fanfic: familiar faces
I AM DISAPPOINT AT LOST'S LACK OF EMMYS. D:
However, I did whip up a Hurley fic that I've had in my head for quite a long time to make up for it.
Title: Familiar Faces
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Hurley, Roger
Word Count: 623
Rating: PG
Warnings/Notes: Spoilers for season five, I guess. And I've realized that Hurley is ridiculously fun to write.
- - -
Hurley’s first day of work in the Dharma cafeteria went considerably well, except for the small detail that in the span of one day he has gone from 2007 to 1977, like some kind of Back to the Future thing except with an airplane instead of a DeLorean. And okay, washing dishes by hand sucks too, but after the incident with Sayid killing a guy with a dishwasher a few days ago, Hurley is quite content to stay away from dishwashers for a while.
“Are you almost done in there?” a bored voice calls to him.
Hurley glances back to see a janitor standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Yeah, dude, just a sec.” He finishes drying the last of the dishes and quickly looks around to make sure he hasn’t left anything out. Best not to leave everything to the janitors, he figures.
The janitor moves further into the kitchen. He begins to mop the floor as Hurley walks toward him to depart from the kitchen. “You one of the new recruits?” he asks Hurley.
Hurley takes this moment to take notice of the name embroidered on the janitor’s jumpsuit, the easiest way for him to get familiar with names and faces. This man is apparently named Roger, and holds the Dharma-speak job “Work Man.” Hmm, why does that sound familiar? Hurley wonders. He figures he’s probably met the guy earlier, maybe at the welcome barbeque.
A flash of memory suddenly enters his mind: three years ago, the jungle, the overturned van, the skeleton found within. Sawyer making fun of him for calling the skeleton “Roger Workman” as if the latter was his last name.
Wait, Roger Workman?
Oh, crap.
“You hear what I said?” Roger asks.
It takes Hurley a moment to remember what Roger has asked him. “Uh, yeah,” he replies, trying not to stare too hard at him. It’s hard, though, since he’s pretty sure there’s no calm reaction to the realization that you’ve seen this guy’s rotted skeleton three years ago which is really thirty years from now. “I’m Hurley. Uh, Hugo Reyes.”
Roger extends a hand toward him. “Roger Linus.”
It’s all Hurley can do to prevent himself from flinching at the last name. Linus. Unless there happens to be another Linus-surnamed family in the Dharma Initiative, that just adds a whole new level of “oh, crap” to the situation. “So, like, are you Ben’s dad or something?” he asks after shaking Roger’s hand.
Roger’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “How do you know my son?”
“Uh.” Hurley backpedals as quickly as he can. “I... met him earlier?” It’s not a complete lie. “Met him earlier” can certainly mean “your son terrorized me and my people on this island three years ago, which is really thirty years from now, and then he left the island soon after we did and I threw a Hot Pocket at him because my friend who’s an Iraqi torturer told me not to trust him.”
“Oh.” Roger looks slightly more at ease now, certainly more so than if Hurley had told him the truth. “Well, welcome to the Dharma Initiative, Hugo.”
“Uh, yeah.” Hurley isn’t sure he’ll be able to stand this conversation for very long. The only thing that is coming to his mind is the image of Sawyer bonking his can of Dharma beer against this guy’s skull. “So, um. I gotta go now. See you later, dude.”
He rushes out of the kitchen as quickly as he can, wondering how many other awkward encounters like this he’s going to have to face now that he’s in the past. He might not completely understand how time travel works, but now he knows one thing about it for sure: it totally sucks.
However, I did whip up a Hurley fic that I've had in my head for quite a long time to make up for it.
Title: Familiar Faces
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Hurley, Roger
Word Count: 623
Rating: PG
Warnings/Notes: Spoilers for season five, I guess. And I've realized that Hurley is ridiculously fun to write.
- - -
Hurley’s first day of work in the Dharma cafeteria went considerably well, except for the small detail that in the span of one day he has gone from 2007 to 1977, like some kind of Back to the Future thing except with an airplane instead of a DeLorean. And okay, washing dishes by hand sucks too, but after the incident with Sayid killing a guy with a dishwasher a few days ago, Hurley is quite content to stay away from dishwashers for a while.
“Are you almost done in there?” a bored voice calls to him.
Hurley glances back to see a janitor standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Yeah, dude, just a sec.” He finishes drying the last of the dishes and quickly looks around to make sure he hasn’t left anything out. Best not to leave everything to the janitors, he figures.
The janitor moves further into the kitchen. He begins to mop the floor as Hurley walks toward him to depart from the kitchen. “You one of the new recruits?” he asks Hurley.
Hurley takes this moment to take notice of the name embroidered on the janitor’s jumpsuit, the easiest way for him to get familiar with names and faces. This man is apparently named Roger, and holds the Dharma-speak job “Work Man.” Hmm, why does that sound familiar? Hurley wonders. He figures he’s probably met the guy earlier, maybe at the welcome barbeque.
A flash of memory suddenly enters his mind: three years ago, the jungle, the overturned van, the skeleton found within. Sawyer making fun of him for calling the skeleton “Roger Workman” as if the latter was his last name.
Wait, Roger Workman?
Oh, crap.
“You hear what I said?” Roger asks.
It takes Hurley a moment to remember what Roger has asked him. “Uh, yeah,” he replies, trying not to stare too hard at him. It’s hard, though, since he’s pretty sure there’s no calm reaction to the realization that you’ve seen this guy’s rotted skeleton three years ago which is really thirty years from now. “I’m Hurley. Uh, Hugo Reyes.”
Roger extends a hand toward him. “Roger Linus.”
It’s all Hurley can do to prevent himself from flinching at the last name. Linus. Unless there happens to be another Linus-surnamed family in the Dharma Initiative, that just adds a whole new level of “oh, crap” to the situation. “So, like, are you Ben’s dad or something?” he asks after shaking Roger’s hand.
Roger’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “How do you know my son?”
“Uh.” Hurley backpedals as quickly as he can. “I... met him earlier?” It’s not a complete lie. “Met him earlier” can certainly mean “your son terrorized me and my people on this island three years ago, which is really thirty years from now, and then he left the island soon after we did and I threw a Hot Pocket at him because my friend who’s an Iraqi torturer told me not to trust him.”
“Oh.” Roger looks slightly more at ease now, certainly more so than if Hurley had told him the truth. “Well, welcome to the Dharma Initiative, Hugo.”
“Uh, yeah.” Hurley isn’t sure he’ll be able to stand this conversation for very long. The only thing that is coming to his mind is the image of Sawyer bonking his can of Dharma beer against this guy’s skull. “So, um. I gotta go now. See you later, dude.”
He rushes out of the kitchen as quickly as he can, wondering how many other awkward encounters like this he’s going to have to face now that he’s in the past. He might not completely understand how time travel works, but now he knows one thing about it for sure: it totally sucks.