(Untitled)
The good news: I'm no longer on cold meds!
The bad news: Cramps have set in. Seriously? I give up.
I'm all caught up on House! Hee! Only took something like three months of DVD and VCR tape watching, but I'm all filled in :-) ( Brief ramblings related to the show within. )
The bad news: Cramps have set in. Seriously? I give up.
I'm all caught up on House! Hee! Only took something like three months of DVD and VCR tape watching, but I'm all filled in :-) ( Brief ramblings related to the show within. )
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***
Crash.
He wakes. And suddenly, he's here.
The days are routine. The hum of florescent lights overhead, the computer screen dustily shining his reflection. Everything ended when she -
The alarm. It's morning again. He dreamed of soft grass beneath his feet. Confinement greets his open eyes.
Fingers jab hatefully at the keyboard. His eyes wander across the room. He thinks, escape.
He buys a ticket from a travel agent with a weary eye. The Australian sun burns his face.
He pries open a heavy metal door and steps into the jungle. Kelvin bleeds darkly on the rocks.
Two worlds begin to collide.
***
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***
There are no illusions here.
The way her feather-soft hair skims his shoulder at just the right time; the way she lowers her eyes shyly after she speaks. The way his fingers twine in that hair; the way he can't quite bring himself to search a little deeper in those downcast eyes.
It's calculated. It's perfected. It's the game she plays and the man he portrays. It's not real and yet it is; it's what they've done for their whole lives.
And this thing between them? Love is just a euphemism for getting what you need. For doing what you've always done. It's just that it's not a solo act anymore.
There are no illusions here.
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I am so glad to see a more assertive Wilson too. he's simply made of awesome.
sorry you lost that fic idea! I hate when that happens :(
mmm. prompt? ok, what about Ana Lucia and the word puppet ? I really don't know where that is coming from either, btw.
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Ooh - Ana Lucia - this is new for me! And puppets!
Hope you enjoy!
***
Instinct. It's what her mother always said made a good cop. Instinct more than training, more than ability, more than skill. Instinct. Something she thinks now she never had at all.
She'd thought, for those few hours in the jungle after the blood and confusion and rain, that Sayid was the enemy. On the beach she'd been careful to watch the man named Locke, the man who always seemed to know more than he said. When Jack came to her - asked her for advice, trusted her beyond his faith in Kate - she thought...that didn't matter anymore.
But when Michael emerged with a gun gripped in his sweaty hands and aimed it over her stunned heart, she knew. One final, fatal mistake.
They were all puppets in the end, strings pulled by the pale, shaky man locked in that room. Instinct failed her once again.
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