It's Wednesday, and Wednesday Briefs is back with the LOST flavored goodness you may or may not be reading! I took a week off to figure out what direction the story is going in, so hopefully it'll really start moving along in these upcoming weeks! This week, Daniel and Desmond are unknowingly drawing closer to each other...
Constants
and Variables (Part 4/?): LOST, Desmond
Hume-centric, PG-13, prompt - "Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped
in time..."
Canon
note: Takes place during season five of LOST,
albeit an AU take on said events in episode six, "316".
It's actually ridiculously AU because it fucks with two
major plot points, one involving Desmond and one involving Daniel,
both of which will become evident as soon as the story kicks into
gear. Spoilers for the rest of season five and events in season six
are within. Eventual Desmond/Daniel and implied Juliet/Sawyer &
Jack/Kate. Like the previous chapter, this one
runs concurrent with the events of "Whatever Happened,
Happened".
Previous chapters: Part One | Part Two | Part Three
>>>>>>>>>>>>
At
this moment, Jack is taking a shower and trying to wash off the dirt
of a day of guilt. Miles is explaining time travel—again—to
Hurley over a friendly game of dominoes. A young Ben Linus is at
death's door without much hope of recovery, Juliet is pissed at the
man she once respected and trusted with her own life, and Kate and
Sawyer are walking through the jungle, on their way to make things
right.
And
in the dark waves of the sea, a Dharma Initiative submarine is
getting ready to return to the island with its unlikely cargo: a
skinny, nervous young man in an sloppily worn buttoned shirt and
slacks who thinks he has solved everyone's problems. In his notebook,
amid scribbled calculations and theorems, is a note to himself,
slightly stained with age and coffee, that says if
anything goes wrong, Desmond Hume will be my constant.
The my is underlined
for importance's sake.
The
last time he saw Desmond Hume, the man wore a protective biohazard
suit that looked as though it had been preserved since the seventies.
He'd also been pointing a gun at him with an intent to shoot,
probably to kill. In Desmond's defense, it was the first time they'd
ever met. No phone calls, no confused mice in a maze, no freighters
or college quads or anything that could ever connect the two men.
Desmond
is one of the more prominent faces currently swirling around in
Daniel's head, accompanied by visions of Charlotte and Eloise and the
people he left behind at the Dharma camp on the island.
At
least, Faraday thinks, Hume is far away from the island and in
another time, safe from the current situation. He would hate for the
other man to be around when the bomb drops.
>>>>>>>>>>>>
Thirty
years and spare change from now, Desmond Hume is talking to someone
who can't talk back. It's not for lack of trying but because the boy
has not developed the correct motor skills to make words yet.
It's
late at night and Desmond is watching the waves wash up against the
hull of Penny's boat, currently in dock. In his arms is baby Charlie,
who's on his way to being lulled to sleep for the rest of the
evening.
"I'll
be back soon, Charlie. I promise." Desmond lays the gentlest of
kisses upon Charlie's brow. "I won't be leaving you and your mum
behind for long. Not again."
After
three years lost to a hatch and having his body operate as a
ping-pong ball between past and future, Desmond is reluctant to go
back into the madness again. He feels as though he's become trapped
in the notion of time that Daniel had described to him once, a thread
in a string constantly reweaving itself against outside influence.
One last time, he has to go back. One last time—and
then Desmond Hume could finally be free.
Charlie
burbles in response. He curls his fingers around a lock of Desmond's
long hair before settling into sleep.
>>>>>>>>>>>>
Back
in the late seventies, Desmond Hume is following Hurley's map to
where it appears the radio tower is. The bulk of Miles' walkie-talkie
grows with every step. What little indecision has been gripping him
before has now melted away with the island sun.
I'm
coming for you, brotha. Be safe, Faraday, or we're all doomed.
Hume
does not hear the sound of footsteps behind him, crunching on leaves
strewn across the woodland floor, until it is too late.
Here are the other bloggers who are flashing this week:
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