fic: one day we'll be reborn (a little ripped and torn)

[krickets]

title: one day we'll be reborn (a little ripped and torn)
fandom, pairing, count, rating: lost, richard/alex, 2119, r
notes: written for slybrunette, prompt youth

!the teethmarks of time, a continuation of this story

There's something about Alex that refuses to be broken, despite it all: the lie of her youth, a father who was nothing more than a thief in the night, robbing her, quite literally, from her cradle, an act that carved a path of constant betrayal that she would only come to recognize until the damage was done.

Richard, who is accustomed to forgetting, especially those things that are hardest to forget, sees himself in her more than he cares to admit. He hopes it won't stick, that maybe he got her out in time, that perhaps she's going to be okay, normal even, this time. Richard tells himself these things, he suspects, foolishly.

She was his one good deed, his one act that was more than a guiding force, a benevolent voice of reason directing the course of history. His one intervention.

But there is a price to be paid for such favors. And Richard, responsible as he is, does not tell her these things on the train past Montréal. He just promises her she'll see snow for the first time come winter, tells her that things will be different, a new life. Richard watches her face reflected in the window, tired but hopeful, resigned and still grateful, and not yet ready for the truth.

--

At the first apartment, Alex starts to have nightmares. A gun pressed to her temple, a bond broken, warm blood, darkness. She screams.

Richard goes to her, shushes her, kisses her forehead, pushes her hair back, wipes the memory away with his touch, a memory of a moment that never actually happened, not in this lifetime. He rocks her until her breathing is rhythmic and steady, and then he leaves her again.

--

In her waking hours, Alex is, in a word, giddy.

The world is new for her in a way that few can comprehend. She enjoys stores, the shelves full of possibilities, seeing where things come from, the exchange of money. On the island, things always just arrived. Clothes, food, weapons, whatever they needed, sometimes even people. Alex never called it magic. It was just how things were.

Richard takes care of things, gets them moved into a house far from town, helps her make it a home. And Alex? She tells herself that this is all about running away, about creating a place that feels as safe as those yellow houses did when she was a child, before she grew up enough to understand what it all meant. But experience tells her that there's something else, some other truth she has yet to get out of Richard, something he's holding back.

For now, she can live with it.

She's used to life this way.

--

Alex picks up French from the locals. It's a bastardized version of the language spoken by the mother she never got a chance to know, but Richard can tell it makes her feel close to Danielle. He humors her, speaks to her when he cooks, describing each recipe in detail with a perfect Parisian dialect. He points out her mistakes as they talk over their meal, teaches her to recite his favorite quotes.

"How did you learn so well?" Alex asks him one night. They're out on the back deck in a twin pair of Adirondacks, wrapped tight in blankets, warm mugs of tea in their hands, watching the first snowfall of the season.

Richard remembers a girl, not unlike Alex herself. He was younger then, a student, wide-eyed and traveling for the summer and she was in a cafe, a cigarette in her hand, laughing at him. Who would have thought it would take so little? And then summer turned to autumn, and autumn to winter, winter to spring. And then one day her violent streak became too much, so Richard bought a ticket home.

She had been beautiful, and terrible, and though she had driven him away, Richard can only remember loving her.

It was the best year of his life.

"It was a long time ago," he says. And that is not untrue.

"Tell me," Alex says.

And he does.

--

It's that same night when Richard hears screams from her room again. He's there at her side like always, and Alex can't go back to sleep.

"Tell me it never happens," she says.

"It never happens," he tells her, and he think she's finally getting it now.

She kisses him on the lips, her mouth wet and salty with tears. Richard can feel himself respond, his mouth tasting hers, his cock stiffening. His hands move to her shoulders and he bites her bottom lip gently before he pulls away.

He breathes her name, "Alex."

"I know," she says, anticipating every reason he will give. "Just," she settles down next to him once more, her head on his chest. "Stay with me?"

Of course, Richard does.

--

Richard's phone never rings. So when it does, and he retreats to his room or outside the nearest door when the weather gets warm again, Alex knows who is on the other line.

"No," she hears him say one afternoon through the kitchen window. Alex is peeling potatoes over the sink and Richard's in the backyard. He doesn't know the window is open. "No, I haven't told her anything. We're fine here. Everything's fine."

Jacob likes to keep close tabs.

Later, over dinner, she jokes. "Why does he have to call anyway? Wouldn't you think a god could just appear out of thin air or... I don't know, communicate telepathically?"

Richard finishes off his glass of wine, pushes back his chair.

"Jacob's no god, Alex," he tells her. "I made that mistake once. I don't want you making it too."

--

Alex often dreams of him.

They're together in a garden. It's humid-hot, like the island, and she's picking raspberries, red, juicy, sweet. She kneels beside him on the ground, pops one of the ripe fruits into his mouth, kisses his lips, her tongue tasting the fruit in tandem with his. He lets her, something he never does in life. And she slides into his lap, feels him hard against her. She groans, breaking their kiss, and her fingers go to his mouth, tracing over the stains along his lips.

The dream always goes like this. No matter how many times she dreams it, no matter how many times she tries to tell herself to change it.

It's then she remembers his face, watching over her as a toddler, a young girl, a teenager, now. Ever the same.

"How long?" she asks him then, wriggling as his cool fingers brush under the hem of her shirt, teasing her skin.

"How long what?" he asks, plucks another berry from the basket on the ground beside them, holds it to her lips.

"How long have we been here? Like this." Alex doesn't take the fruit. She won't. Not until she has her answer.

Richard laughs, also something he rarely does in life. "Forever, Alex," he says. "Forever."

She wakes up.

--

Alex only asks about her mother once.

She's on the phone from work, an art gallery close by, telling him she'll have to stay late.

"Richard," she says, tentative, unsure.

"Yes," he answers.

"Did you know?" She asks. "About my mother, I mean. That she was looking for me."

Richard sighs, presses a hand into his pocket.

"I knew," he tells her. It was only a matter of time.

"And why didn't you...," she starts.

"I couldn't, Alex." He tells her. "There were rules."

"You broke them once."

Richard remembers. And she remembers too, every night in her dreams.

"That was different," he says.

"I know," she tells him, and then there's silence.

"Richard," she says.

"Alex?"

"Thank you."

--

It's their second new year.

Last year, they drank champagne and watched the fireworks on television, a ritual that was entirely new to Alex. This year, Richard buys her a dress, tells her to find a party in the city, tells her to find someone to kiss at midnight. She goes out, but returns fifteen minutes before the countdown, sparkling in black.

Truth is, Richard expected as much. She's been quiet lately, something on her mind, some words unspoken. He doesn't ask her what happened, he just pours her a glass, turns up the volume, and they sit on the couch, waiting for a new day.

Alex, however, cannot wait.

She takes Richard's glass and sets it on the coffee table alongside her own, slides into his lap.

"Richard," she says.

His hands slide almost instinctively from her knees to her waist. "Alex?" he asks.

"Happy New Year," she says, her hand going to his cock, her lips at his neck.

He knows she's testing him, somehow, he can feel it. But instead of telling her no, instead of standing up, pushing her off of his lap, he cups her neck, covers her mouth with his, flips her underneath him on the couch.

She reaches for his buckle, and he for the zipper at the back of her dress. She unbuttons his shirt, and he slides his hands up her thighs, pulls at the material he finds underneath her dress.

It's all a flurry of motion, and Richard finds he cannot slow himself. His teeth graze lightly over her nipple and she arches back, her hips into his, and then they are joined. She's not a virgin, that much he knows, but still she gasps in that moment.

"Alex," her name comes from the back of his throat and she covers his lips with hers as they move together, the sounds of the television in the background, his thrusts in time with the chanting from the crowd, until they're coming to the tune of a song, Alex tensing and shuddering beneath him, Richard emptying himself inside her before collapsing against her stomach.

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun 'til dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

--

In the morning, Richard finds her in the bathroom staring at herself in the mirror. He slips behind her, catches her waist in his hands, kisses her shoulder.

Alex is no dummy, and she knows last night wouldn't have happened if something hadn't changed. Richard wouldn't have let it. He almost didn't anyway. She leans back into him, still staring at her own face in the mirror, the curve of her lip, the freckles across her nose, the shape of her eyes, full of youth and inexperience.

She doesn't remember not looking exactly like this in the past two years, maybe longer. But she's young and change is subtle, so she wasn't sure until last night.

"When were you going to tell me?" she asks him, and Richard looks up at her, his hands going to her shoulders. "That I'm like you now?"

He sees the tears in her eyes, looks down, exhales.

"I didn't have to, Alex," he tells her. "You already knew. You just... hadn't realized it yet. You needed the time. I wanted to give you that."

She turns to him, presses her forehead to his. He kisses her eyes, tasting her salty tears on his lips. Alex wants to kick and scream, to call him a bastard, to push him away when he wraps his arms around her. But she doesn't. Instead she feels relief, wants to ask him what it was like for him, wants him to tell her what this all means.

But, she suspects, as he leads her to the bedroom, he doesn't have all the answers.

--

"I wanted to show you this," Richard tells her one afternoon, months later. It's a cloudy day and she's sitting on the steps outside, drawing sketches onto a blank page. He pulls something from his pocket, a photograph, weathered and old, black and white.

He hands it to her and lets her examine it for a moment as he sits next to her.

"That's me and..."

"The girl from the cafe," she finishes.

"You remembered," he says, smiles almost sheepishly.

"Of course," she says. She stares at the photograph, entranced. "You haven't changed much," she observes, "but still, you look so young," she tells him, touches his smiling face in the photograph. "Happy."

"I thought you might like to see something different," he says.

Alex reaches for his face, her fingertips trailing over his features, stopping at the corners of his eyes. "Here," she says. "I can tell here."

Richard closes his lids, lets her trace over his skin, lets her kiss his lashes. He can hear the wind pick up, a light rumbling in the clouds.

Alex laces her fingers through his.

"Let's go inside."

- fin

!the teethmarks of time a continuation of this story

Comments

[slybrunette.livejournal.com]

This is awesome. Once upon a time, I had delusions of wrting Alex/Richard in France fic. You've put them in Montreal but it's the same basic idea: her French roots. It's so perfect to have this take place there.

But that's not what's important here. What's important is the realization that hit me in the second to last section, just when I was about to ask questions about alternate timelines and why things didn't add up. YOU MADE HER LIKE HIM. Holy shit, that fucking blows my mind. And the girl in the cafe is her, and they've just been...repeating and trying to fix things the whole time.

I love that you made this so it could fit with canon. You know me, and how I am with that, and then you make her dream of what must be her death, and you have this...loophole here that brings it all together and actually makes it plausible. And you did it beautifully.

My favorite part though has to be the section with New Year's Eve. I'm a stickler for the glitz and the glamour and the whole idea of starting anew and kissing at midnight and too much alcohol, and you wrapped all that up here with them and it's just so...vivid I guess, in my mind. It just adds something special that absolutely sucks me in.

LOVE THIS LOVE THEM LOVE YOU. OMG.

[gigglemonster.livejournal.com]

a;lsdjfasd NO WORDS for how awesome this is dude. SERIOUSLY
I cannot even quote you any lines because every word of this is so amazing and gorgeous. I love that even though you write these two so in character you're able to make them your own, so incredibly unique and wooorlds better then the show could ever do lol
I love Alex's giddiness over all the mundane real world things, I love Richard comforting her when she has her nightmares (*heartclutch*)
I love Richard recalling his year with the girl from the cafe, that detail is just so....idek but it's awesome.
I think one of my favorite parts may be the New Year's section. Her coming back after he tells her to go find someone to kiss. Aww! Heeee
And SHOCKER! Alex turning out to be like Richard, how incredibly clever!! SO GOOD! Also JACOB! Okay now I'm like all over the place lol you've broken my comment maker.
Basically I'm memming this so hard - or probably just keeping this tab open indefinitely so that i can re-read it a bazillion times. :D
♥ ♥ ♥!!

[crickets.livejournal.com]

So many of my lost fics have to take place off-island so I always have this moment where I have to pick a place, this just fit for the reasons you mentioned.

(I actually hate writing LA fic because I just imagine it as concrete, sun and bars.)

I think I've kind of wanted to do that for a long time, have an excuse to make her ageless like he is. Your prompt is what finally pushed me to that.

I tried to work it into canon as much as I could. The girl in the cafe is not Alex, it's just a time before Richard's change, a story and a relationship she could connect with.

For some reason I thought the New Year's Eve thing would make you happy.

I'm so glad you liked this! Thank you for prompting me!

[slybrunette.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I misread the girl in the cafe. I'm really tired, did I mention that? lol. But really I'm glad to give you the excuse to write this :)

Thanks for this!

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Sorry I didn't get to this until now. But, yay! I'm so glad you liked this so much.

Re: The story of Richard's youth. Honestly ever since that line where Richard is the way he is because Jacob made him that way, I have wondered about his life before Jacob made him that way. So I'm glad that worked for you. Just a little possibility, some innocent time in his life.

Haha, I wanted Jacob to be a bigger part of this but couldn't figure out where to fit it in. Keeping tabs on them because they're a part of him, like some kind of twisted extended family, lol.

Anyway, yay for memming and liking it so much you'll re-read. Very flattering.

[workswithwords.livejournal.com]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. First of all, YAY MONTREAL. It's one of my favorite cities in all of Canada, and I liked the tiny little subtleties that made it really feel like there.

I also love this part:


She doesn't remember not looking exactly like this in the past two years, maybe longer. But she's young and change is subtle, so she wasn't sure until last night.

"When were you going to tell me?" she asks him, and Richard looks up at her, his hands going to her shoulders. "That I'm like you now?"

He sees the tears in her eyes, looks down, exhales.

"I didn't have to, Alex," he tells her. "You already knew. You just... hadn't realized it yet. You needed the time. I wanted to give you that."

She turns to him, presses her forehead to his. He kisses her eyes, tasting her salty tears on his lips. Alex wants to kick and scream, to call him a bastard, to push him away when he wraps his arms around her. But she doesn't. Instead she feels relief, wants to ask him what it was like for him, wants him to tell her what this all means.

But, she suspects, as he leads her to the bedroom, he doesn't have all the answers.


When Alex admits to what she is, that she's like Richard, it's heartbreaking and lovely all in the same moment.

Thank you so much for writing this, I really loved it, and I totally want to imagine this is what happened to Alex instead of the OTHER option!

[crickets.livejournal.com]

I'm glad the setting worked, it just seemed like the perfect place to do this. I'm glad it worked. Someday I'll have to go there, lol.

This show killing off/writing off all my favorite people blows. I have to make my own fun. Alex being alive = good. Alex being immortal, just cooler. (And especially with Richard, now he's not so alone, poor guy, lol.)

[dazzlebug.livejournal.com]

This is so gorgeous. I've never read an Alex/Richard before. As with all of your writing, it has this disjointed flow (oxymoron but it makes sense to me) and a very organic feel. Like it all just begins to bloom on the page in front of me.

I really loved it :)

Also? Can I just say it makes me happy to see more regular fics from you, even if I'm not in some of the fandoms you write for. Just makes me smile when I see you've been writing again :)

[ilaydanur.livejournal.com]

Wow, really great story. I loved it!

[bittersweet325.livejournal.com]

This was fantastic! I love fic where Alex ends up like Richard and that theme was really well handled here. I liked the glimpse into what Richard's life might have been like before. And the general Richard/Alex-iness of the whole thing was, of course, awesome.

Jacob calling and Alex's following remarks was a nice touch of brilliance.

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Alex/Richard is one of my favorite pairings for sure. Thanks for giving it a shot Kayl and I'm glad you loved it so much!

I feel like I just need to write every once in a while before I get totally out of the habit. I'm glad you look forward to them!

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Thanks! :)

[crickets.livejournal.com]

There are more with that theme? I'm not sure I've read any, I would love to find some more like that.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review. Much appreciated!

[bachlava.livejournal.com]

Such a lovely little glimpse into a shattered Alex... I've always loved your deftness with episodic format, but it works especially well here. Alex trying to learn French is heartbreaking.

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Aw, wow thank you for reading it means a lot to me that you did. I'm so glad you liked this and my work with Alex. It's definitely special coming from you who loves her so much. :)

Oh, eta, I wanted to say thank you also for using the term episodic format. I know what my preferred writing style is when it comes to fic, I just never really know what to call it, lol. So thanks!

[daybreak777.livejournal.com]

That was lovely. I just got absorbed into this world. I really liked Alex on the show and I love that you made her life in this story so layered and dreamy and fascinating. :-)

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you read this. I'm always pleased when you like something I've written. *beams* I miss Alex, a lot. Maybe she will be back next season? One can hope!

[bachlava.livejournal.com]

Thank you for writing! Yes, I have developed something of an inmates-run-the-asylum view toward Lost canon - Eko is alive and well too, dammit.

I think it was... I want to say zelda_zee who brought the term "episodic narration" to my notice. I've liked it ever since.

[missy-useless.livejournal.com]

I usually don't read Alex/Richard, but this fic is absolutely wonderful. The concept, the setting, your Alex and Richard voices, everything is so perfect and works very well. Your writing is beautiful. I loved this, thanks for sharing.

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Aw well thank you for reading it anyway. I'm really glad you enjoyed this! ♥!

[angela-weber.livejournal.com]

Thank God for lost_fic_awards! Without that place I would have missed this gem of a story. This is just . . . stunning, really. The idea, the execution, the characterizations, everything! The first line alone is kind of a masterpiece. ;) Gorgeous.

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Well thank you! I'm actually glad for the LFAs too, not just for being nommed, but for reminding me of this fic, lol.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it so much! Very flattering comments.

[ralebp54.livejournal.com]

Awesome!! loved every interaction between Richard and Alex, how Richard is always there to comfort her and take care of her... and when Alex comes back on New years eve it speaks so much about how even though she doesnt know she's not normal anymore she can feel it. she is different now! loved it! GReat job