fic: the business of making babies, lost, claire/sawyer/jack

[krickets]

the business of making babies, r
lost, claire/sawyer/jack, 402
never thought I'd write in the names & curses 'verse again, but I did, for gigglemonster. possibly the most sappy (yet still strange) thing I've written. you've been warned.


Claire stands in front of the canvas, the crumbling black between her fingertips. She makes her last stroke, another sketch complete, another story finished.

There are days when she wonders why they don't move anymore. But then she hears Jack and Sawyer's voices coming from the kitchen, feels the life growing inside her, a baby made with Jack's blessing, and she remembers.

It's not to replace the one she lost. Claire knows that's what the three of them were about at the start. For her.

But not anymore.

They hadn't always been as careful as they could be, but Claire had always been sure. Another pill down and it's one less thing to worry about.

Jack camps out in the guest bedroom for a month, more like three. He keeps his distance, and she knows it must be difficult. To not be able to touch her, to be apart, to hear the sounds from their bedroom, her and Sawyer and the business of making babies. Some nights, Sawyer leaves her and she can hear the two of them from across the hall. It's a lonely feeling, like they're all somehow separated again, and she can't help but feel that's not at all how it should be.

One night, Jack slips into the room, slides against the wall in one corner, watches them from his spot on the hardwood floor, doesn't make a sound. Afterward, Claire's arm reaches out to him and he crawls onto the bed, fully clothed. He fits himself between them, kisses each of their lips, falls asleep in the tangle of their limbs.

Claire is sure that's the night it happened.

She remembers the afternoon she calls him from the road after a visit to the clinic. And the way he was after, a man making up for lost time.

Now, Claire washes her hands, flicks the light switch in her studio and joins them in the kitchen. Jack whispers something Claire can't hear and Sawyer laughs. She comes up behind them, a hand on each of their heads.

"What's all this talk?" she asks.

Jack's hand goes to her lower back and Sawyer pulls the chair between them out for her. "Nothing," they both say.

She sits, tuning out their words, simply enjoying the gentle hum of their conversation.

Her hand goes to her belly. Wake up little girl, she thinks. Wake up and listen to your daddies.

-fin




*sketch from a photo of graffiti art found on the net.

Comments

[crickets.livejournal.com]

Hahaha, well I don't know how much more there is to say but I suppose there's an endless list of missing stories/scenes about how they got there that I could tap into. Maybe.

Thank you so much for prompting me and I'm so glad you liked this! Only for you would I write baby fic my dear, haha.