Day 03: Fic read-a-long!
Jun. 20th, 2007 02:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sapphire_childHere ye shall find recordings of me reading two of my all time favourite fanfictions – Charlie and Soul Stripped Bare – out loud. I’ve also reposted both of them so you can read along as you listen to me read them! Weeeeeeird…
Title: Charlie
Rating/warnings: PG, mention of suicide
Genre: angst, romance
Character/s: Charlie, Claire
Spoilers: post Exodus
Summary: When she had been missing, the only thing he felt he could do which actually made any form of sense was to die. Staring at the ocean for hours on end, he had often wondered, if he just walked out into the ocean would anyone try to save him or would they just let him drown along with his grief?
Original Post Date: 20/06/2005
Disclaimer: Lost, the characters within it and the situations they are in don’t belong to me. Bad Robot, ABC, Disney, JJ Abrams and a bunch of other people own all the copyright to it. I promise I’m not writing this fanfiction to make any money and I don’t mean to infringe on copyright – the plot bunnies simply attack and I relent. I also don’t own the song Mad World by Gary Jules & Michael Andrews. I just stole some of the lyrics.
~*~
Charlie Pace was by no means a large man but she felt small in his arms when he held her. He liked holding her, liked holding Aaron, liked the way they enjoyed his company, liked that they wanted him with them, liked the feeling that he was needed.
When she had been missing, the only thing he felt he could do which actually made any form of sense was to die. Staring at the ocean for hours on end, he had often wondered, if he just walked out into the ocean would anyone try to save him or would they just let him drown along with his grief?
Certainly Jack would heroically save him and this was enough to make Charlie realise the pointlessness of killing himself again when miraculous Jack would just resurrect him.
But what if he had tried?
Charlie imagined the scene in his head now, Jack ploughing into the water after him, pulling him to shore while everyone looked on, wondering if he was going to die…and then himself. Weakly spluttering for breath, coughing hoarsely, vomiting salt water before finally fixing his gaze on his supposed saviour, the tracks of salted water down his face not from the ocean.
‘Why couldn’t you have just let me die Jack?’
He saw himself quite clearly in his minds eye walking aimlessly up the beach with his meagre belongings, head bowed. He wouldn’t meet Rose. Perhaps he drowned himself instead. Or beat himself physically until he bled as much on the outside as he was internally.
Either way, by the time she escaped, he would be dead. As dramatically as possible of course. And as ironically as possible. Of course. She would read her diary, reclaimed from her luggage and she would ask, ‘Who is Charlie? Why did I write about him?’
Then they would all exchange dark looks of sorrow and tell her. Tell her that Charlie Pace had died. He had killed himself because he believed he had failed her. Because he loved her and he lost her.
And he couldn’t cope with that.
He wouldn’t kill Ethan. He wouldn’t help her to remember. And she would be alone again. He wouldn’t be there when Aaron was born. She would remember him slowly; even with him not there to jog her memory she would slowly, slowly begin to remember him although she wouldn’t know who he was.
Where is the man with the smiling blue eyes? Where is the man with the tape on his fingers and that gentle smile he never gave to anyone else? Where is Charlie? Why did he leave? Why didn’t he wait for me to come back?
‘Hey,’
Her voice startled him from his thoughts.
‘Hullo,’
‘You look very serious.’ She settled herself down comfortably next to him. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she waited patiently for him to answer.
I love you Claire and you make me feel like you might love me too, I have and still would die for you and every day you were gone I felt like I was falling apart and the feelings of self doubt and shame just wouldn’t leave and the only rational thought that I could conjure was to end it all, and I was so ashamed because I promised I would protect you and I didn’t so it became a lie I didn’t keep my promise to you, but you’re back now and I love you all the more and I’m glad now that I didn’t die because I’ve been able to see you smile again…
He glanced up at her face, creased with uncertainty, took her hand gently and smiled. The words tumbling about in his head like so many autumn leaves dissipated, leaving just the two of them. Him, Charlie, with her. Claire.
‘Nothing,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing at all luv.’
~*~
Title: Soul Stripped Bare
Rating/warnings: implied character death,
Genre: darkfic, angst, tragedy, supernatural
Character/s: Claire
Spoilers: up to 3x08 with projected spoilers till the end of the season
Original Post Date: 11/04/2007
Summary: How do you move on? How do you forget someone when everything that you do reminds you of them?
Disclaimer: the toy is ABC’s etc, I’m just playing with it for a while kthx.
~*~
She lays her soul out as plain as day and buries her face into his shoulder, her hands desperately clutching at his shirt for the sort of comfort that she craves but which he cannot offer.
It’s quiet for days and no one dares to laugh or smile around her for weeks to come. She’s not anywhere near alright, as much as she might say that she is.
Her pale arms are bare as she hangs her washing out slowly, one piece at a time, one piece at a time. It’s a normal task for her, an everyday thing, but every time she folds a garment over the length of frayed twine it reminds her of the first time she did her washing here, with him, on the beach.
How do you move on? How do you forget someone when everything that you do reminds you of them?
Her fair skin burns under the sun and when her son hits her shoulder with a flailing limb, unknowing, it brings the sting of tears to her eyes instantly. Sun offers her some aloe for the burning and she takes it but stubbornly doesn’t use it. It’s a sort of self flagellation really – she’s still feeling guilty about what happened and she’s deliberately causing herself pain because of it.
There is too much pain in her heart for one soul to bear. The pain of a love unfulfilled and now lost weighs heavily on her mind and she pours herself into her child’s life. When she begins to refuse to leave his side they forcibly take him away from her and tell her to go for a walk to clear out the cobwebs in her mind.
She refuses point blank to leave him alone for even five minutes and flies into a sudden rage of such emotion that her shrieks threaten to tear her throat apart and her voice cracks in an alarming fashion.
Eventually they give up and she takes her son gladly into her arms, tucking him up near her face so she can listen to him breathe. Her tears fall with every precious breath he takes.
She’s as useless as a wind up doll. The only tasks she can perform are menial and even they become more of a struggle as each day passes. Breathing becomes harder and harder but everyone stops worrying about her – there’s no point in it when they can’t help her. She doesn’t want them to help her, she doesn’t need them to help her.
The only thing – the only person – that might have been able to pull her back is gone forever and she believes that it is because of her.
All her independence and sass leaves her, the spark of life in her eyes flickers and goes out like a dead bulb. The grief is slowly breaking her apart, breaking her down to a mere ghost of the woman she used to be. She sits alone and refuses all company, eating only when she remembers and tending to her son in an autonomous fashion reminiscent of a robot.
There is another supply drop and she eats peanut butter out of the jar until she’s practically bursting with it. She wipes her sticky fingers on her jeans and stares at the half dozen empty jars for a long time before she pushes them aside, picks up her son and for the first time since it’s happened, she goes to see him.
When she sinks to the ground at his feet, an unnatural silence falls and when she feels a hand touch her shoulder she closes her eyes hurriedly, overcome with emotion.
She knows that it’s him.
His touch is so similar to the way she remembers it - but there’s something different in it too. She can feel the ebb and flow of life through the contact between them and there’s a warm glow to her skin where he’s touching her.
She opens her eyes. And in that moment, the clouds shift and drench the two of them in a bright light. Her eyes flood as she turns to see him standing behind her, smiling. He is silhouetted in light – just like an angel – and she can’t help but laugh at the irony.
He always seemed to be the darker of the two of them – his past history of substance abuse had left him with a dark shadow in his eyes, even when he smiled. Her shadows, in comparison, faded from her eyes a long time ago. And yet here he is, bathing her in a light that is enough to blind her.
She chokes on her tears and finally manages to speak.
‘I’m sorry.’
He continues to smile at her and reaches down to caress her cheek. The heat that emanates from his touch is enough to burn her skin but she feels only pleasant warmth as she leans into his hand and she knows beyond all doubt that he never blamed her in the first place.
She blinks her tears away and he wavers and disappears into the brightness of the sun but his presence leaves a lingering impression of warmth against her cheek.
She returns to camp still glowing.
Title: Charlie
Rating/warnings: PG, mention of suicide
Genre: angst, romance
Character/s: Charlie, Claire
Spoilers: post Exodus
Summary: When she had been missing, the only thing he felt he could do which actually made any form of sense was to die. Staring at the ocean for hours on end, he had often wondered, if he just walked out into the ocean would anyone try to save him or would they just let him drown along with his grief?
Original Post Date: 20/06/2005
Disclaimer: Lost, the characters within it and the situations they are in don’t belong to me. Bad Robot, ABC, Disney, JJ Abrams and a bunch of other people own all the copyright to it. I promise I’m not writing this fanfiction to make any money and I don’t mean to infringe on copyright – the plot bunnies simply attack and I relent. I also don’t own the song Mad World by Gary Jules & Michael Andrews. I just stole some of the lyrics.
Charlie Pace was by no means a large man but she felt small in his arms when he held her. He liked holding her, liked holding Aaron, liked the way they enjoyed his company, liked that they wanted him with them, liked the feeling that he was needed.
When she had been missing, the only thing he felt he could do which actually made any form of sense was to die. Staring at the ocean for hours on end, he had often wondered, if he just walked out into the ocean would anyone try to save him or would they just let him drown along with his grief?
Certainly Jack would heroically save him and this was enough to make Charlie realise the pointlessness of killing himself again when miraculous Jack would just resurrect him.
But what if he had tried?
Charlie imagined the scene in his head now, Jack ploughing into the water after him, pulling him to shore while everyone looked on, wondering if he was going to die…and then himself. Weakly spluttering for breath, coughing hoarsely, vomiting salt water before finally fixing his gaze on his supposed saviour, the tracks of salted water down his face not from the ocean.
‘Why couldn’t you have just let me die Jack?’
He saw himself quite clearly in his minds eye walking aimlessly up the beach with his meagre belongings, head bowed. He wouldn’t meet Rose. Perhaps he drowned himself instead. Or beat himself physically until he bled as much on the outside as he was internally.
Either way, by the time she escaped, he would be dead. As dramatically as possible of course. And as ironically as possible. Of course. She would read her diary, reclaimed from her luggage and she would ask, ‘Who is Charlie? Why did I write about him?’
Then they would all exchange dark looks of sorrow and tell her. Tell her that Charlie Pace had died. He had killed himself because he believed he had failed her. Because he loved her and he lost her.
And he couldn’t cope with that.
He wouldn’t kill Ethan. He wouldn’t help her to remember. And she would be alone again. He wouldn’t be there when Aaron was born. She would remember him slowly; even with him not there to jog her memory she would slowly, slowly begin to remember him although she wouldn’t know who he was.
Where is the man with the smiling blue eyes? Where is the man with the tape on his fingers and that gentle smile he never gave to anyone else? Where is Charlie? Why did he leave? Why didn’t he wait for me to come back?
‘Hey,’
Her voice startled him from his thoughts.
‘Hullo,’
‘You look very serious.’ She settled herself down comfortably next to him. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she waited patiently for him to answer.
I love you Claire and you make me feel like you might love me too, I have and still would die for you and every day you were gone I felt like I was falling apart and the feelings of self doubt and shame just wouldn’t leave and the only rational thought that I could conjure was to end it all, and I was so ashamed because I promised I would protect you and I didn’t so it became a lie I didn’t keep my promise to you, but you’re back now and I love you all the more and I’m glad now that I didn’t die because I’ve been able to see you smile again…
He glanced up at her face, creased with uncertainty, took her hand gently and smiled. The words tumbling about in his head like so many autumn leaves dissipated, leaving just the two of them. Him, Charlie, with her. Claire.
‘Nothing,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing at all luv.’
Title: Soul Stripped Bare
Rating/warnings: implied character death,
Genre: darkfic, angst, tragedy, supernatural
Character/s: Claire
Spoilers: up to 3x08 with projected spoilers till the end of the season
Original Post Date: 11/04/2007
Summary: How do you move on? How do you forget someone when everything that you do reminds you of them?
Disclaimer: the toy is ABC’s etc, I’m just playing with it for a while kthx.
She lays her soul out as plain as day and buries her face into his shoulder, her hands desperately clutching at his shirt for the sort of comfort that she craves but which he cannot offer.
It’s quiet for days and no one dares to laugh or smile around her for weeks to come. She’s not anywhere near alright, as much as she might say that she is.
Her pale arms are bare as she hangs her washing out slowly, one piece at a time, one piece at a time. It’s a normal task for her, an everyday thing, but every time she folds a garment over the length of frayed twine it reminds her of the first time she did her washing here, with him, on the beach.
How do you move on? How do you forget someone when everything that you do reminds you of them?
Her fair skin burns under the sun and when her son hits her shoulder with a flailing limb, unknowing, it brings the sting of tears to her eyes instantly. Sun offers her some aloe for the burning and she takes it but stubbornly doesn’t use it. It’s a sort of self flagellation really – she’s still feeling guilty about what happened and she’s deliberately causing herself pain because of it.
There is too much pain in her heart for one soul to bear. The pain of a love unfulfilled and now lost weighs heavily on her mind and she pours herself into her child’s life. When she begins to refuse to leave his side they forcibly take him away from her and tell her to go for a walk to clear out the cobwebs in her mind.
She refuses point blank to leave him alone for even five minutes and flies into a sudden rage of such emotion that her shrieks threaten to tear her throat apart and her voice cracks in an alarming fashion.
Eventually they give up and she takes her son gladly into her arms, tucking him up near her face so she can listen to him breathe. Her tears fall with every precious breath he takes.
She’s as useless as a wind up doll. The only tasks she can perform are menial and even they become more of a struggle as each day passes. Breathing becomes harder and harder but everyone stops worrying about her – there’s no point in it when they can’t help her. She doesn’t want them to help her, she doesn’t need them to help her.
The only thing – the only person – that might have been able to pull her back is gone forever and she believes that it is because of her.
All her independence and sass leaves her, the spark of life in her eyes flickers and goes out like a dead bulb. The grief is slowly breaking her apart, breaking her down to a mere ghost of the woman she used to be. She sits alone and refuses all company, eating only when she remembers and tending to her son in an autonomous fashion reminiscent of a robot.
There is another supply drop and she eats peanut butter out of the jar until she’s practically bursting with it. She wipes her sticky fingers on her jeans and stares at the half dozen empty jars for a long time before she pushes them aside, picks up her son and for the first time since it’s happened, she goes to see him.
When she sinks to the ground at his feet, an unnatural silence falls and when she feels a hand touch her shoulder she closes her eyes hurriedly, overcome with emotion.
She knows that it’s him.
His touch is so similar to the way she remembers it - but there’s something different in it too. She can feel the ebb and flow of life through the contact between them and there’s a warm glow to her skin where he’s touching her.
She opens her eyes. And in that moment, the clouds shift and drench the two of them in a bright light. Her eyes flood as she turns to see him standing behind her, smiling. He is silhouetted in light – just like an angel – and she can’t help but laugh at the irony.
He always seemed to be the darker of the two of them – his past history of substance abuse had left him with a dark shadow in his eyes, even when he smiled. Her shadows, in comparison, faded from her eyes a long time ago. And yet here he is, bathing her in a light that is enough to blind her.
She chokes on her tears and finally manages to speak.
‘I’m sorry.’
He continues to smile at her and reaches down to caress her cheek. The heat that emanates from his touch is enough to burn her skin but she feels only pleasant warmth as she leans into his hand and she knows beyond all doubt that he never blamed her in the first place.
She blinks her tears away and he wavers and disappears into the brightness of the sun but his presence leaves a lingering impression of warmth against her cheek.
She returns to camp still glowing.
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Date: 2007-06-21 02:43 pm (UTC)xoxo
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Date: 2007-06-22 01:45 am (UTC)