LOST fic
My first LOST fic! It's been...OMG almost a year since I last wrote anything at all so this was certainly an exercise in getting the kinks out.
Title: Jacob Loves You
Rating: PG
Characters: Ben, Richard, Jacob, Locke
There was a day that Richard came to him, as he did in those first days, and told him something new.
Ben, young and his breath rasping with each inhale, lay quite still on the cot. The walls of the tent around him smelled musty and if he looked closely, Ben could almost make patterns out of the dirt or mold spores embedded in the canvas above his head.
The wound on his chest ached and when Ben breathed in deeply, to smell the rain or the campfire at night, the wound pulled and caused him to gasp for breath. Richard spent time every day looking at the wound. He had told Ben the bullet came out easily enough, it was just that the bullet had done so much damage on the way in.
You must lie perfectly still, Ben, Richard had said. Jacob will heal you. He's told me so.
Richard speaks of Jacob in passing and for a while, Ben thinks Jacob must be a doctor in camp, someone that comes and tends to him when he is asleep or in a drug-induced haze. Ben never sees Jacob and surely, a doctor would at least once ask how he was feeling. He had been shot and left to die in the mud. Certainly, Dr. Jacob would care about that.
But slowly, Ben learned Jacob was no doctor, and perhaps, even though Richard spoke of him as if he met him daily, Jacob was not even in camp with the other Hostiles.
Hostiles...Ben nearly laughs at the word. These people, especially Richard, have shown him more care than his father ever had, and more than most people in the Dharma barracks would have.
Jacob cares, too, Richard says. Jacob is pleased with his progress, is happy when Ben eats well or drinks a glass of water before bed.
Ben hears this all quite frequently. It's always the same, reassuringly familiar as a favorite bedtime story, had Ben ever been read one as a baby.
That is, until that day Richard comes and tells him something new.
Richard sits next to the cot, his elbows on his knees, and looks at Ben. The smile that had crossed Ben's face when Richard first came in recedes slowly from his face. Richard is quite serious and his dark eyes search Ben's face.
You know, Ben, you don't really belong with the Dharma people anymore. Richard's voice is low and even when he speaks.
I know, Ben answers. I never really belonged in the first place.
The very thought of going back to live with them makes Ben's heart ache and his eyes are large and wide, watching Richard.
Something of a sad smile crosses Richard's face. No Ben, he says, you don't understand. You're part of something bigger now. Something much more important.
Ben holds Richard's gaze and he appreciates that there is no tinge of a patronizing tone in Richard's voice as he explains this. Ben has seen the worst of the world; to speak to him as if he might not understand this would be cruel.
You're one of us now, Ben. You belong here with us.
Ben's throat tightens at the thought of never having to go back to the barracks again and before he can speak his gratitude, Richard reaches out a hand, placing it on his chest. Just above the wound Jacob has healed in his kindness.
Ben. You are special. Very special. Jacob has chosen you to be here. No one is here unless they have been chosen.
Ben feels a hot wetness on his cheeks and somewhere in his mind he hears his father's voice. Boys don't cry, Ben. He blinks, willing away the tears and the voice from a time and place that now seems so foreign.
Richard's face softens a bit and Ben thinks he detects the hint of a smile at the corners of Richard's mouth.
Ben. Jacob loves you.
He has to let the words sink in. They seem to travel from Richard's mouth, down his arm, warm the healing wound on Ben's chest, and settle heavily on his heart. Ben doesn't dare blink, afraid he'll miss the joke behind Richard's eyes. But there is none.
The words seem to press on him, making his chest tight and strangely warm. He's not felt that before. Then again, the words themselves, spoken in such a way, are entirely new to Ben. He tries to make sense of them, to rationalize the meaning behind it, but he can't get over the simple idea--
Jacob loves him. He is loved.
Richard smiles and removes his hand from Ben's chest. The spot is still warm (or perhaps that's where his heart is?) and Ben suddenly feels completely healed, whole.
Richard exits the tent, leaving Ben to his thoughts. He's tired but before his eyelids close heavily, Ben wonders how Jacob can love a boy he's never met. Why does Jacob love him? Richard said he was special, but do special boys have a father like Roger Linus? Do they get shot and left to die in the damp jungle?
Maybe all that had to happen in order to bring him here. Richard had told him long ago he must be patient. Ben was more patient than any boy his age could be. He waited and suffered and it brought him here at last. It had to happen like that for a reason.
It is a comforting thought, almost as comforting as knowing he is loved, and Ben smiles to himself and sleeps.
**
It was enough then. But now, it might not have been enough. It might not ever be enough.
Ben. Jacob loves you.
He has heard Richard say those words over and over, even as he grew older, even as he did things in Jacob's name.
Ben is no longer a child and he doesn't need to be told he's loved in order to carry out Jacob's supposed will. He does it now without thinking, knowing it's the will of the Island, the will of Jacob. When Richard brings him orders and lists, supposedly from Jacob, Ben believes him and tucks away any feelings of jealousy. And sometimes, perhaps when the hurt and confusion show through the mask Ben has carefully constructed, Richard presses his arm. His eyes are always dark and serious and Ben feels like a child again.
Jacob loves you, Ben.
If Ben feels anything when he hears this, it's not the warm, healed sensation he felt in a musty tent. Rather, he feels cold and empty and strangely, like laughing.
**
There's a hole in his chest and a sickness in the pit of his stomach as he climbs the slippery rocks to where Jacob lives. He wonders, would Jacob heal him again if he asked?
Richard moves a stone wall and looks to Ben with those same serious eyes. He speaks no words this time but Ben is sure he can hear them in the back of his mind, a steady chant, a pleading.
John Locke has given him all the reasons why Jacob cannot possibly love him. These reasons beat against his mind, drowning out Richard's voice that over the years has become a rhythmic dirge.
A funeral dirge. But for whom, Ben wonders, as John Locke's reasons swell in his chest and seem to open that wound that Jacob healed years ago.
He'd not made up his mind to do it. No, not even as John Locke pressed the knife into his hand, not even when Ben saw Jacob sitting there, waiting.
Jacob loves you, Ben. He healed you all those years ago, kept you here as leader of his Island.
The thumping of Ben's own heart drowns out these words when Jacob stands and approaches. He's hardly how Ben pictured him, in those few fanciful times Ben allowed himself to do so.
Jacob, this man who was supposed to love him, acknowledged John Locke, seeming to already know him. John...who now thought he was so special, who Richard had taken right to Jacob after he asked.
Ben feels the wound on his chest seem to open again, spreading a hot fire throughout his body as he thinks that just perhaps, John Locke is the special one.
Jacob speaks then of choice, saying that it is Ben's to make. Ben wants to ask how he ever had a choice in anything. He didn't decide to be brought to the Island with his father who liked his drink and hated his son. He didn't choose to be shot as a child or to kill all those people or to obey all of Jacob's orders without question. And he certainly didn't choose to be exiled from the Island, abandoned and ousted as leader while John Locke--of all people--told him what to do.
Ben doesn't ask about that. Instead, he sees that now--with a knife in his hand and a coldness in his heart--is when Jacob has finally deigned to stop ignoring him.
Why, Ben asks, his eyes intent on Jacob's face. His face is immobile, and Ben tries to imagine that same face saying it. I love you, Ben. You are special to me.
He can't, at least not without that grinding feeling in his gut, that burning in his chest.
And then, just to confirm that he never thought about Ben--except maybe to use him for his so-called will--Jacob pauses and then speaks.
What about you?
Ben's head drops to his chest for a small moment, defeated with the knowledge that everything he had believed in for 35 years was a ruse created to lull him into obedience. To believe without question that Jacob loved him. That Jacob made him whole. That Jacob...believed in him.
The knife is cold and heavy in his hand when Ben brings it up and buries it in Jacob's chest.
Ben. Jacob loves you.
The voice in his head is thick and real and Ben stabs Jacob again, allowing the sound of steel in flesh to drown out that taunting, cruel voice.
Jacob is bleeding as he falls against Ben, proof that he is real, not a figment created by Richard. Can Jacob heal himself now, just as he supposedly healed Ben all those years ago? Was that even true? Ben's chest burns again and he wants to cry out about the injustice of it all, let the world know how he was used and manipulated and that Jacob is nothing more than a man who lies.
Instead, he lets Jacob's body fall to the cold ground.
It's silent enough that Ben can catch Jacob's last whisper. And when John Locke kicks Jacob's body into the fire, the only sound is the crackling of flames.
The voice in his head is, at long last, silent.
Title: Jacob Loves You
Rating: PG
Characters: Ben, Richard, Jacob, Locke
There was a day that Richard came to him, as he did in those first days, and told him something new.
Ben, young and his breath rasping with each inhale, lay quite still on the cot. The walls of the tent around him smelled musty and if he looked closely, Ben could almost make patterns out of the dirt or mold spores embedded in the canvas above his head.
The wound on his chest ached and when Ben breathed in deeply, to smell the rain or the campfire at night, the wound pulled and caused him to gasp for breath. Richard spent time every day looking at the wound. He had told Ben the bullet came out easily enough, it was just that the bullet had done so much damage on the way in.
You must lie perfectly still, Ben, Richard had said. Jacob will heal you. He's told me so.
Richard speaks of Jacob in passing and for a while, Ben thinks Jacob must be a doctor in camp, someone that comes and tends to him when he is asleep or in a drug-induced haze. Ben never sees Jacob and surely, a doctor would at least once ask how he was feeling. He had been shot and left to die in the mud. Certainly, Dr. Jacob would care about that.
But slowly, Ben learned Jacob was no doctor, and perhaps, even though Richard spoke of him as if he met him daily, Jacob was not even in camp with the other Hostiles.
Hostiles...Ben nearly laughs at the word. These people, especially Richard, have shown him more care than his father ever had, and more than most people in the Dharma barracks would have.
Jacob cares, too, Richard says. Jacob is pleased with his progress, is happy when Ben eats well or drinks a glass of water before bed.
Ben hears this all quite frequently. It's always the same, reassuringly familiar as a favorite bedtime story, had Ben ever been read one as a baby.
That is, until that day Richard comes and tells him something new.
Richard sits next to the cot, his elbows on his knees, and looks at Ben. The smile that had crossed Ben's face when Richard first came in recedes slowly from his face. Richard is quite serious and his dark eyes search Ben's face.
You know, Ben, you don't really belong with the Dharma people anymore. Richard's voice is low and even when he speaks.
I know, Ben answers. I never really belonged in the first place.
The very thought of going back to live with them makes Ben's heart ache and his eyes are large and wide, watching Richard.
Something of a sad smile crosses Richard's face. No Ben, he says, you don't understand. You're part of something bigger now. Something much more important.
Ben holds Richard's gaze and he appreciates that there is no tinge of a patronizing tone in Richard's voice as he explains this. Ben has seen the worst of the world; to speak to him as if he might not understand this would be cruel.
You're one of us now, Ben. You belong here with us.
Ben's throat tightens at the thought of never having to go back to the barracks again and before he can speak his gratitude, Richard reaches out a hand, placing it on his chest. Just above the wound Jacob has healed in his kindness.
Ben. You are special. Very special. Jacob has chosen you to be here. No one is here unless they have been chosen.
Ben feels a hot wetness on his cheeks and somewhere in his mind he hears his father's voice. Boys don't cry, Ben. He blinks, willing away the tears and the voice from a time and place that now seems so foreign.
Richard's face softens a bit and Ben thinks he detects the hint of a smile at the corners of Richard's mouth.
Ben. Jacob loves you.
He has to let the words sink in. They seem to travel from Richard's mouth, down his arm, warm the healing wound on Ben's chest, and settle heavily on his heart. Ben doesn't dare blink, afraid he'll miss the joke behind Richard's eyes. But there is none.
The words seem to press on him, making his chest tight and strangely warm. He's not felt that before. Then again, the words themselves, spoken in such a way, are entirely new to Ben. He tries to make sense of them, to rationalize the meaning behind it, but he can't get over the simple idea--
Jacob loves him. He is loved.
Richard smiles and removes his hand from Ben's chest. The spot is still warm (or perhaps that's where his heart is?) and Ben suddenly feels completely healed, whole.
Richard exits the tent, leaving Ben to his thoughts. He's tired but before his eyelids close heavily, Ben wonders how Jacob can love a boy he's never met. Why does Jacob love him? Richard said he was special, but do special boys have a father like Roger Linus? Do they get shot and left to die in the damp jungle?
Maybe all that had to happen in order to bring him here. Richard had told him long ago he must be patient. Ben was more patient than any boy his age could be. He waited and suffered and it brought him here at last. It had to happen like that for a reason.
It is a comforting thought, almost as comforting as knowing he is loved, and Ben smiles to himself and sleeps.
**
It was enough then. But now, it might not have been enough. It might not ever be enough.
Ben. Jacob loves you.
He has heard Richard say those words over and over, even as he grew older, even as he did things in Jacob's name.
Ben is no longer a child and he doesn't need to be told he's loved in order to carry out Jacob's supposed will. He does it now without thinking, knowing it's the will of the Island, the will of Jacob. When Richard brings him orders and lists, supposedly from Jacob, Ben believes him and tucks away any feelings of jealousy. And sometimes, perhaps when the hurt and confusion show through the mask Ben has carefully constructed, Richard presses his arm. His eyes are always dark and serious and Ben feels like a child again.
Jacob loves you, Ben.
If Ben feels anything when he hears this, it's not the warm, healed sensation he felt in a musty tent. Rather, he feels cold and empty and strangely, like laughing.
**
There's a hole in his chest and a sickness in the pit of his stomach as he climbs the slippery rocks to where Jacob lives. He wonders, would Jacob heal him again if he asked?
Richard moves a stone wall and looks to Ben with those same serious eyes. He speaks no words this time but Ben is sure he can hear them in the back of his mind, a steady chant, a pleading.
John Locke has given him all the reasons why Jacob cannot possibly love him. These reasons beat against his mind, drowning out Richard's voice that over the years has become a rhythmic dirge.
A funeral dirge. But for whom, Ben wonders, as John Locke's reasons swell in his chest and seem to open that wound that Jacob healed years ago.
He'd not made up his mind to do it. No, not even as John Locke pressed the knife into his hand, not even when Ben saw Jacob sitting there, waiting.
Jacob loves you, Ben. He healed you all those years ago, kept you here as leader of his Island.
The thumping of Ben's own heart drowns out these words when Jacob stands and approaches. He's hardly how Ben pictured him, in those few fanciful times Ben allowed himself to do so.
Jacob, this man who was supposed to love him, acknowledged John Locke, seeming to already know him. John...who now thought he was so special, who Richard had taken right to Jacob after he asked.
Ben feels the wound on his chest seem to open again, spreading a hot fire throughout his body as he thinks that just perhaps, John Locke is the special one.
Jacob speaks then of choice, saying that it is Ben's to make. Ben wants to ask how he ever had a choice in anything. He didn't decide to be brought to the Island with his father who liked his drink and hated his son. He didn't choose to be shot as a child or to kill all those people or to obey all of Jacob's orders without question. And he certainly didn't choose to be exiled from the Island, abandoned and ousted as leader while John Locke--of all people--told him what to do.
Ben doesn't ask about that. Instead, he sees that now--with a knife in his hand and a coldness in his heart--is when Jacob has finally deigned to stop ignoring him.
Why, Ben asks, his eyes intent on Jacob's face. His face is immobile, and Ben tries to imagine that same face saying it. I love you, Ben. You are special to me.
He can't, at least not without that grinding feeling in his gut, that burning in his chest.
And then, just to confirm that he never thought about Ben--except maybe to use him for his so-called will--Jacob pauses and then speaks.
What about you?
Ben's head drops to his chest for a small moment, defeated with the knowledge that everything he had believed in for 35 years was a ruse created to lull him into obedience. To believe without question that Jacob loved him. That Jacob made him whole. That Jacob...believed in him.
The knife is cold and heavy in his hand when Ben brings it up and buries it in Jacob's chest.
Ben. Jacob loves you.
The voice in his head is thick and real and Ben stabs Jacob again, allowing the sound of steel in flesh to drown out that taunting, cruel voice.
Jacob is bleeding as he falls against Ben, proof that he is real, not a figment created by Richard. Can Jacob heal himself now, just as he supposedly healed Ben all those years ago? Was that even true? Ben's chest burns again and he wants to cry out about the injustice of it all, let the world know how he was used and manipulated and that Jacob is nothing more than a man who lies.
Instead, he lets Jacob's body fall to the cold ground.
It's silent enough that Ben can catch Jacob's last whisper. And when John Locke kicks Jacob's body into the fire, the only sound is the crackling of flames.
The voice in his head is, at long last, silent.