![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ozmissageTitle: Unfinished Business
Characters: Claire (Claire/Jack, Claire/Sawyer)
Rating: R (sex)
Words: 1,736
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Summary: It occurs to her that he might not be Jack. She’s not stupid; she’s done this all before.
A/N: This was originally part of The Shephards Zine. A big thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angela_weber for beta reading this sucker and to missy_useless for assuring me it wasn’t completely nonsensical.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be like this. I think you were supposed to move on.”
Claire whispers this as she traces the outline of foreign symbols etched on her dead brother’s arm. Jack laughs. He always laughs.
“Do you want me to go, Claire?”
She straddles him in one easy movement and he feels real beneath her, solid and alive and she’s gotten used to the company of dead men by now anyway.
“Shut up, Jack,” she mutters.
*
He tells her about dying, about heaven and a son that never was, a half-life where they were all happy and nothing hurt.
“There was a light,” he says. “It was beautiful.”
“And then what?”
This always stops him. He doesn’t know what happened next. There was light and then there was this.
“Maybe you’re not really here,” she says. “Maybe I’m not really here.”
“We’re here,” he insists.
She’s not so sure.
*
If this is heaven she’s not sure what all the fuss was about.
She spends her days trying to understand a little boy who calls her Claire instead of Mum.
Kate’s there, always hovering, always pained. Claire feels like a thief. This life isn’t hers anymore. Maybe it was never supposed to be hers in the first place.
She fights with her mother and feels like she’s sixteen again. Except this time she has bullet wounds and three years of hell under her belt. She’s too old to feel this young.
There are too many people in the house. Her mother, Kate, Aaron, and then there’s Sawyer drifting in and out, always so lost these days. He carries his ghosts, she fucks hers.
No one knows about Jack.
They wouldn’t understand. They’d think she was losing it again, poor, crazy Claire.
She doesn’t want their sympathy.
She doesn’t want them at all.
*
“What do you think it would have been like growing up together?” she asks.
He’s nipping at her thigh, leaving her skin raised and red. Proof, she thinks.
“We wouldn’t have grown up together, Claire. I was already grown.”
“Yeah, but it would have been nice, wouldn’t it? To have a little sister?”
He pauses and she knows he’s staring at her, but she doesn’t let herself meet his eyes. She isn’t sure she wants to know the answer.
“I would have liked that,” he says finally.
She decides to believe he’s telling the truth as he eases his hand under the waistband of her cotton panties.
“I always wanted a brother,” she lies.
The truth is she never really thought about it until he happened. He slips one finger inside her, makes her breath hitch.
“You had one, Claire.”
*
It occurs to her that he might not be Jack.
She’s not stupid; she’s done this all before.
But he knows things. He knows everything. And she likes to think she knows him. They are family after all.
“I hate it here,” she says.
She’s watching Aaron sleep, his little chest rising and falling in a perfect rhythm. She brushes a strand of hair away from his face. She loves him. She’s always loved him. But she has nothing to offer him. Nothing to offer anyone. Not yet, anyway.
“He needs you.”
He says the words like they’re a promise.
“He needed you too, Jack.”
Jack shakes his head, his expression suddenly far away.
“I wasn’t much of a father. Not here or there. David…I missed so much.”
Claire laughs and it sounds cruel. She doesn’t mean for it to.
“You don’t have a son, Jack.”
“I did,” he says sadly.
*
Sawyer’s the one who catches her. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
He walks in and Jack’s looming above her, his name slipping off her tongue before she can stop it, louder than she meant for it to be.
“Son of a bitch,” Sawyer hisses.
Jack rolls off of her and he’s grinning, easy, unconcerned.
“Claire, what the hell are you doing?”
She swallows looks sideways at Jack and he just shrugs. You’re no help, she thinks.
“Why are you barging into to my room?”
“Because you were screaming your damn dead brother’s name,” Sawyer counters.
“I was having a dream.”
Sawyer smirks, eyeing the sweat drenching her skin.
“Must have been a hell of a dream.”
“Did you want something, Sawyer?”
His smirk fades into a look of concern. He almost looks bashful. She forgets he’s as uncomfortable here as she is, just plain forgets about him at all to be honest.
“Just checking in,” Sawyer mutters.
Jack leans into her, presses a kiss against the hard line of her jaw.
“Ask him to stay,” he whispers against her skin.
She ignores him, sits up a little straighter, suddenly painfully aware of how thin her sheet is.
“I’m fine,” she says.
Sawyer looks doubtful, but he leaves anyway. She waits until she hears the sound of his boots echoing down the hall before she speaks.
“Why’d you tell me to ask him to stay?”
She tries not to sound as bitter as she feels.
“He needs somebody, Claire. And so do you.”
“I have someone,” she says. “At least I thought I did.”
“I won’t always be here,” Jack says.
Claire shivers. She doesn’t want him to go, isn’t sure what she would do if he did.
“He was going to leave me, you know.”
She doesn’t blame him. She would have left her too.
“I did leave you.”
Claire smiles.
“But you came back…”
She reaches for his hand, finds nothing but an empty space.
*
“I dream about her. Wake up in the middle of the night thinking she’ll be there. It fuckin’ hurts every single time.”
Claire takes a long draw off her beer; watches Kate chase Aaron around the yard. He’s squealing happily, not a care in the world. She wonders if it’s normal to envy your son.
“Why are you telling me this, Sawyer?”
He leans his back against the post, his hands rubbing against the worn material of his jeans.
She realizes for the first time that they’re the ones he was wearing when they came back.
“Just wanted you to know you’re not the only one is all,” he says.
She nods, takes another drink.
*
Jack is gone for a week.
It’s the longest week of her life. She’s always looking for him, but he’s never there and Sawyer’s taken to watching her. He knows something’s going on; he’s like a dog that’s caught the scent of blood on the air. He becomes her shadow and she can’t seem to shake him.
She’s in the bathroom leaning against the sink, cold water spilling over her hands when she looks up and finds Jack behind her.
She gasps and he snakes an arm around her waist.
“Did you miss me?”
Tears are stinging her eyes and she hates how much she did.
“Where the hell did you go, Jack?”
He pulls her to his chest, doesn’t bother with answers. He’s shaking, so she holds on tighter, her anger already slipping away.
“You’re home now,” she says.
“No, I’m not,” he mutters.
There’s a knock on the door and then Sawyer’s voice.
“You alright in there, Mamacita?”
When she looks back Jack’s already gone again.
*
Sawyer starts keeping her company at night. Helps her tuck Aaron into bed, even reads him a story every now and then. Aaron likes him. Claire thinks maybe he likes Sawyer more than he likes her.
Afterwards they talk about all the things no one else wants to hear.
She tells him about living with a monster and he tells her about fucking up the only good thing he ever had. It’s sad as hell and it gets them nowhere, remembering, regretting. But it feels good just to say the words, just to know someone’s hearing them.
“I think I see Jack sometimes,” she says.
What she means is I see him all the time.
“Thought I saw the Doc myself a time or two. It’s never him though, always some wiseass Australian with a baseball cap.”
“Do you think he could have survived?”
Sawyer doesn’t stop to think about his answer, doesn’t even hesitate.
“No. I think he went down with the ship. The bastard. He left us with the hard part.”
“It doesn’t seem fair.”
Sawyer nods his agreement.
*
They fuck for the first time on a Wednesday afternoon. Kate took Aaron out for ice cream, her mother’s at work.
She tells herself she’s doing it because it might bring Jack back. Because he seemed to want her too. It was inevitable though. They’re the only two people in this house not interested in moving on. It seems right even as she knows it’s wrong.
He’s rough and it’s sloppy, over too soon, leaves them both sweating and far, far too aware of each other.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “It’s been a while.”
“For me too,” she offers.
He eases himself off of her, shimmies into his jeans.
“I need some air,” he mutters, already padding barefooted towards the front porch. She relaxes when she hears the slam of the screen door.
She tries to imagine Jack beside her, can’t quite conjure up an image of his face. Only sees red stars and black characters he won’t explain to her.
He can’t, she thinks before she can stop herself. He can’t because he’s not real.
Sighing, she tugs her summer dress over her head and joins Sawyer on the porch. He’s smoking, always is these days.
She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him, lets her tongue slip into his mouth. After a moment he kisses her back.
“Let’s try again,” she says. “Maybe we’re just out of practice.”
*
She sees Jack one more time.
She’s at the park with Aaron. It’s just the two of them for once and he’s actually happy to be with her. She’s happy to be with him too.
She’s pushing him on the swing and Jack’s just there leaning against a tree, watching them.
He waves and Claire isn’t sure if his expression is sad or pleased. Maybe it’s a little of both.
She looks down and Aaron is waving. Claire slows his swing to a stop.
“Who are waving at, sweetheart?”
“Jack, silly,” he says.
Claire smiles and kisses his temple.
“Wave for me too, alright, Aaron?”
He does.
Characters: Claire (Claire/Jack, Claire/Sawyer)
Rating: R (sex)
Words: 1,736
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Summary: It occurs to her that he might not be Jack. She’s not stupid; she’s done this all before.
A/N: This was originally part of The Shephards Zine. A big thank you to
angela_weber for beta reading this sucker and to missy_useless for assuring me it wasn’t completely nonsensical. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be like this. I think you were supposed to move on.”
Claire whispers this as she traces the outline of foreign symbols etched on her dead brother’s arm. Jack laughs. He always laughs.
“Do you want me to go, Claire?”
She straddles him in one easy movement and he feels real beneath her, solid and alive and she’s gotten used to the company of dead men by now anyway.
“Shut up, Jack,” she mutters.
*
He tells her about dying, about heaven and a son that never was, a half-life where they were all happy and nothing hurt.
“There was a light,” he says. “It was beautiful.”
“And then what?”
This always stops him. He doesn’t know what happened next. There was light and then there was this.
“Maybe you’re not really here,” she says. “Maybe I’m not really here.”
“We’re here,” he insists.
She’s not so sure.
*
If this is heaven she’s not sure what all the fuss was about.
She spends her days trying to understand a little boy who calls her Claire instead of Mum.
Kate’s there, always hovering, always pained. Claire feels like a thief. This life isn’t hers anymore. Maybe it was never supposed to be hers in the first place.
She fights with her mother and feels like she’s sixteen again. Except this time she has bullet wounds and three years of hell under her belt. She’s too old to feel this young.
There are too many people in the house. Her mother, Kate, Aaron, and then there’s Sawyer drifting in and out, always so lost these days. He carries his ghosts, she fucks hers.
No one knows about Jack.
They wouldn’t understand. They’d think she was losing it again, poor, crazy Claire.
She doesn’t want their sympathy.
She doesn’t want them at all.
*
“What do you think it would have been like growing up together?” she asks.
He’s nipping at her thigh, leaving her skin raised and red. Proof, she thinks.
“We wouldn’t have grown up together, Claire. I was already grown.”
“Yeah, but it would have been nice, wouldn’t it? To have a little sister?”
He pauses and she knows he’s staring at her, but she doesn’t let herself meet his eyes. She isn’t sure she wants to know the answer.
“I would have liked that,” he says finally.
She decides to believe he’s telling the truth as he eases his hand under the waistband of her cotton panties.
“I always wanted a brother,” she lies.
The truth is she never really thought about it until he happened. He slips one finger inside her, makes her breath hitch.
“You had one, Claire.”
*
It occurs to her that he might not be Jack.
She’s not stupid; she’s done this all before.
But he knows things. He knows everything. And she likes to think she knows him. They are family after all.
“I hate it here,” she says.
She’s watching Aaron sleep, his little chest rising and falling in a perfect rhythm. She brushes a strand of hair away from his face. She loves him. She’s always loved him. But she has nothing to offer him. Nothing to offer anyone. Not yet, anyway.
“He needs you.”
He says the words like they’re a promise.
“He needed you too, Jack.”
Jack shakes his head, his expression suddenly far away.
“I wasn’t much of a father. Not here or there. David…I missed so much.”
Claire laughs and it sounds cruel. She doesn’t mean for it to.
“You don’t have a son, Jack.”
“I did,” he says sadly.
*
Sawyer’s the one who catches her. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
He walks in and Jack’s looming above her, his name slipping off her tongue before she can stop it, louder than she meant for it to be.
“Son of a bitch,” Sawyer hisses.
Jack rolls off of her and he’s grinning, easy, unconcerned.
“Claire, what the hell are you doing?”
She swallows looks sideways at Jack and he just shrugs. You’re no help, she thinks.
“Why are you barging into to my room?”
“Because you were screaming your damn dead brother’s name,” Sawyer counters.
“I was having a dream.”
Sawyer smirks, eyeing the sweat drenching her skin.
“Must have been a hell of a dream.”
“Did you want something, Sawyer?”
His smirk fades into a look of concern. He almost looks bashful. She forgets he’s as uncomfortable here as she is, just plain forgets about him at all to be honest.
“Just checking in,” Sawyer mutters.
Jack leans into her, presses a kiss against the hard line of her jaw.
“Ask him to stay,” he whispers against her skin.
She ignores him, sits up a little straighter, suddenly painfully aware of how thin her sheet is.
“I’m fine,” she says.
Sawyer looks doubtful, but he leaves anyway. She waits until she hears the sound of his boots echoing down the hall before she speaks.
“Why’d you tell me to ask him to stay?”
She tries not to sound as bitter as she feels.
“He needs somebody, Claire. And so do you.”
“I have someone,” she says. “At least I thought I did.”
“I won’t always be here,” Jack says.
Claire shivers. She doesn’t want him to go, isn’t sure what she would do if he did.
“He was going to leave me, you know.”
She doesn’t blame him. She would have left her too.
“I did leave you.”
Claire smiles.
“But you came back…”
She reaches for his hand, finds nothing but an empty space.
*
“I dream about her. Wake up in the middle of the night thinking she’ll be there. It fuckin’ hurts every single time.”
Claire takes a long draw off her beer; watches Kate chase Aaron around the yard. He’s squealing happily, not a care in the world. She wonders if it’s normal to envy your son.
“Why are you telling me this, Sawyer?”
He leans his back against the post, his hands rubbing against the worn material of his jeans.
She realizes for the first time that they’re the ones he was wearing when they came back.
“Just wanted you to know you’re not the only one is all,” he says.
She nods, takes another drink.
*
Jack is gone for a week.
It’s the longest week of her life. She’s always looking for him, but he’s never there and Sawyer’s taken to watching her. He knows something’s going on; he’s like a dog that’s caught the scent of blood on the air. He becomes her shadow and she can’t seem to shake him.
She’s in the bathroom leaning against the sink, cold water spilling over her hands when she looks up and finds Jack behind her.
She gasps and he snakes an arm around her waist.
“Did you miss me?”
Tears are stinging her eyes and she hates how much she did.
“Where the hell did you go, Jack?”
He pulls her to his chest, doesn’t bother with answers. He’s shaking, so she holds on tighter, her anger already slipping away.
“You’re home now,” she says.
“No, I’m not,” he mutters.
There’s a knock on the door and then Sawyer’s voice.
“You alright in there, Mamacita?”
When she looks back Jack’s already gone again.
*
Sawyer starts keeping her company at night. Helps her tuck Aaron into bed, even reads him a story every now and then. Aaron likes him. Claire thinks maybe he likes Sawyer more than he likes her.
Afterwards they talk about all the things no one else wants to hear.
She tells him about living with a monster and he tells her about fucking up the only good thing he ever had. It’s sad as hell and it gets them nowhere, remembering, regretting. But it feels good just to say the words, just to know someone’s hearing them.
“I think I see Jack sometimes,” she says.
What she means is I see him all the time.
“Thought I saw the Doc myself a time or two. It’s never him though, always some wiseass Australian with a baseball cap.”
“Do you think he could have survived?”
Sawyer doesn’t stop to think about his answer, doesn’t even hesitate.
“No. I think he went down with the ship. The bastard. He left us with the hard part.”
“It doesn’t seem fair.”
Sawyer nods his agreement.
*
They fuck for the first time on a Wednesday afternoon. Kate took Aaron out for ice cream, her mother’s at work.
She tells herself she’s doing it because it might bring Jack back. Because he seemed to want her too. It was inevitable though. They’re the only two people in this house not interested in moving on. It seems right even as she knows it’s wrong.
He’s rough and it’s sloppy, over too soon, leaves them both sweating and far, far too aware of each other.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “It’s been a while.”
“For me too,” she offers.
He eases himself off of her, shimmies into his jeans.
“I need some air,” he mutters, already padding barefooted towards the front porch. She relaxes when she hears the slam of the screen door.
She tries to imagine Jack beside her, can’t quite conjure up an image of his face. Only sees red stars and black characters he won’t explain to her.
He can’t, she thinks before she can stop herself. He can’t because he’s not real.
Sighing, she tugs her summer dress over her head and joins Sawyer on the porch. He’s smoking, always is these days.
She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him, lets her tongue slip into his mouth. After a moment he kisses her back.
“Let’s try again,” she says. “Maybe we’re just out of practice.”
*
She sees Jack one more time.
She’s at the park with Aaron. It’s just the two of them for once and he’s actually happy to be with her. She’s happy to be with him too.
She’s pushing him on the swing and Jack’s just there leaning against a tree, watching them.
He waves and Claire isn’t sure if his expression is sad or pleased. Maybe it’s a little of both.
She looks down and Aaron is waving. Claire slows his swing to a stop.
“Who are waving at, sweetheart?”
“Jack, silly,” he says.
Claire smiles and kisses his temple.
“Wave for me too, alright, Aaron?”
He does.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 7/17/10 03:53 am (UTC)“Did you want something, Sawyer?”
His smirk fades into a look of concern. He almost looks bashful. She forgets he’s as uncomfortable here as she is, just plain forgets about him at all to be honest.
“Just checking in,” Sawyer mutters.
Jack leans into her, presses a kiss against the hard line of her jaw.
“Ask him to stay,” he whispers against her skin.
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, BRILLIANCE! This fic has stayed with me from the first time I read it, and I know I'll be coming back to it lots in the future. You're amazing!
no subject
Date: 7/21/10 02:52 pm (UTC)Thank you again for beta-ing it for me. And for such lovely comments. <3