walking in your landscape
lost. jack. juliet. ben. abbaddon. hurley. kate. aaron. julian. jack/juliet. pg. 2,715 words au future. post-finale. abbaddon and juliet help jack and ben gather two of the oceanic six to return to the island. my contribution to jacket_whoweare hiatus challenge: one: there, there by radiohead





heaven sent you to me there, there
radiohead








“You were sent.”

Her arms are still folded in front of her chest, her expression unreadable.

“You’re gonna make me do all the work this time?”

With a simple shake of her head, she gestured no.

“Then why aren’t you talking?”

“I don’t have anything to say,” she says honestly without bitterness.

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Pretend to know.”

She uncrosses her arms and begins to walk. “I guess I’m mad.” She pulls the curtain over to the left to reveal the floor to ceiling glass wall reflecting airport lights. The night was calm and things looked blissfully on schedule.

“Do you like airports?”

After a few seconds with the view, she turns to him, thinking seriously then admitting, “Not really.”

He gets another glass from the mini-bar and puts it next to his. “Neither do I.”

“Of course you don’t.”

She looks at the glass, it’s not for him and she knows it, but he amuses her and nods, grinning slightly. “This is me we’re talking about here,” he says. He walks to her with the glass in hand, the whiskey waving from one side of the glass to the other.

She takes it without even looking at it, drinking just a bit.

“Music?” he asks.

“You have music this time?”

“You said I should have music last time.”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember?” He puts on a CD he bought for a few bucks on the street right after he had his usual coffee. It was a compilation jazz disc, Nina Simone on the cover with the titles in Japanese. He plays a random song. “It’s not like you to not remember.”

She finishes her drink and sets the glass down on the coffee table, taking off her jacket and fixing up her hair. “Is it now?”

Jack doesn’t know how to respond to such a question. He should know more about her, or this version of her, and she was appearing less and less, every time a little less vindictive, a little sweeter.

He ignores it, going to her, offering his hand. “Dance?”

Placing her palm over his in acceptance, they get close, cheek on cheek, and begin to casually move to the sound of the drums and lazy trumpet.

“How drunk are you right now?” she asks him.

He laughs a little, squeezing her hand, pulling himself closer to her. “Pretty drunk.”

“When’s your flight?”

He thinks of all the numbers on the ticket, his golden pass has got him to stop looking at such things. And he’s been in Tokyo since the night before, a storm delaying his flight. “Tomorrow morning. Wanna spend the night?”

Juliet snickers, dropping her chin to his shoulder. “I can’t, Jack. I have to go now.”

Gone before he could protest, Jack finds himself moving alone, hugging air.

---

When it started was: 38,000 feet between oceans, on his way home, they hit turbulence and his heart calms. He closes his eyes and breathes every bump, every single time the wing fluttered.

And sitting right next to him, still as a stone, she says, “I remember this part.”

He looks and blinks, unsure if this was a joke, if he had seen her board the flight in Singapore.

No, she hadn’t, and he had a good look at everyone, making his way pass coach, and the blondes escaped him. None of them had her face, the cold look of someone so weary of life.

But it was her, and she was there.

He takes a deep breath and turns up to the sound of the “fasten your seatbelt” sign, and when he looks over, she’s gone.

---

Jack stays in the airport; his beard has shielded him from recognition. He begins his daily hotel stays, and the second time it started was just outside his gate to leave for Europe. She was kneeling in front of a little kid, comforting his sadness.

He calls out her name, frantic and sure this time.

She turns her head his way, and there’s no denying it. She stands up and waves.

Just a wave, hello, a simple, smooth, neat, surgical procedure.

He stops in front of her, out of breath, dizzy.

No words, though. He searches through and through, and nothing.

Instead he only says her name, and she half smiles in that way of hers.

The simplicity of her appearance did not escape him. A simple pair of black shoes, black slacks, white blouse and black blazer, and her blonde hair tied up sloppily, no make-up. She looked like a librarian or a professor, casual, professional. It was different; there was no dirt on her face, no dirt in her hair.

“You’re gonna miss your flight, Jack,” she says, her forehead pointing forward in a quick gesture.

“You’re not really here....”

She sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“Where are you?”

“You really should catch your flight this time, Jack.”

She begins to walk way, pass him, and he stands still, swallowing this with trouble. And when he turns to follow, she’s gone.

Again.

The boy stands where she left him, looking up at him with a curiosity so innocent Jack almost spoke to him, his mouth opening to form words. The boy runs away.

---

Hurley sees her too, and he says that he isn’t sure.

“I mean, I see a lot of dead people, dude, and they, like, know they’re dead. Juliet... she doesn’t, like, say anything. She sort of just is, and I don’t think she’s dead, dude.”

Jack sits next to him, trying to understand. “Who else do you see?”

Hurley’s eyes fall to the floor. “Eko. Shannon. Charlie. Ana. Everyone. But she’s the only one who looks... not dead.”

“What do you two talk about?”

“You remember that show about fighting ninjas on, like, channel thirteen here?”

Jack thinks about it for a moment and nods, “Yeah.”

“She says her nephew is hooked on the show.”

Jack smiles. “Nephew?”

“Yeah. Her sister, Rachel, she lives in Miami, she had a kid. His name was Julian. He’s blonde. And he looks like her.”

Jack looks at Hurley, confused. “Was?”

“He died, too, dude. This war between Widmore and Ben... yeah. It’s like big. And Ben, you know, loves Juliet. Widmore found out somehow and since he couldn’t get to her.”

In shock, Jack rose. “He got the nephew... why not... um, Rachel?”

“Jacob’s protecting her.”

---

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Juliet stands in front of him. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“Where are you supposed to be?”

She lets out a desperate chuckle. “Not here.”

“That boy... the one in the airport. The second time I saw you...”

“That was Julian,” she says with a faint smile. “He’s been following you around.”

“He can do that.”

“He’s a dead eight year old, he can part the seas if he had enough will.”

“But you’re not dead.”

Juliet grins, looks away. “It’s complicated.”

They’ve been meeting like this, in his hotel rooms, months and months, her disappearing, leaving him, and showing up sometimes across a street, sometimes in an aisle in the supermarket. Looking the same, sounding the same, smelling the same; he was so used to her being his hallucination, talking to Hurley... knowing what he knew... what little it was anyways, this time it was different.

She wasn’t dead, he was sure of it, and she knew more, much more.

“Then un-complicate it for me, Juliet.”

She shakes her head; he could be so stubborn, even in the fullness of calm. “It doesn’t matter what Kate says, she and Aaron have to come back.”

Jack huffs in frustration. “You know about that?”

“I know about the extra shot you sneaked before I showed up, too, Jack,” she amuses him, catching his glance as it attempted to look away. “At least you’re getting better. Ben’s really got you, doesn’t he?”

Jack almost stops breathing. “Secrets aren’t a concept in limbo.”

“I know what I have to know, just like you know what you have to know.”

“And what I know is you start coming to me randomly, right after Locke dies, and you’re not even supposed to be here.”

“So, you’ve been listening,” she jokes. “Good.”

“What does that mean? You’re not supposed to be here. I thought you were.... my guide.”

Juliet almost laughs. “We almost fucked once, and you thought you were gonna screw an angel?”

Jack admires her bluntness. Yes, they were almost in bed during one of her appearances. He was almost completely nude when she stopped him, a self-control so deep she slammed the door shut and right when he opened it she was still there. He was sure she would do that poof thing, disappear without so much as a whistle.

He laughs. “Screw an angel?”

She lets it go on, smiles a little more genuinely. “Okay, let’s get this out in the open. I’m clearly not dead.”

Jack nods. “Good.”

“I’m not ethereal in any way, shape or form.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because... you miss me.”

Jack fakes it, smiles a little wider. “I miss you.”

“You pull me away, Jack, and I have to help you, or you’ll go crazy.”

Jack nods, walks away, pours himself another drink, and sits. “I’m sorry about Julian.”

Juliet accepts his condolence, but is clearly shaken still. “He wasn’t meant to be born in real time. Besides, I don’t know yet. Not really, anyways.”

With the edge of the glass to his lips, Jack stops from drinking. “When...” he asks. “When are you from?”

Juliet opens the curtains again, the daylight shining through white and hurtful to the eyes. She stares out at Heathrow. “A long time from now. A long, long time.”

---

“You look like Jack Skeleton, only... black.”

Matthew Abbaddon smiled, his fingers crossed together perfectly polite. “You are becoming quite the dark figure, Mr. Reyes.”

Hurley didn’t even look up from his chess game, staring intently at the pieces and then shifting his eyes to the empty space in front of him. When Matthew Abbaddon appeared in his bedroom, seamlessly, his door still closed, locked from the outside, he downed his glass of water to clear his throat.

“When you talk to dead people,” Hurley answered, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Everything else you say doesn’t really compare, dude.”

Abbaddon nodded in agreement, walking to the opposite side of the table, looking at the game, impressed. “How long have you been playing Miss Rutherford?”

Hurley made another move, taking a pawn. “A couple of hours. I didn’t know she knew how to play chess.”

Abbaddon’s eyes peer to the empty space of the chair, and speaking to it with such grace Hurley almost believed he could see her. “May I finish the game, Miss Rutherford?”

A few seconds of silence passed before Abbaddon took the seat. Another moment preceded it as Abbaddon absorbed the game and all its pieces, until finally moving one little pawn forward.

Chuckling to himself, Hurley took the pawn with his knight. “Are you letting me win, dude?”

Abbaddon leaned back on his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Why would I do that, Mr. Reyes? Maybe I am a terrible chess player.”

Hurley shrugged, and waited. “Your turn.”

“I know it is my turn,” Abbaddon replied, his eyes on Hurley. “You know how this game ends, Mr. Reyes.”

“Do I?”

“If I am letting you win, then surely I am going to loose.”

Hurley shifts his chair back, staring at Abbaddon. “What are you doing here?”

“I do not know. What am I doing here?”

“You’re not dead, are you? I’m always talking to dead people.”

“Hugo, just because someone has died it does not mean they are gone.”

“You have a funny definition for death, dude.”

“It is not my definition, Mr. Reyes.”

“Then who’s is it?”

Abbaddon’s pupils look upward and stay on the ceiling for a moment before going back to Hurley.

“God’s?”

Abbaddon grinned widely, looking at the game and making his move. “No. Check mate.” Abbaddon rises, buttoning his jacket blazer with elegance and ease. “It is time to go now, Mr. Reyes.”

---

Ben arrives and he doesn’t react to her presence. His eyes are unblinking and open, a smile creeps onto his face. “Funny,” he says without humor.

Juliet keeps her hands in her jacket pocket, she looks at Jack and then back at Ben.

“You got him to shave off the beard,” he notices, the first thing when he came in actually, not her. “I’ve told him to for weeks now. He doesn’t listen, though.”

Whatever intimidation technique it was, Ben was failing.

Juliet was unfazed by his words, even less by his silence.

Jack takes a hold of her hand. “Don’t go anywhere now.”

Ben grins, chuckles like a lost dog. “Where would she go? She’s meant to help Locke.” He looks to her. “It’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Juliet?” The casket is open, the body of John Locke kept and... dead.

“Where’s Aaron?” she asks him.

Ben walks up to them, his eyes prying to their joined hands then back at them. Her blue eyes unsympathetic but neutral, hatred gone elsewhere. “With his mother.”

She hates this, he can see it.

Jack can see it too, and it hurts him just like it stings everyone else.

Ben was having fun at their expense. “Or with Julian.”

While the name made no anger rise in Juliet, it made Jack’s blood boil.

Juliet stops him with a simple hand to his arm. “Not yet,” she says. “You’ll get your chance. I’m going to get Aaron.”

Ben and Jack watch her go, disappearing as the doors close.

“It’s a neat trick,” Ben says when she’s gone. “She must’ve accepted it completely.”

Jack inhales deeply and turns his body to face the casket.

“You’ll get to kill me, Jack,” he assures him with ease. “Just like she’ll get Aaron.”

---

Aaron recognized her face immediately, running to her in the park, jumping into her arms. Juliet passes her hand over his face while her other arm steadied him on her hip. “You’re so big,” she says enthusiastically. “So very big.”

Aaron laughs, and begins to squeal like a seal when she starts to tickle him.

“Aaron?!”

Juliet hears the familiar shout of a woman amongst the many mothers in the play area. It isn’t long before Kate Austen emerges from the crowd of tall, Los Angeles women, her dark hair done beautifully straight.

Juliet could sense her fear as the younger woman spotted her, the dread. She held on to Aaron, her face unable to keep the joy.

“Ready to go now, baby?”

Aaron has his arms around her neck; he sees Kate and doesn’t respond to her cries.

“Don’t you dare take him!” she shouts, her hands searching around the waistband of her pants.

Juliet would’ve stayed if just to say what a hypocrite she had been, but there wasn’t enough time. This was the only way.

“Why is she running?” Aaron asks. “Doesn’t she know who you are?”

Juliet looks at Aaron, amazed by his innocence. “No, baby. She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know who you are either.”

It doesn’t matter the distance to where her son was. It seemed smaller, and Kate ran as fast as she could, bumping into everyone it felt like. And she could see her, see Juliet holding Aaron the way only a woman with a child would, maternally and protective. And just as Kate reached close enough, Juliet was gone. With her son, vanished.

Kate turns everywhere, and they were nowhere in sight.

“Lost?”

She turns around to voice belonging to a tall, skinny black man. His eyes perturbed as if coming out of his sockets. He held the hand of a small boy who bore a striking resemblance to Aaron, only his hair was nearly white from the sun shining on it. They were almost the perfect ying-yang, the man tall, beautiful and dark, and the boy glowing naturally from the sun, white.

Kate got over their appearance quickly, the sounds escaping her throat. “My... son,” she says, her voice croaking. What was she going to do? Juliet was dead, but it was her. She was here, and she took Aaron.

The boy looks at Kate and then at Abbaddon. He shakes his head to say no.

“Are you sure, Julian?” Abbaddon asks in a chillingly sweet tone. Julian tilts his head further back and nods.

“Ice-cream now?” he asks with excitement.

Abbaddon takes one more look at Kate and smiles, answers the boy without looking at him. "Of course."

She watches as the man takes the boy to the ice-cream stand, the boy turning around one more time. He looks at Kate with a sadness mirroring her own, and then he smiles and waves. She could see his lips moving, forming the words, "Bye, bye."


.end

note: It was really going to end: AND THEN KATE GETS HIT BY A BUS!!!! but... I decided not to be cruel (i kid, i kid). thanks so much to everyone who has participated in the hiatus challenge so far.