Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2023-04-19 01:36 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2023-04-19 01:36 pm
Entry tags:
Fanfiction: drowning in the ocean (Lost, Jack/Kate)
It's incredibly self-indulgent fanfiction time! If I like a character, I often want to see them getting kissed and/or stabbed, and sometimes I combine the two for efficiency.
facethestrange, you inspired this fic with your Lost/Higurashi suggestion (although it's more 'loosely inspired by Higurashi' than an actual crossover); thank you so much for that! I almost gifted it to you on AO3, but I felt you might not necessarily be delighted by the gift of murder makeouts between two characters you don't ship. If you would like it gifted to you, though, just let me know!
The title comes from 'The Good Left Undone' by Rise Against, specifically this gorgeous cover by Caitlin Plunkett, because I was listening to it yesterday and it unexpectedly gave me a bunch of Jack/Kate feelings.
Title: drowning in the ocean
Fandom: Lost
Rating: 15
Pairing: Jack/Kate
Wordcount: 1,600
Summary: Kate wouldn't kill Jack. She doesn't think she could do that. But what if he's infected; what if she has to?
Warnings: Violence, character death, generally pretty fucked-up.
“Why would he be friendly with the Others?” Kate asks, scrubbing her hands restlessly through her hair. “They imprisoned us, they enslaved us. They tried to kill Sawyer. Jack knows that.”
The image they just saw won’t get out of her head: Jack smiling, laughing, playing ball games. With them.
“We don’t know the full picture,” Sayid says. He’s taken a seat on a rock; they’ve withdrawn into the jungle to discuss their next move. “We need more information.”
“It’s like—” She’s too agitated to even pace properly, just managing a step or two at a time before twisting around. “It’s like they’ve infected him or something, it’s—”
“Infected?” Sayid asks, in a tone so sharp it startles Kate into stillness. “Where did that come from?”
She stares at him, confused. “I don’t know. I just mean he doesn’t seem like our Jack.”
“Rousseau believed her crewmates were infected,” Sayid says. “It led to her deciding she had to kill them. I’m sure that’s an outcome we’d prefer to avoid.”
She had to kill them.
The image burrows under Kate’s skin, makes her itch. Thinking about it makes her feel sick. But she can’t shake it.
She wouldn’t kill Jack. She doesn’t think she could do that.
But what if Rousseau was right?
-
Jack catches sight of Kate watching him from the undergrowth. His eyes widen as they meet hers, and her heart jolts so hard in her chest that she nearly throws up.
He speaks quietly to the Others he’s with. Telling them where she is?
But they don’t look in her direction. Jack starts walking away, with a wave to the Others; his eyes skate across Kate, quickly but meaningfully. He wants her to follow him, she realises.
It feels dangerous. But she follows him anyway.
He leads her to a quiet spot on the outskirts of the settlement. Nobody to see or hear, nobody to intervene. When he turns to look at her, her skin prickles like she’s walked into a spiderweb.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asks.
“We came back for you.” Even though he asked them not to. She’d thought, at the time, that he was trying to protect them. What if that wasn’t the reason?
“Are you okay? You’re looking kind of feverish.” He reaches out to touch her forehead.
She flinches back. Jack just stands there for a moment, his hand still hovering in the air, before he lets it drop.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I mean, they’re not hurting me.” He pauses. “They’re going to let me leave the island.”
What?
That can’t be right. Their efforts to be rescued have been thwarted at every turn; Kate’s half-convinced that it’s not possible to leave, that this little island in the middle of the ocean is all that’s left of the world. And Jack spent so long trying to protect them all; he wouldn’t just leave them behind. It has to be a trap.
“You should come with me,” Jack says. “I can talk to them about letting you on the submarine.”
It’s a trap, and he’s trying to lure her into it with him.
-
“We have to stop Jack.”
It burns her throat to say it. But she can’t just look away.
Sayid considers her for a moment. “Stop him from doing what, exactly?”
“He’s definitely infected,” Kate says. “He’s not acting like himself. How long until he comes after us?”
“One could say he’s not the only one behaving strangely,” Sayid says. “Are you feeling all right, Kate?”
“What? I’m fine.” She scratches her throat. “I’m fine.”
“You seem upset.”
“Of course I’m upset! I’m upset because I might have to—” She swallows. “To hurt someone I – I care about—”
“I urge you not to hurt Jack,” Sayid says, quietly.
“I don’t want to!” Her voice is breaking. “But—”
“Even if he has joined the Others, that doesn’t necessarily make him a danger to us,” Sayid says. “He may simply want to live out his life with them. We should not be so quick to harm a friend.”
A part of her is aching to believe him. But, after what the Others did to her, to Sawyer—
She shakes her head. “He’s infected. He’s dangerous.”
Sayid spreads his hands. “We don’t know what this so-called infection is or does. It may not even exist.”
Kate tries to swallow, her throat suddenly dry. Sayid’s the one who brought up the infection; why would he suddenly try to dismiss it? Because he’s infected himself, maybe?
“Or, if it does exist, perhaps it induces paranoia,” Sayid suggests. “It would explain what Rousseau did to her crew. But they may not have been the ones infected, in that case.”
He’s just trying to confuse her.
She can’t talk to him about Jack’s situation any more; she can’t trust anyone with her concerns or plans. She’s alone, and she needs to take things into her own hands.
-
Jack said he’d talk to the Others about bringing Kate with him, that he’d meet her the next night at the edge of the jungle, far enough from the Others’ settlement not to be heard or seen. Far enough that he could kill her, he could hide her body in the undergrowth and nobody would know.
Kate waits tensely for him, one of Locke’s hunting knives tucked into her belt.
She thought about just not turning up. But she’s done too much running away.
She knows something about killing; she spent a long time planning the fate of her stepfather. She thinks she’s ready, she thinks she’s braced herself. But she sees Jack crossing the stretch of grass between them, and suddenly she knows she can’t do it; it’s Jack, he looks real and human and like himself, he’s saved her and she’s saved him and they’ve survived all this time together.
Maybe there’s nothing wrong with him. Maybe she doesn’t have to do this.
But the Others have him, and there are so many lives at stake if she gets this wrong.
“I’m glad you came,” he says. “I think we can get out of this together.”
She just nods; she can’t think of anything safe to say. She feels hot and dizzy, and her chest is getting tighter with every thought of how this might end.
“You sure you’re feeling okay? You really don’t look well.” He moves closer, raising a hand, and suddenly she knows what’s about to happen, can picture his hands closing around her throat so clearly that she can almost feel them there.
She jolts back, grabbing the knife, and—
She needs to end it in one strike, she needs to go for the throat. But she can’t do it, she loses her nerve, and he grabs her shoulder and chokes out a surprised half-syllable as she plunges the knife into his side.
Oh, God. Oh, fuck. It’s Jack.
She pulls the knife out. Is that worse; should she have left it in there? Her mind is screaming go back go back go back, but maybe it’s already too late.
“Kate?” Jack asks, clutching at her, unable to stay on his feet. He sounds confused; he sounds terrified.
Kate reacts without thinking, dropping to her knees as he falls, pressing her hands over the wound. She knows he’s dangerous, she knows he’d kill her if he could, but—
But—
But it’s Jack, and she just—
“Kate?” Jack asks again, edged with something desperate. Like he’s begging her, for mercy or for an explanation.
“Don’t talk,” she whispers. She needs a needle and thread, she needs to fix him the way she did when they first met.
She needs to finish the job. She needs to kill him before he kills her.
The knife’s still lying where she dropped it, slick with Jack’s blood. She looks over at it, assessing whether she can reach it from here. Looks back to meet Jack’s eyes, wide and uncomprehending and bright with tears, and something in her breaks.
She kisses him, and he kisses her back, even bleeding and in pain and afraid. Even though he might be dying by her hand. It’s like kissing her is the only thing he understands about the situation, the only decision he’s able to make.
There’s blood in his throat; she can taste it in his mouth, she can hear it in his voice when he pulls back and tries to ask her why.
“I’m trying to protect everyone,” she manages through her tears. She’s not sure when she started crying.
She was hoping he’d understand, that some uninfected part of him would grasp the sacrifice that had to be made. But he just looks lost.
She knows it’s a mistake, but— “If you tell me how to save you, I’ll do it.”
“I don’t think—” His breathing is becoming faster, shallower; it looks like a struggle to get the words out. “I don’t know if—”
He tails off, but it comes across in his eyes. It’s too late; she’s already killed him.
She closes her eyes for a moment. Someone is shaking; she’s holding him so closely that she’s not sure if it’s him or her or both.
“Do you want me to make it quick?” she asks, opening her eyes.
He shakes his head, just barely. Reaches up to touch her face.
She kisses him again. She doesn’t know what else she can do for him.
-
He was infected.
She buries her face in Jack’s neck, closes her eyes. Strokes his hair.
He was infected. He was infected. She didn’t have a choice.
Sayid was trying to defend him. She’ll have to move sooner or later; she’ll have to find out if the infection’s spread to Sayid, if it’s making its way through the others at their camp. Find out if she needs to take action.
For now, she just stays where she is, holding him.
facethestrange, you inspired this fic with your Lost/Higurashi suggestion (although it's more 'loosely inspired by Higurashi' than an actual crossover); thank you so much for that! I almost gifted it to you on AO3, but I felt you might not necessarily be delighted by the gift of murder makeouts between two characters you don't ship. If you would like it gifted to you, though, just let me know!The title comes from 'The Good Left Undone' by Rise Against, specifically this gorgeous cover by Caitlin Plunkett, because I was listening to it yesterday and it unexpectedly gave me a bunch of Jack/Kate feelings.
Title: drowning in the ocean
Fandom: Lost
Rating: 15
Pairing: Jack/Kate
Wordcount: 1,600
Summary: Kate wouldn't kill Jack. She doesn't think she could do that. But what if he's infected; what if she has to?
Warnings: Violence, character death, generally pretty fucked-up.
“Why would he be friendly with the Others?” Kate asks, scrubbing her hands restlessly through her hair. “They imprisoned us, they enslaved us. They tried to kill Sawyer. Jack knows that.”
The image they just saw won’t get out of her head: Jack smiling, laughing, playing ball games. With them.
“We don’t know the full picture,” Sayid says. He’s taken a seat on a rock; they’ve withdrawn into the jungle to discuss their next move. “We need more information.”
“It’s like—” She’s too agitated to even pace properly, just managing a step or two at a time before twisting around. “It’s like they’ve infected him or something, it’s—”
“Infected?” Sayid asks, in a tone so sharp it startles Kate into stillness. “Where did that come from?”
She stares at him, confused. “I don’t know. I just mean he doesn’t seem like our Jack.”
“Rousseau believed her crewmates were infected,” Sayid says. “It led to her deciding she had to kill them. I’m sure that’s an outcome we’d prefer to avoid.”
She had to kill them.
The image burrows under Kate’s skin, makes her itch. Thinking about it makes her feel sick. But she can’t shake it.
She wouldn’t kill Jack. She doesn’t think she could do that.
But what if Rousseau was right?
Jack catches sight of Kate watching him from the undergrowth. His eyes widen as they meet hers, and her heart jolts so hard in her chest that she nearly throws up.
He speaks quietly to the Others he’s with. Telling them where she is?
But they don’t look in her direction. Jack starts walking away, with a wave to the Others; his eyes skate across Kate, quickly but meaningfully. He wants her to follow him, she realises.
It feels dangerous. But she follows him anyway.
He leads her to a quiet spot on the outskirts of the settlement. Nobody to see or hear, nobody to intervene. When he turns to look at her, her skin prickles like she’s walked into a spiderweb.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asks.
“We came back for you.” Even though he asked them not to. She’d thought, at the time, that he was trying to protect them. What if that wasn’t the reason?
“Are you okay? You’re looking kind of feverish.” He reaches out to touch her forehead.
She flinches back. Jack just stands there for a moment, his hand still hovering in the air, before he lets it drop.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I mean, they’re not hurting me.” He pauses. “They’re going to let me leave the island.”
What?
That can’t be right. Their efforts to be rescued have been thwarted at every turn; Kate’s half-convinced that it’s not possible to leave, that this little island in the middle of the ocean is all that’s left of the world. And Jack spent so long trying to protect them all; he wouldn’t just leave them behind. It has to be a trap.
“You should come with me,” Jack says. “I can talk to them about letting you on the submarine.”
It’s a trap, and he’s trying to lure her into it with him.
“We have to stop Jack.”
It burns her throat to say it. But she can’t just look away.
Sayid considers her for a moment. “Stop him from doing what, exactly?”
“He’s definitely infected,” Kate says. “He’s not acting like himself. How long until he comes after us?”
“One could say he’s not the only one behaving strangely,” Sayid says. “Are you feeling all right, Kate?”
“What? I’m fine.” She scratches her throat. “I’m fine.”
“You seem upset.”
“Of course I’m upset! I’m upset because I might have to—” She swallows. “To hurt someone I – I care about—”
“I urge you not to hurt Jack,” Sayid says, quietly.
“I don’t want to!” Her voice is breaking. “But—”
“Even if he has joined the Others, that doesn’t necessarily make him a danger to us,” Sayid says. “He may simply want to live out his life with them. We should not be so quick to harm a friend.”
A part of her is aching to believe him. But, after what the Others did to her, to Sawyer—
She shakes her head. “He’s infected. He’s dangerous.”
Sayid spreads his hands. “We don’t know what this so-called infection is or does. It may not even exist.”
Kate tries to swallow, her throat suddenly dry. Sayid’s the one who brought up the infection; why would he suddenly try to dismiss it? Because he’s infected himself, maybe?
“Or, if it does exist, perhaps it induces paranoia,” Sayid suggests. “It would explain what Rousseau did to her crew. But they may not have been the ones infected, in that case.”
He’s just trying to confuse her.
She can’t talk to him about Jack’s situation any more; she can’t trust anyone with her concerns or plans. She’s alone, and she needs to take things into her own hands.
Jack said he’d talk to the Others about bringing Kate with him, that he’d meet her the next night at the edge of the jungle, far enough from the Others’ settlement not to be heard or seen. Far enough that he could kill her, he could hide her body in the undergrowth and nobody would know.
Kate waits tensely for him, one of Locke’s hunting knives tucked into her belt.
She thought about just not turning up. But she’s done too much running away.
She knows something about killing; she spent a long time planning the fate of her stepfather. She thinks she’s ready, she thinks she’s braced herself. But she sees Jack crossing the stretch of grass between them, and suddenly she knows she can’t do it; it’s Jack, he looks real and human and like himself, he’s saved her and she’s saved him and they’ve survived all this time together.
Maybe there’s nothing wrong with him. Maybe she doesn’t have to do this.
But the Others have him, and there are so many lives at stake if she gets this wrong.
“I’m glad you came,” he says. “I think we can get out of this together.”
She just nods; she can’t think of anything safe to say. She feels hot and dizzy, and her chest is getting tighter with every thought of how this might end.
“You sure you’re feeling okay? You really don’t look well.” He moves closer, raising a hand, and suddenly she knows what’s about to happen, can picture his hands closing around her throat so clearly that she can almost feel them there.
She jolts back, grabbing the knife, and—
She needs to end it in one strike, she needs to go for the throat. But she can’t do it, she loses her nerve, and he grabs her shoulder and chokes out a surprised half-syllable as she plunges the knife into his side.
Oh, God. Oh, fuck. It’s Jack.
She pulls the knife out. Is that worse; should she have left it in there? Her mind is screaming go back go back go back, but maybe it’s already too late.
“Kate?” Jack asks, clutching at her, unable to stay on his feet. He sounds confused; he sounds terrified.
Kate reacts without thinking, dropping to her knees as he falls, pressing her hands over the wound. She knows he’s dangerous, she knows he’d kill her if he could, but—
But—
But it’s Jack, and she just—
“Kate?” Jack asks again, edged with something desperate. Like he’s begging her, for mercy or for an explanation.
“Don’t talk,” she whispers. She needs a needle and thread, she needs to fix him the way she did when they first met.
She needs to finish the job. She needs to kill him before he kills her.
The knife’s still lying where she dropped it, slick with Jack’s blood. She looks over at it, assessing whether she can reach it from here. Looks back to meet Jack’s eyes, wide and uncomprehending and bright with tears, and something in her breaks.
She kisses him, and he kisses her back, even bleeding and in pain and afraid. Even though he might be dying by her hand. It’s like kissing her is the only thing he understands about the situation, the only decision he’s able to make.
There’s blood in his throat; she can taste it in his mouth, she can hear it in his voice when he pulls back and tries to ask her why.
“I’m trying to protect everyone,” she manages through her tears. She’s not sure when she started crying.
She was hoping he’d understand, that some uninfected part of him would grasp the sacrifice that had to be made. But he just looks lost.
She knows it’s a mistake, but— “If you tell me how to save you, I’ll do it.”
“I don’t think—” His breathing is becoming faster, shallower; it looks like a struggle to get the words out. “I don’t know if—”
He tails off, but it comes across in his eyes. It’s too late; she’s already killed him.
She closes her eyes for a moment. Someone is shaking; she’s holding him so closely that she’s not sure if it’s him or her or both.
“Do you want me to make it quick?” she asks, opening her eyes.
He shakes his head, just barely. Reaches up to touch her face.
She kisses him again. She doesn’t know what else she can do for him.
He was infected.
She buries her face in Jack’s neck, closes her eyes. Strokes his hair.
He was infected. He was infected. She didn’t have a choice.
Sayid was trying to defend him. She’ll have to move sooner or later; she’ll have to find out if the infection’s spread to Sayid, if it’s making its way through the others at their camp. Find out if she needs to take action.
For now, she just stays where she is, holding him.
no subject
"I almost gifted it to you on AO3, but I felt you might not necessarily be delighted by the gift of murder makeouts between two characters you don't ship."
Hell yeah I'd be delighted! :D :D Definitely feel free to gift it to me on AO3 (THANK YOU)! ♡
How did I NOT think about Danielle's people at all when I suggested this crossover, omfg, this is basically a crossover that already canonically EXISTS and I didn't even see that.
"The image burrows under Kate’s skin, makes her itch."
I LOVE THIS LINE omg.
And I frakking love Sayid BEING SAYID, all reasonable and matter-of-fact. And of course that's not what Kate wants to hear, and I don't think it can end well for him. D:
"She needs a needle and thread, she needs to fix him the way she did when they first met.
She needs to finish the job. She needs to kill him before he kills her."
Fuuuuuck. Kate fighting the infection and failing, and fighting it and failing, it's so well done!
And yeppp, this is not ending well for Sayid either. (Or anyone else for that matter. And I'm here for it!)
no subject