Where There's a Will, There's a Way (Right?)//LOST//Charladay//PG
Title: Where There's a Will, There's a Way (Right?)
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Pairing: Daniel/Charlotte
Warning: Spoilers for S5.
Summary: This was just a problem. Every problem had a solution.
A/N: Takes place on the beach during S5, epi 2. Some lines taken directly from the show.
There had been a lot of things that had scared Daniel Faraday in the past. This was unsurprising since he was a rather skittish person by nature, or by accident if his experiments involving radiation were to blame, but whatever the case was it didn't take much to startle the man.
In fact, Daniel had a whole list of phobias ranging from the typical cockroaches (anything that could survive nuclear radiation didn't belong to this planet), to the bizarre plastic surgeons (he'd always thought that there was something absurdly strange and unnatural about altering a person's face or body, or what he considered was fighting against genetics), and all manner of things in between. Loud noises, in particular, were always guaranteed the result of making him jump, and violence was also known to set him ill at ease.
That being the case, how peculiar it was then for him to feel the most amount of terror that he'd ever experienced in the entirety of his life at seeing an average nosebleed.
But it wasn't just an average nosebleed, he reminded himself, and that was what frightened him the most.
When Benjamin Linus did whatever he did down in the Orchid, he dislodged the Island or its unfortunate occupants (either way, it mattered little) in time. As a result, they were now flashing between points on a timeline, seeming to shift through time and space itself. And no matter how hard Daniel worked to try and predict their destination or calculate whenever the next flash would come, there didn't seem to be any success to be found in his endeavours. He was dealing with a phenomenon that should have been impossible, so how would one be able to apply science to something that shouldn't have been happening at all? The answer was that he couldn't and, as all his efforts continued to be in vain, it seemed rather hopeless to him.
Still, he continued to make attempts. What else could he do? The Human body was not meant for teleportation or time travel or whatever this was. This meant that the longer they were subjected to abrupt temporal changes, the more damaging it would be on not only a mental level but a physical one as well. Soon, they wouldn't be able to distinguish between past, present, or future; they would begin suffering from disorientation, headaches, possibly amnesia, and then frequent seizures; they could survive one seizure, maybe two, but the third would put an end to more than just the time traveling.
And it would all start with a nosebleed.
Charlotte.
Seated on the beach, his mind was consumed with what to do in order to save her. He gazed at the small journal on his lap with such intense focus that one would have thought that he was searching for the answers to life itself within the crinkled pages. Maybe, to an extent, this was true.
If Charlotte . . . (he couldn't bring himself to even think the word) . . . what would he do?
The physicist flipped through his journal with furious determination. This was just a problem. Every problem had a solution. Complex though it might be, Daniel knew that there was an answer for it somewhere. He just had to find it, to figure it out. He could save her. He would save her. His brain couldn't comprehend the alternative, his heart refused to accept an alternative.
"Hey." Charlotte seemed to materialize out of the darkness, as though a physical manifestation of his thoughts.
Daniel flipped through the last several pages of his journal, hoping that the answer would suddenly appear and allow him to fix her then and there. Knowing that every moment was a moment that she moved closer to . . . It was nothing short of torture for him. "Hey. Just give me one second . . ."
The woman sat down beside him, handed him some sort of fruit. Daniel wasn't sure what it was, but the gesture was appreciated as he was starved.
"Got you something," she said.
He voiced his appreciation with a, "oh, hey!" and held the fruit between his hands. His eyes only remained on Charlotte, however. Her nose was no longer bleeding, but he wasn't sure whether to take that as a good sign or not as it could mean that she'd merely progressed to the next stage.
"Found these in the jungle," she explained.
"Look at that, thank you."
"There was only two, but I thought that we could both do with a bite to eat." Her smile was soft, her voice tired but light. She even managed a gentle laugh. Daniel remained suspicious of her condition, regardless.
"Thank you very much," he repeated, still just as sincere as before. It was less about her bringing the fruit, and more about her giving him the only company that he really desired--hers.
The smile that had been there just a second before faded, turned somewhat pained as she lifted a hand to her forehead, massaged it.
No, his mind cried. Oh, no, no.
"You alright?" he queried, trying to keep the inordinate amount of concern out of his tone even as he touched her shoulder gently. He failed miserably.
"I just can't seem to shake this bloody headache," she said, seeming more frustrated by an inability to do something rather than actual worry.
Daniel said nothing, just stared at her for longer than what would have been appropriate. He knew he should say something but no words would come. She had a headache. She was progressing. Rapidly. And he was no closer to figuring out a cure.
"Well." His voice sounded strangled. "I'm sure it'll pass."
It was his experience that when confronted with their own mortality, people did not tend to react well. He didn't want to scare her, he wanted to comfort her. Until he could figure out a way to stop whatever was happening to her, he'd have to do his best to avoid telling her the truth. Daniel didn't like lying to people, and certainly wasn't good at it, but as his options were limited at present, this is how it would have to be.
"It's not just that . . ." she continued.
He would have groaned if it wouldn't have alerted her to his knowledge of what was wrong with her.
"It's the weirdest thing: earlier, I was thinking about my mom and all of a sudden I couldn't remember her maiden name. I mean, isn't that odd?"
It was more than just odd. It was nothing short of terrifying to Daniel.
"Don't worry about it," he said quickly. A bit too quickly. "Listen, all of us have been under a lot of stress."
A moment of silence, brief but meaningful, passed. Daniel didn't look at Charlotte, but she was watching him.
"Daniel," she said, her voice low and serious. "Do you know what's happening to me?"
Now came the moment of truth: would he tell her the truth despite the repercussions it might have on her mentally and emotionally, or would he lie to her and spare her the misery of knowing that she was on a path headed towards her grave?
Thankfully, before he had to decide, Miles' voice breached the heavy quiet of the night with a loud "dinner!"
As everyone's attention was diverted to the man whom had brought their potential meal, Daniel could only stare at the sand. He may have been saved by the proverbial bell this time, but it'd only be a matter of time (pun not intended) until Charlotte asked him again. He knew he couldn't lie to her even if he wanted to. If she asked again, he would answer her with nothing short of the truth, no matter how terrible it was.
Daniel just hoped that by then he'd have a solution to save her, too.
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Pairing: Daniel/Charlotte
Warning: Spoilers for S5.
Summary: This was just a problem. Every problem had a solution.
A/N: Takes place on the beach during S5, epi 2. Some lines taken directly from the show.
There had been a lot of things that had scared Daniel Faraday in the past. This was unsurprising since he was a rather skittish person by nature, or by accident if his experiments involving radiation were to blame, but whatever the case was it didn't take much to startle the man.
In fact, Daniel had a whole list of phobias ranging from the typical cockroaches (anything that could survive nuclear radiation didn't belong to this planet), to the bizarre plastic surgeons (he'd always thought that there was something absurdly strange and unnatural about altering a person's face or body, or what he considered was fighting against genetics), and all manner of things in between. Loud noises, in particular, were always guaranteed the result of making him jump, and violence was also known to set him ill at ease.
That being the case, how peculiar it was then for him to feel the most amount of terror that he'd ever experienced in the entirety of his life at seeing an average nosebleed.
But it wasn't just an average nosebleed, he reminded himself, and that was what frightened him the most.
When Benjamin Linus did whatever he did down in the Orchid, he dislodged the Island or its unfortunate occupants (either way, it mattered little) in time. As a result, they were now flashing between points on a timeline, seeming to shift through time and space itself. And no matter how hard Daniel worked to try and predict their destination or calculate whenever the next flash would come, there didn't seem to be any success to be found in his endeavours. He was dealing with a phenomenon that should have been impossible, so how would one be able to apply science to something that shouldn't have been happening at all? The answer was that he couldn't and, as all his efforts continued to be in vain, it seemed rather hopeless to him.
Still, he continued to make attempts. What else could he do? The Human body was not meant for teleportation or time travel or whatever this was. This meant that the longer they were subjected to abrupt temporal changes, the more damaging it would be on not only a mental level but a physical one as well. Soon, they wouldn't be able to distinguish between past, present, or future; they would begin suffering from disorientation, headaches, possibly amnesia, and then frequent seizures; they could survive one seizure, maybe two, but the third would put an end to more than just the time traveling.
And it would all start with a nosebleed.
Charlotte.
Seated on the beach, his mind was consumed with what to do in order to save her. He gazed at the small journal on his lap with such intense focus that one would have thought that he was searching for the answers to life itself within the crinkled pages. Maybe, to an extent, this was true.
If Charlotte . . . (he couldn't bring himself to even think the word) . . . what would he do?
The physicist flipped through his journal with furious determination. This was just a problem. Every problem had a solution. Complex though it might be, Daniel knew that there was an answer for it somewhere. He just had to find it, to figure it out. He could save her. He would save her. His brain couldn't comprehend the alternative, his heart refused to accept an alternative.
"Hey." Charlotte seemed to materialize out of the darkness, as though a physical manifestation of his thoughts.
Daniel flipped through the last several pages of his journal, hoping that the answer would suddenly appear and allow him to fix her then and there. Knowing that every moment was a moment that she moved closer to . . . It was nothing short of torture for him. "Hey. Just give me one second . . ."
The woman sat down beside him, handed him some sort of fruit. Daniel wasn't sure what it was, but the gesture was appreciated as he was starved.
"Got you something," she said.
He voiced his appreciation with a, "oh, hey!" and held the fruit between his hands. His eyes only remained on Charlotte, however. Her nose was no longer bleeding, but he wasn't sure whether to take that as a good sign or not as it could mean that she'd merely progressed to the next stage.
"Found these in the jungle," she explained.
"Look at that, thank you."
"There was only two, but I thought that we could both do with a bite to eat." Her smile was soft, her voice tired but light. She even managed a gentle laugh. Daniel remained suspicious of her condition, regardless.
"Thank you very much," he repeated, still just as sincere as before. It was less about her bringing the fruit, and more about her giving him the only company that he really desired--hers.
The smile that had been there just a second before faded, turned somewhat pained as she lifted a hand to her forehead, massaged it.
No, his mind cried. Oh, no, no.
"You alright?" he queried, trying to keep the inordinate amount of concern out of his tone even as he touched her shoulder gently. He failed miserably.
"I just can't seem to shake this bloody headache," she said, seeming more frustrated by an inability to do something rather than actual worry.
Daniel said nothing, just stared at her for longer than what would have been appropriate. He knew he should say something but no words would come. She had a headache. She was progressing. Rapidly. And he was no closer to figuring out a cure.
"Well." His voice sounded strangled. "I'm sure it'll pass."
It was his experience that when confronted with their own mortality, people did not tend to react well. He didn't want to scare her, he wanted to comfort her. Until he could figure out a way to stop whatever was happening to her, he'd have to do his best to avoid telling her the truth. Daniel didn't like lying to people, and certainly wasn't good at it, but as his options were limited at present, this is how it would have to be.
"It's not just that . . ." she continued.
He would have groaned if it wouldn't have alerted her to his knowledge of what was wrong with her.
"It's the weirdest thing: earlier, I was thinking about my mom and all of a sudden I couldn't remember her maiden name. I mean, isn't that odd?"
It was more than just odd. It was nothing short of terrifying to Daniel.
"Don't worry about it," he said quickly. A bit too quickly. "Listen, all of us have been under a lot of stress."
A moment of silence, brief but meaningful, passed. Daniel didn't look at Charlotte, but she was watching him.
"Daniel," she said, her voice low and serious. "Do you know what's happening to me?"
Now came the moment of truth: would he tell her the truth despite the repercussions it might have on her mentally and emotionally, or would he lie to her and spare her the misery of knowing that she was on a path headed towards her grave?
Thankfully, before he had to decide, Miles' voice breached the heavy quiet of the night with a loud "dinner!"
As everyone's attention was diverted to the man whom had brought their potential meal, Daniel could only stare at the sand. He may have been saved by the proverbial bell this time, but it'd only be a matter of time (pun not intended) until Charlotte asked him again. He knew he couldn't lie to her even if he wanted to. If she asked again, he would answer her with nothing short of the truth, no matter how terrible it was.
Daniel just hoped that by then he'd have a solution to save her, too.