Fic: The Dharma Years: 1975, part 2 (Lost; Sawyer/Juliet)
Title: The Dharma Years, 1975 (part 2 of 3)
Pairing: Sawyer/Juliet
Rating: R
Words: 5,020
Summary: Sawyer wonders if he’s ever going to get to used this, being with someone who loves him in this simple, quiet way.
Author’s Note: Real life has completely hijacked my time and brain space lately, so this took A LOT longer to write than normal. Sorry about that. Also, I’ve decided to break 1975 into three parts, mostly for the sake of actually getting something posted. Finally, to anyone still reading: thanks for sticking with me! Previous parts: 1974: part 1 and part 2; 1975: part 1
**
July
The second Saturday in July, exactly a year to the day before his entire life is going to go to shit in a crappy little house in Alabama, Sawyer decides he’s not going to get out of bed. He tries not to think about what’s gonna happen to him in a year, but it’s hard to shake the idea that, halfway around the world, there’s some kid version of him just living his life, no idea what fucked up shit the world’s gonna throw at him a year from now. Sawyer tells himself to forget about it, what’s done is done and all that, but still. It’s goddamn depressing.
He wakes up early, early enough that it’s still dark outside, and he tries to think about anything other than the fact that it’s 1975 and he's still got a year to change things. If he wanted, he could probably ask Horace for a short leave of absence. Just a few weeks. Enough time to get back to the States, find his family, and put a bullet in his daddy’s brain before the man gets a chance to do it himself.
Juliet’s still asleep next to him, her arm flung over his waist and her head resting heavy and comforting against his shoulder.
Sawyer tries to go back to sleep, tries to close his eyes and concentrate on how Juliet feels pressed against him, just pretend like today is just like every other day. But he can’t do it. His mind is racing and his head hurts and he feels like his heart might beat right out of his chest, so he ends up just laying there, watching the room get brighter and the shadows move across the wall.
By the time Juliet wakes up, the room is bathed in bright morning sunlight and Sawyer's pretty much decided he's gonna talk to Horace. It'd probably only take two weeks, max. Juliet could go with him and, after a quick stop in Jasper, the two of them could take a road trip or something, spend a few days out in the real world like normal people, not time-travellers from the future out to commit a little patricide.
He feels her eyes open against his chest, her eyelashes ghosting over his skin, and he presses a soft kiss on the top of her head.
“Hi,” she says, looking up and smiling gently at him and, just like that, he knows he's not going to go back. Whatever happened, happened and all that shit. Besides, he knows that if the two of them leave here, they'll probably never come back.
“Hey,” he says, trying to smile back.
“You okay?” she asks, stroking her fingers across his chest, right where his heart is.
Sawyer closes his eyes for just a few seconds, just long enough to get his bearings and make himself feel a little less like he’s about to scream. He wants to tell her that he’s fine, that he’s great, that they should get up and get dressed and get ready to face the day. But he ends up just shrugging, the movement making her head bump lightly against him.
After a couple of minutes, Juliet presses her hand firmly against his chest and leans up to kiss him gently on the lips. She props her chin on his chest and stares right at him, her eyes wide and serious.
“I think we should just stay home today," she says, her voice quiet. He swallows hard and Juliet trails a finger across his cheek. "I could use a day off."
For one absurd moment, Sawyer feels like he might cry. His chest feels kind of tight and heavy, but he just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he says, rubbing a hand across his eyes, trying to sound as normal as he can. "Yeah, that sounds good."
She smiles at him with something like pity, but doesn't actually say anything. Sawyer's almost insanely grateful for that.
They spend the whole day in bed, just laying next to each other, their bodies pressed as close together as possible, silent and still for hours and hours.
**
Once the day comes and goes, things go more or less back to normal and Sawyer feels like he breathe again.
He spends most of his days out at the security station, trying not to strangle Jerry and Phil. The construction on the Swan is in full swing, so he ends up going out there every couple of weeks, but he doesn't have to do much other than make sure the place is fully staffed with security guys. God forbid one of the Hostiles sneak through and discover their big Dharma secrets.
One afternoon, out towards the end of the month, he and Jin are out in the jungle doing a grid search when Sawyer thinks he hears something. It sounds like a dog barking and he’s almost managed to convince himself he’s just hallucinating or something when Jin stops dead in his tracks and looks over at him.
“Vincent?” Jin says and he sounds so desperately hopeful that it makes Sawyer feel a little sick.
It’s ridiculous, Sawyer knows, the idea that the dog has just been living out in the jungle all this time. But, still. It might be him. Hell, anything's possible here on mystery fucking island, right? And if Vincent’s out there, maybe some more of their people are too. It’s almost hard for him to think about, after this long, but even so, he can’t quite give up hope, even after almost two years.
He and Jin spend the entire afternoon out there-hours and hours crashing through the underbrush, calling Vincent’s name-and before they realize it, it’s starting to get dark, and Sawyer wants to go back, but he can see the look on Jin’s face, and, hell it ain’t like they don’t got flashlights, so he sighs and radios Miles at the security station and tells him to stop by and tell Juliet that Sawyer’s gonna be late coming home, make sure she doesn’t worry or nothing.
“I’m actually on my way over to the motor pool to drop off one of the vans,” Miles says, his voice loud and static-filled over the walkie. “You want to just wait and talk to Juliet yourself, boss?”
“No,” Sawyer says, a little too quickly. He can feel Jin’s eyes on him, but he tells himself that it doesn’t matter. “No. Just let her know, would you, Enos?”
Miles agrees and Sawyer clicks off the walkie-talkie right away, just in case Miles calls back when he’s with Juliet. It’s just, he doesn’t want to have a whole discussion about this right now. Hell, it probably ain’t even Vincent they heard. It was probably just the wind or the trees or the damn smoke monster or something. Either way, he tells himself he doesn’t need to bother Juliet with it.
Sawyer hates himself a little for how easy it is to convince himself of that.
**
He and Jin search the jungle for six hours. Six long, pointless fucking hours.
They keep hearing these noises, far away and echoing, and it sure as hell sounds like a dog, but they never find anything. Not one goddamn thing.
By the time Sawyer decides they should pack it in, it’s after midnight and they’re both out of breath and dripping with sweat. Even though they haven’t heard anything for hours, Jin wants to keep looking.
And it's not like Sawyer ain't sympathetic. He is. He knows that feeling, of trying to find the thing that you think will save you, the thing will get you back to the life you were supposed to live. But after six hours he’s exhausted and bored and just wants to get the hell out of the jungle and into his nice, clean Dharma bed with Juliet pressed up against him.
After a few minutes of convincing, Jin agrees to go back to the barracks, but he’s got this look on his face that makes Sawyer’s chest hurt and, right then and there, he decides he’s never gonna give up on these ridiculous grid searches until they find the rest of their people.
They’re out there somewhere, he knows. They’ve got to be.
**
When he gets home that night, Juliet’s already in bed. There’s a light burning in the kitchen, and there’s a plate on the table covered in foil. He opens it and it’s just some chicken and rice, nothing fancy, but it gives him this ridiculously happy feeling, one that makes him wonder if he’s ever going to get to used this, being with someone who loves him in this simple, quiet way.
He eats as fast as he can and then takes a quick shower. They were out in the jungle for a while and he smells pretty rank, his skin sticky with dirt and sweat. He stands under the water and turns his face into the spray, trying to force himself not to think about it.
But he can't seem to turn his mind off, mostly because he’s pretty damn sure that it was Vincent that they heard out there. Three months he spent listening to that damn dog bark as it ran up and down the beach, and it’s not like the island is overrun with wild dogs or some shit. The truth is, he ain’t quite sure what to make of it, the idea that Vincent’s will out there somewhere. Hell, even if it was him, they didn’t find anything, so. Maybe it doesn’t matter at all.
When he slides into bed, Juliet's eyes blink open slowly and she makes a quiet, happy noise in the back of her throat, like she's really glad to see him.
“Hey,” she says, giving him this soft smile that still, somehow, even after a year of this, makes his stomach flip.
“Hey yourself,” he whispers, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Everything go okay?” she asks, leaning into his hand.
“Yeah,” he tells her quietly. “Everything went fine.”
“That’s good,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. Her eyes drift closed, but she’s still got that little smile on her face and it’s times like this he thinks he might drive himself crazy, wondering how he got so lucky.
Sawyer leans forward, kisses her gently on the lips.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers and she nods, moving her body over so that it’s pressed against his, her head tucked in the space between his shoulder and his throat, one of her arms thrown around his waist.
She’s asleep again in no time, her breathing even and soft, and Sawyer lays there next to her for a while, just staring up at the ceiling, the feel of her against him making the tension from earlier-of all that confused hope hearing Vincent, that strange possibility that he might actually find some more of their people-just drain right out of him.
**
When Sawyer finally wakes up the next morning, it’s late, the little white numbers on his Dharma alarm clock telling him it’s almost ten. He can hardly even remember the last time he slept this late.
There’s bright mid-morning sunshine streaming in through the curtains and Juliet’s side of the bed is empty, the sheets rumpled and cold. The house smells like coffee and he can hear Juliet moving around in the kitchen so he throws on a pair of boxers and wanders out to the front of the house.
Juliet’s sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of toast sitting in front of her. She’s dressed in kind of ratty clothes, faded jeans and this old gray t-shirt that’s got a rip in the sleeve, her hair done up in two neat braids and covered with a bandana. “What’s with the outfit, Pippi?” he asks, tugging gently on one of the braids and kissing her on the cheek.
“We’re helping Horace paint the infirmary today,” she tells him as he grabs a mug from the cabinet. “Remember?”
He groans because, shit, no he didn’t remember. Why the hell does he keep on volunteering to be so goddamn helpful all the time? He sighs heavily as he pours himself some coffee. “Fuck.”
Juliet just smiles. “How’d last night go?” she asks once he sits down across from her.
He grabs a piece of toast off her plate and shrugs. “Same as always,” he says around a mouthful of crumbs. He’s making a mess on the table, bits of crust scattered in front of him.
Juliet rolls her eyes and hands him her napkin. “So why were you guys out there so long?” she says, her voice so casual it makes him hesitate for a second.
“Jin thought he heard a dog barking,” he says eventually, trying to match her tone. Casual for casual. Nothing to talk about here. “Figured maybe it was Vincent.”
“And was it?” she asks. She’s gone weirdly still, her eyes focused on the table in front of her.
“Who the hell knows,” he says, finishing off the toast and taking a long drink of coffee. It’s so hot it burns his tongue, but he keeps drinking anyway. “We didn’t find a goddamn thing. Same as always.”
Juliet looks like she might say something else, but she doesn’t. Just gets up and puts her dishes in the sink, carefully looking anywhere but at him.
Sawyer stares at her for a second, but she doesn’t say anything else, so he just gets up an heads back to the bedroom. He takes a long time getting dressed for a day of manual labor, finally throwing on a pair of ripped jeans and a thin white undershirt, one that's already stained with paint from when Juliet decided they needed to redecorate the bathroom a few months before.
By the time he comes back out, Juliet’s sitting on the couch, waiting for him. She smiles easily at him when she sees him and they walk over to the infirmary together, talking about nothing at all in particular.
**
August
A new batch of recruits shows up in August, which means Sawyer has to help Horace set up another damn welcome barbeque. He doesn’t quite understand the point of these things, but it gets him out of the security station for a few hours and there’s always free beer, so. It ain’t the worst thing that could happen.
Usually, Juliet complains just as much as him about these damn things, but this time she goes with hardly any protest at all, the two of them walking over to rec room together, holding hands the whole way. It’s times like these when Sawyer can almost pretend they’re normal people and this whole thing is real and not just some insane, elaborate lie.
When they get over to the party, the place is packed. Geronimo Jackson blares from the loudspeakers and there’s more people there than normal. August is just about the nicest month on this damn rock and it seems like every damn person in Dharma's packed into the rec room or milling around on the wide patch of grass out front. There’s dozens of new recruits in freshly pressed jumpsuits smiling nervously as they walk around with paper plates over flowing with Dharma brand hot dogs and baked beans. Looking at them, Sawyer feels weirdly old and out of place.
He and Juliet don’t really bother trying to be social or friendly, just end up sitting next to each other on one of the crappy little wooden picnic benches outside, drinking warm Dharma beer and watching people laugh and joke and have the kind of fun that Sawyer’s always tried to avoid.
The barbeque's a little rowdier than usual and after just a few minutes Sawyer realizes it's because of all the kids. Jesus, every new recruit must have brought at least two of them. He's about to say something to Juliet about it, make a crack about the D.I. starting to recruit younger and younger, but when he looks at her, she's got this expression on her face that he can't quite read. He just stares at her for a few beats before she turns to him and, shit, she looks like she's about to cry.
“You got any kids?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer and trying to sound casual. It’s a weird fucking question to ask someone you’ve been living with for a year and a half, but it ain’t like they sit around reminiscing about they’re pre-Island lives and she's looking at those kids like she's remembering something she's lost and, well. Sawyer knows there’s got to be a reason for that.
Juliet looks over at him, eyes wide with surprise, he mouth moving like she’s trying to respond but doesn’t quite know how. “No,” she says eventually and doesn’t say anything else, just stares out into the distance and he can tell there’s else she wants to say.
So he just sits silently next to her, waiting it out. Geronimo Jackson fades away and the sound of the BeeGees fills the barracks, the speakers crackling with static.
“I have a nephew,” she says eventually. It’s not quite what he expected, but the way she says it tells him this is important. He looks over at her and she shakes her head a little, running a hand through her hair. “His name is Julian. I’ve never met him.”
Sawyer nods, not sure what to say, but he knows this is important somehow. Even if a nephew doesn’t seem near the same level as having a kid of her own, the look on her face is just about the saddest thing he’s ever seen. He wishes he was better at this.
“I got a daughter,” he blurts out a few minutes later. He ducks his head, feeling equal parts embarrassed and ashamed. “Her name’s Clementine.”
Juliet just looks at him sidelong and takes a long drink of her beer. He can’t quite read the expression on her face. He doesn’t think she looks all that surprised that he’s telling her this, and he guesses she probably already knew, read it in some file years ago while he was busy eating fish biscuits and breaking rocks at gunpoint. It’s times like this her whole silent-Other thing drives him fucking crazy, but for some reason he feels like this is something he needs to say, something she needs to hear from him.
“I ain’t never met her,” he says, like this is some kind of defense for him not telling her about this part of him up until now. Like the fact that he’s got a kid is somehow better if he’s a deadbeat who’s never even bothered to meet her. Jesus Christ, he's such a fucking asshole.
But Juliet just nods, doesn’t tell him he’s a shitty person, doesn’t say anything at all.
A few yards away, Horace and Miles are trying to get a game of horseshoes going and Amy's pouring punch right inside the open door of the rec room and all around them kids and laughing and yelling.
After a few minutes later, Juliet lays her head on his shoulder and they sit there together, looking out across the fake-suburbia of the island and thinking about all the things they’ve lost and all the things they’ll never have.
**
They leave the barbeque after just a few hours, both of them completely trashed.
Sawyer can’t remember the last time he got this drunk on nothing but beer, and Juliet’s barely able to stand without him holding her up.
They stumble across the barracks to their little yellow house and fall into bed together. Sawyer closes his eyes tight against the sunlight that’s streaming in the window, and Juliet makes this kind of groaning noise and buries her head under her pillow.
When Sawyer wakes up, it’s dark in the room and Juliet’s running her hands lightly over his chest, tracing intricate patters on his skin. He blinks his eyes open and she smiles softly at him.
His head still feels kind of fuzzy from the alcohol he drank earlier and Juliet’s moving in this kind of loose-limbed way that tells him she’s probably still a little drunk, too. She keeps her hands moving on him and she leans over and kisses him, slow and gentle.
They just stay like that for a while, kissing each other while Juliet’s hands move over his body, until she pushes herself up and straddles him, sliding down on to him with a gasp. His hips buck uncontrollably up against her and she stays completely still until he relaxes again before she starts to rock against him, slow and languid, almost silent, only occasionally making these quiet gasping noises as they move together.
He keeps his eyes open and hands on her hips the whole time, stroking her skin in gentle circles, and watching her move above him.
There’s bright moonlight filtering in through the bedroom curtains and it makes her skin glow, pale and radiant and unbelievably beautiful.
When she comes, shuddering and tightening all around him, he goes right along with her, both of them shuddering and gasping for breath. She leans down and presses her forehead against the side of his neck and Sawyer can feel her heartbeat all through his body.
After a few minutes, she moves off of him, He lays next to her and presses a kiss against her shoulder and brushes a hand across her stomach, his fingers stroking lightly against her pale, taut skin.
“Do you ever think about it?” he says. He feels her tense next to him and he's not even really sure what he’s doing or why he’s doing it. It’s just, he’s drunk and he loves her and she just looked so sad earlier, watching all those little kids.
“James,” she says. Her voice is barely a whisper, but he can still hear the warning in it, just below the surface, and her eyes have gone bright and glassy.
Sawyer smiles a little at her, trying not to think too much about how sad she looks right now. “Yeah,” he says, brushing his thumb across her jawline, wiping away a tear that’s slipped down her cheek. “I know.”
Juliet closes her eyes and he kisses her gently on the side of her mouth, wishing like hell that things didn’t have to always be like this.
**
September
The last week of September, Horace asks Sawyer if he wants to go off-island. Apparently, there’s some yearly Dharma meet-and-greet, where the bigwigs from the States travel to Tahiti and meet with some of the lowly island-folk to discuss research strategies and future plans for the island and some other damn things that Sawyer only half-listens to.
Usually Horace goes, but this year he says he’s not up for it. Him and Amy are still newlyweds and he’s got a lot of shit going on with the construction of the Swan and, well. Sawyer’s the next in line, if he’s interested.
“Maybe you and Juliet would like to get away for a while,” Horace says and Sawyer has to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh out loud right there. Because of all the things he and Juliet would like to do, getting away from this goddamn rock is right at the top of his list. “Get back to the real world,” Horace continues, like this is just a normal conversation and not something that could change everything.
“The real world,” Sawyer repeats, feeling a little like he’s been punched. He scrubs a hand across his face and tries to think of what he should say next.
Luckily, Horace keeps going before he has to react at all. “Listen, Jim,” he says, reaching out and clasping Sawyer on the shoulder. “It’s no big deal if you don’t want to go. Just talk it over with Juliet, okay? Let me know what you decide?”
Sawyer nods dumbly, standing there and blankly watching Horace leave.
The door slams shut and he’s left just standing there like a moron, no idea what he’s going to tell Juliet about all of this.
**
Turns out, he doesn’t have to tell Juliet anything.
When he gets home from his shift that night, Juliet’s sitting on the couch, reading Carrie for what he guesses is probably the thousandth time, so right away he knows something’s wrong. She glances up at him and her eyes are red rimmed but dry and he figures it out all on his own.
“Amy got to you,” he says. It’s not a question. She nods and Sawyer sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Horace talked to me today.”
Juliet tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and lays the book on the table in front of her, moving over on the sofa to give him a place to sit. “What’d you tell him?”
“I told him I’d talk to you about it first,” he says. He sits next to her on the couch, his hip nudging hers. Neither one of them say anything for a few minutes.
“So,” she says eventually, bumping her should against his. “What do you think?”
Sawyer looks over at her, not really sure what to say. The truth is, he’s just doesn’t know what to think. The idea of finally getting out of here, away from this godforsaken island even for a day or two, is so damn tempting it’s hard for him to think straight. But if they leave and everyone comes back…shit. The whole thing is just a goddamn mess.
“When I was fourteen,” he says instead of actually answering her question. “I decided to run away to Mexico.” Juliet looks over at him, her head tilted a little like she’s confused. “My uncle had just died,” he says. “And I needed to get out.”
She quirks an eyebrow in question and he shrugs. “My uncle’s wife hated my guts,” he tells her. “Figured I’d do us both a favor.”
Juliet nods seriously, like this makes perfect sense.
“So I packed a bag, boosted a car, and made a break for it.” Sawyer smiles a little to himself. He can still feel it, that sense of absolute freedom that coursed through him when finally hit the open road.
“So did you make it?” she asks. Sawyer looks over at her, a little afraid she’s making fun of him, but her bright blue eyes wide and serious.
For just a second, he thinks about saying, Yeah, baby, I made it. Surfing. Tequila. Hot little mamacitas. The whole nine yards. The kind of thing he would’ve said to her if he’d met her in the real world. If she’d been nothing to him but a mark.
But he looks at her and she’s got this look on her face, a look like she’s actually interested in what happened to him back when he was just a stupid, fucked-up kid. “Nah,” he says and tries to smile at her, the muscles in his cheeks feeling stretched and tight. “Got pulled over by the cops before I even made it to Texas.” He shakes his head. Jesus Christ. He was such a goddamn idiot, thinking he could escape with a jacked car and three hundred dollars in cash.
“What happened after that?” she says.
“Cops took me back to Alabama,” he shrugs. “Lived with my aunt for a year or so before I dropped out of school and ran again.”
“Mexico?” she asks.
He laughs. “A trailer park in Arkansas.”
She doesn’t say anything to that and they’re quiet for a few minutes, long enough for him to think the conversation’s over.
“I was supposed to go to Europe,” she says, surprising him a little. “The summer between college and med school.”
He looks at her and she rolls her eyes, like telling him this is somehow embarrassing. “I’d always had this fantasy about going to Paris. Meeting a dark handsome stranger, and, I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. “Hanging out at the Eiffel Tower, wearing a beret, riding a bicycle down the Champs-Élysées.”
Sawyer smirks at her and she laughs a little, embarrassed.
“It’s completely cliché, I know, but still,” she shrugs and turns her head to look out the window. “I was really looking forward to it.” Outside, the barracks are deserted, but she stares out there like the empty grass and sidewalks are the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
“So what happened?” he asks, trying not to sound annoyed. It’s just--it’s obvious she’s not gonna say anything else, even though this feels like something important.
She shrugs, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “My mom got sick and my sister was a mess and, well. Things don’t always work out like you planned.”
Sawyer doesn’t really know what to say to that. No shit seems a little rude, so he just sits quietly next to her, staring out the window at the dark emptiness outside.
“Well,” he says after a few minutes. “It ain’t Paris, but I’m pretty sure they speak French in Tahiti.”
She looks at him and grins and he figures that means it's pretty much decided.
**
Go to part 3