ext_19960 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
823freckles.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2011-02-10 06:51 am
823freckles.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-02-10 06:51 am
No One Belongs Here More Than You by tia8206 (t)
Fandom: LOST
Characters/Pairings: Juliet; Sawyer/Juliet
Length: 237,673 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tia_no_one
Author Website: tia8206 on ff.net
Why this must be read:
Another post-incident fic in which Juliet survives the bomb blast only to be transported back to the 1920's. This story feels like it could be a near-effortless addition to the LOST canon or a brilliant spin-off; tia weaves in flashbacks and her own spin on island mysteries in a manner completely true to our favorite series. She introduces interesting, three-dimensional new characters and includes many old favorites, but ultimately, this is Juliet (and James') story. But you don't need to be a fan of this pairing to enjoy this story, because it truly is a riveting read regardless.
EXCERPT:
She wishes it were raining as the plane taxied down the runway, but instead, it was just sun, stupid blinding sun just like the day she poked her head out of the sub all those years ago.
Cruising altitude and she hasn't stopped clutching the armrests. She's in the middle, no one's in the aisle seat. He's scrunched up against the window trying to sleep - when was it they'd last slept? - and she unfolds her long legs and stands, looks down the long aisle for nothing, takes a blanket from the overheard and bends down to tuck it around his shoulders. The sun from the windows is falling over his dirty blond hair. He half-smiles in his sleep, showing a dimple briefly before falling into slumber again.
She's glad he's sleeping because she needs to think. She needs to think, and it's like she can't even remember how, too strung out on emotion and confusion and the stomach-churning sensation of sleep deprivation. Her eyes burn with sleeplessness.
They aren't really headed in the right direction, they'll be landing in Amsterdam, but at least they're getting the hell out of Tunisia. That's priority number one, as far as she can tell. They have one bag between them that had their paperwork and some things they'd gotten in an airport shop before the flight.
That, and the clothes on their backs. Her shoes are six years old, or several decades, she isn't really sure, and she really doesn't fucking care anymore.
Those ridiculous Dharma parkas they'd left behind. It was July and anyway, they couldn't be wearing those out in the real world. They have fake identities as it is, thanks to Richard, and she really didn't need some 75-year-old whose janitor brother had disappeared with the D.I. four decades ago stopping them on the street and flipping the fuck out.
The belly of the plane rumbles. She'd close her eyes and pray if she did that kind of thing; instead she stares at the pattern on the back of the seat in front of her, tracing the squares with her eyes over and over until the pattern blurs in front of her, a numbing pointless calm settling in, and she manages to stop shaking.
No One Belongs Here More Than You
Characters/Pairings: Juliet; Sawyer/Juliet
Length: 237,673 words
Author on LJ:
tia_no_oneAuthor Website: tia8206 on ff.net
Why this must be read:
Another post-incident fic in which Juliet survives the bomb blast only to be transported back to the 1920's. This story feels like it could be a near-effortless addition to the LOST canon or a brilliant spin-off; tia weaves in flashbacks and her own spin on island mysteries in a manner completely true to our favorite series. She introduces interesting, three-dimensional new characters and includes many old favorites, but ultimately, this is Juliet (and James') story. But you don't need to be a fan of this pairing to enjoy this story, because it truly is a riveting read regardless.
EXCERPT:
She wishes it were raining as the plane taxied down the runway, but instead, it was just sun, stupid blinding sun just like the day she poked her head out of the sub all those years ago.
Cruising altitude and she hasn't stopped clutching the armrests. She's in the middle, no one's in the aisle seat. He's scrunched up against the window trying to sleep - when was it they'd last slept? - and she unfolds her long legs and stands, looks down the long aisle for nothing, takes a blanket from the overheard and bends down to tuck it around his shoulders. The sun from the windows is falling over his dirty blond hair. He half-smiles in his sleep, showing a dimple briefly before falling into slumber again.
She's glad he's sleeping because she needs to think. She needs to think, and it's like she can't even remember how, too strung out on emotion and confusion and the stomach-churning sensation of sleep deprivation. Her eyes burn with sleeplessness.
They aren't really headed in the right direction, they'll be landing in Amsterdam, but at least they're getting the hell out of Tunisia. That's priority number one, as far as she can tell. They have one bag between them that had their paperwork and some things they'd gotten in an airport shop before the flight.
That, and the clothes on their backs. Her shoes are six years old, or several decades, she isn't really sure, and she really doesn't fucking care anymore.
Those ridiculous Dharma parkas they'd left behind. It was July and anyway, they couldn't be wearing those out in the real world. They have fake identities as it is, thanks to Richard, and she really didn't need some 75-year-old whose janitor brother had disappeared with the D.I. four decades ago stopping them on the street and flipping the fuck out.
The belly of the plane rumbles. She'd close her eyes and pray if she did that kind of thing; instead she stares at the pattern on the back of the seat in front of her, tracing the squares with her eyes over and over until the pattern blurs in front of her, a numbing pointless calm settling in, and she manages to stop shaking.
No One Belongs Here More Than You