Alphabet Soup Part 5
Title: Alphabet Soup (Part 5/8)
Characters: Kate, Kate/Jack
Summary: A series of drabbles. Kate’s POV. Post The End
Rating: R-ish I think
AN: I apologize for the delay in posting this part, I was travelling for 24 hours and was tired. Hope you like this. Oh, and this part has the “dirtiest” drabble of the series. Just thought I should point that out.
Mother
It is easier to talk to her now. It is unfortunate that it took all this to make it possible for Kate to open up and talk to her mother, to finally confess everything and be honest about it all. She allows herself to cry sometimes, something she’d tried to prevent herself from doing around her mother, not always succeeding though.
She drives up to her hometown in Iowa once a month. It is a long drive but Kate doesn’t mind. It gives her a chance to give her a break from the hectic life in LA. A life in which everyone and everything is a reminder of him. She enjoys the long drive as it lets her clear her mind and collects her thoughts, to figure out exactly what to say and how to say it.
She had told her about Aaron, how they were pretending he is her son, confessed about the lie the Oceanic 6 had to live. She’d told her about Claire and the island, about Sawyer and Cassidy and Clementine. She’s tearfully begged her forgiveness for killing Wayne, explained her reasons and wept for hours afterward.
Today she wants to tell her about Jack, about he she finally understood what her mom had been trying to tell her all these years ago - you cannot help who you love Katherine.
She reads the sign and takes a deep breath. She is glad she does not have to face anyone from town, though, because that she is not yet ready for - she is still known as Diane Jansen’s daughter who blew up her father. She checks her side view mirror and makes a right, finding herself at the familiar entrance to the town cemetery.
Nurse
Looks like I’m gonna be your nurse.
Won’t be the first time.
She can still feel his blood against her skin. Her stomach turns at the memory of the crimson red seeping through his fingers. He knew he was dying and she hates that he was joking about it, not letting her see the scared vulnerable part of him. She wishes he hadn’t asked her to leave, asked her to take his sister back to his nephew.
If he’d given her a choice she would have chosen to stay; to be his nurse one more time and stitch him back up, fix him like he fixed her.
Orange
“These are cute,” Claire comments as they are folding laundry together on a lazy summer afternoon. Kate looks up and sees Claire pointing towards a pair of orange lace panties. An involuntary blush creeps to Kate's cheeks and she nods, biting her upper lip. Kate is rescued by the phone ringing in the other room and Claire getting up to pick it.
Kate touches her cheeks and smiles to herself. Those had always been Jack’s favorite, although he would never admit that in so many words. But there was always something different when she wore them. He would always look at her with the lust in his eyes a shade darker than usual; his touches were always a little more eager, rougher; his kisses more passionate, more raw. She closes her eyes and recalls the first time she’d worn them. Her fingers retrace the path his lips and tongue had made on her flushed skin. Tender at first, he’s left kisses on her lips, behind her ear, along her jaw as his fingers started to unbutton her shirt. Her fingers linger at that spot on her neck where he’d paused a little longer, sucking gently. She can feel his laugh vibrating through her when she moaned as he nibbled at that spot. She can still feel his finger, lip and tongue as they made their journey along her skin, his fingers leading the way, ridding her of her clothes. She shivers at the memory of his lips upon her chest, the breeze dancing into the room cooling the spots his lips had recently deserted. She closes her eyes and sees his face as he reached the edge of her shorts, his thumbs ceasing their caress on her thighs, his jaw dropping, as his eyes notice the orange lace peeking out from behind her shorts. He looped his fingers around the waistband and the shorts were off in record time. She can still hear the sound that escaped his lips resonating in her ears; a grunt, or something like a growl, dark, raw and feral.
It took him a moment to recover, but he was soon back to where he left off. There was a little something different; better. And as his lips found their way back to their original path, reaching their intended destination, all she could do was grab onto his hair and hold on, grateful for the strong hold he had on her hips.
Characters: Kate, Kate/Jack
Summary: A series of drabbles. Kate’s POV. Post The End
Rating: R-ish I think
AN: I apologize for the delay in posting this part, I was travelling for 24 hours and was tired. Hope you like this. Oh, and this part has the “dirtiest” drabble of the series. Just thought I should point that out.
Mother
It is easier to talk to her now. It is unfortunate that it took all this to make it possible for Kate to open up and talk to her mother, to finally confess everything and be honest about it all. She allows herself to cry sometimes, something she’d tried to prevent herself from doing around her mother, not always succeeding though.
She drives up to her hometown in Iowa once a month. It is a long drive but Kate doesn’t mind. It gives her a chance to give her a break from the hectic life in LA. A life in which everyone and everything is a reminder of him. She enjoys the long drive as it lets her clear her mind and collects her thoughts, to figure out exactly what to say and how to say it.
She had told her about Aaron, how they were pretending he is her son, confessed about the lie the Oceanic 6 had to live. She’d told her about Claire and the island, about Sawyer and Cassidy and Clementine. She’s tearfully begged her forgiveness for killing Wayne, explained her reasons and wept for hours afterward.
Today she wants to tell her about Jack, about he she finally understood what her mom had been trying to tell her all these years ago - you cannot help who you love Katherine.
She reads the sign and takes a deep breath. She is glad she does not have to face anyone from town, though, because that she is not yet ready for - she is still known as Diane Jansen’s daughter who blew up her father. She checks her side view mirror and makes a right, finding herself at the familiar entrance to the town cemetery.
Nurse
Looks like I’m gonna be your nurse.
Won’t be the first time.
She can still feel his blood against her skin. Her stomach turns at the memory of the crimson red seeping through his fingers. He knew he was dying and she hates that he was joking about it, not letting her see the scared vulnerable part of him. She wishes he hadn’t asked her to leave, asked her to take his sister back to his nephew.
If he’d given her a choice she would have chosen to stay; to be his nurse one more time and stitch him back up, fix him like he fixed her.
Orange
“These are cute,” Claire comments as they are folding laundry together on a lazy summer afternoon. Kate looks up and sees Claire pointing towards a pair of orange lace panties. An involuntary blush creeps to Kate's cheeks and she nods, biting her upper lip. Kate is rescued by the phone ringing in the other room and Claire getting up to pick it.
Kate touches her cheeks and smiles to herself. Those had always been Jack’s favorite, although he would never admit that in so many words. But there was always something different when she wore them. He would always look at her with the lust in his eyes a shade darker than usual; his touches were always a little more eager, rougher; his kisses more passionate, more raw. She closes her eyes and recalls the first time she’d worn them. Her fingers retrace the path his lips and tongue had made on her flushed skin. Tender at first, he’s left kisses on her lips, behind her ear, along her jaw as his fingers started to unbutton her shirt. Her fingers linger at that spot on her neck where he’d paused a little longer, sucking gently. She can feel his laugh vibrating through her when she moaned as he nibbled at that spot. She can still feel his finger, lip and tongue as they made their journey along her skin, his fingers leading the way, ridding her of her clothes. She shivers at the memory of his lips upon her chest, the breeze dancing into the room cooling the spots his lips had recently deserted. She closes her eyes and sees his face as he reached the edge of her shorts, his thumbs ceasing their caress on her thighs, his jaw dropping, as his eyes notice the orange lace peeking out from behind her shorts. He looped his fingers around the waistband and the shorts were off in record time. She can still hear the sound that escaped his lips resonating in her ears; a grunt, or something like a growl, dark, raw and feral.
It took him a moment to recover, but he was soon back to where he left off. There was a little something different; better. And as his lips found their way back to their original path, reaching their intended destination, all she could do was grab onto his hair and hold on, grateful for the strong hold he had on her hips.