[fanfic] it ends at the start
May. 15th, 2012 06:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kricketstitle; rating: it ends at the start; pg13
fandom, pairing; wordcount: lost, claire/jack; 683
notes: written for my new BFF![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
youcallitwinter and stuff
There are days when the tension is so thick between them that Claire can scarcely breathe.
Jack buys his suits too-tight and triple-knots his running shoes and circles the track until his lungs feel like they're going to burst.
Claire makes dinners that go uneaten.
Those days are gone.
-
Jack takes a job near Salt Lake and she comes with him, because really? Where else exactly is she supposed to go?
The world is divided into two types of people: People who were on the island, and people who weren't. After a while, you just can't relate to anybody else and so it's easier to just... not.
Sawyer stopped calling a long time ago.
So it's the two of them now, and this life is pretty much all she understands.
-
She doesn't really remember when things got complicated. Sometime between then and now, she supposes. And really, that's just a way of simplifying things. No, no. It wasn't always this way, but in a sense it kind of was. He's the brother she never had. She's the sister he never wanted. Their father failed them both to such an epic degree that neither of them can speak his name without their fingers curling into fists at their sides.
The events of now color every single yesterday, their fucked-up histories inextricably and bizarrely linked.
Forever.
She thinks it's funny, how your life just kind of twists and turns and you somehow always end up in the exact place you're not supposed to be. So in that sense? Yeah. Things have always been this way.
Jack's hand slips between her thighs and she thinks, maybe, she really, really hates him.
He kisses her again and she thinks: Okay, maybe this is love after all.
-
It's a day in early fall when a package arrives, no return address, post-marked Atlanta.
Claire pulls out two bottles of Jack Daniels (for him) and a set of new paint brushes (for her).
"What is this?" She waves one of the bottles in Jack's direction and he pads barefoot over to her.
"Sawyer," he says, equal amounts of affection and annoyance in the word. "It's the day Dad died." He remembers, looking at the calendar.
"Oh," Claire considers this, remembering the night Jack told her about Sawyer recalling Christian's, by that point, post-mortem, validation. She rolls her eyes and grabs two shot glasses from the bar. "Sicko."
-
In the winter, she barely lets him leave her sight.
She grabs the edge of his t-shirt, the fabric stretching between them. "Come back," she muffles. "Who cares about Mormons, anyway?"
Jack laughs, drops one knee to the mattress and leans over her, licks his lips, considering.
-
They play outside that day.
And maybe building a half-assed snowman and tackling each other to the ground after it becomes clear that neither of them are very good at throwing snowballs is a little something like cheating. But Claire feels like maybe they've earned this.
Jack grabs a handful of snow, but Claire ducks.
"You can't catch me!" she shouts.
Jack slips in pursuit, landing on his side.
He reaches his hand toward her, and she laughs, but takes it anyway, joining him on the ground.
"I never need to," he says, out of breath.
Claire rolls her eyes, elbows him before scampering up and out of reach.
"Wanna bet?"
And this, she realizes, the cold wind on her face, snow in her hair, is maybe what they'd been missing all those years ago.
-
Spring and summer come and Claire is vaguely aware of the fact that they've been there a year already.
"Don't you ever get tired?" she says, absently, sketching a faceless, naked figure in her notebook.
Jack plops down next to her on the couch, and ignores her question, leans over and bites her bare shoulder, gently.
"Is that a boy or a girl?" he asks, looking at the figure, unable to make it out.
Claire looks at him. "It's both," she she tells him. "Twins."
Jack grins, bites his bottom lip.
"You are... so weird," he teases.
Claire nudges his shoulder.
"I get it from my father."
-fin
fandom, pairing; wordcount: lost, claire/jack; 683
notes: written for my new BFF
youcallitwinter and stuffThere are days when the tension is so thick between them that Claire can scarcely breathe.
Jack buys his suits too-tight and triple-knots his running shoes and circles the track until his lungs feel like they're going to burst.
Claire makes dinners that go uneaten.
Those days are gone.
-
Jack takes a job near Salt Lake and she comes with him, because really? Where else exactly is she supposed to go?
The world is divided into two types of people: People who were on the island, and people who weren't. After a while, you just can't relate to anybody else and so it's easier to just... not.
Sawyer stopped calling a long time ago.
So it's the two of them now, and this life is pretty much all she understands.
-
She doesn't really remember when things got complicated. Sometime between then and now, she supposes. And really, that's just a way of simplifying things. No, no. It wasn't always this way, but in a sense it kind of was. He's the brother she never had. She's the sister he never wanted. Their father failed them both to such an epic degree that neither of them can speak his name without their fingers curling into fists at their sides.
The events of now color every single yesterday, their fucked-up histories inextricably and bizarrely linked.
Forever.
She thinks it's funny, how your life just kind of twists and turns and you somehow always end up in the exact place you're not supposed to be. So in that sense? Yeah. Things have always been this way.
Jack's hand slips between her thighs and she thinks, maybe, she really, really hates him.
He kisses her again and she thinks: Okay, maybe this is love after all.
-
It's a day in early fall when a package arrives, no return address, post-marked Atlanta.
Claire pulls out two bottles of Jack Daniels (for him) and a set of new paint brushes (for her).
"What is this?" She waves one of the bottles in Jack's direction and he pads barefoot over to her.
"Sawyer," he says, equal amounts of affection and annoyance in the word. "It's the day Dad died." He remembers, looking at the calendar.
"Oh," Claire considers this, remembering the night Jack told her about Sawyer recalling Christian's, by that point, post-mortem, validation. She rolls her eyes and grabs two shot glasses from the bar. "Sicko."
-
In the winter, she barely lets him leave her sight.
She grabs the edge of his t-shirt, the fabric stretching between them. "Come back," she muffles. "Who cares about Mormons, anyway?"
Jack laughs, drops one knee to the mattress and leans over her, licks his lips, considering.
-
They play outside that day.
And maybe building a half-assed snowman and tackling each other to the ground after it becomes clear that neither of them are very good at throwing snowballs is a little something like cheating. But Claire feels like maybe they've earned this.
Jack grabs a handful of snow, but Claire ducks.
"You can't catch me!" she shouts.
Jack slips in pursuit, landing on his side.
He reaches his hand toward her, and she laughs, but takes it anyway, joining him on the ground.
"I never need to," he says, out of breath.
Claire rolls her eyes, elbows him before scampering up and out of reach.
"Wanna bet?"
And this, she realizes, the cold wind on her face, snow in her hair, is maybe what they'd been missing all those years ago.
-
Spring and summer come and Claire is vaguely aware of the fact that they've been there a year already.
"Don't you ever get tired?" she says, absently, sketching a faceless, naked figure in her notebook.
Jack plops down next to her on the couch, and ignores her question, leans over and bites her bare shoulder, gently.
"Is that a boy or a girl?" he asks, looking at the figure, unable to make it out.
Claire looks at him. "It's both," she she tells him. "Twins."
Jack grins, bites his bottom lip.
"You are... so weird," he teases.
Claire nudges his shoulder.
"I get it from my father."
-fin
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no subject
Date: 2012-05-15 10:48 pm (UTC)See, I KNEW you were going to be the worst for me. We haven’t been friends three seconds and I’m making icons, and you’re writing fic that I can’t stop reading at four in the morning. THIS IS UNHEALTHY.
The world is divided into two types of people: People who were on the island, and people who weren't. After a while, you just can't relate to anybody else and so it's easier to just... not.
THIS IS THE MOST PERFECT LINE IN THE ENTIRE LOST-VERSE. Because seriously, in one line it’s the entirety of the sixth season; even in purgatory, they all find their way back to each other. There can’t be anyone else for them anymore.
He's the brother she never had. She's the sister he never wanted.
So basically, you’re a life ruiner. You ruin people’s lives.
Jack's hand slips between her thighs and she thinks, maybe, she really, really hates him.
He kisses her again and she thinks: Okay, maybe this is love after all.
Oh god. With the reversals and the confusion and the ambiguity and the clarity. GUH. You write like I want fic to be written. D:
And generally, Sawyer as this silent, pervasive presence, I love it. Jack/Claire/Sawyer can be my new ot3.
Also, seriously, what is this. I cannot even with their dynamic here. How are these two everything all at once? Best friends and lovers and siblings and casual acquaintances and every categorization in between. WHAT IS THIS PERFECTION AND CHARACTERIZATION EVEN?
I love it insanely much, and you, obviously. Basically, THEY'RE A THING THAT MUST NEVER DIE? Humanity is depending on you here, don't let it down.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 12:48 am (UTC)Also THIS IS THE MOST PERFECT LINE IN THE ENTIRE LOST-VERSE. Wha-what? *blush* I think you just made my day. (That's two days in a row, KEEP UP.)
I am not saying this because I am biased or anything (READ: I am totally biased. DO NOT listen to me.) But Claire/Jack/Sawyer should totally be your OT3 in this fandom. Just an observation!
Really if I have my way, they will never die. It will go on and on forever. TRUST.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 12:17 am (UTC)She thinks it's funny, how your life just kind of twists and turns and you somehow always end up in the exact place you're not supposed to be. So in that sense? Yeah. Things have always been this way.
Ugh SO GOOD!
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 12:52 am (UTC)THANK YOUUUU.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 04:16 am (UTC);-)
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 06:53 pm (UTC)I had to throw Sawyer in here just a little bit. It's always an increasing challenge to write him into any Shephards fic in creative ways, haha.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 10:15 am (UTC)As per usual, perfect! I don't know how you do this, but your every fic about them is just perfection. It's like, they are meant to be written by you.
She doesn't really remember when things got complicated. Sometime between then and now, she suppose
LOVE.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 06:53 pm (UTC)Thank you! I don't know about perfection, but... I really appreciate it. ♥