Title: Clinging
Author: Bella Lumina
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Jack/Kate
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: Always ask before archiving, thanks.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: bellaluminaatyahoodotcom
Summary: Future fic. A typical late night for Jack and Kate.
Home is still an island.
He stirs in his sleep, his eyes drowsily opening and closing against the soft blue light that invades the darkness of the bedroom. The ocean crashes against the shore outside. The sound filters gently through the open door.
The open door? He blinks again, trying to clear his vision this time, and turns to the other side of the bed. Empty. He runs his hands over the sheets. Still warm. The pillow is still indented where she clung to it in her sleep. She always holds onto something, sometimes a pillow, sometimes him. He prefers the second option.
The wooden floor is cold on the soles of his feet as he drags his protesting body out of bed. He doesn't bother to turn on a light, just fumbles in the dark for his boxers and pulls one of the blankets from the bed around his shoulders.
Sand against his feet now. He pads through the cool moist beach toward the silhouette at the water's edge. She lies back in the sand as he approaches, letting the salty ocean water rush in around her and then recede back into the dark calm sea.
He kneels beside her, and she looks up at him with big eyes. The moonlight catches in tears that pool at her lashes. She doesn't say a word as the water comes in again, soaking the blanket wrapped about him and tangling her hair in the sand.
It's good, really. He understands. No need to explain why she feels compelled some nights to abandon their comfortable, warm bed in favor of sinking into a bed on the shore. Sand and water as familiar as her own skin. She covers his hand with her own as he strokes the cool soft skin of her cheek.
She shivers in the sand as the water pulls away again and the night air whispers across the beach. Goosebumps all over, and he urges her up and wraps her in the blanket. His fingers in her sandy hair bring back an image of the first time on the old beach, naked together in the sand with her legs wrapped around him. Trying not to shout out and wake the others.
They walk back to the house hand in hand. She clutches the blanket around her naked body in fisted fingers. The blanket falls to the floor inside.
Running shower washes away the sand, washes away the memories. He strokes her back softly as the warm water pours over them. She presses her cheek against his shoulder and sighs. He finger-combs her hair, straightening the curls into long ropes against her back.
Dry and warm now, they crawl back into bed. She curls her body against his back, and he smiles in the grey blue dark.
The End