About that certain scene at the beginning of 6x01 -- I know I've already said this to a few of you, but... maybe I should have been excited by the coincidence, but honestly, I'm really QUITE bummed that something that was supposed to be such a huge part of my story ended up happening on the show. DAMMIT! I mean, it's sort of cool but mainly I'm just cranky and depressed about it. Those Lost writers stole my idea! ;) That said, this story won't incorporate anything from Season 6, so if you haven't seen it yet or live somewhere they haven't aired it yet, don't worry about being spoiled or anything. All similarities post-S5 are completely coincidental.
"More likely, I was just feeling the old loss, in a new way."
-- Miranda July, "No One Belongs Here More Than You: Stories"
------ FLASHBACK (1923) ------
"So, JuJu."
"About the war."
"You won't believe me," he said cheerfully.
"Try me."
"It won't help you any. It'll only make things worse for you."
In the back of her mind, she heard Richard's words from two years earlier. If people here knew what they were really working for, the balance could shift.
"Tell me anyway," she said.
He sighed. "What you did changed time. And it changed my brother's plans. Everything he'd so carefully constructed, all the people he'd chosen to come here, everything -- gone. Because of you."
She stayed silent.
"Now he's nothing. He's just water. The problem, of course, with being water, is there's only one thing he can do."
"Yeah, and what's that?" she challenged him.
When he spoke again, it felt like she'd always known. "He wants to drown the island."
So she lied. "You're right. I don't believe you."
"Yes, you do," he said easily. "You just don't want to. And if Jacob's people knew what they were working for, they'd never be working for him."
"That's what Richard said. He said it came down to loyalty or survival."
"It does."
"Funny, I thought survival would be with Jacob."
"Sounds like you had it all wrong," he said archly. "And now that you know, you'll lose your desire to serve Jacob, too."
"But what's to say you won't choke out everyone on the island?"
"Nothing. But at least the island itself would still be here when I'm done. You can't say the same of my brother."
"I know."
"And I would spare you, of course. I'd have to, as my brother won't allow you to be killed. Ironic, since if he drowned the island, you'd be drowned too."
"And you'd be drowned, wouldn't you? Even as smoke."
"Only if the water went high enough. But in that case, yes, I would drown, too. And then my brother could just carry on with his pathetic little existence for the rest of eternity."
There was something about this that didn't quite make sense. "So why hasn't he done it yet?"
"Because he's waiting for your help."
Her stomach clenched. "What?"
"I'm sorry, JuJu, but you can't expect me to tell you everything, can I? I'm not going to let you help my brother win."
"Why does Jacob think I'd ever help him?"
"Why do I think you'd ever help me?"
"I don't know why you'd think that. You don't strike me as an optimist, frankly."
The man in black laughed. "You have a point there."
"Why does Jacob think I'd hate myself?"
"Because if you helped him, you'd be killing everyone on the island. And if you don't, people will keep fighting. And many of those who are? They're fighting over you."
------ END FLASHBACK ------
"Jacob wants to drown the island," James repeats slowly.
Juliet nods.
He stands abruptly. "You sure you didn't wanna tell me this any earlier? Jesus fucking Christ, Juliet." What the fuck was the point of her not telling him this before? So she's been carrying this burden with her all the time so he could just go about his life relatively calm and untroubled? Not that things were all peaches and sunshine every day but ... Jesus fucking Christ!
"There's no guarantee that he'll do it in a time Jonah and I were living there," she says calmly. "Sit down."
"I ain't sittin' down! What good's sittin' down gonna do?"
"And what's standing going to do?" she replies in a monotone, not looking at him. Her fucking logic, this cool detachment -- it probably kept her alive back there but he just wants to get a fucking rise out of her right now, and Dr. McTwitchy over there's looking back and forth nervously at them like he's watching his damn parents fighting or something.
"James. You knew about Jonah's scar, you know what that sort of thing could mean. That's why we're here now, after all. Sit. Down."
He sits, feeling a little bit like an obedient puppy. When did he end up so whipped, anyway? Fucking Miles mocking him back in Dharmaville all over again. James runs a hand through his hair, tries to control his breathing.
She looks over at him finally. "If it makes you feel any better -- as of the way things stood when I left the island, I know I'm still alive and off the island twenty years from now."
Faraday looks fascinated. "How do you know that?"
"It doesn't matter, I just do."
"Thought you said those people were comin' from thirty years from now?" James challenges her. "Thought you said -- "
"I did. But they weren't supposed to let things slip about the future, but one of them made a mistake. As things stood, we were all right. I just want to make sure we stay all right. And it would be awfully nice to know I'm not going to wake up tomorrow missing an arm or something."
He sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes. He's got a headache starting, should probably have worn his glasses today. Been needing them more and more the past few years, ever since they upgraded him to the damn bifocals.
Faraday hasn't said anything in awhile, looking at them uncomfortably. What's he got to worry about? Faraday's got a firecracker of his own at home, no way Juliet's got James any more in line than Red's got Twitchy. Juliet rests a hand on his arm. "James. Could you maybe take a walk? Let Daniel and I go over a few things?"
What is she still trying to hide from him? He wants to tell her no, NO, he's sure as hell not leaving right now, he wants to know what else there is to know, but then he remembers that night, soon after her return.
"If something bad were to happen, in the future, would you want to know about it?"
"How bad?"
She sips her wine. "I'm not sure. Maybe not so bad. Maybe the worst thing possible."
"That's a pretty big disparity."
"That's what makes it more confusing."
"Could I do somethin' about it, or not?"
"I don't know."
"Then Danny Boy would say somethin' about there bein' too many variables or some shit like that."
"I know."
He decides maybe, maybe he does want to leave after all. He stands, tries to act like he doesn't care, the same cool detachment his wife seems to pull off every damn day, effortlessly. It's not easy. "Have fun, Science Club."
Maybe not so bad. Maybe the worst thing possible.
What does that even mean?
Daniel seems to relax a little after James leaves. It's something in the set of his shoulders, maybe, but he seems to sit up a little straighter.
She fixes her gaze on him, and he's still perched on the edge of that worn armchair in this dusty little space. "How much do you think we can change things?"
He crinkles up his face, watching her intently. "What do you mean?"
"My son. My son went back to that island. When he was 34 -- coming from 2042."
"Your son," Dan repeats in astonishment. "Your son goes back to the island as an adult? You met him?"
"Yes. I did. We have to change things. He can't go back. He didn't -- " Her voice cracks. "He was supposed to leave with me. And something must have happened. He didn't make it off, and I don't know if he does. Or did. We have to change it. Make it so he never goes in the first place."
"But he already did," Daniel croaks. "Don't you see, Juliet? Even if we could change it so he didn't go back -- that could change things even more. Maybe that was instrumental in getting you off the island in the first place."
She's already shaking her head. "No -- no. We can't let him go -- "
"I know you're worried, but there's nothing you can do. If time is already unstable on the island, it would be dangerous to deliberately try to change things. It could make things worse. That could be all it takes to make it so you never even got off the island in the first place."
She's in full-on panic mode, can't prevent the angry tears. "Then what's the point of my even coming here?" she demands.
"Juliet, I'm not... some time-travel drive-through service you can visit to solve all your problems," he hedges.
Her head snaps up. "I gave up six years of my life -- six years! -- so you and Charlotte could be alive. Six years, Daniel. Don't sit there and tell me there's nothing to be done. You can't take him away from me."
"Me? Why would I -- "
"It doesn't matter," she says abruptly. "Just -- please, we need to figure this out. Get an endpoint."
"But don't you understand? I'm out of this. I'm retired from all this, it can't take up the rest of my life."
"Well, it's probably going to take up the rest of mine," she hisses. "Enjoy your life, Daniel. Tell Charlotte I said hello."
She slams the door behind her.
Juliet goes to sleep early that night, too early. She looks dazed, the way she had their first few weeks together. He's tried to be gentle with her all night, taking care of her the way she needs, but it's hard when all he wants to do is kick the wall into fucking pulp. He's sitting at the small table across from the bed, in the dim light of a hotel room lamp on its lowest setting, doing today's newspaper crossword and cursing under his breath. He hears the blankets stir.
"What?" she asks him sleepily.
"16 letters, third one's an e. Clue: 'succeeded the carburetor'."
"Fuel injection," she says, and rolls over.
He writes it in, throws down the pen, kicks off his shoes. He walks to the bed, lies down behind her, smooths her hair over her shoulders. She relaxes against him and he drapes an arm over her hip.
"God, I was such a bitch today," she whispers.
"It's OK, I wasn't exactly at my best neither."
"I slammed the door on Daniel. He doesn't want to help. Why won't he help me?" She tenses again, pushing her shoulder blades together.
"He's scared. Just doesn't wanna jeopardize what he's got. 'Sides, I thought you said he does help you. You said you though he spends the next thirty years working it out."
"But things can change. What if it changes?" She hates feeling powerless as much as he does. But here she is getting pissed, slamming doors. And here he is, practicing cool detachment. If that don't beat all.
"I don't know," he admits.
She rolls over so she's facing him. She looks sad and drained; sometimes it amazes him how quickly they can flip from joy to despair, over and over again. But she smiles at him now, and he'll take it, it's what they've got. A little bit of joy, no kids about ready to bang on the door, no phones about to go off, no sister-in-law two rooms over. And she leans in to kiss him, and he squeezes her closer, the two of them pressed up together in the semi-darkness like nothing's ever going to separate them again.
