Charlie fic!
Nov. 18th, 2004 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntiemeeshHere's my first attempt at Lost fic. It's unbetaed and I have no idea if it's any good, but it's what I was in the mood for tonight. Edited: I found a timeline error and corrected it. It takes place some time between 'Confidence Man' and 'Solitary'. This being the case, I've removed Sayid from the fic, as he was nowhere near the beach camp at that point. Sorry about that.
Anxiety
The pit of his stomach was tight with anxiety. Jack was always telling people to take a deep breath, or try not to think of whatever was bothering them. He’d tried both things already. The deep breathing had backfired immediately. He’d taken in a nice lungful of moist tropical air, and several bugs at the same time. He’d almost started choking and it was several minutes before he’d been able to breathe normally again. It had certainly taken his mind off his worries for a few minutes, but he had decided, after very little thought, that anxiety was better than choking. So, no more deep breaths.
Not thinking about the thing that was bothering him. Oh yeah, that should be a piece of cake, right? Right? No. That was just Jack being a bloody idiot. Trying to get people to shut up and quit whinging at him about their imaginary problems, so he could concentrate on stressing out, himself.
Bugger all! He looked around, trying to find something to do. He’d tried playing his guitar earlier. That almost always soothed him, no matter what the problem was. When he was playing, he could shut the world away and forget everything but the feel of the strings under his fingers, and the sounds he was making, feeling the notes from his fingertips all the way through his soul. It hadn’t worked today. Today, all he’d heard was discordant twangs and sour notes. He’d played for less than half an hour before giving up and carefully stowing his guitar back in her case.
Deciding it was too dark and oppressive at the caves, he volunteered himself to carry a load of freshly filled water bottles to the beach camp. Once out from under the canopy of the jungle, it was a bright day with the sun riding high in a clear blue sky. He hit the beach some distance from the camp, and took his time wandering along the tide line, chewing over his thoughts and a ragged fingernail at the same time.
As he approached the camp, he tugged on the straps of the backpack, loosening them. Sliding the pack off his shoulders, he dropped it by the bin that had been assigned water cooler duty. He quickly pulled the full bottles out of the pack, exchanging them for the empties waiting to be returned to the spring by the caves. He left the bag there as he looked around, searching for any other jobs that could be done while he was here.
There was no sign of Boone, but Shannon was in her usual post, sunbathing in the third bikini he’d seen her wearing since they crashed. He wondered idly if they were all hers, or if she’d scavenged them, suspecting the former. He cast a shadow over her as he walked by, but ignored the frown she sent his way.
Reaching the signal fire, he turned towards the jungle. He could hear echoing axe blows in the jungle and followed the sound to the source.
“Hey, Boone, let me take a turn at that.”
Boone looked up from the downed tree he was chopping into short segments. Handing the axe over and shaking out his arms, he grinned at Charlie. "Thanks."
“No problem.”
Swinging the axe experimentally, he decided he liked the heft of it. Eying the pieces Boone had cut, he measured off from the end of the tree and picked his spot. Adjusting his grip on the handle slightly, he starting swinging. He’d never chopped wood before and he enjoyed the novelty of it. For a few minutes, anyway. His muscles, unaccustomed to this particular activity, soon began protesting loudly. He continued chopping stubbornly, determined to do his share. Soon the rhythm of the action, combined with the muscle soreness, had wiped his mind of all thoughts. He was a bit startled when he came to the end of the tree some time later. He became aware of several things simultaneously. Sweat was dripping into his eyes, and the palms of his hands were painfully blistered.
Dropping the axe, he staggered back a step and looked at the pile of logs he had chopped. He was a bit disappointed. He’d have thought the pile should be much larger than that. It felt as though he’d been swinging that axe for several hours. Looking up, he saw that the sun was still high in the sky, although clouds were swiftly moving into position for an afternoon rainstorm.
Grabbing the axe and an armful of wood, he trudged back to the signal fire, dropping the wood in a pile, off to one side. It took two more trips to bring the rest of the wood down, and then he grabbed the water bag, planning to head back to the caves. If he hurried he should make it back before the storm hit.
Twenty minutes later, he staggered into the caves. He’d almost made it. The rain had only started in the last minute or two, but it had come down in a drenching downpour, soaking him almost instantly. Shaking the water from his hair, he squatted by a small fire, smiling gratefully at Claire when she handed him a slice of roasted boar meat and a cup of water.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, sinking awkwardly to the dirt beside him, with another slice of the boar.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Stupid, really.”
“So?” Taking a bite of the roasted meat, she caught a dribble of juice that flowed over her chin. “Mm, not peanut butter, but still, better than being hungry.” She sent him a grin before continuing. “Come on, Charlie. Something’s been bothering you all day. What is it?”
“My rent’s late.”
“Your rent’s late.” She stared at him in disbelief. “That’s what you’ve been brooding about?”
He shook his head again, laughing ruefully. “I told you it was stupid. This morning I was figuring out what the date was and realized my rent was due a week ago. If the rent doesn’t get paid by tomorrow, the landlord will chuck my stuff out the window. My Fender, all my CDs, everything.”
He began chewing on that ragged nail again. “So I thought I would just give my Mum a call and ask her to take care of things until I got home, like she always does.” He closed his eyes. “I actually had the phone in my hand before I remembered that we’re stranded on an island, God knows where, with no service. So I’ve been stressing all day because I’m about to get evicted.”
“I know what you need.” Claire’s lip twitched but she managed not to laugh at him.
“So do I,” he muttered darkly. But he’d burnt that bridge when he crossed it, and there was no going back.
Ignoring his grumble, she scrambled to her feet and walked off. Returning a moment later, she had an empty jar in one hand. After she had laboriously reseated herself, she held the jar out to him. “Peanut butter?”
Anxiety
The pit of his stomach was tight with anxiety. Jack was always telling people to take a deep breath, or try not to think of whatever was bothering them. He’d tried both things already. The deep breathing had backfired immediately. He’d taken in a nice lungful of moist tropical air, and several bugs at the same time. He’d almost started choking and it was several minutes before he’d been able to breathe normally again. It had certainly taken his mind off his worries for a few minutes, but he had decided, after very little thought, that anxiety was better than choking. So, no more deep breaths.
Not thinking about the thing that was bothering him. Oh yeah, that should be a piece of cake, right? Right? No. That was just Jack being a bloody idiot. Trying to get people to shut up and quit whinging at him about their imaginary problems, so he could concentrate on stressing out, himself.
Bugger all! He looked around, trying to find something to do. He’d tried playing his guitar earlier. That almost always soothed him, no matter what the problem was. When he was playing, he could shut the world away and forget everything but the feel of the strings under his fingers, and the sounds he was making, feeling the notes from his fingertips all the way through his soul. It hadn’t worked today. Today, all he’d heard was discordant twangs and sour notes. He’d played for less than half an hour before giving up and carefully stowing his guitar back in her case.
Deciding it was too dark and oppressive at the caves, he volunteered himself to carry a load of freshly filled water bottles to the beach camp. Once out from under the canopy of the jungle, it was a bright day with the sun riding high in a clear blue sky. He hit the beach some distance from the camp, and took his time wandering along the tide line, chewing over his thoughts and a ragged fingernail at the same time.
As he approached the camp, he tugged on the straps of the backpack, loosening them. Sliding the pack off his shoulders, he dropped it by the bin that had been assigned water cooler duty. He quickly pulled the full bottles out of the pack, exchanging them for the empties waiting to be returned to the spring by the caves. He left the bag there as he looked around, searching for any other jobs that could be done while he was here.
There was no sign of Boone, but Shannon was in her usual post, sunbathing in the third bikini he’d seen her wearing since they crashed. He wondered idly if they were all hers, or if she’d scavenged them, suspecting the former. He cast a shadow over her as he walked by, but ignored the frown she sent his way.
Reaching the signal fire, he turned towards the jungle. He could hear echoing axe blows in the jungle and followed the sound to the source.
“Hey, Boone, let me take a turn at that.”
Boone looked up from the downed tree he was chopping into short segments. Handing the axe over and shaking out his arms, he grinned at Charlie. "Thanks."
“No problem.”
Swinging the axe experimentally, he decided he liked the heft of it. Eying the pieces Boone had cut, he measured off from the end of the tree and picked his spot. Adjusting his grip on the handle slightly, he starting swinging. He’d never chopped wood before and he enjoyed the novelty of it. For a few minutes, anyway. His muscles, unaccustomed to this particular activity, soon began protesting loudly. He continued chopping stubbornly, determined to do his share. Soon the rhythm of the action, combined with the muscle soreness, had wiped his mind of all thoughts. He was a bit startled when he came to the end of the tree some time later. He became aware of several things simultaneously. Sweat was dripping into his eyes, and the palms of his hands were painfully blistered.
Dropping the axe, he staggered back a step and looked at the pile of logs he had chopped. He was a bit disappointed. He’d have thought the pile should be much larger than that. It felt as though he’d been swinging that axe for several hours. Looking up, he saw that the sun was still high in the sky, although clouds were swiftly moving into position for an afternoon rainstorm.
Grabbing the axe and an armful of wood, he trudged back to the signal fire, dropping the wood in a pile, off to one side. It took two more trips to bring the rest of the wood down, and then he grabbed the water bag, planning to head back to the caves. If he hurried he should make it back before the storm hit.
Twenty minutes later, he staggered into the caves. He’d almost made it. The rain had only started in the last minute or two, but it had come down in a drenching downpour, soaking him almost instantly. Shaking the water from his hair, he squatted by a small fire, smiling gratefully at Claire when she handed him a slice of roasted boar meat and a cup of water.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, sinking awkwardly to the dirt beside him, with another slice of the boar.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Stupid, really.”
“So?” Taking a bite of the roasted meat, she caught a dribble of juice that flowed over her chin. “Mm, not peanut butter, but still, better than being hungry.” She sent him a grin before continuing. “Come on, Charlie. Something’s been bothering you all day. What is it?”
“My rent’s late.”
“Your rent’s late.” She stared at him in disbelief. “That’s what you’ve been brooding about?”
He shook his head again, laughing ruefully. “I told you it was stupid. This morning I was figuring out what the date was and realized my rent was due a week ago. If the rent doesn’t get paid by tomorrow, the landlord will chuck my stuff out the window. My Fender, all my CDs, everything.”
He began chewing on that ragged nail again. “So I thought I would just give my Mum a call and ask her to take care of things until I got home, like she always does.” He closed his eyes. “I actually had the phone in my hand before I remembered that we’re stranded on an island, God knows where, with no service. So I’ve been stressing all day because I’m about to get evicted.”
“I know what you need.” Claire’s lip twitched but she managed not to laugh at him.
“So do I,” he muttered darkly. But he’d burnt that bridge when he crossed it, and there was no going back.
Ignoring his grumble, she scrambled to her feet and walked off. Returning a moment later, she had an empty jar in one hand. After she had laboriously reseated herself, she held the jar out to him. “Peanut butter?”
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-18 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-18 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-18 06:33 pm (UTC)I like how you referred to Charlie's guitar as 'her' (the little things like that are so great - they bring the story to life and personalize it so much more).
The interaction with Shannon had me grinning (not too fond of her) and the ending was so cute ^_^
no subject
Date: 2004-11-18 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-18 07:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-18 08:06 pm (UTC)whispering in the jungle
Date: 2004-11-18 08:28 pm (UTC)Re: whispering in the jungle
Date: 2004-11-19 04:37 am (UTC)I love Locke. He's one of my very favorite characters, so much going on in his head. I like Sawyer too. I spend half the time wanting to wipe that nasty smirk off his face but he's far more interesting than, say, Dr. Jack. Did you know that the original plan was to kill Jack off halfway through the pilot? I think that would have been a more interesting choice than keeping him around to whine and wonder why Kate won't move in with him. But then they'd have to deal with their random mystery rashes and torture wounds all on their own, and they'd all be dead in a week, lol.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-19 03:18 pm (UTC)“I know what you need.” Claire’s lip twitched but she managed not to laugh at him.
“So do I,” he muttered darkly. But he’d burnt that bridge when he crossed it, and there was no going back.
Oh, this is so very fine! I love it.
“I know what you need.” Claire’s lip twitched but she managed not to laugh at him.
“So do I,” he muttered darkly. But he’d burnt that bridge when he crossed it, and there was no going back.
Oh, this is so very fine! I love it. <pssst! Why didn't you *tell* me???>
no subject
Date: 2004-11-19 07:13 pm (UTC)I almost sent you an email asking if you'd be interested in betaing it, but ultimately felt too unsure about the poor little thing to subject it to betaing. I decided to just put it out there and let it sink or swim on its own. That came back to bite me in the butt, when I realized, after several people read and commented, that there was a rather glaring continuity error in it, although everyone was too polite to mention it. I'm sure you would have caught that and saved me the bother of fixing it after the fact. Oh well. Next time I'll be smart instead of lazy.