My first Lost fic! (and for once it's not a drabble)
Title: Drowning
Pairing: Jack/Shannon
Rating: Mild R
Warnings: Angsty and one of the vaguest sex scenes you'll ever find
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author's Note: Thanks to
holycitygirl for the beta, this would've been a lot more confusing without her. This is officially my first Lost fic and my first real fic so I hope everyone enjoys.
It's the broken way he whispers her name that keeps her coming back to him every night, keeps her from walking away from the desperation she sees in his eyes. She's never exactly been anyone's definition of a philanthropist before, and she almost wishes she could go back to the girl she used to be, the girl that was perfectly capable of leaving, of watching someone suffocate under the weight of their problems.
But for some reason, watching Jack slowly crumble to pieces under the weight of trying to support them all, support her, doesn't leave her with the sense of satisfaction she's accustomed to, doesn't leave her feeling superior and pleased with her place in the world.
She had stopped feeling like she had a place in the world a long time ago.
Now her world revolves around miles of sand that constantly grates against her skin, scrubbing away any defense she ever had to keep the world at bay and an unforgiving sun that burned away the last remaining bits of herself she had managed to keep together.
She's been drowning since Boone died, with no one there to tether her to the world, and she had lost the will to do it herself the second that plane hit the water. She welcomed the numbness his death had brought with open arms and is more than content to never feel any of the pain or fear this island has to offer again.
But when she looks at Jack and sees the ever present hope dim and go out of his eyes, watches him crumble and fall from the strain of always having to play the hero, she slowly feels the weight of his hollow stare tear apart the fragile cocoon she had surrounded herself with the day her brother had died, feels him pulling her back to reality so quickly she can barely remember how to breathe.
In that moment she hates him so much she can taste the bitter bile burning at the back of her throat, and she wants nothing more than to launch herself at him, to pound away at him until he shatters and breaks into a million pieces across the sand, until there is nothing left to make her feel this unbearable tightness in her chest.
As soon as the image flitters through her mind it is gone, replaced by desperate images of Jack fighting to save her brother, fighting to save them all from the very moment they crashed onto this god forsaken island. Necessity has forced him to be the hero he had never wanted to be, and she doesn’t know how to shield him from all of this, to give him back a fraction of what he has given up for them.
She can see all of the disasters tearing into him, all of the deaths piling up on his shoulders. It’s never enough for him to have the right answer, they always demand that he have the right answer from the very beginning, and she can see the memory of every wrong decision ripping him apart at the seams, haunting him with the lives that could’ve been saved, all of the changes that could’ve been made. In that very moment she knows that she’ll do everything she can to repair this broken man, try to find some way to restore him to the person he used to be.
After all he has sacrificed for them, the idea of walking away and leaving him behind never even crosses her mind and she knows that if Jack had managed to find a way to hold on to some part of himself, he would do everything he could to do the same for her.
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The first night she goes to him on the beach, the night she sees the last little bit of himself he has managed to cling to blow away in the breeze as Kate pulls Sawyer into her tent, she is fully prepared for the inevitable rejection she knows is coming, has braced herself for his dismissal before her feet have even hit the sand.
This is the only way she knows of to pull him back from the edge of the abyss he has been balancing on for the last few weeks and if he can’t accept this from her, if she can’t find some way to bring some warmth and light back into his life, she is terrified that she is going to have to watch him fall over the edge, watch him take the last little bit of hope she has left for herself with him.
As she stands in front of him on the sand with the waves crashing in over their feet she can see the question forming in his eyes, hear the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. She doesn’t know how to explain, can’t possibly think of the right words to say to let him know that she feels like she is drowning too and that she needs him to step back from the edge before he pulls her over with him.
She hopes he can’t feel the question in her trembling hand as she lightly traces the latest scar running along his jaw, hopes against all odds that he can understand that the only thing she can do to help him is to offer him this last little piece of herself that she has managed to hold onto.
She had braced herself for the embarrassment and shame she knew she would feel when he turned her away, but she hadn’t prepared herself for the warmth she feels as he pulls her body closer to his or the overwhelming desperation she had only ever imagined she’d taste in his kiss.
The relief she feels as he pulls her into his tent is almost enough to take her breath away and the brief spark she sees return to his eyes as he lays her down and slowly slides into her warmth makes her feel warm again for the first time since she’d lost the life she left behind. And when he wraps his body around hers and experiences his first peaceful night of sleep in months she feels that warmth slowly spread throughout her entire body, filling her with the knowledge that this is her purpose and that she will find a way to make his eyes bright again.
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When she started all of this she had just been trying to pull him back, give something back to him to make up for all of the things he has lost. But as the weeks go on she starts to feel a new tightening in her chest every time he smiles at her and stands a little taller and walks a little straighter, and she’s petrified that he’ll be able to taste the difference in her kiss or feel it in the tremble of her hands.
She’s petrified because she’s so far in now that to pull back will break her apart even more than him, petrified because now that he’s on the path to being whole she knows it’s only a matter of time before he leaves her behind to drown in all of the bitter, ugly things she knows he will eventually see inside of her.
Without him, without his light and goodness there to surround her and constantly force her to try to be better, to be more than all of the things Boone always told her she was, she knows she’ll suffocate under the weight of all of this and be swallowed up by the emptiness inside of her. She knows that there isn’t enough good in her to keep someone like Jack with her for long and every day she has to fight a little bit harder to keep him from seeing the desperation in her eyes.
But every night when he comes to her she can’t stop herself from clinging to him a little tighter, trying to pour a little more of herself into him in exchange for everything she takes. Now that he’s strong enough to stand on his own two feet and still support someone else she can see Kate’s desire growing for him a little more every day and she’s just waiting for the day he leaves her for someone he actually has a chance to save.
So every night when he comes to her she kisses him a little harder and presses a little closer to him in her sleep in an attempt to keep him here as long as she can, and when he finally walks away from her for good she only hopes that he’s left enough of himself behind, that she’s able to find her way back to the surface.