Second Lost vignette: Miracled
Apr. 2nd, 2005 09:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fan_eluneAnother Charlie-centric vignette. What can I say, the boy sparks my muses. This one is a whole big huge spoiler for 1x11, be warned. And it really doesn't read as well as Signs if you haven't seen the show.
...
Pain, as much to suck back in as he had forced out, a dim echo of a memory. Darkness and pain, familiar like the twist in his guts and the tremble of his hands. Cold, darkness and pain, and loss. Loss that tears at his bones, loss that rips through his heart, loss of... Loss.
Pain, localised in his chest, acute, overwhelming. Pain, rushing down his throat, lancing through his lungs. Pain, seething into his neck and smarting like a bitch. Pain at the sight, glaring lights goading his eyes; pain at the sound, deafening voices on the edge of his consciousness; pain at the touch, rough hands on his skin and rougher ground beneath him.
He can see again, he thinks; he sees the brother he never had. He can hear again, he thinks; sounds that make up words that signify things. The taste in his mouth makes bile rise from his stomach, and swallowing it back down hurts like a thousand needles pricking his throat. It tastes bitter, mixed with copper and acridity, the taste of made-up words that are meant to signify things.
The intended meanings reach him at last along with the mother of all headaches, or at least his acknowledgement of it. The words are of joy and relief, but the sounds are of guilt and loss.
in a flash – "Hello there," and tangible, growing fear, and comfort that needs giving and receiving
His abused body cannot bear the weight of his grief and his sobs wreck more pain in his spirit. He thinks of giddiness and detachment and the shadows are closing in on him, only Jack is talking and hugging and Kate is crying and smiling and he hangs tight as the tears have their way with him.
When they are gone, they leave little of him behind, little but a jumble of misshapen emotions, all darkness and despair. Did things have to be washed away for him to notice their absence? And he finds that, along with all memory of it, he has also lost the voice to say so.
But Jack's eager brown eyes are welled with tears and the kiss he drops on his forehead almost evokes something... Something. And Jack says his name, punctuates his babbles with it, and Charlie finds that he has that much left.
A name.
...
Pain, as much to suck back in as he had forced out, a dim echo of a memory. Darkness and pain, familiar like the twist in his guts and the tremble of his hands. Cold, darkness and pain, and loss. Loss that tears at his bones, loss that rips through his heart, loss of... Loss.
Pain, localised in his chest, acute, overwhelming. Pain, rushing down his throat, lancing through his lungs. Pain, seething into his neck and smarting like a bitch. Pain at the sight, glaring lights goading his eyes; pain at the sound, deafening voices on the edge of his consciousness; pain at the touch, rough hands on his skin and rougher ground beneath him.
He can see again, he thinks; he sees the brother he never had. He can hear again, he thinks; sounds that make up words that signify things. The taste in his mouth makes bile rise from his stomach, and swallowing it back down hurts like a thousand needles pricking his throat. It tastes bitter, mixed with copper and acridity, the taste of made-up words that are meant to signify things.
The intended meanings reach him at last along with the mother of all headaches, or at least his acknowledgement of it. The words are of joy and relief, but the sounds are of guilt and loss.
in a flash – "Hello there," and tangible, growing fear, and comfort that needs giving and receiving
His abused body cannot bear the weight of his grief and his sobs wreck more pain in his spirit. He thinks of giddiness and detachment and the shadows are closing in on him, only Jack is talking and hugging and Kate is crying and smiling and he hangs tight as the tears have their way with him.
When they are gone, they leave little of him behind, little but a jumble of misshapen emotions, all darkness and despair. Did things have to be washed away for him to notice their absence? And he finds that, along with all memory of it, he has also lost the voice to say so.
But Jack's eager brown eyes are welled with tears and the kiss he drops on his forehead almost evokes something... Something. And Jack says his name, punctuates his babbles with it, and Charlie finds that he has that much left.
A name.
