[fic] the hole in the universe; lost; claire/jack; r
the hole in the universe; r
lost, claire/jack; r; 1250
from The Shephards fanzine
beta read by kmousie
[commemini]
Wake up.
She’s warm in her bed and the memories hit her like bullets, but she doesn’t cry out. She doesn’t cry out and she’s not sure why until she feels the sensation of teeth digging into flesh, her own hand over her mouth.
She draws blood.
[effluo]
The thought barely occurs to her.
But it does occur.
“What about Jack?”
“Claire...”
The sound of her name tells her he won’t be coming.
She makes a choice.
She doesn’t get on the plane.
That seems important.
She doesn’t get on the plane and somehow she makes it across the water in time.
This is the most important thing of all.
[commemini]
I had the strangest dream.
She remembers those words from Jack’s lips the day before. He says it between coffee and discussing David coming back from his summer music program. He says it between toast and Claire pretending not to notice that the calendar marks six months since she gave birth to the son she gave away.
“Oh?” she asks him. “What about?”
Claire is fond of dreams.
Jack gives her a serious look, his hand on her bare knee going still. “Nothing,” he tells her, looks deep into his empty mug. “I don’t really remember.”
She recalls a chill when he moves his hand from her skin.
Claire knows a lie when she sees one.
[effluo]
“So that’s it, then?” Claire calls from the trees.
Jack stands in front of the mouth of a cave. He’s injured and not arriving at his full height, and Claire almost laughs as she emerges from the green. Leave it to Jack to try and do the stupid thing, the heroic thing.
“Going to abandon me again, were you?” There is anger in her voice, and Claire doesn’t even mind it when he flinches. Serves him right. But then, after a beat, “You’re hurt.”
“Claire,” Jack reaches for her hand, eyes wet with sincerity and shame, sweat dripping from his nose. “You have to get on that plane.”
“It’s too late, Jack,” she says, knows it’s true. She can tell from the way he grips her hand that he does too. “So, what happens now?”
[commemini]
Moon’s still out, and there is no light coming from Jack’s room.
Claire runs a bath, sinks into cold water.
Remembers.
[effluo]
This is after.
Long after.
The word “hero” has been erased from both their lips, and it rains on the island far more than it used to. Neither of them seems to notice either instance. Jack picks fruit and Claire insists that she can fix the air conditioning at the barracks, holds up the manual she’s been studying for weeks.
“That thing’s at least a hundred years old.” Jack teases, but he’s right. It is. It’s more.
“Tired of sleeping under the stars, too humid to sleep inside,” Claire mumbles, flipping through the pages. And then: “Leave me to my dreams.”
Jack, drops another mango into his pack, pulls her close. “I know what you dream about,” he whispers, gruff into her ear.
Claire laughs.
[commemini]
Water’s running.
Claire’s lips are blue and her fingers pruned.
She skims a hand across the water, stopping once at her taut nipple. When she closes her eyes she can still feel him on top of her, inside her. She can feel his hand in hers, can feel his last kiss.
Her eyes open.
Her eyes are open.
-
She hovers over Jack as he sleeps, soundly and yet fitfully at the same time.
“Jack,” she whispers his name, lets wet hair drop over her shoulders, tickling his neck.
Jack’s eyes blink open, his reaction to finding his sister on top of him slow and unconcerned. “What is it, Claire?”
“I had the strangest dream,” she tells him.
[effluo]
“Aren’t you ever angry with me?” Jack is next to her in bed, and Claire can’t sleep she’s so excited that the air is working.
“Angry?” She asks, turns to him, slides one thigh between his legs. “Why?”
“For leaving you,” he tells her, rests a hand on her neck, thumb at her collarbone.
“Oh,” she says. “That.”
“That,” he echoes.
Claire kisses him. He’s warm against her body, and she can feel a chill at her exposed back when the fans kick on again. She smiles against his lips. “No,” she shakes her head. It’s only half of a lie. “That’s over now.”
[commemini]
There is a moment of recognition, another life lived, another life shared.
Jack moves into a sitting position as best he can, makes no attempt to move Claire from her spot, straddled over his middle, towel hiked up to her thighs.
“A dream,” he says, insists.
Claire reaches for his arm, traces a scar along the underside of his elbow, tiny and barely noticeable.
“Where did you get that?”
“I don’t know,” Jack pulls his arm from her, drops his gaze.
Claire leans in, centers herself on top of him, can feel him hard against her through the bedsheet. “I do,” she whispers.
In that moment, his mouth is on hers. It’s assured, hard, thirsty. There’s nothing about this that they haven’t done before, and Claire pulls at sheets to expose him to her completely. In another moment, she’s on her back and he’s wedged between her thighs. There’s no moment taken to appreciate the gravity of their sin. There is no sin, only a rejoining of two souls. Claire closes her eyes and feels forever in each thrust of his hips, tastes it in his kiss, hears it in her name on his lips.
She whispers the word out loud, only it comes out wrong, syllables strung together endlessly without pattern or meaning, a language only Jack will ever understand.
[effluo]
They stand in front of a jungle pool, and Claire is naked as she wades into the water.
“How long have we been here?” She asks the question. It is not a new one.
“I’m not sure,” he’ll tell her, skips a stone across the surface, starts unbuttoning his shirt. “A long time, I suppose.” This answer is not a new one.
“We could always ask,” she nods to the south, towards the beach, but Jack just shakes his head, smiles at her. It has been so long since their old friend has given them any answers. Since there have been any answers to give. They both know that.
“I know,” she agrees. “I just wonder sometimes, is all.”
[commemini]
The phone rings.
Nobody picks up.
Claire, covered in one of Jack’s t-shirts, brings a plate of fruit into the room. It isn’t quite like what they had on the island, but it seems fitting anyway.
Jack is naked on the bed, and he slides up to meet her, takes the plate from her hands.
“So hungry,” he manages between bites.
Claire steals a piece of cantaloupe from his fingers, pops it into her mouth, laughs.
They eat until their bellies are full, until they could almost fall asleep, Jack’s head resting on her lap, Claire’s fingers twining through his hair.
“Jack,” Claire whispers, her voice full of hope. “What happens now?”
[effluo]
One day, it starts to storm.
The flood comes down and it doesn’t stop, their island growing smaller and smaller.
“What happens now?” Claire asks, their hands clasped tight.
Jack kisses her through the rainfall.
“Now we wake up.”
-fin
lost, claire/jack; r; 1250
from The Shephards fanzine
beta read by kmousie
[commemini]
Wake up.
She’s warm in her bed and the memories hit her like bullets, but she doesn’t cry out. She doesn’t cry out and she’s not sure why until she feels the sensation of teeth digging into flesh, her own hand over her mouth.
She draws blood.
[effluo]
The thought barely occurs to her.
But it does occur.
“What about Jack?”
“Claire...”
The sound of her name tells her he won’t be coming.
She makes a choice.
She doesn’t get on the plane.
That seems important.
She doesn’t get on the plane and somehow she makes it across the water in time.
This is the most important thing of all.
[commemini]
I had the strangest dream.
She remembers those words from Jack’s lips the day before. He says it between coffee and discussing David coming back from his summer music program. He says it between toast and Claire pretending not to notice that the calendar marks six months since she gave birth to the son she gave away.
“Oh?” she asks him. “What about?”
Claire is fond of dreams.
Jack gives her a serious look, his hand on her bare knee going still. “Nothing,” he tells her, looks deep into his empty mug. “I don’t really remember.”
She recalls a chill when he moves his hand from her skin.
Claire knows a lie when she sees one.
[effluo]
“So that’s it, then?” Claire calls from the trees.
Jack stands in front of the mouth of a cave. He’s injured and not arriving at his full height, and Claire almost laughs as she emerges from the green. Leave it to Jack to try and do the stupid thing, the heroic thing.
“Going to abandon me again, were you?” There is anger in her voice, and Claire doesn’t even mind it when he flinches. Serves him right. But then, after a beat, “You’re hurt.”
“Claire,” Jack reaches for her hand, eyes wet with sincerity and shame, sweat dripping from his nose. “You have to get on that plane.”
“It’s too late, Jack,” she says, knows it’s true. She can tell from the way he grips her hand that he does too. “So, what happens now?”
[commemini]
Moon’s still out, and there is no light coming from Jack’s room.
Claire runs a bath, sinks into cold water.
Remembers.
[effluo]
This is after.
Long after.
The word “hero” has been erased from both their lips, and it rains on the island far more than it used to. Neither of them seems to notice either instance. Jack picks fruit and Claire insists that she can fix the air conditioning at the barracks, holds up the manual she’s been studying for weeks.
“That thing’s at least a hundred years old.” Jack teases, but he’s right. It is. It’s more.
“Tired of sleeping under the stars, too humid to sleep inside,” Claire mumbles, flipping through the pages. And then: “Leave me to my dreams.”
Jack, drops another mango into his pack, pulls her close. “I know what you dream about,” he whispers, gruff into her ear.
Claire laughs.
[commemini]
Water’s running.
Claire’s lips are blue and her fingers pruned.
She skims a hand across the water, stopping once at her taut nipple. When she closes her eyes she can still feel him on top of her, inside her. She can feel his hand in hers, can feel his last kiss.
Her eyes open.
Her eyes are open.
-
She hovers over Jack as he sleeps, soundly and yet fitfully at the same time.
“Jack,” she whispers his name, lets wet hair drop over her shoulders, tickling his neck.
Jack’s eyes blink open, his reaction to finding his sister on top of him slow and unconcerned. “What is it, Claire?”
“I had the strangest dream,” she tells him.
[effluo]
“Aren’t you ever angry with me?” Jack is next to her in bed, and Claire can’t sleep she’s so excited that the air is working.
“Angry?” She asks, turns to him, slides one thigh between his legs. “Why?”
“For leaving you,” he tells her, rests a hand on her neck, thumb at her collarbone.
“Oh,” she says. “That.”
“That,” he echoes.
Claire kisses him. He’s warm against her body, and she can feel a chill at her exposed back when the fans kick on again. She smiles against his lips. “No,” she shakes her head. It’s only half of a lie. “That’s over now.”
[commemini]
There is a moment of recognition, another life lived, another life shared.
Jack moves into a sitting position as best he can, makes no attempt to move Claire from her spot, straddled over his middle, towel hiked up to her thighs.
“A dream,” he says, insists.
Claire reaches for his arm, traces a scar along the underside of his elbow, tiny and barely noticeable.
“Where did you get that?”
“I don’t know,” Jack pulls his arm from her, drops his gaze.
Claire leans in, centers herself on top of him, can feel him hard against her through the bedsheet. “I do,” she whispers.
In that moment, his mouth is on hers. It’s assured, hard, thirsty. There’s nothing about this that they haven’t done before, and Claire pulls at sheets to expose him to her completely. In another moment, she’s on her back and he’s wedged between her thighs. There’s no moment taken to appreciate the gravity of their sin. There is no sin, only a rejoining of two souls. Claire closes her eyes and feels forever in each thrust of his hips, tastes it in his kiss, hears it in her name on his lips.
She whispers the word out loud, only it comes out wrong, syllables strung together endlessly without pattern or meaning, a language only Jack will ever understand.
[effluo]
They stand in front of a jungle pool, and Claire is naked as she wades into the water.
“How long have we been here?” She asks the question. It is not a new one.
“I’m not sure,” he’ll tell her, skips a stone across the surface, starts unbuttoning his shirt. “A long time, I suppose.” This answer is not a new one.
“We could always ask,” she nods to the south, towards the beach, but Jack just shakes his head, smiles at her. It has been so long since their old friend has given them any answers. Since there have been any answers to give. They both know that.
“I know,” she agrees. “I just wonder sometimes, is all.”
[commemini]
The phone rings.
Nobody picks up.
Claire, covered in one of Jack’s t-shirts, brings a plate of fruit into the room. It isn’t quite like what they had on the island, but it seems fitting anyway.
Jack is naked on the bed, and he slides up to meet her, takes the plate from her hands.
“So hungry,” he manages between bites.
Claire steals a piece of cantaloupe from his fingers, pops it into her mouth, laughs.
They eat until their bellies are full, until they could almost fall asleep, Jack’s head resting on her lap, Claire’s fingers twining through his hair.
“Jack,” Claire whispers, her voice full of hope. “What happens now?”
[effluo]
One day, it starts to storm.
The flood comes down and it doesn’t stop, their island growing smaller and smaller.
“What happens now?” Claire asks, their hands clasped tight.
Jack kisses her through the rainfall.
“Now we wake up.”
-fin