Fic, Lost: Shades of Gray (Desmond/Sayid, sort of), PG13, for lostpicksix
And I finally managed to copy one of the ficlets. Go me really ;)
Title: Shades of Gray
Rating: PG13
Pairing: sort of Desmond/Sayid
Words: 1250
Summary: He had his certainty, that there wasn’t anything outside black or white; now Desmond is trying to take it away from him and he can’t have it. Not really. He can’t afford to think in shades of gray just right now.
Spoilers: up to the S4 finale.
Disclaimer: not mine. Woah, that's some news.
A/N: for lostpicksix, holding hands, and lostfichallenge, light and dark. I fear it's not a very original interpretation of the theme but that's as good as I could get. No plot whatsoever really, but who needs plot?
Sayid has known for a while that he really isn’t a good man. Not anymore, at least.
Alright, maybe once he was; then he had tried again and failed miserably. He’s pretty sure that now it wouldn’t be worth another try. Once he had thought that the world was either black or white; then, for his sake, he had admitted the existence of shades of gray, but right now he thinks he’s back at square one. Or at least he figures he is, since he hasn’t thought in shades of gray in a while and it wouldn’t do good to go back to what it was (on the island, just soon after it) if he wants to keep his sanity, or what’s left of it.
(Maybe he should have asked for Shannon’s opinion about going back to what it was, but after all, he had never known about that particular sentence and thinking about Shannon hurts. Too much.)
Until Nadia was alive, it was; now it isn’t and he has stopped trying. It’s his nature, he figured out that much; Nadia is dead and there’s no reason to keep on fooling himself.
--
Then it happens that he refuses to kill Penny and for two seconds he wonders whether he’s actually thinking in shades of gray; then he agrees with Ben to convince Desmond to go back with them without her while sparing her life and there he is. As black as it goes. He should have learned long ago that whenever he leaves the dark zone, he never gets too far out. He never stays too much out of it, either.
--
Sayid has always thought Desmond to be a good man. Or at least a much better one than he is right now, or maybe that he ever was; after all, Sayid has always also thought that good men deserve a happy ending.
As far as knows, or as far as he has known until now, Desmond had got his. Sure, he had got his own. For a while.
Desmond objects, when Sayid tells him in an attempt to cheer him up which he can’t place himself. After all, he answers, he had promised Penny never to leave her again and look where he is.
Sayid replies that he did it to save her life and Desmond shrugs, saying that it doesn’t change that he has lied to her anyway. Or that he has broken his promise, and it doesn’t count any less.
Sayid spends some time pondering this answer over; he also realizes that he had never lied to Nadia, after they were reunited. She had always known everything, truth about the island included.
He wonders whether it means something; it probably doesn’t. After all, she’s dead and Penny isn’t; and isn’t this what really counts?
He decides that this is becoming way too confusing. He had his certainty, that there wasn’t anything outside black or white; now Desmond is trying to take it away from him and he can’t have it. Not really. He can’t afford to think in shades of gray just right now.
--
The point is that for how much he wishes to believe that Desmond was cut out of white material, he can’t not admit that he isn’t. But he isn’t black material either. He’s gray, as gray as it goes. Maybe a light shade; but gray nonetheless.
Then he keeps on thinking about their current situation and he can’t help picturing themselves as faces of a same coin; but if the other face of black is white, what’s the other face of gray?
He’s definitely losing his only certainty and it makes him feel enraged. But it’s not like he can do anything about it, and he has made a point of managing his anger by now. He just can’t help keeping on wondering, especially when his days are spent with Desmond between his car and motels, waiting for any kind of instructions that he really dreads receiving by this point.
--
He had known all along that bringing Penny with them was out of the question. Desmond hadn’t objected much when he broke the news before leaving. He didn’t even try to ask whether she could come; it was obviously wiser keeping her far from Ben’s whereabouts for good.
--
Desmond’s voice cracks just slightly when he murmurs that this is his punishment while they stand on the quay; Jack is already on the boat, his face ghastly pale, looking on the verge of throwing up. Hurley stands next to him and two voices clearly belonging to children, a boy and a girl, can be heard clear as if they were standing just in front of them.
Sayid knows what he’s talking about; they’ve had time to talk in three months on the road.
What Desmond did surely wasn’t honorable, but after all, nothing that Sayid has done in the last two years and a half is, either.
They are the only ones that haven’t boarded yet, apart from Ben, who stands behind them next to a hearse. For a second, Sayid feels a shiver running down his spine, and it’s the first time in a long, long while.
His hand moves on its own accord and grabs Desmond’s in one swift motion. The skin he touches is warm and rough; he waits for Desmond to snap or pull it away.
He doesn’t and after five seconds or so Desmond’s fingers slowly interlace with his own, while both of their hands shake just a bit. As Sayid, feeling strangely reassured, gives Desmond’s hand a small squeeze, he dares raising his head and he feels strangely reassured when Desmond’s lips twitch up in a small smile.
Then he realizes he’s trembling all over, nervousness is taking hold of him in a way that he can only describe as overwhelming. He hasn’t felt like this in a long while. A really long while.
They take a couple of steps forward and climb over the rail, reaching the deck; he doesn’t want to think about where they’re going or what they will do once they get there, if they do at all, and he looks down.
Desmond’s skin is darker than he had previously pictured it to be, it looks almost golden in the blinding sunlight of the small port in some island he can’t remember the name of, (surely it’s not Membata, of that he’s certain); he remembers Desmond looking very, very pale while they were spending their time either in a car or in some other closed space. It isn’t that far from his own, even if it’s of course lighter.
He takes a breath; his legs feel heavy, he can sense something burning in his eyes, his heart beats so fast, faster than he can remember it beating since he asked Ben who was next. He doesn’t know whether feeling like he felt when he practically decided to doom himself for life is positive or not.
Desmond’s hand grips his tighter, just a bit; Sayid doesn’t understand how can he do this at all (Desmond talked, sure, but Sayid did, too. No point in keeping secrets, right?). Then he remembers that shades of gray might exist after all.
He closes his eyes, trying to picture them in an endless series, going from dark gray, closer to black, to a lighter one almost resembling white; they still flash in front of his eyes when he opens them and looks at Desmond’s hand still holding his.
End.
Title: Shades of Gray
Rating: PG13
Pairing: sort of Desmond/Sayid
Words: 1250
Summary: He had his certainty, that there wasn’t anything outside black or white; now Desmond is trying to take it away from him and he can’t have it. Not really. He can’t afford to think in shades of gray just right now.
Spoilers: up to the S4 finale.
Disclaimer: not mine. Woah, that's some news.
A/N: for lostpicksix, holding hands, and lostfichallenge, light and dark. I fear it's not a very original interpretation of the theme but that's as good as I could get. No plot whatsoever really, but who needs plot?
Sayid has known for a while that he really isn’t a good man. Not anymore, at least.
Alright, maybe once he was; then he had tried again and failed miserably. He’s pretty sure that now it wouldn’t be worth another try. Once he had thought that the world was either black or white; then, for his sake, he had admitted the existence of shades of gray, but right now he thinks he’s back at square one. Or at least he figures he is, since he hasn’t thought in shades of gray in a while and it wouldn’t do good to go back to what it was (on the island, just soon after it) if he wants to keep his sanity, or what’s left of it.
(Maybe he should have asked for Shannon’s opinion about going back to what it was, but after all, he had never known about that particular sentence and thinking about Shannon hurts. Too much.)
Until Nadia was alive, it was; now it isn’t and he has stopped trying. It’s his nature, he figured out that much; Nadia is dead and there’s no reason to keep on fooling himself.
--
Then it happens that he refuses to kill Penny and for two seconds he wonders whether he’s actually thinking in shades of gray; then he agrees with Ben to convince Desmond to go back with them without her while sparing her life and there he is. As black as it goes. He should have learned long ago that whenever he leaves the dark zone, he never gets too far out. He never stays too much out of it, either.
--
Sayid has always thought Desmond to be a good man. Or at least a much better one than he is right now, or maybe that he ever was; after all, Sayid has always also thought that good men deserve a happy ending.
As far as knows, or as far as he has known until now, Desmond had got his. Sure, he had got his own. For a while.
Desmond objects, when Sayid tells him in an attempt to cheer him up which he can’t place himself. After all, he answers, he had promised Penny never to leave her again and look where he is.
Sayid replies that he did it to save her life and Desmond shrugs, saying that it doesn’t change that he has lied to her anyway. Or that he has broken his promise, and it doesn’t count any less.
Sayid spends some time pondering this answer over; he also realizes that he had never lied to Nadia, after they were reunited. She had always known everything, truth about the island included.
He wonders whether it means something; it probably doesn’t. After all, she’s dead and Penny isn’t; and isn’t this what really counts?
He decides that this is becoming way too confusing. He had his certainty, that there wasn’t anything outside black or white; now Desmond is trying to take it away from him and he can’t have it. Not really. He can’t afford to think in shades of gray just right now.
--
The point is that for how much he wishes to believe that Desmond was cut out of white material, he can’t not admit that he isn’t. But he isn’t black material either. He’s gray, as gray as it goes. Maybe a light shade; but gray nonetheless.
Then he keeps on thinking about their current situation and he can’t help picturing themselves as faces of a same coin; but if the other face of black is white, what’s the other face of gray?
He’s definitely losing his only certainty and it makes him feel enraged. But it’s not like he can do anything about it, and he has made a point of managing his anger by now. He just can’t help keeping on wondering, especially when his days are spent with Desmond between his car and motels, waiting for any kind of instructions that he really dreads receiving by this point.
--
He had known all along that bringing Penny with them was out of the question. Desmond hadn’t objected much when he broke the news before leaving. He didn’t even try to ask whether she could come; it was obviously wiser keeping her far from Ben’s whereabouts for good.
--
Desmond’s voice cracks just slightly when he murmurs that this is his punishment while they stand on the quay; Jack is already on the boat, his face ghastly pale, looking on the verge of throwing up. Hurley stands next to him and two voices clearly belonging to children, a boy and a girl, can be heard clear as if they were standing just in front of them.
Sayid knows what he’s talking about; they’ve had time to talk in three months on the road.
What Desmond did surely wasn’t honorable, but after all, nothing that Sayid has done in the last two years and a half is, either.
They are the only ones that haven’t boarded yet, apart from Ben, who stands behind them next to a hearse. For a second, Sayid feels a shiver running down his spine, and it’s the first time in a long, long while.
His hand moves on its own accord and grabs Desmond’s in one swift motion. The skin he touches is warm and rough; he waits for Desmond to snap or pull it away.
He doesn’t and after five seconds or so Desmond’s fingers slowly interlace with his own, while both of their hands shake just a bit. As Sayid, feeling strangely reassured, gives Desmond’s hand a small squeeze, he dares raising his head and he feels strangely reassured when Desmond’s lips twitch up in a small smile.
Then he realizes he’s trembling all over, nervousness is taking hold of him in a way that he can only describe as overwhelming. He hasn’t felt like this in a long while. A really long while.
They take a couple of steps forward and climb over the rail, reaching the deck; he doesn’t want to think about where they’re going or what they will do once they get there, if they do at all, and he looks down.
Desmond’s skin is darker than he had previously pictured it to be, it looks almost golden in the blinding sunlight of the small port in some island he can’t remember the name of, (surely it’s not Membata, of that he’s certain); he remembers Desmond looking very, very pale while they were spending their time either in a car or in some other closed space. It isn’t that far from his own, even if it’s of course lighter.
He takes a breath; his legs feel heavy, he can sense something burning in his eyes, his heart beats so fast, faster than he can remember it beating since he asked Ben who was next. He doesn’t know whether feeling like he felt when he practically decided to doom himself for life is positive or not.
Desmond’s hand grips his tighter, just a bit; Sayid doesn’t understand how can he do this at all (Desmond talked, sure, but Sayid did, too. No point in keeping secrets, right?). Then he remembers that shades of gray might exist after all.
He closes his eyes, trying to picture them in an endless series, going from dark gray, closer to black, to a lighter one almost resembling white; they still flash in front of his eyes when he opens them and looks at Desmond’s hand still holding his.
End.