Silence
Title: Silence
Characters: Jack, Sawyer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through 1.03 “Tabula Rasa”
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Prompts: For lostsquee Day 3: Colors, philosophy_20 #19, caught in the form of limitation
The sky is jet black. There are no stars tonight, no comfort. He only knows the sea is there because he can hear it.
He can also hear the marshall’s muffled cries, still echoing in his ears even though the man is now silent.
And will remain silent.
Jack closes his eyes and all he can see is the blue of the airline pillow, the red of the blood streaming from the man’s chest, the pale, deathly pallor of his face.
He’d tried so hard to keep him alive, using what he had to do what he could. Even when the man’s skin turned yellow and jaundiced, Jack tried. But there was nothing more he could do.
Nothing he could do, that is, until Sawyer made a choice. Then he had to do something.
He has washed his hands clean but nonetheless they are stained.
Everyone else is gathered around the warm orange-glow of the fires, huddled together and talking of rescue, of life.
All Jack can think of is death. Even if they are saved, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel it. Not the way they will.
In the darkness, if he turned to look, he knows Sawyer is hiding. He stays in the shadows, ashamed. Sawyer won’t sit out on the beach like him, won’t come to terms with his damnation. He won't face it.
In the morning Jack knows there will be swagger and bravado. Sawyer will act as if none of this has happened. If he cares, he won’t let it show. Jack doesn't know the man well, but he knows that much. He’ll shake it off like a mislaid punch and he’ll go on.
Jack will go on too, but he’ll do so quietly, with his head down.
So he doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t need to see.
He’s already seen enough.