standardblack: ([Off Island] Looking Like A Lost Cause)
Yeah...I have a strong sense of responsibility. I think most everyone does, it’s a basic part of human nature to feel a certain obligation with regards to...countless aspects of one’s life. Now...whether or not that inherent responsibility is to themselves or to others? That’s what separates men and women into the good, the bad, and the ugly.

As for what triggers’s not much more than a basic sense of right and wrong, at least for me. If I see something wrong that’s in my power to fix? Then it’s my responsibility to make it right, and I take that responsibility very seriously. Honestly, I believe it’s probably the simplest, most basic duty of every human being to take note of the things out there that they have the power to correct and to *do* it. Making changes for the better isn’t a hard thing to want to make a difference where you see the chance.


My family, my ex-wife...they couldn’t see that. least Sara couldn’t. The one thing she claimed to love about me ended up being the one thing she divorced me over.

It’s kind of a sick thing that my father was the only one who ever really got it...the drunkard that worked so hard to screw me up when he was raising me...he understood the nature of it. Before my wedding, he told me that commitment is what makes me tick...but it’s more than that.

I could be committed to anything...but I’m committed to people. I have a responsibility to help them. And I haven’t always been sure that helping through medicine has been my calling...but I’ve known, my whole life, that’s what I’m made to do.

I just wish the rest of the world could see that.


Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 307
standardblack: ([Off Island] Looking Like A Lost Cause)
Okay, devil’s advocate? Fine...I can do that. Say it’s true...all of it. If I stand on the opposite side of what I really believe to be happening, I have to admit that the things Locke says...maybe even some of the things that Eko said are true.

Fate’s at work here...Destiny, a higher power guiding us all to this spot, here and now. Everything happens for a reason, and it’s something totally out of my control. I was meant to be on this island. I was meant to be where I am, to feel how I act as I’ve acted.


Why are we here? What greater purpose could it possibly serve for our flight to go down? What destiny would require the loss of so many lives? What could possibly be so important that it would require this much suffering?

I can concede to the opposing viewpoint, but I can’t abandon reason for the sake of rationalizing the stance. If I agree that we have a destiny by being on this island, then there has to be a reason. I’m just saying present it...even a hint at it. Where’s the path? Where’s the sense? I’ll even concede that maybe God has a hand in all of this. Where’s his presence? Show me one sign of his grace, his benevolence...I’m not asking for a miracle. I’m not even asking for a divine presence. I’m just asking for some kind of order...some kind of logic.

If there’s a plan, there has to be a method to it all...and I know we survived the crash. Yes, that’s classifiable as miraculous, but why? Why save all our lives if we’re just meant to die off, one at a time in senseless acts of violence and brutality?

I know that a lot of this stuff takes faith...but even the faithful have a reason to believe.

And that’s all I want...a *reason.*

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 327
standardblack: ([Emote] Out of Destruction)
It didn’t feel right, sitting in the chair...but he was home now, and he’d take what he could get. Couldn’t afford to be picky, not when he couldn’t go was a shame, though, for all of Achara’s gift of sight and the curse he’d let her brand into his skin, he actually wished he could have her do this particular piece.

The one he had designed...the one he had chosen. A definition of self that *he* had made, not her or Fate or anyone else.

Everything about the process felt empty but the pain. The smell was as sharp and sterile as the hospital, but it lacked the warmth that the humanity in a hospital brought, even if that humanity was laced with disease. It also lacked the delicate, spicy scent of incense that had lingered in Achara’s studio. The light was too harsh, the chair was too industrial.

But the pain and the bitter smell of ink mixed with the flat, metallic scent of blood...there was depth to it. The feel of the needle marking his skin brought him back to those moments in her chair...even if the buzz of the pen was alien compared to the sharp, rhythmic hammering of Achara’s bamboo instruments, beating the brand into his flesh.

But when it was over, Jack had what he came for...over the Asian characters was a character of his own. It might have seemed silly to anyone that knew the story behind the stylized number five that now branded his shoulder...but it wasn’t silly or ridiculous to him.

Nothing would have more than a passing grip on him...not fear, not destiny, not anything.

Whether it was five seconds, five days, or five years...Jack would always be his own master.

Regardless of what her eyes saw.

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 306
standardblack: ([Emote] Out of Destruction)
Coming home was like stepping into an alien world after Puqhet...climbing the stairs to his apartment and walking through his door was a dash of cold water against his fragile psyche.

He dropped his bags in the middle of his living room to simply stare for a long moment, taking in the room around him. It was a study in depression, in despair...once neat and tidy bookshelves were missing volumes, texts leaning and scattered about the room. There were glasses, wrappers, signs of a man that no longer cared enough to make an effort. Clothes were strewn around, papers a mess...short, desperate little notes were littered about, detailing Sarah’s movements, names of men that *might* have been Him...

It was the den of a man who was drowning in his own misery.

Reaching up, Jack touched his arm where the ink lay beneath a layer of light cotton. It still felt tender, that sting reminding him of the characters now branded into his skin.

He walks among us, but he is not one of us.

The tidy, perfect little home he’d left was the home of a successful doctor. This was the home of a shadow. Jack was neither anymore...he didn’t know what he was.

You are a leader, a great man. But this, this makes you lonely, and frightened, and angry.

He was alone because Sarah left him. He was angry because she’d left him for another man.

But he was still afraid...and he couldn’t blame that on her.

The rage bubbled over, the pain of solitude blended with that fear in a single instant that redefined his home. It was a small thing, a simple thing...but it put things into different perspective for Jack as he drove himself to the hospital, and later as he set about cleaning up with only one good hand.

He worked all night, and by the next morning the apartment was pristine. Every shelf in order, every paper gone...every note carefully gathered and stowed away in a drawer to be pored over with careful consideration.

And the hole in the cheap plaster of his living room wall marred the meticulous order with a deliberation that satisfied him. He was in the neat, orderly home of a successful doctor now...just as it should be.

And at the heart of it all, it was the home of a man who never asked to be chosen by Destiny.

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 412
standardblack: ([Jacket] Your Little Secret)
Fate chooses your relations, you choose your friends. - Jacques Delille

//You can’t pick your family.//

For some reason, he couldn’t stop running that old adage through his mind, over and over again. He thought about it as he gave Ben his exam after the boat trip back to the main island, ora s he flashed the older woman living across from his perfect little suburban house a fake, pleasant smile.

He thought about his people as he attended a small party and made believe at normalcy. His family, chosen by circumstance, if not by Fate. But Jack didn’t believe in Fate.

And when he was done thinking about all of that...he thought about Juliet in her house at the edge of the little enclave...on his arm at that party, helping him with Ben’s exam, telling him a few little stories about the old woman, Richard’s maiden aunt who had been with them for ages.

She was the only thing he had that was real anymore. She was a prisoner in her own right, even if she was, essentially, Jack’s jailer. Ben had trapped her, too. She was warm and funny, delicate and beautiful...and honest, at least as honest as one of Them could be.

She made the pain of missing his adopted family easier to bear...especially the pain of losing Kate. She was control in chaos, a choice where he had none but those Ben allowed him to have. She was the key to everything...and most essentially, she was a good, pleasant companion. Being with her made him feel good.

Jack didn’t know if he could ever really call Juliet a friend...but in his situation, she was the closest he was going to get.

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 280
standardblack: ([Tank] Too Much Of Anything)
"It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees." Emiliano Zapata

Live together, die alone. Granted, it’s a little corny, a lot trite, and about as cliche as you can get, but the fact is that it’s true. Painfully true.

I mean...look at us. We’re still here.

We’ve lost some of our number, but it’s part of life: people die and in situations as extreme as this one? People tend to die a lot sooner, and in greater numbers. What happened with the tail section survivors is proof of that. Us? We’re still alive and well, with precious few of us having succumbed to the hardships of the life we’re living. We’ve had enough to eat, and since we found the hatch, we’ve been very comfortable. Our sick and wounded, in varying degrees, have all survived their injuries...we even have a newborn baby healthy and thriving in our midst. I think that speaks volumes about where we’re at.

As individuals, we’d be subsisting. We wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of advancement, of safety and *comfort* that we have right now. The wealth we have can’t be bought our sold, it’s in who we are and what we can do for ourselves and each other. Our joys, our sorrows...they’re far more real and visceral than the experiences we ‘d ever have known in the real world.

Die on your feet, live on your knees...together or alone.

True, that monster in the jungle could easily crush us all under its heel if what we’ve seen...or haven’t seen, for that matter, is any indication. But picking us off one by one? That’s a far easier that the Others have risen to on more than one occasion.

We all may go down one day, but apart, we’d be destroyed that much faster. So if we’re all going to die here? We’ll die least that way, we’ll be that much harder to kill.

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 317
standardblack: ([Emote] Inside Relentless Mind)
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. ~Chinese Proverb

Ben said it to me the other day...and I don’t think there’s a place in the world where it rings more true than it does in this little slice of suburban Hell...that’s the only thing I can think of to call it. Call me bitter, but being kept like a rat in a cage will do that to you.

These people...they’ve turned deception into an art form, and I can’t help but think that some of them take a great deal of pride in it. Tom and Juliet...I don’t think they’re those people. Those like Ben and Pickett, however...I think they enjoy it.

So I got taken for a ride by Michael...we all did. If Sayid hadn’t spoken to me about him...I honestly thought I could trust him, for whatever it was worth. I know he was coerced, and God knows what They did to him during the time he was gone...but it doesn’t make me any less a fool for putting my faith in him.

So we weren’t just betrayed, we were also double-crossed. Michael led us right to the Others, handed us over like chattel.

It was Their biggest mistake, because I will *not* be played twice. Every move they’ve made since they locked me up, I’ve gone against knowing exactly where I stood and what to do: nothing I wasn’t ready to do. I helped Ben to get off this island...I helped Juliet because she was in the same predicament I was in, they just trusted her more, needed what she could do for them.

They already played their one card with me...they had one opening to manipulate me, and now it’s gone.

And so help me God...they will never play me for the fool again.

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 300
standardblack: ([Others] Through Binoculars)
Read more... )

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 485
standardblack: ([Hydra] In The Halls)
"A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know." — Diane Arbus


Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 318
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