FIC: Pollen: Pistil
Title: Pollen: I. Pistil
Summary: Danielle and Robert share one of the early days on the island.
Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: No money made here. Lost is not mine.
Author’s note: For
zelda_zee , whose “pollen” plot bunny got this moving in its current direction.
Comments, feedback, and criticism are always welcome.
-December, 1987-
Danielle keeps them all sane after the wreck. Being five months pregnant gives her more right to panic than any of them, but so far she’s shown no sign of it. She told Robert she was letting her hope for the new baby cheer her up. It’s summer in this part of the world, and soon the holiday cruise season will be at its height; one ship or another will pick up their signal in the next few weeks. Other people have been here before, long enough to start building a shelter but not so long that it didn’t take their own team several days to complete it.
For now, there’s potable water and enough fruit and fish to satisfy dozens of people. Montand has them all at work exploring the island. Danielle proposed on the first day that they do their intended tasks as much as possible, arguing that there was no reason for unexpected circumstances to interfere with their research. She’s been cataloguing plants ever since, and Robert has been finding all the insects he’s able. Danielle forbids him from keeping specimens in their shelter, but he’s making sketches and descriptions of everything he can.
Danielle still becomes tired sometimes at mid-afternoon. Robert goes back to the shelter with her when that happens; he insists that it’s the principle of staying at least in pairs, but in reality he’s just as much motivated by watching her sleep. There’s a glow to her then that no one can insist is only sweat, and she looks more peaceful than he’s ever seen anyone, smiling and curling an arm around her belly as her eyelids flutter. He isn’t idle; he writes up descriptions of insects and animal tracks he’s observed, just as he tells her. But every few minutes, he puts his notes aside to watch her.
He’s tired as well, about a week into their time on the island; a loud noise outside, they’re not quite sure what, woke all of them at night, and Robert couldn’t get back to sleep. He’s found himself more nervous than usual since Danielle became pregnant; he doubts the present circumstances are much help. He sets down his pencil and lies beside her on the cot. It creaks slightly, and Danielle shifts to accommodate him. He rests one hand on her belly and feels the baby kicking. That’s been happening for a few days now.
Danielle goes still for a second, then cranes her neck. “Robert.”
“Shh. Go back to sleep.”
“No, I’m not tired any more. I think Alex must be giving me some spare energy.”
“After all this tromping around the island, she’ll be born walking.”
“He already is!” She takes Robert’s hand and presses it to her belly. “He’s playing football today! And I’m going to make you do the job of chasing him around, too.”
“You’re better at football than I am,” he says. “And I still say Alex is a girl.”
“We’ll see.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in women’s intuition.”
“I don’t believe in your intuition either!” They both laugh, and Alex gives another round of kicks. “I think you need your nap now!” Danielle says, looking down at her belly. “Shall I sing you a lullaby?”
“I think she’d like that.”
“He’d like it, you mean. Or you would.”
“You have such a beautiful voice. I don’t know why you even like that music box so much.”
“Because it’s from you!” Danielle laughs again and works her hands together with Robert’s, resting them over her navel. “Le ciel bleu sur nous peut s’effrondrer, et la terre peut bien s’écrouler - ”
“Peu m’importe si tu m’aimes, je me fous du monde entier.” They sing together until Danielle rolls over laboriously and kisses him.
He presses close to her, feeling somehow soothed by the firm curve of her belly and by her breasts, tender and beginning to swell for milk. She runs a hand over his arm, and Robert allows himself to be lost in the warmth and comfort of the afternoon, by the light and pollen filtering in from above and the creaking of the little cot under the weight of two and a half people. He registers helping her with the newly difficult aspects of undressing, and then they’re lying side to side and making love with as little clumsiness as they can manage. Danielle doesn’t try to keep her moans quiet, perhaps realizing that there can be no privacy here anyway, and she grips Robert’s arms tightly. She seems almost disappointed when he finishes, although she’s had her satisfaction, and quite enthusiastically at that. He holds her hand and remains seated on the bed as he waits for his body to cool.
“Robert?” Danielle is still lying on her side, showing no interest in getting dressed again. “What if we’re still here when Alex comes?” Some element of fear that she has not been able to smother is unsuppressed in her voice.
“You’re very healthy. And Brennan is a good doctor whatever the circumstances.” They managed to save some sterile supplies, even; Brennan is hoarding them for the baby’s birth. He turns to Danielle and smiles. “And a year later she’ll have the best place in the world to learn to walk. And two years after that she’ll learn how to write in the sand, and every morning she can have a new poem written for her.”
Danielle laughs and pulls him closer. “As long as you write some for me as well.”
“Of course. More likely we’ll be back to Tahiti within a month, though.”
“I know. Alex can grow up hearing tall tales about our month of adventure on a mysterious island.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad at all.”
“No. Neither do the poems, though.”
Robert thinks, as he watches Danielle drift into sleep for a second time, that he could already begin to compose them.
**Image credit: tarya-san at lost-forum.
Summary: Danielle and Robert share one of the early days on the island.
Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: No money made here. Lost is not mine.
Author’s note: For
zelda_zee , whose “pollen” plot bunny got this moving in its current direction.
Comments, feedback, and criticism are always welcome.
-December, 1987-
Danielle keeps them all sane after the wreck. Being five months pregnant gives her more right to panic than any of them, but so far she’s shown no sign of it. She told Robert she was letting her hope for the new baby cheer her up. It’s summer in this part of the world, and soon the holiday cruise season will be at its height; one ship or another will pick up their signal in the next few weeks. Other people have been here before, long enough to start building a shelter but not so long that it didn’t take their own team several days to complete it.
For now, there’s potable water and enough fruit and fish to satisfy dozens of people. Montand has them all at work exploring the island. Danielle proposed on the first day that they do their intended tasks as much as possible, arguing that there was no reason for unexpected circumstances to interfere with their research. She’s been cataloguing plants ever since, and Robert has been finding all the insects he’s able. Danielle forbids him from keeping specimens in their shelter, but he’s making sketches and descriptions of everything he can.
Danielle still becomes tired sometimes at mid-afternoon. Robert goes back to the shelter with her when that happens; he insists that it’s the principle of staying at least in pairs, but in reality he’s just as much motivated by watching her sleep. There’s a glow to her then that no one can insist is only sweat, and she looks more peaceful than he’s ever seen anyone, smiling and curling an arm around her belly as her eyelids flutter. He isn’t idle; he writes up descriptions of insects and animal tracks he’s observed, just as he tells her. But every few minutes, he puts his notes aside to watch her.
He’s tired as well, about a week into their time on the island; a loud noise outside, they’re not quite sure what, woke all of them at night, and Robert couldn’t get back to sleep. He’s found himself more nervous than usual since Danielle became pregnant; he doubts the present circumstances are much help. He sets down his pencil and lies beside her on the cot. It creaks slightly, and Danielle shifts to accommodate him. He rests one hand on her belly and feels the baby kicking. That’s been happening for a few days now.
Danielle goes still for a second, then cranes her neck. “Robert.”
“Shh. Go back to sleep.”
“No, I’m not tired any more. I think Alex must be giving me some spare energy.”
“After all this tromping around the island, she’ll be born walking.”
“He already is!” She takes Robert’s hand and presses it to her belly. “He’s playing football today! And I’m going to make you do the job of chasing him around, too.”
“You’re better at football than I am,” he says. “And I still say Alex is a girl.”
“We’ll see.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in women’s intuition.”
“I don’t believe in your intuition either!” They both laugh, and Alex gives another round of kicks. “I think you need your nap now!” Danielle says, looking down at her belly. “Shall I sing you a lullaby?”
“I think she’d like that.”
“He’d like it, you mean. Or you would.”
“You have such a beautiful voice. I don’t know why you even like that music box so much.”
“Because it’s from you!” Danielle laughs again and works her hands together with Robert’s, resting them over her navel. “Le ciel bleu sur nous peut s’effrondrer, et la terre peut bien s’écrouler - ”
“Peu m’importe si tu m’aimes, je me fous du monde entier.” They sing together until Danielle rolls over laboriously and kisses him.
He presses close to her, feeling somehow soothed by the firm curve of her belly and by her breasts, tender and beginning to swell for milk. She runs a hand over his arm, and Robert allows himself to be lost in the warmth and comfort of the afternoon, by the light and pollen filtering in from above and the creaking of the little cot under the weight of two and a half people. He registers helping her with the newly difficult aspects of undressing, and then they’re lying side to side and making love with as little clumsiness as they can manage. Danielle doesn’t try to keep her moans quiet, perhaps realizing that there can be no privacy here anyway, and she grips Robert’s arms tightly. She seems almost disappointed when he finishes, although she’s had her satisfaction, and quite enthusiastically at that. He holds her hand and remains seated on the bed as he waits for his body to cool.
“Robert?” Danielle is still lying on her side, showing no interest in getting dressed again. “What if we’re still here when Alex comes?” Some element of fear that she has not been able to smother is unsuppressed in her voice.
“You’re very healthy. And Brennan is a good doctor whatever the circumstances.” They managed to save some sterile supplies, even; Brennan is hoarding them for the baby’s birth. He turns to Danielle and smiles. “And a year later she’ll have the best place in the world to learn to walk. And two years after that she’ll learn how to write in the sand, and every morning she can have a new poem written for her.”
Danielle laughs and pulls him closer. “As long as you write some for me as well.”
“Of course. More likely we’ll be back to Tahiti within a month, though.”
“I know. Alex can grow up hearing tall tales about our month of adventure on a mysterious island.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad at all.”
“No. Neither do the poems, though.”
Robert thinks, as he watches Danielle drift into sleep for a second time, that he could already begin to compose them.
**Image credit: tarya-san at lost-forum.