fic, Lost: There's a Distance I Can't Close (Boone/Nicole), for un_love_you
Well, this is weird. Really weird. But I have been wanting to try this thing for a while and yesterday I was at university an hour before needed, so why not? If you know who is my POV without looking at Lostpedia first you earn a cookie ;)
Title: There's a Distance I Can't Close
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairing: Boone/Nicole
Word counting: 1345
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine, what news.
Spoilers: barely for Hearts and Minds, aka no spoilers.
Summary: From then on, Nicole had known that even if he tried his hardest to convince himself otherwise, Boone didn’t really need her; he wanted to need her, so badly that she couldn’t bring herself to call everything off.
A/N: for un_love_you #6, I want to need you. And I do realize that the girl had, like, a line in all of the show's history and the writers probably forgot she even existed but hey, she had a line and she threw him one look that said a lot of things. Why, yes, I've seen that episode too many times. Title stolen from a Nils Lofgren song for the usual reasons.
Blue eyes and pink, soft lips slightly parted in a smile while he embraces a tall, blond girl whom Nicole has met just once or maybe twice, flash on her TV screen; Boone Carlyle and Shannon Rutherford, 22 and 20, deceased in the Oceanic 815’s crash appears under their still faces in shiny, bright colors and for a second Nicole feels the coffee she’s drinking raise all the way up to her throat. Then she swallows it down again, a disgusting taste left in her mouth; the picture disappears and Boone’s mother sits on a sofa near the talk show’s host. There are four other women near her, all mothers of people who died with Boone and Shannon; if she remembers right, one is some Jack Shephard’s mother, one some Hugo Reyes’, another of one Ana Lucia of which she can’t remember the name and she hasn’t heard the name of the fourth.
Boone’s mother is the only one wearing make-up; Nicole takes the remote control and pushes the mute button.
She takes a couple of breaths. Nothing she hadn’t known. Well, right, she hadn’t known he would have died so young in a plane crash, but she had known he would have died with Shannon.
She isn’t angry at him or anything. Not really. She just had known it and made her peace with it two days after he asked her out for the first time and Shannon had called him during their second date.
Another person would have left him right at that point; but she hadn’t. Mainly because he didn’t really do it on purpose and he was just so nice.
They met when he organized her sister’s wedding; then they had met again at some march she had gone to, she thinks it was something for women’s rights, and he had asked her out for the next day.
She had just left her boyfriend of three years for reasons that could be summed up saying that he had become too much of an high class jerk and she hadn’t wanted anything serious. Boone had told her he was in a similar situation and didn’t wish for anything serious, either. Which was fine by Nicole, just absolutely fine. So, she had gone. After all, he was so nice to her, he had a lovely smile and he was surely the prettiest guy that had ever asked her out; why not?
Then Shannon had called for the first time.
Nicole met her three or four days later when she and Boone were back from someplace she can’t remember right now, she thinks Canada, and it took her five minutes to understand with whom his heart truly was. They acted differently, sure, but they acted and one should have had blind eyes not to see it.
But she hadn’t said anything; just smiled, shook Shannon’s hand and then Boone had brought her out to dinner and Shannon had stayed at home.
From then on, Nicole had known that even if he tried his hardest to convince himself otherwise, Boone didn’t really need her; he wanted to need her, so badly that she couldn’t bring herself to call everything off.
Because apart from the really, really small problem consisting in the fact that he was hopelessly in love with his stepsister, there wasn’t really anything she could blame him for.
He always let her decide where to go or one movie to see; he was a spectacular kisser and one hell of a bed partner if she can say it straight. He was the only person she knew who had what she’d have called a civil conscience and that donated blood like she did; once they even went together. And well, she liked him, and he liked her even if he didn’t love her, but it wasn’t exactly like she loved him in the pretty strict romantic sense of the word. So she had just chosen to nod and shrug whenever Shannon called him and pretended not to have a problem when he apologized to her once they were back from wherever he had fetched her.
While she might have had a problem, she also knew that he was genuinely sorry. He didn’t do it on purpose and surely without any bad intention. Nicole couldn’t really blame him for trying to make it work even if it was obvious how much he was in denial regarding his feelings towards Shannon. And since she and Boone were never really that serious, Nicole just put up with it. It was a small price to pay, after all.
She pushes the volume control button on the remote, raising it up; Boone’s mother, whom she met maybe three or four times and had never really liked, is blathering about wanting to sue Oceanic and when she’s asked how come Boone and Shannon were on that plane, she sighs and says it was probably the girl’s fault, she always was so problematic, nothing like her son, and the other people near her look way more devastated than she does. The Reyes woman is crying, the Shephard, or at least Nicole thinks it’s her, puts a hand on her shoulder slightly squeezing it, her face just blank. Nicole can’t help feeling a bit sympathetic towards Shannon right now.
Nicole sips a bit of her coffee, which is cold by now and tastes disgusting. Sometimes, when he stayed over at her apartment, Boone was the one doing the coffee. It tasted way better than hers ever did or ever will taste and as she realizes she won’t ever drink it again, she feels sick.
She pushes the mute button again, hoping for that picture to show back on screen, but then a handsome man in his late thirties or early forties, a serious expression, dressed in a smart black suit, his hand around the hip of a young, blond bride appears. The same bright, shiny letters flash Jack Shephard, 37, deceased in the Oceanic 815’s crash.
Nicole stands up, pushing her hair out of her forehead and tying them up (he always told her she looked prettier when she let them hang loose); then she dumps the rest of her coffee in the sink and as she leans against the counter, she feels a single tear roll silently down her cheek. She lets it be.
Maybe it wasn’t serious and he didn’t really need her, had never really needed for how much he wanted to; it doesn’t change anything. She thinks she’s understanding just now that maybe she had stuck around because it was a little bit serious; maybe because she had thought that if she stuck around one day he wouldn’t have needed to want her but he would have wanted her alright. She had wondered if it could happen once or twice; now she figures she won’t ever know.
She steps away from the counter, realizing that they never took a picture together; they had been together one month and a half and had never gone some place where it was worth to have your picture taken. She figures that his mother won’t ever give her one, if she asks for it.
She picks up a magazine that her sister left her here yesterday, she had come completely shocked telling her that the guy who organized her wedding had died in the crash; Nicole slowly turns the pages until she finds one where that picture of him and Shannon she had seen on TV takes the whole bottom half.
She rips the page away, then finds a pair of scissors. Nicole cuts the other pic from the upper half, then watches what’s left, then she figures that Shannon wouldn’t have minded much, from what she had seen, and cuts her from the picture, too. What remains is Boone minus his right arm, which was hooked around Shannon’s shoulders.
Nicole throws the rest of the magazine in the trashcan, folds carefully the picture in half and puts it in a drawer of her nightstand. She can’t really do much more now.
End.
Title: There's a Distance I Can't Close
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairing: Boone/Nicole
Word counting: 1345
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine, what news.
Spoilers: barely for Hearts and Minds, aka no spoilers.
Summary: From then on, Nicole had known that even if he tried his hardest to convince himself otherwise, Boone didn’t really need her; he wanted to need her, so badly that she couldn’t bring herself to call everything off.
A/N: for un_love_you #6, I want to need you. And I do realize that the girl had, like, a line in all of the show's history and the writers probably forgot she even existed but hey, she had a line and she threw him one look that said a lot of things. Why, yes, I've seen that episode too many times. Title stolen from a Nils Lofgren song for the usual reasons.
Blue eyes and pink, soft lips slightly parted in a smile while he embraces a tall, blond girl whom Nicole has met just once or maybe twice, flash on her TV screen; Boone Carlyle and Shannon Rutherford, 22 and 20, deceased in the Oceanic 815’s crash appears under their still faces in shiny, bright colors and for a second Nicole feels the coffee she’s drinking raise all the way up to her throat. Then she swallows it down again, a disgusting taste left in her mouth; the picture disappears and Boone’s mother sits on a sofa near the talk show’s host. There are four other women near her, all mothers of people who died with Boone and Shannon; if she remembers right, one is some Jack Shephard’s mother, one some Hugo Reyes’, another of one Ana Lucia of which she can’t remember the name and she hasn’t heard the name of the fourth.
Boone’s mother is the only one wearing make-up; Nicole takes the remote control and pushes the mute button.
She takes a couple of breaths. Nothing she hadn’t known. Well, right, she hadn’t known he would have died so young in a plane crash, but she had known he would have died with Shannon.
She isn’t angry at him or anything. Not really. She just had known it and made her peace with it two days after he asked her out for the first time and Shannon had called him during their second date.
Another person would have left him right at that point; but she hadn’t. Mainly because he didn’t really do it on purpose and he was just so nice.
They met when he organized her sister’s wedding; then they had met again at some march she had gone to, she thinks it was something for women’s rights, and he had asked her out for the next day.
She had just left her boyfriend of three years for reasons that could be summed up saying that he had become too much of an high class jerk and she hadn’t wanted anything serious. Boone had told her he was in a similar situation and didn’t wish for anything serious, either. Which was fine by Nicole, just absolutely fine. So, she had gone. After all, he was so nice to her, he had a lovely smile and he was surely the prettiest guy that had ever asked her out; why not?
Then Shannon had called for the first time.
Nicole met her three or four days later when she and Boone were back from someplace she can’t remember right now, she thinks Canada, and it took her five minutes to understand with whom his heart truly was. They acted differently, sure, but they acted and one should have had blind eyes not to see it.
But she hadn’t said anything; just smiled, shook Shannon’s hand and then Boone had brought her out to dinner and Shannon had stayed at home.
From then on, Nicole had known that even if he tried his hardest to convince himself otherwise, Boone didn’t really need her; he wanted to need her, so badly that she couldn’t bring herself to call everything off.
Because apart from the really, really small problem consisting in the fact that he was hopelessly in love with his stepsister, there wasn’t really anything she could blame him for.
He always let her decide where to go or one movie to see; he was a spectacular kisser and one hell of a bed partner if she can say it straight. He was the only person she knew who had what she’d have called a civil conscience and that donated blood like she did; once they even went together. And well, she liked him, and he liked her even if he didn’t love her, but it wasn’t exactly like she loved him in the pretty strict romantic sense of the word. So she had just chosen to nod and shrug whenever Shannon called him and pretended not to have a problem when he apologized to her once they were back from wherever he had fetched her.
While she might have had a problem, she also knew that he was genuinely sorry. He didn’t do it on purpose and surely without any bad intention. Nicole couldn’t really blame him for trying to make it work even if it was obvious how much he was in denial regarding his feelings towards Shannon. And since she and Boone were never really that serious, Nicole just put up with it. It was a small price to pay, after all.
She pushes the volume control button on the remote, raising it up; Boone’s mother, whom she met maybe three or four times and had never really liked, is blathering about wanting to sue Oceanic and when she’s asked how come Boone and Shannon were on that plane, she sighs and says it was probably the girl’s fault, she always was so problematic, nothing like her son, and the other people near her look way more devastated than she does. The Reyes woman is crying, the Shephard, or at least Nicole thinks it’s her, puts a hand on her shoulder slightly squeezing it, her face just blank. Nicole can’t help feeling a bit sympathetic towards Shannon right now.
Nicole sips a bit of her coffee, which is cold by now and tastes disgusting. Sometimes, when he stayed over at her apartment, Boone was the one doing the coffee. It tasted way better than hers ever did or ever will taste and as she realizes she won’t ever drink it again, she feels sick.
She pushes the mute button again, hoping for that picture to show back on screen, but then a handsome man in his late thirties or early forties, a serious expression, dressed in a smart black suit, his hand around the hip of a young, blond bride appears. The same bright, shiny letters flash Jack Shephard, 37, deceased in the Oceanic 815’s crash.
Nicole stands up, pushing her hair out of her forehead and tying them up (he always told her she looked prettier when she let them hang loose); then she dumps the rest of her coffee in the sink and as she leans against the counter, she feels a single tear roll silently down her cheek. She lets it be.
Maybe it wasn’t serious and he didn’t really need her, had never really needed for how much he wanted to; it doesn’t change anything. She thinks she’s understanding just now that maybe she had stuck around because it was a little bit serious; maybe because she had thought that if she stuck around one day he wouldn’t have needed to want her but he would have wanted her alright. She had wondered if it could happen once or twice; now she figures she won’t ever know.
She steps away from the counter, realizing that they never took a picture together; they had been together one month and a half and had never gone some place where it was worth to have your picture taken. She figures that his mother won’t ever give her one, if she asks for it.
She picks up a magazine that her sister left her here yesterday, she had come completely shocked telling her that the guy who organized her wedding had died in the crash; Nicole slowly turns the pages until she finds one where that picture of him and Shannon she had seen on TV takes the whole bottom half.
She rips the page away, then finds a pair of scissors. Nicole cuts the other pic from the upper half, then watches what’s left, then she figures that Shannon wouldn’t have minded much, from what she had seen, and cuts her from the picture, too. What remains is Boone minus his right arm, which was hooked around Shannon’s shoulders.
Nicole throws the rest of the magazine in the trashcan, folds carefully the picture in half and puts it in a drawer of her nightstand. She can’t really do much more now.
End.