Have you been reading the recent series of stories I've been writing for Wednesday Briefs? Good news: this week is another part of that series! For this Wednesday, we'll be looking at a moment in the life of everyone favorite's time traveling ex-Swan Hatch attendee Desmond Hume. Let me know if you have a favorite character so far that you wish the next story would be about!
The Runner. LOST, PG. Prompt used: "have a character jogging". In which Desmond
goes running and someone tags along. Spoilers for the finales of
season three and six. Takes place in the current running 'verse
without a name that has been in the last two flashes.
***
Two
days after Desmond Hume returns to the mainland and settles into his
new California home with Penny and their son, two days since Desmond
was able to live somewhere that wasn't surrounded by water, whether
it be island or boat, he goes for a run.
He
hasn’t
gone for a proper run since he trained for Widmore's sail race across
the world,
over ten years ago, when the biggest trouble on his mind was earning
the respect of a man who saw him as so much dirt on the bottom of his
shoe. But he’s
been running.
It
isn't Desmond who insists upon his right to run. It's Penny, watching
Desmond pace through the rooms of their new home, idly fixing things
that aren't broken. Now that Desmond’s
no longer confined to a small space, all his energies are spent
looking for something to do. It's not like he has the specter of
Charles Widmore to haunt his steps anymore; Ben Linus took care of
that.
"So
what should I do?" Desmond asks.
"Anything
that helps. Something that gets you out of the house and keeps you
moving," Penny says.
"Get back to running, if that will help. But first," she
adds, "put the toaster back together, please?"
And
so Desmond finds himself outside for the first time in two days,
squinting into the sunlight like he’s
emerging from the Swan Hatch again. It's not a bad idea, he thinks as
he stretches his legs. He’s
been meaning to get out and find himself again. He's just not sure if
he's up to the challenge of running.
But
when he laces up his new pair of running trainers and sets out on the
path that winds through Palisades Park, everything feels right.
Before long, Desmond is in a pleasantly paced groove, a thin layer of
sweat forming on his skin. His muscles remember how to jog and
quickly return to form.
It's
much nicer jogging on a path than running up and down steps in a
stadium. It's also a lot more forgiving on the Scot's knees, which
have been banged up, skinned, and thrown into hot sand more times
than he can count.
Desmond
pauses on a ridge overlooking the water,
and he drinks from the water bottle Penny all but pushed into his
hands that morning. He's grateful for the attention after being away
from her side for years.
He’s
occasionally blown away by the fact that Penny still loved him after
waiting for years, that she made a child with him and married him and
has no problem moving into the same city as his fellow island
survivors, whom she then turns around and helps find a house to live
in as well. Desmond is the luckiest man alive to have Penelope
Widmore.
"Desmond."
Desmond is so wrapped up in thoughts of his wife he almost misses the
voice calling his name. "Desmond!"
He
turns around and finds Charlie Pace standing in the grass, wind
blowing through his dirty blond hair. Charlie’s
still wearing the dark green shirt with the twin hammers and the
Chinese characters from their last encounter.
"Charlie,"
Desmond answers, because he's not sure what else to say. The last
time he saw Charlie, he was banging his hand against the window of a
sinking sub,
and then nothing. Because Charlie had died and was currently a
skeleton on the bottom of the ocean. Right?
"Right,"
Charlie says, as if reading Desmond's frantic thought process. "I
mean, I'm dead right? I can't be standing here! It's crazy! I must be
a ghost or somethin'." He starts waving his arms like an
inflatable tube man and making what could be best described as 'fake
spooky haunted house noises'.
"Come
on, brother. Am I seeing things?" Desmond looks around and is
glad that their part of the path is relatively empty of people. "Are
you here?"
Charlie
shrugs. "I dunno, man. Maybe I am. Maybe you're like Hurley and
y'can see ghosts. Bloody awesome, I'd say."
"And
what's so bloody awesome about talking to dead people?"
"You
can ask them questions and extract their great wisdom!"
"So
why you then?"
"Oww!"
Charlie clutches at his heart. "Des!"
"Sorry—I
mean, why've you come to me? If I had switched places with you at the
Looking Glass, you'd still be alive. Why talk to me?"
"Come
on, mate. Isn't it obvious?" Charlie gives Desmond a pointed
look. "You're out here running like a polar bear is at ya heels,
looking for something. You're looking at the ocean you just escaped
from for answers. What are you trying to find?"
Desmond
runs a hand through his hair. "I just—I
just want to know what I should do next. Where do I go?"
"You've
got a beautiful wife and a beautiful son and a beautiful house. What
else?"
"Well,
what do I do
with my life?"
"Anything
you want." Charlie grins. "Seriously! Anything! You're free
now—no
lousy execute buttons or crazy rich guys ruling your life! The world
is your—um—pearl."
He snorted. "Sorry, couldn't help it."
Desmond
watches Charlie recover from his terrible joke and, like that, feels
the weight of the world drop from his body. He can do anything. He
will
do anything. He's Desmond bloody Hume.
"Thanks,
brother. It's what I needed to hear."
"Yeah,
I know." Charlie's body begins to disappear. "I'll be
seeing you later, Mister Quantum Leap. Oh, and Des?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks
for naming your kid after me. Just don't let him become a rock star!"
Charlie Pace fades away with a contented look on his face, having
done what he came to do.
Desmond
lingers to reflect upon the late Pace's words, on the events that led
him to a grassy cliff in Palisades Park. He drinks from his bottle
and takes a deep breath before plunging back onto the path. First,
he'll finish his run. And then? Anything is possible.
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