Lost fic: Nicknames [crack! rated pg-13]
Lost is not mine.
Summary: Old habits are hard to break. Crackfic, gen, no real spoilers. 1314 words.
Nicknames
by eponine119
April 27, 2008
It began gradually, almost imperceptibly. The way the look in Jack's eyes would change when Sawyer called him "doc," or the way Kate's skin seemed to luminesce when he called her "freckles."
But, things being as they were on the island, things quickly grew out of control. Sawyer thought it was strange that he said, "Anything you want, Princess," to Claire and then the next time he saw her she had a crown on her head and some sort of scepter in her hand. If it had been anyone besides Claire, he would have thought they were making fun of him. Also, if there'd been any kind of crowns or jewels on the plane, Sawyer would have known about it before now.
So he tried to watch himself. The habit was a hard one to break, though. Sayid reached in front of him at dinnertime, to help himself to the piece of boar meat that Sawyer had been eyeing, and in anger, Sawyer snapped, "Wait your turn, Mohammed." He would have pulled the words back if he could have, but they hung in the air for a long moment. Then Sayid handed him his plate, and turned away, murmuring something about a mountain. A few minutes later, Sawyer saw him walk by with his backpack strapped on.
"What in the hell is going on, doc?" Sawyer stormed into Jack's tent later on that evening. "This ain't funny anymore."
"What seems to be the trouble?" Jack asked, turning to pick up his stethoscope.
Too late, Sawyer realized what he'd done. "Shit," he said forcefully.
"Oh," said Jack, putting his stethoscope away hastily. "It's perfectly natural when eating a diet that's nearly all fruit --"
"Not so literal, jackass," Sawyer said, frustrated. He clapped his hand over his mouth almost before the word was out, but it was too late. Before his very eyes, Jack's body seemed to twist and change, until he stood there in front of Sawyer, a dark bristley creature with curious dark eyes.
Sawyer didn't know what to do, so he ran for Kate. Kate wouldn't be able to help, and she'd wrinkle her nose at him, but with Sayid gone, she the closest thing to Jack in the camp that they had left. One of the other survivors, one he didn't know, got in his way and Sawyer half fell over her. "Get out a my way, sweetheart," he snarled.
She made a faint gasp, clutching at her chest, and dropped to the sand. Sawyer's eyes went wide and he reached for her. "Come on, strongheart," he said, thinking perhaps the words would counteract…but it was too late. He could see the girl was gone. When he closed his eyes, he could imagine a pink, spun sugar heart crystallized in her chest where a moment before her real heart had been. He felt himself sway weakly on his feet.
Kate came running. "What happened?" she asked, frantic eyes searching Sawyer's face. "Somebody get Jack." She stopped, looking toward Jack's tent with a curious look on her face. The donkey stood in the doorway to Jack's tent. Oddly, Kate seemed to recognize him and have some sense of what had happened. "What did you do?" her voice trembled as she looked up at Sawyer with big green eyes.
"I didn't do nothin', babydoll --"
He'd done it again. Inside of a second, Kate sat on the ground, hard plastic legs and arms spread wide, bright eyes staring. Sawyer had the feeling that if he picked up the doll, an eerie voice would cry, "Ma-ma."
He turned away, vision swimming. He had to get away from people. That was the only way he'd manage to be quiet, to remember -- to stop this horror which he knew was all his fault. Sawyer started to walk toward the treeline, to disappear into the jungle.
A hand caught his arm. Sawyer turned and saw Jin's curious gaze. Sawyer kept his lips pressed together and shook his head, hard. Jin spoke to him in Korean. Sawyer pulled away and started back on his path, but Jin grabbed him again, harder this time. "Hey, Chewy, just let me go --"
Suddenly the hand on his arm was covered with thick brown hair. Sawyer had to lift his head now to see what had once been Jin's face. The Wookiee threw its head back and roared. Sawyer ran like hell.
The second time he passed the running water, he stopped, feeling his heart pound in his chest and his breath coming in tortured gasps. Not only was he running around lost in the jungle, he was running around in circles. At least he hadn't circled himself back to the beach -- yet. Sawyer knelt by the edge of the stream and plunged his hands into it. The water was cool and he lifted some to his mouth to drink, then rubbed his cold, wet hand across the back of his neck, to try to calm himself.
He stood there, looking at his rippled reflection in the water, and he knew what he had to do. He had to look down into that water and call himself by some name. The name of someone who couldn't speak and therefore could do no more damage. He didn't know why or how this had happened, except that they were all on a crazy island and so why ask why at all. He just knew he was responsible. But Sawyer couldn't think of anything to call himself. The name stuck in his mind was Helen Keller, but she'd just been blind and deaf. He remembered her saying "Wa-wa" in that movie. She could talk. It wouldn't be any good.
He was so frantic in his reverie that he didn't hear Hurley approaching until it was too late. "Dude," the other man said, and for a second Sawyer tensed, waiting to see if he'd be transformed into a fashion-conscious cowboy. He wasn't. It didn't seem fair. "Something's going on down at the beach. All these people are --" Hurley stopped and looked at him, accusation spreading across his face as he realized what had happened.
Sawyer couldn't take it. "Get lost, Stay-Puft," he said, reusing one of his favorites. Except...he'd done it again. Hurley grew large, shooting up through the treetops like Alice in Wonderland. He grew immense and the scent of sugar filled the air.
"I can see the whole island! You should see --" Hurley cried in a frightening, booming voice, and he ran off, toward whatever it was that had captured his attention. Made of marshmallow, he was soft and bouncy and squishy, so he didn't leave any wreckage in the wake of his rampage. Well, not exactly. There was a sticky slime trail winding through the trees.
Sawyer looked into the water and yelled with the kind of immense self-hatred only he was capable of inflicting on himself, "Shut up, Silent Bob!" As he sank to the ground, he felt a trenchcoat envelop his body. He peeked back into the water to see how complete the transformation had been. His hair must have been long enough -- it remained unchanged, though a baseball cap now rested on top of it. Sawyer pulled the coat more closely around him, and sat in the miserable silence.
Someone else had followed him into the jungle, someone who remained hidden, smiling in cold satisfaction. Revenge truly was sweet, she thought, especially when it was so fitting a punishment as this. The enchantment would wear off at midnight and everyone would return to their normal state of being with no permanent harm done. That was the way of witches' spells. And Juliet had been a witch since early that morning, when she'd picked up the book Sawyer was reading to look at it and inadvertently lost his place.
End.
Summary: Old habits are hard to break. Crackfic, gen, no real spoilers. 1314 words.
Nicknames
by eponine119
April 27, 2008
It began gradually, almost imperceptibly. The way the look in Jack's eyes would change when Sawyer called him "doc," or the way Kate's skin seemed to luminesce when he called her "freckles."
But, things being as they were on the island, things quickly grew out of control. Sawyer thought it was strange that he said, "Anything you want, Princess," to Claire and then the next time he saw her she had a crown on her head and some sort of scepter in her hand. If it had been anyone besides Claire, he would have thought they were making fun of him. Also, if there'd been any kind of crowns or jewels on the plane, Sawyer would have known about it before now.
So he tried to watch himself. The habit was a hard one to break, though. Sayid reached in front of him at dinnertime, to help himself to the piece of boar meat that Sawyer had been eyeing, and in anger, Sawyer snapped, "Wait your turn, Mohammed." He would have pulled the words back if he could have, but they hung in the air for a long moment. Then Sayid handed him his plate, and turned away, murmuring something about a mountain. A few minutes later, Sawyer saw him walk by with his backpack strapped on.
"What in the hell is going on, doc?" Sawyer stormed into Jack's tent later on that evening. "This ain't funny anymore."
"What seems to be the trouble?" Jack asked, turning to pick up his stethoscope.
Too late, Sawyer realized what he'd done. "Shit," he said forcefully.
"Oh," said Jack, putting his stethoscope away hastily. "It's perfectly natural when eating a diet that's nearly all fruit --"
"Not so literal, jackass," Sawyer said, frustrated. He clapped his hand over his mouth almost before the word was out, but it was too late. Before his very eyes, Jack's body seemed to twist and change, until he stood there in front of Sawyer, a dark bristley creature with curious dark eyes.
Sawyer didn't know what to do, so he ran for Kate. Kate wouldn't be able to help, and she'd wrinkle her nose at him, but with Sayid gone, she the closest thing to Jack in the camp that they had left. One of the other survivors, one he didn't know, got in his way and Sawyer half fell over her. "Get out a my way, sweetheart," he snarled.
She made a faint gasp, clutching at her chest, and dropped to the sand. Sawyer's eyes went wide and he reached for her. "Come on, strongheart," he said, thinking perhaps the words would counteract…but it was too late. He could see the girl was gone. When he closed his eyes, he could imagine a pink, spun sugar heart crystallized in her chest where a moment before her real heart had been. He felt himself sway weakly on his feet.
Kate came running. "What happened?" she asked, frantic eyes searching Sawyer's face. "Somebody get Jack." She stopped, looking toward Jack's tent with a curious look on her face. The donkey stood in the doorway to Jack's tent. Oddly, Kate seemed to recognize him and have some sense of what had happened. "What did you do?" her voice trembled as she looked up at Sawyer with big green eyes.
"I didn't do nothin', babydoll --"
He'd done it again. Inside of a second, Kate sat on the ground, hard plastic legs and arms spread wide, bright eyes staring. Sawyer had the feeling that if he picked up the doll, an eerie voice would cry, "Ma-ma."
He turned away, vision swimming. He had to get away from people. That was the only way he'd manage to be quiet, to remember -- to stop this horror which he knew was all his fault. Sawyer started to walk toward the treeline, to disappear into the jungle.
A hand caught his arm. Sawyer turned and saw Jin's curious gaze. Sawyer kept his lips pressed together and shook his head, hard. Jin spoke to him in Korean. Sawyer pulled away and started back on his path, but Jin grabbed him again, harder this time. "Hey, Chewy, just let me go --"
Suddenly the hand on his arm was covered with thick brown hair. Sawyer had to lift his head now to see what had once been Jin's face. The Wookiee threw its head back and roared. Sawyer ran like hell.
The second time he passed the running water, he stopped, feeling his heart pound in his chest and his breath coming in tortured gasps. Not only was he running around lost in the jungle, he was running around in circles. At least he hadn't circled himself back to the beach -- yet. Sawyer knelt by the edge of the stream and plunged his hands into it. The water was cool and he lifted some to his mouth to drink, then rubbed his cold, wet hand across the back of his neck, to try to calm himself.
He stood there, looking at his rippled reflection in the water, and he knew what he had to do. He had to look down into that water and call himself by some name. The name of someone who couldn't speak and therefore could do no more damage. He didn't know why or how this had happened, except that they were all on a crazy island and so why ask why at all. He just knew he was responsible. But Sawyer couldn't think of anything to call himself. The name stuck in his mind was Helen Keller, but she'd just been blind and deaf. He remembered her saying "Wa-wa" in that movie. She could talk. It wouldn't be any good.
He was so frantic in his reverie that he didn't hear Hurley approaching until it was too late. "Dude," the other man said, and for a second Sawyer tensed, waiting to see if he'd be transformed into a fashion-conscious cowboy. He wasn't. It didn't seem fair. "Something's going on down at the beach. All these people are --" Hurley stopped and looked at him, accusation spreading across his face as he realized what had happened.
Sawyer couldn't take it. "Get lost, Stay-Puft," he said, reusing one of his favorites. Except...he'd done it again. Hurley grew large, shooting up through the treetops like Alice in Wonderland. He grew immense and the scent of sugar filled the air.
"I can see the whole island! You should see --" Hurley cried in a frightening, booming voice, and he ran off, toward whatever it was that had captured his attention. Made of marshmallow, he was soft and bouncy and squishy, so he didn't leave any wreckage in the wake of his rampage. Well, not exactly. There was a sticky slime trail winding through the trees.
Sawyer looked into the water and yelled with the kind of immense self-hatred only he was capable of inflicting on himself, "Shut up, Silent Bob!" As he sank to the ground, he felt a trenchcoat envelop his body. He peeked back into the water to see how complete the transformation had been. His hair must have been long enough -- it remained unchanged, though a baseball cap now rested on top of it. Sawyer pulled the coat more closely around him, and sat in the miserable silence.
Someone else had followed him into the jungle, someone who remained hidden, smiling in cold satisfaction. Revenge truly was sweet, she thought, especially when it was so fitting a punishment as this. The enchantment would wear off at midnight and everyone would return to their normal state of being with no permanent harm done. That was the way of witches' spells. And Juliet had been a witch since early that morning, when she'd picked up the book Sawyer was reading to look at it and inadvertently lost his place.
End.