a new state of mind, no longer content (as if she ever was) with the life she led back in Australia.
Except she can’t move on.
Claire can’t sleep for long. She stays up all night, occupying herself anyway she can, and she usually passes out somewhere around one in the morning. She never sleeps more than five hours. This morning it’s only four, and she wakes up before the sun. It’s not that she isn’t tired, she is, but the dreams get to her. And if it’s not them it’s that sound. A baby’s cry. Quiet, somewhere far off in the distance. When she opens her eyes she’s alone in the room.
She doesn’t stay in bed and try to go back to sleep. Once she’s up, she’s up; she’s long since stopped trying to change that. Instead, she rises in the dark, finding her way out of her room and into the bathroom, the next door over, easily. She hits the light switch and the bulbs over the sink snap on as she shields her eyes from the bright assault. After a few seconds her eyes adjust, and she looks into the mirror. It’s what she does in the morning, to remind herself of who she is, and where she is. That the island is now the past, and she survived everything it threw at her - at all of them. It’s a silly ritual, but it helps her somehow.
After a minute she goes back to her room, closing the door quietly as possible. She doesn’t want to wake anyone up.
Under dim lights she tries to read, but can’t seem to get past the first few lines. It’s not the book, it’s her. She’s restless.
There’s footsteps outside her room, one’s that pause at the door. She knows he’s trying to figure out if she’s gone back to sleep, doesn’t want to wake her on the off chance she has. It’s been a month and he should know better, but she can’t fault him for being concerned. She intentionally drops the book down next to her, the soft sound a sign to him that she’s awake.
The door cracks a second later, and he pokes his head in. She gives him a weak smile and nods for him to come in.
“You’re up early,” Jack tells her, sitting down on the edge of her bed, opposite of where she sits in the seat in front of the window. She likes to watch the sun break through the sky, and here she can see the edges of the sky start to turn a faint orange.
“I’m always up early,” she replies, fingers absentmindedly toying with the fringed bookmark she’s been using. “You’re not.”
“I heard you get up.” His room is on the other side of hers. She hears him get up at four-thirty a few days a week. He’s starting back at the hospital, easing in. She thinks it’s less his desire to get back to work and more that there isn’t much to do around here all day. Life is monotonous, and it makes her miss the island because at least it kept them on their toes.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
He shrugs, “I don’t mind.” She doesn’t say anything to him because there’s nothing to say. Sometimes she thinks it’s harder to talk to him than before she knew he was her half-brother. It shouldn’t be like that, they should be able to find common ground there. But they’re still getting used to this. She’s still getting used to the idea of having actual family, after having just her aunt for the past few years before the island. His protective instinct sure hadn’t taken long to kick in though, she thinks. “Are you okay?”
She looks at him like he should already know the answer, but he doesn’t drop his eyes, and she asks, “Are any of us?”
“Right.” Now he looks away.
“I know you’re just trying to help, Jack, but this is just something I have to deal with on my own.” She hates to have to say it, but if she doesn’t he’ll just keep prying, just keep asking. “We all have to put this behind us on our own time, in our own way.”
This time it’s him that says “sorry”. She nods, even though his apology really isn’t necessary. If he had his way though he’d apologize for every death, every mistake made, on that island, including the ones that weren’t even indirectly his fault. A part of her thinks it’s almost therapeutic for him, that he’s apologizing for other indiscretions, and so she lets him.
“I can’t stay here.” She doesn’t realize that she actually said it out loud, until he reacts.
“I don’t mind you being here.” He tells her, completely misinterpreting her statement.
“No, I mean -“ she gets so tired of having to explain everything sometimes. “I can’t be here. Sure, this is fine now, but at some point I have to do something with the rest of my life.” She sighs. “I might as well start now.”
Jack doesn’t fight her on it. She almost expects him to, and the fact that he doesn’t is almost disappointing, even though it wouldn’t have mattered. “Where are you going to go?”
“I have no idea,” she replies. He probably thinks she doesn’t want him to be able to find her, but that’s not it at all. She’s got all these possibilities, all these places she can go - that she wants to go - and she honestly has no idea where to start.
Out of the corner of her eye she can see him playing with his hands in his lap. He’s fighting the instinct to reach out to her. She curls in on herself, and looks away from him, back towards the window. He sits there for a moment longer before he gets up and leaves her.
---
She leaves the second week of April. Packs up everything she still has in a single suitcase, and hops the first bus of the day. He’s gone in early to work, left at five. She leaves no note, and she can’t leave contact information because she doesn’t know where she’s going. The important thing is that she has his number; she’ll find him again when she’s in the state of mind for trying to be his sister, trying to be his family or whatever he seems to want from her.
The thought of leaving everything behind - of finally starting over - it excites her and scares her at the same time. She’s got nothing and everything to lose.
With her head pressed to the window of the bus, she watches the sun rise on a new day.
Part 2: South