[fic] the fruit will be bruised; lost, claire, christian, jack; pg
title; rating: the fruit will be bruised, pg
fandom, characters; wordcount: lost, claire, jack, christian; 501
notes: for flaky_artist who requested mysteries, mythology, claire and christian shephard
"So, you're dead, right?" Claire finally understands.
Her father, a man she can only manage to call "Daddy" in her mind, a man who's true name she still doesn't know, laughs "When did you figure it out?"
Claire shrugs, picks leaves from the plant in front of her. "You're too clean," she tells him.
He's laughing again, uproariously.
Claire is irritated. "Would you shut up over there?"
Christian gives her a look, folds his hands behind his head, leans back against the tree behind him. "Suit yourself."
A few minutes go by and Claire can feel the sun begin to set, a shift in light and temperature that she has grown accustomed to over time. "And maybe I just knew," she says without looking at him. "I mean, you've always been dead to me. It stands to reason."
"What stands to reason?" Jack appears next to the tree where her father used to be.
This is new.
Claire blinks. "You're not dead too, are you?" she asks, stands at his side.
She reaches for his hand and her fingers find nothing but air.
Figures.
Jack doesn't seem to notice. He shakes his head. "Don't be silly," he says. "I'm looking for something-- Someone," he corrects.
"Can I help?" Claire tucks the stem of the leaf she's holding behind her ear as though she'll be needing it later.
"I'm looking for my father," he tells her. "His name is Christian."
"Christian," Claire says the name out loud. She lets it roll over her tongue. "Never heard of him."
"Oh." Jack bends low to tie the laces of his boots, looks up. "I suppose you can still help anyway."
Claire shrugs. She notices Jack is taller than she remembers when he stands. "I suppose."
--
They walk.
They walk for a long time and Claire is sure the sun should be down by now but it's not.
"Strange," she tells him.
"What?" Jack looks at her, his apparition filled with concern and confusion.
"Eh," Claire shrugs again. "You wouldn't understand anyway."
"Try me," Jack says, smiles. "I can be very understanding when I want to be."
Claire eyes him, decides to test him. "There's a frog at the bottom of the well," she says.
"I understand," Jack nods, gravely. "I get that."
Claire laughs. "Sure," she says. "Sure you do."
Claire can see her father up ahead on the path. He's picking fruit that he won't eat because he's a ghost. She almost says this out loud but her lips don’t actually move. Jack follows her gaze.
"Ah," he says. "There he is."
Claire narrows her eyes.
"There who is?"
Jack gives her a quizzical look. "My father," he says. "Who else?"
Jack waves at him, this man, this ghost -- Christian. "Over here!" he says. "I'm here!"
Christian turns toward Jack’s voice, drops the collection of fruit on the path, begins to run.
Jack follows, and soon both men disappear into the underbrush.
The fruit will be bruised, Claire knows.
She finally understands.
-fin
fandom, characters; wordcount: lost, claire, jack, christian; 501
notes: for flaky_artist who requested mysteries, mythology, claire and christian shephard
"So, you're dead, right?" Claire finally understands.
Her father, a man she can only manage to call "Daddy" in her mind, a man who's true name she still doesn't know, laughs "When did you figure it out?"
Claire shrugs, picks leaves from the plant in front of her. "You're too clean," she tells him.
He's laughing again, uproariously.
Claire is irritated. "Would you shut up over there?"
Christian gives her a look, folds his hands behind his head, leans back against the tree behind him. "Suit yourself."
A few minutes go by and Claire can feel the sun begin to set, a shift in light and temperature that she has grown accustomed to over time. "And maybe I just knew," she says without looking at him. "I mean, you've always been dead to me. It stands to reason."
"What stands to reason?" Jack appears next to the tree where her father used to be.
This is new.
Claire blinks. "You're not dead too, are you?" she asks, stands at his side.
She reaches for his hand and her fingers find nothing but air.
Figures.
Jack doesn't seem to notice. He shakes his head. "Don't be silly," he says. "I'm looking for something-- Someone," he corrects.
"Can I help?" Claire tucks the stem of the leaf she's holding behind her ear as though she'll be needing it later.
"I'm looking for my father," he tells her. "His name is Christian."
"Christian," Claire says the name out loud. She lets it roll over her tongue. "Never heard of him."
"Oh." Jack bends low to tie the laces of his boots, looks up. "I suppose you can still help anyway."
Claire shrugs. She notices Jack is taller than she remembers when he stands. "I suppose."
--
They walk.
They walk for a long time and Claire is sure the sun should be down by now but it's not.
"Strange," she tells him.
"What?" Jack looks at her, his apparition filled with concern and confusion.
"Eh," Claire shrugs again. "You wouldn't understand anyway."
"Try me," Jack says, smiles. "I can be very understanding when I want to be."
Claire eyes him, decides to test him. "There's a frog at the bottom of the well," she says.
"I understand," Jack nods, gravely. "I get that."
Claire laughs. "Sure," she says. "Sure you do."
Claire can see her father up ahead on the path. He's picking fruit that he won't eat because he's a ghost. She almost says this out loud but her lips don’t actually move. Jack follows her gaze.
"Ah," he says. "There he is."
Claire narrows her eyes.
"There who is?"
Jack gives her a quizzical look. "My father," he says. "Who else?"
Jack waves at him, this man, this ghost -- Christian. "Over here!" he says. "I'm here!"
Christian turns toward Jack’s voice, drops the collection of fruit on the path, begins to run.
Jack follows, and soon both men disappear into the underbrush.
The fruit will be bruised, Claire knows.
She finally understands.
-fin