feel
(jack/charlie)
my lost valentine 2006 for sourgreenapples LJ
...
Charlie missed snow.
Of all the things one could miss when stranded on a nearly-deserted island with major mood swings in the shapes of polar bears, jungle monsters and kidnapping French-women, Charlie missed snow.
He had almost forgotten about it and how much he used to love it. Back when he was still an innocent little child, back home in England, long before Driveshaft ever came into the picture and introduced him to another white powder – which was said to be just as magical – but turned out to have been a wolf in wool, really. A silken powder with no temperature, and no texture, so soft it almost didn't exist. But it did and it had a purpose; to delude him into straying off his course, to abandon his childhood's dreams and desires, to forget about snow.
But that was all over and dealt with, and he had nothing for dwelling on the past. Here at the island, Charlie had been given a second chance. A chance for a new life, the life he set out to shape in the first place, before his vision was tampered with and the adrenalin rush won in. And then the heroin rush.
When Charlie was child he didn't need any of that, granted he didn't know about any of it, but he didn't need any spectacular illusions of magic because then magic was real, and he didn't need any tickling and mind-blowing sensations to make him feel good, because he already did. No chemical substance or physical force was needed to trick his mind and body into believing for a moment he was happy – because he was. He was really happy, and for the simplest of reasons; like snow swirling through the air on a November morning.
He used to rush outside and tilt his head back while his eyes drifted shut, then he stretched all of his senses to their limits and just felt the snow, as it came in contact with his face. The smile on his face stretched larger and larger with each tickle of cold, and his heartbeat fluttered within the cage of his ribs with each touch of a flake on his face. He imagined each snowflake to be unique, to be miniature crystals of magic that dropped down from heaven, and as they landed on his face he imagined them melting into his skin and filling him with that magic.
Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he just like to think so now in retrospect. But nevertheless, Charlie had once loved snow, and the feeling of it as it touched his face, flake by flake.
Trust it to be an abnormally hot sun, on a godforsaken island in the middle of fuck knows where, to remind him of it. But Charlie was grateful. He really needed a nice memory right now.
Things were looking out, they really were; he didn't even feel the slightest pull towards a relapse anymore, there hadn't been any more attacks for what felt like ages, Jack was acting like a normal person again and Claire and the baby Aaron were fine as well, so fine in fact, that they didn't need Charlie to help them out and be around them anymore – things were great, really – but for some reason Charlie refused to admit to himself, he felt worse than ever. He needed a warm and cosy childhood memory which didn't involve Liam and therefore reminded him of less pleasant memories.
Snow. That was entirely his own. No-one else, not even Liam, knew the secrets he shared with the snowflakes. Nothing painful or sad about it. It was just snow. And how he missed it. The sun didn't do much to help either, Charlie had never felt so hot and exhausted in his life.
He tried to block it out, he tried to tell himself that he was standing on the front lawn of his parents house in England and that he was cold. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He used all of his will-power and tried to recreate the feeling of it; how it felt to be cold, how it felt to be touched by the swirling snow, how it felt to be happy. He told himself that the burning heat of the sand beneath his feet was really the bone-chilling cold of the frozen grass. He should know better than to walk outside barefoot in this weather.
A gust of wind came and slapped him across the face. His skin stung where the sand had scratched him. He thrust his face down and swore loudly to himself, to the island and to sand in general. He got sand in his mouth and started spitting furiously. A chuckle from behind him startled him and he spun around.
"You alright there, Charlie?"
"Jack,"
Of course. Trust it to be Jack to walk by and accidentally witness his stupidity. Charlie turned his head away slightly and laughed awkwardly to cover his embarrassment. He felt something sting in the corner of his eye briefly and imagined a lone grain of sand viciously burrowing into his skull. He waved his hand dismissively and started to walk away.
"Hey, wait! Hold on," Jack called out and stopped him before he had a chance to escape, of course, "I wanted to talk to you,"
"What about?" Charlie asked him, still avoiding eye contact, but not obviously refusing to show his face.
The doctor didn't answer immediately. Charlie sensed him moving closer until he could see him through the still stinging corner of his eye. He felt his own body tense, but willed himself to stay still. Jack stopped at a polite enough distance but ducked his head to force eye-contact.
"What?" Charlie muttered.
"You sure you're okay?" Jack prompted softly.
"Yeah, I'm bloody fine, alright. 'S tha what you came here to ask me?"
"No,"
"Then what? I've got to go take care of Aaron so Claire can get her afternoon nap-"
"Claire's fine, and she's doesn't even nap anymore. Why don't you want to talk to me?"
"Wha? I, that's not… " he cut himself off and sighed, "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"
"Sit down with me?"
"The sand's bloody hot and I hate it," Charlie protested under his breath, but when Jack asked him to repeat he shook his head dismissively and sat down next to him.
"What's eating you Charlie, you seem distracted these days?"
"You wouldn't understand…" he mumbled awkwardly and started picking at the sand by his feet. Stupid sand. Just nasty little rocks that stung you, he couldn't believe people came to these sort of places by choice.
"Try me," Jack challenged.
Charlie wondered if he should tell him. If that would be to betray snow's confidence again. No, that's silly, he told himself. But what if Jack thinks I'm – never mind, he told himself.
"Charlie?"
"I miss snow," he said simply.
"What?"
"I miss snow."
"Oh."
A moment passed in silence. Charlie regretted telling him, but now that he'd started talking he couldn't stand the silence and so he had to keep talking. Had to explain himself to Jack so that Jack didn't think he'd finally lost his mind for real. What if I have?
"I'd forgot about it, about snow I mean. I mean, I hadn't forgot about it, I'd just forgot how much it used to mean to me, and how much I love it, you know? Before it all went downhill, with Liam and Driveshaft and the drugs…"
"Right," said Jack in ways of confirmation, but he looked unsure.
"I used to love snow," Charlie went on, almost speaking to himself, "I used to stand outside and close my eyes and just feel it, you know? Then I forgot about it. I never felt it anymore, or I thought I did, but it wasn't real, it was just an illusion of it. And I thought I could only get it by creating illusions because I'd forgot it actually exists! Happiness, I mean,"
"Right," Jack said again, definitely confused this time.
"Liam dazzled me and I forgot I used to be happy. I forgot how snow feels when it touches your face…" he trailed off and lost himself in his own thoughts again.
What he wouldn't give for that feeling right now; that feeling of absolution and hope, and cold. That annoying little grain of sand keeps stinging, but I'll just ignore the bastard, let's see how it'll like that. Somewhere at the back of his conscious mind, he registered the sensation of the other man moving slightly closer to him, feeling it more than seeing it. The dull scratch of textile against sand, the slight increase of heat from the other's body, but that's ridiculous, there's no way in hell that I could feel Jack's body heat in this... well, heat. somehow though, his mouth had gone dry and his pulse quickened. Must be the heat, must be because I haven't eaten in a while, I should definitely drink some water…
"Is this like the moth thing?" Jack asked carefully, his voice clearly closer to Charlie's ear this time.
"Fuck off-!" Charlie bit out, unreasonably angry again, all of the sudden. Must drink water…
"What, I just-"
"Just shut up about that, you wanker- !"
"Whoa, hey-!"
Jack reached out to touch his arm. Charlie instinctively held his breath as he felt the hand draw nearer. He could feel distinct tickle of almost touch. The small hairs on his arm stood as a shiver passed through him. He moved away.
"I told you, you wouldn't understand!"
Jack's hand retreated respectfully. He looked forlorn, but composed, always composed. Always professional, except for that time when Boone… Nevermind. Mustn't dwell on the past. Must drink water… You'd think it was perfectly simple, wouldn't you?
"I'm trying to!" Jack objected meanwhile, "I'm trying to understand. Look, you don't need to get all angry with me just because I'm a bit slow. Just work with me, spell it out for me if you have to. I want to understand, I want to be able to help you-"
Charlie all but yelled out in frustration.
"I don't need help! I just need a jet to drop by and take me the fuck off this bloody island, because I'm losing my mind here!"
"Okay, okay! Take it easy, calm down…"
"It's too hot and too bright and too mood-swingy and not to mention the diet from hell, and-!"
"Come on, it can't be that bad, can it? Surely there's something I can do, that-"
"No, Jack! You can't fix this! You can't fix me, alright, I'm sorry if that's bruising your ego, but it's not going to happen, so just let it go!"
Something seemed to twitch in Jack's face then, but he didn't respond, he just stared at Charlie for a moment and then he rushed to his feet and started to walk away. Charlie was in shock to begin with. He hadn't expected the doctor to actually listen to him and take what he said to heart. He hadn't meant to really upset him, he was just so frustrated and that bloody grain in his eye had multiplied, and he felt so bloody lost and alone and why had he pushed Jack away again?
"Oi, Jack! Wait!"
He rushed to his feet and ran after him, stumbling a bit on the loose sand, but reaching the other man fairly quick enough. Now, the doctor seemed unwilling to speak, as though their roles had been reversed, and he even kept his face turned down and away slightly, and he waved his hand in a violently dismissive gesture.
"Don't worry about it Charlie, just leave me alone,"
"No, wait up! I'm serious, wait-" he cried and finally grabbed a hold of Jack's arm, forcing him around, "I really want to talk to you, I'm sorry if I, I'm- I…" he trailed off.
Jack had tears in his eyes. Jack tried to keep his eyes averted and blinked them away discreetly, but Charlie could definitely make out the glint of tears that rested near the line of lashes. How dark those lashes were. Even when dry they looked as though they were gently touched by a brush of mascara. Charlie had never noticed that before. Of course, he'd never been this close to the doctor before either, and never bothered to look. It seemed he'd lost all ability of processing clear thoughts, and to speak, and to do anything. He'd never seen Jack with tears in his eyes before. He hadn't thought Jack was capable of crying. He hadn't noticed how beautiful his eyes were.
"It's alright, Charlie," Jack mumbled, avoiding to return the eye-contact.
"Look at me,"
Jack did. The tears were almost entirely willed away. Jack was composed again. How does he do that? But the eyes were still beautiful. Dark green, almost brown. Dusky.
"What is it, Charlie? What do you want?"
Charlie was shaken out of his bizarre reverie, and guiltily averted his eyes from the lock with the warm, gentle orbs of the doctor. He swallowed hard. What am I doing?
"I really want us to talk,"
"So talk…" Jack said gently.
That's when Charlie took one final step towards him and thus closed the distance between their bodies entirely, in fact he pushed his body against Jack's so that their chest were pressed up against each other, and before Jack had a chance to come out of his state of shock and step back, Charlie stood on his toes and pulled Jacks head down and kissed him.
They stood stock still in their awkward embrace for a brief moment, both frozen to the spot, their bodies tense but their lips relaxed and soft against each other. After a heartbeat Jack moved his mouth a fraction, causing a tingling friction between them, before gently pulling away. Charlie almost stumbling forward, still lost in the kiss and the shock. Jack caught him and steadied him, his palms lingering against his arms for a second before letting him go. Every inch of Charlie's body was tingling, and in a final moment of insanity he caught himself thinking how nice it would be if Jack could melt into my skin and fill me with magic and happiness…
Then the moment passed, and Charlie realized what he'd done.
Horrified, he stumbled backwards, stuttering incoherent words of explanation and apology. But Jack caught him again, and steadied him, and silenced him with a gently touch of fingertips on his cheek. Charlie lost all ability to speak, even incoherently, and stared into Jack's eyes in awe. They were just as warm and kind as ever, and twinkling with a light he'd never seen in them before. He swallowed hard and shyly looked away, feeling his face blush, the right side still tingling where Jack's fingers had grazed the skin.
"'m sorry," he mumbled again.
"Don't be," Jack replied softly, and then, "I thought you wanted to talk?"
Charlie could hear the mirth in his voice, that unmistakable quiver of repressed laughter, and he glanced back at his eyes and realized what that light was, "Fuck off," he muttered.
Jack burst out laughing then. After another second, Charlie joined in, but there was a tight feeling in his chest, and the grains of sand in his eyes threatened to make him start crying as well. He looked away and scratched his palm against the hairline in the back of his head.
"C'mere," Jack murmured, still chuckling.
"Wha?" Charlie mumbled absent-mindedly.
He turned his head just in time to catch the movement, before his mouth was captured in a deep and greedy kiss, and then his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into it. Kissing Jack was brilliant, he thought. Why haven't I tried this before? Gently fingertips brushed the side of his face, soft like snowflakes, warm like Jack. Maybe I'll survive without snow a bit longer, the islands not really that bad, if you think about it…
But then Charlie stopped thinking, and just felt.
The end.