Fic: Lunch Date, PG for viennawaits
Author: Meltha
Rating: PG (at most)
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Through Lost episode 3.12 "Par Avion."
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Jack's prison may have changed, but he hopes some things remain the same.
Author's Note: Written for viennawaits (Titi) for the axialtilt multifandom ficathon who requested Grey's Anatomy, Smallville, Heroes, Lost, or Numb3rs; Jack/Juliet; het, humor, little bit of angst; and no mention of exes. I played with the request a tiny bit.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by the creators of "Lost," with one exception. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Lunch Date
When you're locked in an empty aquarium, you get a lot of time to think. The same turned out to be true if you're locked in a bear enclosure. Jack found that he had more than enough time to ponder practically every single moment of his entire life until there were times when he wasn't certain if his memories were even real anymore or if his confinement could be changing the shadings of them, editing little details. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought that his perspective was changing so deeply that he couldn't even tell truth from fiction anymore.
An endless line of coincidences stretched before him that led to this moment: the plane crash, his survival, Ben's medical condition that just happened to be his specialty, and on and on. It was enough to drive anyone crazy, and sometimes Jack felt that wouldn't be such a long trip for him. There had been exactly one time of the day that seemed normal to him. He assumed it was around noon, but as he hadn't seen sunlight for some indefinable number of days, it might very well have been midnight. What he did know was that Juliet would appear with a grilled cheese sandwich that had little toothpicks stuck in it.
Jack didn't really care for grilled cheese, at least not before the island. Now, anything that wasn't a mango or a coconut seemed wonderful just because it smacked of civilization, a sense that the island wasn't floating in the middle of nowhere with an endless abyss just offshore in all directions, like in the old maps that claimed if a boat went too far it would sail off the world altogether and into the realm of sea monsters and dragons. It was harder to believe in dragons, or sentient clouds of black smoke as the case may be, when he was eating something as ordinary as a grilled cheese sandwich.
Now, aquarium and steel bars both gone, he was back on his island, not ever having realized there were two until he was almost back again. Now he lived in a little community that looked a lot like a place his parents and he had gone to for a couple of months in the summer when he was eight. It was idyllic, really. In a very strange way, it reminded him of the model neighborhood at the beginning of the old Mr. Rogers show. It was just a bit too perfect, a bit too manicured, a bit too unreal. He was kept under guard most of the time, and while he was actually beginning to like Tom, who seemed an honest and good-humored sort of guy, there was still no question that Jack was being kept there against his will. It was a much prettier cell, but nonetheless, still a prison.
For a few days he hadn't seen Juliet, and eventually he realized what the unpleasant itch in the back of his mind was: worry. Jack somehow trusted that Ben hadn't killed her, but a group of people who believed in branding as a viable form of punishment weren't exactly his idea of trustworthy. He had questioned Tom about her and received only the barest amount of information.
"Now don't you go worryin' about her," he had said, not meeting his eyes. No one in this group ever seemed to meet his eyes, with the exception of Juliet. "You've got other things to occupy yourself with. We should be getting visitors pretty soon, I expect."
"Who?" Jack asked, exasperated. "Martians? Amelia Earheart? Is Elvis stopping by before his comeback tour?"
"Aw, come on, Jack," Tom said as he handed him a bowl of what looked like Cheerios but were probably Dharma-O's. "Just roll with it. You'll find out when the time comes. Maybe."
Sometimes Jack felt that should be the island's motto.
A few days later, there was a knock at the bungalow door, and without waiting for permission to enter, Juliet breezed through. Jack caught himself staring at her, and her expression let him know she was completely aware of it.
"Hey," she said with a small smile.
There was always something about her that reminded him vaguely of a sphinx. Her skin and hair were the soft, sandy color of a beach or a desert, and that smile that never quite reached her eyes was maddening. She knew things, answers to questions that were always pulling at his brain, but they were things she wasn't willing to tell him, at least not yet. He also knew she was dangerous, but it didn't prevent him from being drawn to her. In fact, it added to the pull.
"Hey yourself," he said after a pause that was a shade too long.
Her smile grew perhaps a millimeter wider as she regarded him intently.
"You like this island better than the other one?" she asked as casually as if she were referring to a cruise stop in the Bahamas.
"I don't know. I kind of miss those fish biscuits. They had a pleasantly piquant tang to them when you got past the smell," Jack said, trying to keep his face as mask-like as hers.
"Well, no fish biscuits," she said, giving him a mock apologetic look as she took the cover off the tray he hadn't even noticed she was carrying.
"Grilled cheese," he said, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Toothpicks and everything."
"We're not savages. God is in the details, or so Ben endlessly tells us," she said as she eased herself into an over-stuffed chair. "You're comfortable here?"
"Compared to what? Living in an animal cage or on a beach full of sand mites?" he asked.
"Just don't get too comfortable," she said, and gave him a significant look.
In place of an answer, he took a bite out of the sandwich. It was still warm. The bread was crisped to perfection, enclosing the melted cheese until it spread over his tongue like velvet.
"It's good," he said.
"Thank you," she responded. "We strive to please."
"Of course you do," Jack said in a voice that said he meant exactly the opposite.
"I remember when you wouldn't have bitten into that without all but calling for a drug-sniffing dog," she said, that half-smile still in place. "Why Doctor, are you starting to trust me?"
"No," he said, stuffing another bite in his mouth before adding. "I just figure if I'm going to go, grilled cheese is a relatively pleasant way of dying."
"Death by grilled cheese?" Juliet said, and there was really amusement in her voice. "Well, it would make an interesting obituary at any rate."
Jack finished the rest of his sandwich in silence as she continued to look at him. He supposed he should feel like a bug under a microscope, but he reasoned that even the bug must eventually get used to being watched all the time. At the same time, he tended to glance up at her from time to time, always meeting her gaze for a moment before going back to eating. Eventually, there was nothing left on the plate but four toothpicks.
"It was good," he said, standing up to hand it back to her. "Thanks."
She nodded as she took it from him, dropping her eyes for a moment. In that split second, Jack took his opportunity and grabbed her roughly by her forearms, the plate shattering on the floor as she dropped it in shock.
"What is really going on here?" he asked her, practically hissing it. "I want answers. Now."
Her eyes widened for a moment, then she abruptly and powerfully broke his hold on her arms and stepped back.
"With what, Jack? The island? Ben? Dharma? Us?"
The way she said the word "us" made him unsure whether she meant the Others or the two of them.
"You know what? Nevermind," he said, turning away. "I wouldn't believe anything you had to say anyway."
"You probably wouldn't at that," she agreed, and the smile had resumed its place. Casually, she pointed towards the broken bits of china on the floor. "You'll want to clean that up before someone gets hurt, Jack. We all clean up our own messes here."
"Another of Ben's favorite maxims?" Jack said with a sigh.
"No, that's one of mine," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
He watched the screen door bang shut, a sound as homey as something from a 1950s sitcom, and inwardly cursed himself for not knowing what he was doing or even what he wanted anymore. The only thing he remained certain of was that Juliet held the answer to some riddle, but he wasn't sure he even knew the question yet.
****
In another of the little bungalows, Juliet was picking up a telephone and dialing it almost lazily, spinning the old-fashioned dial with the eraser end of a pencil. A series of clicks met her ear, and then a tinny voice said she was being patched through directly.
"How is project 23.4 progressing?" said a man's voice through the headset. "Is everything progressing according to plan?"
"I'd say so," Juliet answered. "He's softening. I don't think it will take too much more convincing before he's ripe."
"Very good," he responded. "You're doing well. I expect to hear from you again soon."
"You will, Mr. Luthor," Juliet said, then hung up before she added under her breath, "Just as soon as I want you to learn anything more."
Rating: PG (at most)
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Through Lost episode 3.12 "Par Avion."
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Jack's prison may have changed, but he hopes some things remain the same.
Author's Note: Written for viennawaits (Titi) for the axialtilt multifandom ficathon who requested Grey's Anatomy, Smallville, Heroes, Lost, or Numb3rs; Jack/Juliet; het, humor, little bit of angst; and no mention of exes. I played with the request a tiny bit.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by the creators of "Lost," with one exception. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Lunch Date
When you're locked in an empty aquarium, you get a lot of time to think. The same turned out to be true if you're locked in a bear enclosure. Jack found that he had more than enough time to ponder practically every single moment of his entire life until there were times when he wasn't certain if his memories were even real anymore or if his confinement could be changing the shadings of them, editing little details. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought that his perspective was changing so deeply that he couldn't even tell truth from fiction anymore.
An endless line of coincidences stretched before him that led to this moment: the plane crash, his survival, Ben's medical condition that just happened to be his specialty, and on and on. It was enough to drive anyone crazy, and sometimes Jack felt that wouldn't be such a long trip for him. There had been exactly one time of the day that seemed normal to him. He assumed it was around noon, but as he hadn't seen sunlight for some indefinable number of days, it might very well have been midnight. What he did know was that Juliet would appear with a grilled cheese sandwich that had little toothpicks stuck in it.
Jack didn't really care for grilled cheese, at least not before the island. Now, anything that wasn't a mango or a coconut seemed wonderful just because it smacked of civilization, a sense that the island wasn't floating in the middle of nowhere with an endless abyss just offshore in all directions, like in the old maps that claimed if a boat went too far it would sail off the world altogether and into the realm of sea monsters and dragons. It was harder to believe in dragons, or sentient clouds of black smoke as the case may be, when he was eating something as ordinary as a grilled cheese sandwich.
Now, aquarium and steel bars both gone, he was back on his island, not ever having realized there were two until he was almost back again. Now he lived in a little community that looked a lot like a place his parents and he had gone to for a couple of months in the summer when he was eight. It was idyllic, really. In a very strange way, it reminded him of the model neighborhood at the beginning of the old Mr. Rogers show. It was just a bit too perfect, a bit too manicured, a bit too unreal. He was kept under guard most of the time, and while he was actually beginning to like Tom, who seemed an honest and good-humored sort of guy, there was still no question that Jack was being kept there against his will. It was a much prettier cell, but nonetheless, still a prison.
For a few days he hadn't seen Juliet, and eventually he realized what the unpleasant itch in the back of his mind was: worry. Jack somehow trusted that Ben hadn't killed her, but a group of people who believed in branding as a viable form of punishment weren't exactly his idea of trustworthy. He had questioned Tom about her and received only the barest amount of information.
"Now don't you go worryin' about her," he had said, not meeting his eyes. No one in this group ever seemed to meet his eyes, with the exception of Juliet. "You've got other things to occupy yourself with. We should be getting visitors pretty soon, I expect."
"Who?" Jack asked, exasperated. "Martians? Amelia Earheart? Is Elvis stopping by before his comeback tour?"
"Aw, come on, Jack," Tom said as he handed him a bowl of what looked like Cheerios but were probably Dharma-O's. "Just roll with it. You'll find out when the time comes. Maybe."
Sometimes Jack felt that should be the island's motto.
A few days later, there was a knock at the bungalow door, and without waiting for permission to enter, Juliet breezed through. Jack caught himself staring at her, and her expression let him know she was completely aware of it.
"Hey," she said with a small smile.
There was always something about her that reminded him vaguely of a sphinx. Her skin and hair were the soft, sandy color of a beach or a desert, and that smile that never quite reached her eyes was maddening. She knew things, answers to questions that were always pulling at his brain, but they were things she wasn't willing to tell him, at least not yet. He also knew she was dangerous, but it didn't prevent him from being drawn to her. In fact, it added to the pull.
"Hey yourself," he said after a pause that was a shade too long.
Her smile grew perhaps a millimeter wider as she regarded him intently.
"You like this island better than the other one?" she asked as casually as if she were referring to a cruise stop in the Bahamas.
"I don't know. I kind of miss those fish biscuits. They had a pleasantly piquant tang to them when you got past the smell," Jack said, trying to keep his face as mask-like as hers.
"Well, no fish biscuits," she said, giving him a mock apologetic look as she took the cover off the tray he hadn't even noticed she was carrying.
"Grilled cheese," he said, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Toothpicks and everything."
"We're not savages. God is in the details, or so Ben endlessly tells us," she said as she eased herself into an over-stuffed chair. "You're comfortable here?"
"Compared to what? Living in an animal cage or on a beach full of sand mites?" he asked.
"Just don't get too comfortable," she said, and gave him a significant look.
In place of an answer, he took a bite out of the sandwich. It was still warm. The bread was crisped to perfection, enclosing the melted cheese until it spread over his tongue like velvet.
"It's good," he said.
"Thank you," she responded. "We strive to please."
"Of course you do," Jack said in a voice that said he meant exactly the opposite.
"I remember when you wouldn't have bitten into that without all but calling for a drug-sniffing dog," she said, that half-smile still in place. "Why Doctor, are you starting to trust me?"
"No," he said, stuffing another bite in his mouth before adding. "I just figure if I'm going to go, grilled cheese is a relatively pleasant way of dying."
"Death by grilled cheese?" Juliet said, and there was really amusement in her voice. "Well, it would make an interesting obituary at any rate."
Jack finished the rest of his sandwich in silence as she continued to look at him. He supposed he should feel like a bug under a microscope, but he reasoned that even the bug must eventually get used to being watched all the time. At the same time, he tended to glance up at her from time to time, always meeting her gaze for a moment before going back to eating. Eventually, there was nothing left on the plate but four toothpicks.
"It was good," he said, standing up to hand it back to her. "Thanks."
She nodded as she took it from him, dropping her eyes for a moment. In that split second, Jack took his opportunity and grabbed her roughly by her forearms, the plate shattering on the floor as she dropped it in shock.
"What is really going on here?" he asked her, practically hissing it. "I want answers. Now."
Her eyes widened for a moment, then she abruptly and powerfully broke his hold on her arms and stepped back.
"With what, Jack? The island? Ben? Dharma? Us?"
The way she said the word "us" made him unsure whether she meant the Others or the two of them.
"You know what? Nevermind," he said, turning away. "I wouldn't believe anything you had to say anyway."
"You probably wouldn't at that," she agreed, and the smile had resumed its place. Casually, she pointed towards the broken bits of china on the floor. "You'll want to clean that up before someone gets hurt, Jack. We all clean up our own messes here."
"Another of Ben's favorite maxims?" Jack said with a sigh.
"No, that's one of mine," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
He watched the screen door bang shut, a sound as homey as something from a 1950s sitcom, and inwardly cursed himself for not knowing what he was doing or even what he wanted anymore. The only thing he remained certain of was that Juliet held the answer to some riddle, but he wasn't sure he even knew the question yet.
****
In another of the little bungalows, Juliet was picking up a telephone and dialing it almost lazily, spinning the old-fashioned dial with the eraser end of a pencil. A series of clicks met her ear, and then a tinny voice said she was being patched through directly.
"How is project 23.4 progressing?" said a man's voice through the headset. "Is everything progressing according to plan?"
"I'd say so," Juliet answered. "He's softening. I don't think it will take too much more convincing before he's ripe."
"Very good," he responded. "You're doing well. I expect to hear from you again soon."
"You will, Mr. Luthor," Juliet said, then hung up before she added under her breath, "Just as soon as I want you to learn anything more."