Fic: Pins and Needles (1/1)
Title: Pins and Needles
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Kate Austen, Jack Shephard
Word Count: 200
Summary: He talks of fear, like he knows what it is, but she doesn’t believe him. For kellysparrow, who requested “Season 1 Jack/Kate, or just Kate” at The lostsquee 2009 Lost Summer Luau, and for the 18coda Prompt #11 - Rubato. Mild Spoilers through 2.09 - What Kate Did.
Prompt Table: Here
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: For kellysparrow: I tried to make this scene sort of... pre-romantic for Jack/Kate, but it turned out more as just Kate analyzing Jack and being kind of bitter and pseudo-hardcore. Hopefully that’s okay :)
(And sidenote, to any Trek fans - particularly Reboot fans - but I seriously just (and quite possibly belatedly) noticed that Kate says “I might throw up on you” to Jack as she’s stitching him up in “Pilot, Part 1.” Coincidence that J.J. and Damon seemed to use virtually the same line with McCoy?)
Pins and Needles
He talks of fear, like he knows what it is, but she doesn’t believe him, really; doesn’t believe that he knows the sort of fear that drives a person to run, drives a person to lie.
To kill.
She’s pretty sure that the only reason he’s talking at all is to provide a distraction, to soothe her anxiety, but the simple fact is that when he sliced that girl’s spine, he still had a fall back, still had a Plan B. He had daddy there to save him if he choked on that angel-hair fucking pasta, his own nerves versus that little girl on the table. She wasn’t - isn’t - that lucky.
He doesn’t know fear.
She ties the ends of the thread - wrapped around her cuticle, close to the skin - the black lines like dried blood, angry blood; like the violent curls of smoke in a blaze, like ash against the creases of her palm. He thanks her, walks away - the quintessential hero with the steeled eyes and the straight spine and the blood on his pristine fucking shirt, and she grabs for the vodka and tips it back, hopes there’s some left.
She’s never sewn no goddamn drapes.
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Kate Austen, Jack Shephard
Word Count: 200
Summary: He talks of fear, like he knows what it is, but she doesn’t believe him. For kellysparrow, who requested “Season 1 Jack/Kate, or just Kate” at The lostsquee 2009 Lost Summer Luau, and for the 18coda Prompt #11 - Rubato. Mild Spoilers through 2.09 - What Kate Did.
Prompt Table: Here
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: For kellysparrow: I tried to make this scene sort of... pre-romantic for Jack/Kate, but it turned out more as just Kate analyzing Jack and being kind of bitter and pseudo-hardcore. Hopefully that’s okay :)
(And sidenote, to any Trek fans - particularly Reboot fans - but I seriously just (and quite possibly belatedly) noticed that Kate says “I might throw up on you” to Jack as she’s stitching him up in “Pilot, Part 1.” Coincidence that J.J. and Damon seemed to use virtually the same line with McCoy?)
Pins and Needles
He talks of fear, like he knows what it is, but she doesn’t believe him, really; doesn’t believe that he knows the sort of fear that drives a person to run, drives a person to lie.
To kill.
She’s pretty sure that the only reason he’s talking at all is to provide a distraction, to soothe her anxiety, but the simple fact is that when he sliced that girl’s spine, he still had a fall back, still had a Plan B. He had daddy there to save him if he choked on that angel-hair fucking pasta, his own nerves versus that little girl on the table. She wasn’t - isn’t - that lucky.
He doesn’t know fear.
She ties the ends of the thread - wrapped around her cuticle, close to the skin - the black lines like dried blood, angry blood; like the violent curls of smoke in a blaze, like ash against the creases of her palm. He thanks her, walks away - the quintessential hero with the steeled eyes and the straight spine and the blood on his pristine fucking shirt, and she grabs for the vodka and tips it back, hopes there’s some left.
She’s never sewn no goddamn drapes.