#hebroketherules

the rudeness…astounding

  Charles: that island is mine, benjamin. It always...

why u always roasting me

eloise voice: because it’s so easy

Motherhood was not easy, and it was certainly made harder by the adjustment into the life outside the island. Even for Eloise, it was juggling two new worlds-- equally demanding and strange. And worst yet, she was facing both alone. At almost six months, Daniel’s sleeping had gotten better, but the crying! Dear, god, the crying! Sometimes Eloise thought her head would explode. And from all the books she’d read, there was nothing she could do, but let him tire himself. It was bad enough to helpless to his future, but to the child’s present was almost as bad.

Eyes closed, Eloise did her best to tune out the shrieks coming from upstairs. They were beginning to sound meeker-- finally, but with each wail, a pang of painful pressure would pulse through her temples. Eloise ran a hand through her messy hair, pleading with some power that he would quiet. The annoyance was only outweighed by the desire to, dare she admit it, coddle him. Take the tiny child in her arms and sooth him, but even the terrible mother she was, Eloise knew it would only prolong this stage of crying infancy. She may be alone, she may be a mess, but at least she was determined to train Daniel as best she could It was the least she could do, afterall.

The last tired wails died down and Eloise sighed, opening her eyes. In a few minutes she’d get up off the couch and check to make sure Daniel was actually sleep, but for now a quick moment of relaxation couldn’t hurt.

Lost in thought, Eloise didn’t even realize the rest of their row had left, while she remained still and seated, her aged eyes glued to the deep, velvety red of the curtain. There was such a finality about the closing of a curtain, but it was an end with a promise of a new beginning. If only the ends in her life were as easily turned around. With a little huff, she allowed her eyes to flicker to her right, for the first time acknowledging the man who’d bought her the ticket in the first place.

“So.” The word was short and brisk, no follow up intended. She could ask about the play, but really, after the first act, it was obvious what the end would bring. Doctor Faustus had dug his own grave, and there was no redemption for people like him. Just as there was no redemption for people like them.

After all these years, and there they still were. Murderers and braggards and Icaruses. After all these years, and she still loved the bastard. Her old bones ached, but finally, Eloise stood. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The Man in Black’s steely gaze held firm as he considered the question. Charles Widmore wasn’t exactly a prime candidate for manipulation, and his usefulness to the Man in Black was considerably less than that even, but he figured he’d entertain the question for now. Perhaps he’d be surprised, though he seriously doubted it.