Fanfic: Alphabet Soup (part 3)
Title: Alphabet Soup (Part 3/8)
Characters: Kate, Kate/Jack
Summary: A series of drabbles. Kate’s POV. Post The End
Ghosts
She knew that Hurley saw dead people and that Miles talked to them, or at least heard them. After what she’d seen on that island, she was in no place to say that was not possible, not after smoke monsters and time travelling and everything in between. Sawyer tells her he sometimes sees Juliet, not like Hurley would, but he would be walking down the street, and he would glimpse her down the sidewalk from him. He would look again and she’d be gone, replaced by someone who looked only slightly like her, blonde perhaps, or a pair of piercing blue yes, or a hearty smile. He admits that he lives for these moments; moments when for just a split second he can see her face or hear her laugh. It keeps him going he says, waiting for the next time his heart plays a trick on him.
She wishes she could see ghosts as well, the thought makes her laugh at the absurdity of it, but the next time Aaron has a vaccination appointment she tags along with him and Claire in the hopes that seeing someone in a lab coat, or a pair of blue scrubs will trigger that part of her brain, that she might for a split second get a chance to see his face, hear his voice and drown in his warm brown eyes. But it does not work. And she thinks that maybe not everyone is lucky enough to be haunted.
Heroes
Aaron wants to be Spiderman for Halloween. The four shops they visit are all sold out and apparently Superman and Batman are out of favor with four year olds. At the fifth store, a young store assistant helps them out, and the look on his face, before he speaks, lets them know that there is no Spiderman costume here as well. Instead, of just apologizing and walking off, the young man kneels down and asks the young boy, who despite the situation they are in is still in high spirits, “why do you want to dress up as Spiderman?”
Aaron looks up with a smile on his face and answers “because he is a superhero!” The young man looks up at the boy’s mother and the woman he referred to as Aunt Kate and smiles. He looks back to Aaron and says, “you wanna know a secret, buddy?” Aaron nods and moves closer to the young man, “well, the truth is, Spiderman is cool, but he is nowhere near as cool as some other heroes?”
Kate and Claire watch as Aaron’s eyes widen, listening closely to the store assistant who continues “there are much cooler heroes, ones that don’t wear tights or masks or capes, and even though they don’t have superpowers and can’t fly, they save hundreds of people every day! They are real heroes."
Aaron, looking amazed at the little secret his new friend is telling him, utters a simple, astonished “really??”
“Yup!” the young man replies, “and we see them every day too.” Aaron replies to that excitedly, “but what do I dress to be a real hero?” The young man smiles and says “well, you can be a fireman, or a doctor, or…” Aaron does not wait for the store assistant to finish and turns around to face his mom and his aunt Kate, “Uncle Jack is a doctor,” Aaron asks, still referring to Jack in the present despite understanding he will never come back, “is he a real hero?”
Kate and Claire share a look, Claire sees the tears welling in Kate’s eyes and turns to her son, “yes, baby, he is.”
Ink
She stands at the door of the tattoo parlor for the eighth time in two weeks. The first time she just stood at the door and stared at a colorful design in the window. It reminded her of his tattoos. It’s just you and your tattoos don’t add up… She remembered the glimmer in his eyes, squinting at the harsh morning sun, his lips curving upwards, and his giggle filling her with light.
The second time, she walks in for a moment before stepping back out. She sees a young man getting a tattoo of Chinese symbols on his shoulder blade and she fears she might break down if she stays any longer. Once she’s out, she leans against the wall of the building as the memories wash over her. It was their first night together, on Penny’s boat, and he was on top of her, tenderly kissing her jaw. Her hand was running along his arm, fingers stroking his warm skin. She asked him what they meant, tracing the elaborate design under her finger tips. He’d laughed, pulled up, his face hovering above hers, and teased, Now?
The next couple of times she goes in and stays little longer. The lady asks her if she’s coming in to get anything done. I don’t know. I am not sure. Her answer is always a variation of this. She stays long enough to overhear a few conversations. One guy gets a tattoo of his favorite football team’s logo on his calf, a young lady looks through floral designs, a surprise for her boyfriend to discover on her hip, an older woman decides to keep it simple with the names an birthdates of her children.
Each time, she walks back out without even making it beyond the front desk. But this time she’d made up her mind. She knew from the moment she woke up that morning. She’d seen him in her dream again, and as he pulled her shirt over her head, gently kissing along her chest, he paused at her left shoulder and mumbled against it, I like this.
Once she’s back home, after a few hours, and an experience much less painful than she’d assumed, she makes her way to the bathroom. The scar is almost completely healed, she traces over it and leaves her finger to linger just below it, next to her new tattoo, a simple red 23.
Characters: Kate, Kate/Jack
Summary: A series of drabbles. Kate’s POV. Post The End
Ghosts
She knew that Hurley saw dead people and that Miles talked to them, or at least heard them. After what she’d seen on that island, she was in no place to say that was not possible, not after smoke monsters and time travelling and everything in between. Sawyer tells her he sometimes sees Juliet, not like Hurley would, but he would be walking down the street, and he would glimpse her down the sidewalk from him. He would look again and she’d be gone, replaced by someone who looked only slightly like her, blonde perhaps, or a pair of piercing blue yes, or a hearty smile. He admits that he lives for these moments; moments when for just a split second he can see her face or hear her laugh. It keeps him going he says, waiting for the next time his heart plays a trick on him.
She wishes she could see ghosts as well, the thought makes her laugh at the absurdity of it, but the next time Aaron has a vaccination appointment she tags along with him and Claire in the hopes that seeing someone in a lab coat, or a pair of blue scrubs will trigger that part of her brain, that she might for a split second get a chance to see his face, hear his voice and drown in his warm brown eyes. But it does not work. And she thinks that maybe not everyone is lucky enough to be haunted.
Heroes
Aaron wants to be Spiderman for Halloween. The four shops they visit are all sold out and apparently Superman and Batman are out of favor with four year olds. At the fifth store, a young store assistant helps them out, and the look on his face, before he speaks, lets them know that there is no Spiderman costume here as well. Instead, of just apologizing and walking off, the young man kneels down and asks the young boy, who despite the situation they are in is still in high spirits, “why do you want to dress up as Spiderman?”
Aaron looks up with a smile on his face and answers “because he is a superhero!” The young man looks up at the boy’s mother and the woman he referred to as Aunt Kate and smiles. He looks back to Aaron and says, “you wanna know a secret, buddy?” Aaron nods and moves closer to the young man, “well, the truth is, Spiderman is cool, but he is nowhere near as cool as some other heroes?”
Kate and Claire watch as Aaron’s eyes widen, listening closely to the store assistant who continues “there are much cooler heroes, ones that don’t wear tights or masks or capes, and even though they don’t have superpowers and can’t fly, they save hundreds of people every day! They are real heroes."
Aaron, looking amazed at the little secret his new friend is telling him, utters a simple, astonished “really??”
“Yup!” the young man replies, “and we see them every day too.” Aaron replies to that excitedly, “but what do I dress to be a real hero?” The young man smiles and says “well, you can be a fireman, or a doctor, or…” Aaron does not wait for the store assistant to finish and turns around to face his mom and his aunt Kate, “Uncle Jack is a doctor,” Aaron asks, still referring to Jack in the present despite understanding he will never come back, “is he a real hero?”
Kate and Claire share a look, Claire sees the tears welling in Kate’s eyes and turns to her son, “yes, baby, he is.”
Ink
She stands at the door of the tattoo parlor for the eighth time in two weeks. The first time she just stood at the door and stared at a colorful design in the window. It reminded her of his tattoos. It’s just you and your tattoos don’t add up… She remembered the glimmer in his eyes, squinting at the harsh morning sun, his lips curving upwards, and his giggle filling her with light.
The second time, she walks in for a moment before stepping back out. She sees a young man getting a tattoo of Chinese symbols on his shoulder blade and she fears she might break down if she stays any longer. Once she’s out, she leans against the wall of the building as the memories wash over her. It was their first night together, on Penny’s boat, and he was on top of her, tenderly kissing her jaw. Her hand was running along his arm, fingers stroking his warm skin. She asked him what they meant, tracing the elaborate design under her finger tips. He’d laughed, pulled up, his face hovering above hers, and teased, Now?
The next couple of times she goes in and stays little longer. The lady asks her if she’s coming in to get anything done. I don’t know. I am not sure. Her answer is always a variation of this. She stays long enough to overhear a few conversations. One guy gets a tattoo of his favorite football team’s logo on his calf, a young lady looks through floral designs, a surprise for her boyfriend to discover on her hip, an older woman decides to keep it simple with the names an birthdates of her children.
Each time, she walks back out without even making it beyond the front desk. But this time she’d made up her mind. She knew from the moment she woke up that morning. She’d seen him in her dream again, and as he pulled her shirt over her head, gently kissing along her chest, he paused at her left shoulder and mumbled against it, I like this.
Once she’s back home, after a few hours, and an experience much less painful than she’d assumed, she makes her way to the bathroom. The scar is almost completely healed, she traces over it and leaves her finger to linger just below it, next to her new tattoo, a simple red 23.