Sometimes The Best Thing To Do Is Nothing - Lost - Daniel/Miles
Title: Sometimes The Best Thing To Do Is Nothing
Characters: Juliet, Daniel, Miles, Sawyer (Daniel/Miles subtext)
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death, spoilers up to 5x04
A/N: Written for lostfichallenge and writing_rainbow.
Summary: It's hard for any doctor to accept that they can't fix everything.
She sees everything.
Juliet has often wished that she had been blessed with less insight. It would be easier. It would be kinder. When she looks at someone like Daniel and instinctively knows what she has to do to pull his strings and manipulate him, she feels heartless - she feels like Ben.
And she is not a monster and she is not like him but she's been struggling to survive on this island for far too long. Her instincts are well honed.
"Daniel," she says, quietly but firmly, as she stands a small distance behind him. His shoulders are tense and tight and he doesn't look at her, staring down at the grass beneath his feet instead. The ground still holds the stain of Charlotte's blood, rusty red, but that won't remain there for long; the next white flash will take them far away from all memories of her. Juliet hopes the body doesn't come along for the ride. "Daniel."
He still doesn't turn around and she finds that she doesn't want to approach him.
"Just leave him," Miles says, beside her from nowhere. "I'll handle it."
And she could tell him that she thinks he's the last person that ought to deal with Daniel right now - that he could rival Sawyer in terms of tactlessness and that she doesn't want to psychologically scar Daniel any more than is strictly necessary - but she holds her tongue when she sees the expression on Miles's face. He lost a friend today too, but that's not what's plaguing him.
It's worry.
She glances between the two young men, insightful eyes piecing everything together; she doesn't know why she didn't see it before.
"Be careful with him," she warns, backing off before Miles has the chance to give a cutting reply. She retreats as Miles walks forwards to Daniel: she can only hope that Miles has a better chance of reaching the young man than she does.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Sawyer asks when she reaches him. His arms are crossed over his chest and he stares over her shoulder to the two men as if the strength of his gaze might bestow telepathy upon him. "Leaving the pair of them alone right now?"
"Why not?" she answers, looking right at him even as he's not looking at her.
He's acting gruffer than usual.
She knows that means Charlotte's death has upset him more than he wants to acknowledge.
"Miles can help him," she answers, looking back at them. Miles's arm is around Daniel's motionless shoulders, a more tender gesture than she would have imagined him capable of before. They're talking in hushed voices, mere murmurs, and Juliet doubts if the words themselves are important: the pair of them will pull together now. They'll be a weapon to fight the island itself; forged in grief and sharpened by tears. "A lot more than I can, anyway."
Sometimes, as a doctor, that's the hardest thing to see - and it's even harder to accept.
Characters: Juliet, Daniel, Miles, Sawyer (Daniel/Miles subtext)
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death, spoilers up to 5x04
A/N: Written for lostfichallenge and writing_rainbow.
Summary: It's hard for any doctor to accept that they can't fix everything.
She sees everything.
Juliet has often wished that she had been blessed with less insight. It would be easier. It would be kinder. When she looks at someone like Daniel and instinctively knows what she has to do to pull his strings and manipulate him, she feels heartless - she feels like Ben.
And she is not a monster and she is not like him but she's been struggling to survive on this island for far too long. Her instincts are well honed.
"Daniel," she says, quietly but firmly, as she stands a small distance behind him. His shoulders are tense and tight and he doesn't look at her, staring down at the grass beneath his feet instead. The ground still holds the stain of Charlotte's blood, rusty red, but that won't remain there for long; the next white flash will take them far away from all memories of her. Juliet hopes the body doesn't come along for the ride. "Daniel."
He still doesn't turn around and she finds that she doesn't want to approach him.
"Just leave him," Miles says, beside her from nowhere. "I'll handle it."
And she could tell him that she thinks he's the last person that ought to deal with Daniel right now - that he could rival Sawyer in terms of tactlessness and that she doesn't want to psychologically scar Daniel any more than is strictly necessary - but she holds her tongue when she sees the expression on Miles's face. He lost a friend today too, but that's not what's plaguing him.
It's worry.
She glances between the two young men, insightful eyes piecing everything together; she doesn't know why she didn't see it before.
"Be careful with him," she warns, backing off before Miles has the chance to give a cutting reply. She retreats as Miles walks forwards to Daniel: she can only hope that Miles has a better chance of reaching the young man than she does.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Sawyer asks when she reaches him. His arms are crossed over his chest and he stares over her shoulder to the two men as if the strength of his gaze might bestow telepathy upon him. "Leaving the pair of them alone right now?"
"Why not?" she answers, looking right at him even as he's not looking at her.
He's acting gruffer than usual.
She knows that means Charlotte's death has upset him more than he wants to acknowledge.
"Miles can help him," she answers, looking back at them. Miles's arm is around Daniel's motionless shoulders, a more tender gesture than she would have imagined him capable of before. They're talking in hushed voices, mere murmurs, and Juliet doubts if the words themselves are important: the pair of them will pull together now. They'll be a weapon to fight the island itself; forged in grief and sharpened by tears. "A lot more than I can, anyway."
Sometimes, as a doctor, that's the hardest thing to see - and it's even harder to accept.