milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Today has not been a very good day, but eight has never been one of Sun's lucky numbers. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

She does not know if she likes these caves. They are dark and she misses the stars overhead and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. But Jin is her husband and for now, she does as he asks. For now, she owes him that much. Nightgown in hand, she steps through the rock opening and does a double-take, and then another: where is this place?

With the nightgown clutched protectively to her chest she steps forward, brows furrowed, eyes darting back and forth. There is no comfort in the location or in the sudden profusion of company.

"Jin-Soo? [Help me.]"

But Jin is not here, and he cannot help her. Her hand goes to the top button of her sweater; she makes sure it's fastened.

"[Excuse me... where are we? What is this place?]"

[작은 꼬리표: Hercules]

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"Thou do speak English!" Hercules says.

"Thou art in Milliways, beloved bar of magic and mystery!"

She lied. (She's good at that.)

"A... bar?"

A beloved bar of magic and mystery? Frowning, she thinks back to every legend and myth she's ever heard, but there is nothing in her experience, either real or imagined, to match this circumstance.

"Where is the island?"

This makes even less sense than the airplane falling out of the sky.

"...what island?" Herc asks.

Ah.

"Eight days ago." As it happened with Michael, the English words come back to her the more she uses them. "Our airplane: it... crashed. We have been on an island since. Waiting for help."

Turning, she gestures to the wall behind her. "We found a cave to stay in. No food. Little water."

One more thing about the cave. "It's safer there."

"Well, now you have Milliways, which has infinite food and drink, as well as great safety!" Herc declares.

She is supposed to be happy about this?

"But no Jin. [What am I supposed to do? Be happy to be here while he is left behind with no one to talk to? He doesn't speak English. He is all alone.]"

Pausing, she takes in a deep breath.

"He is my... husband."

"...he is just outside the door," Hercules explains. "And time will not pass on your island while thou art here."

There is no door.

"Where is this door? How can time not pass?"

She's not accusing him of lying: she's grateful for the information. It's just that it's all a little too much for her to grasp.

"Can you not see a door from which you didst enter?" Herc says.

She looks again, but all she sees is the wall behind her.

"I did not pay attention. To get here."

He frightens her, he is so big and so loud. Still, there is something gentle about him, a softness to his words.

"I did not pay attention." She can feel her eyes starting to fill. "Where is the door? Where is it? [Jin-Soo, Jin-Soo. I want to go back to him. I want to go back now.]"

Hercules frowns.

"I am sorry," he says. "The bar hath bound you."

"Bound?"

She shakes her head, not understanding. "What does that mean?"

Despite his kindness, a sinking feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. It's in the frown on his face and the sudden softness of his apology.

"It means the bar will not let you leave," Hercules says. "She is a fickle mistress."

"Jin-Soo."

Turning again to the wall behind her, she beats on it with the palms of her hands. "[Open, open. Let me leave. Let me go back to my husband. Let me go back to my island.]"

Panic is beginning to set in: the plane crash was bad enough. The sounds at night are bad enough. The fight between Michael and Jin was bad enough. What has she done that is so bad that this has happened too?

(She knows the answer to that question only too well.)

"How can a place not let me leave."

Hercules bites his lip.

"She thinks."

"Who thinks?"

She pauses mid-strike: it's not doing any good hitting the wall.

Jin was right: she should have stayed right by his side and never left. Then maybe she would not be here with only a nightgown and a stranger for comfort. Reaching down, she picks the gown up from the floor where it's fallen, dusts it off, folds it compulsively and neatly. This is all she has now.

"The bar," Herc says. "It is magic."

That does it: she bursts into tears. The nightgown slips to the floor again; she covers her eyes with her hands and sobs.

It's too much.

Herc is not sure what to do.

"Dost thou need a hug?" he offers.

A... hug?

Earlier she moved from the beach to the cave, under the protective arm of her husband who thinks he has the right to tell her what to do. And now, suddenly, she is at a strange... bar, talking to a tall and bare-chested man who speaks the strangest English she has ever heard, and he tells her she is not free to leave this place.

And asks her if she needs a hug?

If there was ever a time to accept the kindness of strangers, this is it. Wordlessly, she nods and all the while, tears stream down her face.

Hercules' hug is quite gentle, for a man of his size.

He knows how to temper his strength, when the situation calls.

There is nothing she can do with this information. Nothing beyond sob into the huge man's hug and feel like disappearing. That is exactly what she would do if she could.

Herc pats her on the back, gently.

"I am sorry."

The pat-pat of his hand on her back is soothing; it quiets the tears. Once she's composed enough she steps back and looks up at him and she knows she is a mess, a mass of red eyes and tears and runny nose. It's hard to be dignified under those circumstances; she wipes her face with the only thing at hand: the fabric of her nightgown.

"If I am stuck here... what do I do?"

Is he also unable to leave?

"How do I... live?"

"There are rooms," Herc says. "Upstairs. The bar can provide you with sustenance."