Reverse the Curse
Title: Reverse the Curse
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Dedication: A little Red Sox themed ficlet for zenana7's birthday…sorry it's a day late!!!
Jack wants to open his eyes. He can hear the commotion around him, footsteps running on cement, doors being shut, voices calling out. His heart is racing and he’s sweating, desperately worried about what could be happening. With a great effort, he manages to force his eyelids open.
“Kate, please take that and let’s go. Hurry.” Sayid is speaking to Kate, hushed and frantic.
“Got it.” Jack can’t see, but he knows that Kate just nodded, hesitated, and then ran off, like she always does, as if it takes her a moment to fully process what she must do in the face of blind panic.
Jack tries to speak but his mouth is dry, feeling like it is full of cotton. A glass is pushed to his lips and cool water runs over his tongue.
“Please drink, Jack. Try to swallow,” Sun sounds calm and collected, focused solely on him. Jack tries to force himself to swallow, but it seems like his throat muscles won’t work. Finally the liquid slips down and he coughs lightly, feeling some of it go down his windpipe. “It is all right…it is all right.” Sun is soothing him, her hand gently running over his forehead. “You must try to take it slowly.”
“What…what is going on?” He finally manages to scratch out, weakly.
“You are sick, Jack, you need to rest,” Sun instructs. Jack attempts to move, grunting in pain and exhaustion as he tries to sit up.
“Sun, what’s happening?” His worry and his will cause his voice to grow slightly stronger, but that doesn’t stop Sun from placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing his gently back down onto the bed.
“Lay still, Jack. Your leg. Your ribs.”
Jack looks down the bed at his body and remembers for the first time since waking that his left leg is broken and three ribs are cracked. It doesn’t hurt; Sun must have given him something for it.
“Tell me what’s going on. I’m not deaf. I can hear them.”
Sun sighs, relenting.
“A boat washed up on shore.”
“A boat?”
“A boat. A fancy one. There is not much left of it. It is damaged.”
“People on board?”
“No.”
“Does Michael think he can repair it? How badly is it damaged? Any supplies? Medicine? Did Sayid look for-“ Jack tries to sit up again and finds himself very dizzy, not able to catch his breath. Sun once again makes him lay back, concern on her usually serene face.
“Jack, they are taking care of it. There is nothing to worry about. Let me take care of you.”
“Who set my leg?” Jack asks, looking down at the broken limb again, confused. He doesn’t have any memory of it. “I did. Sawyer held you down.”
“You did?”
“You were awake, you talked me through it. You have no memory of this?”
“None whatsoever,” Jack shakes his head, closing his eyes again.
“You should go back to sleep, Jack. We need you to get better.” Sun takes his hand and caresses the back of it with her thumb comfortingly. Jack smiles weakly and lets his eyes drift closed, for once not able to stubbornly disagree.
*******
“Damn it!” Kate exclaims, pulling back her hand sharply and cursing in pain.
“Yo, you okay?” Hurley asks, concerned. He looks over at her as she brings her thumb to her mouth, sucking on it.
“I’m fine. I just shut it in the drawer here,” Kate gestures to the heavy wooden drawer she had just had the misfortune of catching her thumb in. “I hate this stupid boat already.”
“Dude, there’s Twinkies. How could you hate this boat?” Hurley exclaims. Charlie laughs, opening a cupboard. A mess of papers fall out into his face.
“Certainly not cleanly folk, whoever they were,” Charlie mutters, bending down to gather them up. “Oh bollocks.” He winces.
“What now?”
“Just a paper cut, mate.”
“Would you all quit whinin’ like a buncha pansy ass losers down there?” Sawyer complains, appearing at the top of the steps on the upper deck. “Quit your bitchin’ and moanin’.” He turns and stalks out of view before any of them can reply. Hurley shoots Kate a questioning look.
“Dude, what is up with him lately? I mean, he’s being an ass.”
“Sawyer? You don’t say,” Charlie replies sarcastically.
“No, he is acting worse,” Michael agrees as he emerges from the next room, glancing up toward the stairs, toward sunlight. “Anybody know what his problem is?” Michael seems concerned; he’d begrudgingly began to like Sawyer. Everyone seems to be turning their attention toward Kate.
“What?” She throws up her hands in defense. “Why are you all looking at me?”
“Well if anybody would know, you would. He talks to you.”
“Sawyer does not talk to me,” Kate laughs at the very idea. “And I don’t know what’s up with him. He’s been like this ever since he found Jack.”
“Do you think he’s got that post-stress disorder thing? Like Charlie had?” Hurley puts forth the theory and is met with only shrugs.
“If anybody were to have that, I think it’d be Jack, man,” Michael states. “He’s the one who fell and laid out there in the jungle for two days with a broken leg.” Kate winces noticeably at the very mention of it, not liking to think of Jack out there, all alone, hurt, bleeding and cold. They’d all been looking for him. Sawyer had found him and carried him back.
“Still…maybe one of us should try to talk to him…” Once again, all eyes are on Kate.
“Me? We just went over this. He’s not going to want to talk to me.” Kate shakes her head. Sawyer had been slowly pulling away from her over the past two months; at first she had assumed it was due to something she did, but then realized he was pulling away from everyone, crawling back inside his protective shell of sarcasm and cynicism.
“More than he’ll want to chat it up with any of us, love,” Charlie points out. Kate shrugs, knowing he’s right, but not wanting to be the one assigned to this task.
“Well somebody should do it,” Michael says. They all look at one another blankly.
“Oh come on, guys!” Hurley exclaims. Kate sighs, exasperated.
“Fine, I’ll go…” She climbs the short staircase and climbs up into the bright afternoon sunlight, made worse by the reflection off the white decking of the boat. She looks around, blinking as her eyes adjust, and finds Sawyer sitting by the ship’s broken mast, a duffel bag in his lap. “Hey Sawyer…whatcha doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doin’?” He asks, shoving the bag off of his lap and picking up another from by his feet.
“Are you all right? You seem a little…”
“A little what?” Sawyer asks, snorting. “You gonna act like you care all of a sudden?”
“I do care, Sawyer,” Kate replies, hurt and annoyed. “And you know I do. What’s with the attitude?”
“I don’t got any attitude.” Sawyer shoves some clothes back into the bag with the expression of a petulant child.
“Oh, you don’t have any attitude?” Kate scoffs. She sits down next to him, leaning her elbow on her knee and propping her chin on her fist.
“No. I don’t.”
“Why are you being such a jerk to everyone then?” She inquires. Sawyer shoots her a look.
“I am not.”
“Sawyer, believe me, you are.” She watches him carefully. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Nope.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Sawyer, look…I know you aren’t exactly the type to share, but you could try and change. It could help, you know. To talk about what’s bugging you.”
“Ain’t nothing buggin’ me, all right?” Sawyer replies harshly, loudly. “Besides, people don’t change, Kate. They are who they are.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Oh you don’t, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, I’ll just have to agree to disagree with you then. Once you’re fucked, you’re fucked. Ain’t no changing it. Ain’t no one’s fault, it just is. Like fate or somethin’.”
“You really believe that?”
“That’s why the Red Sox’ll never win the series, ain’t it?” He says. Kate raises an eyebrow at him, puzzled.
“What does that mean?”
“Some people just made to suffer, Kate.”
“And you’re one of those people?”
“I dunno. Maybe.”
“Oh. All right,” Kate gets up. “Well when you’re done throwing yourself your own little pity party, come down below. There’s still tons of stuff to sort through, we could use your help.”
“That an order?” Sawyer smirks. Kate pauses.
“Yeah. It is.”
“Ay ay, captain,” Sawyer salutes her and then goes back to digging through the bag. Kate watches him for a moment, wondering why Sawyer insisted on torturing himself. She used to think she was unforgiving of her own mistakes, but compared to him…
She shakes her head, letting out a long sigh, and climbs back below deck to join the others, leaving Sawyer alone.
Sawyer focuses his attention back to the task at hand, rifling through the rest of the bag, not knowing what he’s looking for. He just wants to find something, anything, that is going to make Jack better.
Everyone is worried about him; when Jack hadn't come back that night, people were concerned but optimistic. By mid-afternoon the next day, panic and fear had set in and search parties went out. Kate had been frantic, inadvertently revealing to everyone who had a set of eyes and ears exactly how much Jack meant to her. Sawyer set out into the jungle immediately without talking to anyone further. If Kate was so transparent, he couldn't imagine what someone would be able to read on his face.
It was his fault. No one else knew that, but he wasn't about to tell everyone he was responsible for getting Jack hurt. He punishes himself in silence and finds himself asking a god he's never believed in to see Jack through.
Sawyer stops rifling through the bag, something catching his eye among the clothing. He grabs it and pulls it out, staring at it in disbelief. Without a word, he jumps up and runs across the deck and scrambles down onto the sand.
Kate peeks her head above deck at the ruckus, wondering what Sawyer is up to. She sees him just as he climbs over the railing and jumps down onto the sand.
"Sawyer? Where are you going?" She asks, hurrying up the steps and heading in his direction. "Sawyer? Did you find something?" Sawyer is off down the beach, either not hearing her or not caring to reply. She squints into the sun, lifting her hand to shield her vision.
"What is it?" Sayid appears around the other side of the boat, pieces of a broken radio in his hands, looking curious.
"Sawyer. He just...ran off."
"How odd."
"He was supposed to be going through the luggage we found."
"Maybe he is coming back. I'm sure he had his reasons for leaving," Sayid shrugs, giving Sawyer the benefit of the doubt. Kate nods, though she is still clearly troubled by Sawyer's sudden turn in behavior.
"Yeah...sure..."
Sayid smiles at Kate and then walks away, leaving her alone. Kate takes a step toward the bags, thinking she'll take over where Sawyer left off, in case he doesn't come back, but then hesitates.
"Guys? I'm gonna go get us some more water. I'll be right back," she calls down below deck before clambering over the railing. She heads off in the direction that Sawyer had gone, determined to find out what is going on.
*******
"Hey, Sun..." Sawyer greets her quietly, out of breath, walking into the bedroom. Sun twists around in the chair she has drawn closely to Jack's bed, surprised.
"Hello, Sawyer. I thought you were at the beach with Charlie and Kate?"
"Came back. You should take a break, you been down here too long. Go see Jin," Sawyer says, trying to sound concerned for her, but in actuality he wants her to leave for his own personal reasons. Sun smiles gently at him.
"All right. Thank you, Sawyer," she nods to him, rising from her chair. She hands him the damp washcloth in her hands, not needing to explain to him what needs to be done while there. Sawyer has been watching over Jack since he came back, during the day while the others were away, or at night while everyone slept. He would always come in to relieve her, and only her.
Something told her that there was a reason for that. He trusts her. At first she didn’t know with what. But as time wore on and a few days turned into a week and a week turned into two…
Yesterday morning Jack had woke up saying Sawyer’s name, asking where he was, before drifting back off into sleep. The look on Sawyer’s face betrayed him entirely.
Now, Sawyer takes her place on the seat beside Jack’s sleeping form, his eyes fixed on Jack’s face. He stares at him for a moment and then glances toward Sun.
“He doesn’t look good, does he?”
“He woke earlier,” Sun quickly reassures him. “When Sayid and Kate were leaving for the beach. He wanted to know what was happening. I think he wore himself out, he tried to do too much.”
“He was awake? For how long?”
“Ten minutes.” Sun watches a flicker of relief and hope move across Sawyer’s tense face. He relaxes slightly, his shoulders sinking a bit, and then he leans forward, setting the cold compress onto Jack’s forehead. His fingers linger across Jack’s cheek for a moment and Sun knows then that her suspicions were correct.
Gently, comfortingly, she puts her hand on Sawyer’s shoulder.
“He will get better, Sawyer. He is getting better.”
Sawyer nods. Sun gives him a warm smile before leaving him alone with Jack. She can feel Sawyer watching her go, waiting for her to be out of sight.
“Jack…Jack?” Sawyer leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Doc…you gotta wake up.”
Jack makes a small movement at the sound of Sawyer’s voice, turning his face into the pillow, but doesn’t wake.
“You won’t even believe me if I tell ya, Doc. You gotta open your eyes and take a look. You’ll get a real kick out of it, I promise ya.” Sawyer holds out the crumpled up ball of gray fabric in his hands out toward Jack, wishing he would just sit and up and take it from him. Jack remains the same, his bruised face looking almost peaceful as he slumbers. Sawyer hates it. He wishes Jack would wince in pain or furrow his eyebrows at some strange dream. Like this, quiet and still, expressionless, he looks dead.
Sawyer reaches out and places the palm of his hand against Jack’s bare chest as if to reassure himself that Jack is really breathing. He is, shallow and slow, but breathing. Sawyer unrolls the t-shirt in his other hand and looks at it for a moment before laying it on the bed, across the blanket covering Jack’s legs.
“It’s right there, in white and red, Jack. Sox won the series. The fucking World Series.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Bet that would blow your daddy’s mind.”
He notices that Jack has begun to shiver. He pulls up the blankets up and over his chest and arms slowly.
“Sun told me you woke up earlier. Yapping your head off, asking questions, demanding answers. Just like the bossy jackass you are.” Sawyer sighs. “Found a boat. Big ol’ sailboat. Must’ve cost someone some serious dough. Don’t matter though…they apparently ain’t around to enjoy it no more.” He shrugs. “Found that shirt in their bags. Guess whoever they were, they musta hated those goddamned Yankees.”
Sawyer pauses, watching Jack intently, hoping his words will have some effect.
“You gotta laugh at the irony of it all,” Sawyer chuckles. “Figures that they’d win at the one time when you weren’t around to see it happen.” Jack still shows no sign of response. “Yeah…”
Sawyer leans back in the chair, studying at Jack intently, his hands folded in his lap, one foot propped up on the edge of the mattress, the other flat on the floor.
“I didn’t mean what I said. You know I’m full of shit. Half the time I don’t know what I’m sayin’.” Sawyer stares hard at Jack’s face, willing him with all his might to open his eyes and stare back. Nothing. Frustrated, Sawyer kicks at the mattress and lets his foot fall to the ground. “I bet you’re just doing this to punish me, Jack. Bastard. You’d do that, just out of spite. You want me to admit it, don’t you? I ain’t gonna say it, Doc, so you can forget it. Stay asleep for all I care.”
He can’t even convince himself with his mutterings. Hopeless.
“You already know anyway, Jack. I don’t need to say it.”
*******
Kate enters the hatch and pauses, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. Sun is sitting at the kitchen counter, leafing through one of the books that lined the hatch’s many bookshelves. She glances up at the sound of Kate’s footsteps, startled, but smiling when she sees her.
“Hello, Kate. How are you?”
“I’m okay…how are you?”
“I am good.” Sun nods, following Kate’s gaze toward the half-closed bedroom door. “Jack is okay. Nothing has changed.”
“Was he up at all?”
“For a little. It was very much the same as yesterday.”
“I don’t understand why he’s not getting better, Sun. It’s been two weeks.”
“But he’s not getting worse either. That must count for something, however small,” Sun replies. Kate forces a smile.
“Yeah, you’re right…” she cedes, inwardly thinking that Sun possesses more capability for optimism than she does. She sighs, and changes the subject, remembering her original purpose for coming down into the hatch. “Have you seen Sawyer?”
Sun’s eyes dart toward the bedroom door before she speaks, giving Kate her answer.
“He is with Jack.” Sun says slowly.
“With Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Sawyer.”
“Yes.”
“With Jack.”
“He is here everyday, Kate.”
“What?” Kate can’t hide her surprise.
“Shhh…I do not think he wants everyone to know.”
“Why…?” Kate starts to question why in the world Sawyer would be taking care of Jack, but stops. Her gut reaction was to always be suspicious of anything nice Sawyer does, even though he keeps proving time and time again that he has a heart in there somewhere. “He’s been doing this for two weeks?”
“Whenever everyone is gone. Always.”
Kate frowns, puzzled at the situation. She nods toward Sun and walks slowly to the doorway, stopping just outside, peering in through the half open door.
Sawyer is leaning over Jack, cupping Jack’s cheek with his hand, his thumb gently tracing the outline of Jack’s lips. The gesture seems absent-minded, like an unconscious habit. He whispers something she can’t hear into Jack’s ear and then draws back, sitting back down on the armchair and placing his head in his hands.
Kate coughs lightly, alerting him to her presence. His head jerks up and his eyes widen in alarm.
“Hey…how’s he doin’? She asks quietly, remaining in the doorway, shifting back and forth on her feet, hands in her back pockets.
“Same. What you doing here?”
“Needed a break from the boat. I was worried about Jack, thought I’d come check in.” She enters the room, crossing toward Sawyer. “I didn’t know you were here,” she lies.
“Well I was just tryin’ to get Doc to wake up and tell me where he put the dang aspirin. No one can seem to find it.”
“It’s in the storage bin in the bathroom, Sawyer…” Kate looks at him strangely, never knowing Sawyer to tell such a half-assed, lame lie before.
“Ah…well, gonna go get me some, then. Got another damn migraine.”
“Well maybe you should lie down for awhile,” Kate suggests, cocking her head toward the top bunk. “Climb on up there, cowboy.”
“Think I’ll pass.”
“I’ll sit with Jack. I’ll get you up if anything changes,” She says.
“I ain’t tired.”
“You’re exhausted. Just get up there.” She points upward, giving him her best don’t-mess-with-me look. He rolls his eyes but gives in, climbing up onto the top bunk in a huff. “Good Sawyer,” she teases.
“Shut the hell up,” he mutters, glaring at her before tossing his head against the pillow, punching it in the side to fluff it up. Kate laughs lightly and sits down in the chair he has vacated. It only takes a few moments for Sawyer to fall asleep, leaving Kate alone to wonder exactly what had happened to make Sawyer suddenly care so much about Jack.
*******
The same thing, all over again. Always.
His hands are on Jack before he can stop himself, pulling his body back to his roughly, sharply. Jack keeps trying to resist and he keeps breaking Jack’s will, plying him with touch while Jack tries to fight with words.
“Not like this. People will get hurt.”
He’s hard, so hard, all over. No matter how he tries, he never seems to get enough. Each time Jack says it’s the last, unless things change. It never is.
His knuckles brush against Jack’s stomach as he wraps his hand around them both. Jack has that look. The look that comes just before he relents, before he lets himself be bent to Sawyer’s will.
He doesn’t know how it started. It’s a haze of memory now, small details, tiny snapshots in his mind. He remembers Jack’s face the first time he made him come. He can taste Jack’s taste, smell Jack’s smell, but can’t recall why Jack had let him experience those things in the first place. His skin burns from the rough stubble of Jack’s face even when Jack is gone. He can’t run his hand through his own hair without feeling Jack’s fingers in it.
His tongue is in Jack’s mouth, drawing out heavenly erotic noises from deep within Jack’s throat. They make love like they make war, he the aggressor, Jack the invaded. He always spurs Jack to action despite any protests, knowing if he keeps the pressure on, there will always be an uprising; Jack will always try to fight back. Eventually they discovered victory is impossible. The second he thinks he has conquered Jack, he takes one look at him and realizes he’s the one who has been taken over, body and soul.
There is friction. Heat. It’s cold in the night but he’s sweating. Jack is too. A sheen of perspiration covers their bodies, causing tanned skin to shimmer in the moonlight as they move against one another, clothes in a pile on the jungle floor.
He forgets using his hand as he pushes Jack down onto the ground, letting their bodies do the work for them, leaving his fingers to explore everything he wants to explore, to seek out and claim as his own territory.
He grinds against Jack. Thrusts, pushes, rolls. Anything and everything he can to make him moan that delicious moan that sent heat rushing to the pit of his stomach. When it happens it’s always better than he remembers, more intense, more beautiful.
It’s afterward, when he slips off to Jack’s side, satiated, that Jack forces his own strategy, makes his advance while Sawyer’s guard is down.
“We need to tell them.”
“By them you mean her.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
“Why not? I can’t do this to her.”
“Cause you love her.”
“Because I care about her. There’s a difference, Sawyer.”
Frustration. They’ve been through this before too.
“No. We’re not tellin’ anyone, Doc, got that?”
“I don’t understand why you won’t face this, Sawyer. You’re the one who always initiates it - I’m not coming to you in the middle of night and dragging you into the jungle, am I?”
“We ain’t tellin’ nobody. You understand me?”
“Yeah. I understand you.”
Jack is dressed and stalking off into the night. Angry. Hurt. Disappointed. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he should go after him. He doesn’t.
He doesn’t.
“Don’t. Don’t go out there,” Sawyer is muttering in his sleep, his face screwed up as if in pain. He tosses from one side to the other, the bed making creaking noises as he moves roughly. “Jack, don’t. Jack…”
“Sawyer. Sawyer!” Kate is shaking him. He wakes up with a start, sitting upright and nearly hitting his head on the ceiling. He is breathing heavily, trembling. “Sawyer, you were having a nightmare.”
Sawyer looks around him, disoriented.
“Where’s Jack? Jack’s out there, I didn’t stop him, I didn’t-“ Kate sits back on her heels next to him, touching his arm.
“Jack’s here. He’s right here. He’s fine.”
“What?”
“We found him, remember? You did. Two weeks ago. He’s fine,” Kate assures him.
“Fine?”
“He just woke up a few minutes ago. Come down here.” Kate crawls off the top bunk and shimmies down the ladder, gesturing for Sawyer to follow. He does, slowly, with trepidation. He wants Jack to be okay, but he feels unprepared to see him, to talk to him, to try to explain, after all this…
Jack is sitting halfway upright, propped against the headboard, looking exhausted and pale, but better. He gives Sawyer a weak smile.
“Hey, Sawyer…”
“Hey, Doc.” Sawyer doesn’t move toward Jack, fidgeting nervously. He stares at the other man like he’s trying to gauge his reaction before he does anything. “How you feelin’?”
“Fantastic,” Jack replies with a small laugh, trying to push himself to sit up farther. He winces in pain, his laughter sending a jolt of pain through his abdomen. Kate instinctively reaches out to him, her hand on his shoulder, trying to stop him from moving.
“Jack, take it easy. There’s no reason to move.”
“I need to get up, Kate. I can’t stay in this bed forever,” Jack says.
“If it were me instead of you, Jack, how long would you make me stay here?” She asks, folding her arms in front of her chest. She raises an eyebrow at him. He frowns, knowing she’s right. “Exactly. So don’t try and get up.”
“Kate,” he starts, with that tone he always uses when he wants to convince her of something. She stops him, placing a finger to his lips.
“Don’t try,” she warns him, shaking her head. Jack smiles lightly against her finger, caught out.
“Fine. I’ll stay in bed.”
“Good.”
“I’m just gonna…” Sawyer interrupts them, gesturing toward the doorway. His voice sounds slightly choked, breaking. Kate turns toward him, taking her attention away from Jack momentarily. She finds a strange look on Sawyer’s face; he looks like he’s hurt, jealous, betrayed. But he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at Jack. “I’ll be back later.” His eyes dart toward Kate’s for a split second, filled with guilt. Kate’s forehead wrinkles in confusion, wondering what is going on.
She turns back to Jack as Sawyer leaves the room and finds his gaze settled on the now empty doorway. He looks strangely hurt as well. She glances between the door and Jack a few times, trying to put the pieces together.
“He’s been acting very weird lately,” Kate informs him, trying to judge his reaction. Jack refocuses his gaze back to her and then looks down at toward his lap.
“Yeah?” He asks, like he’s only mildly interested. She knows it’s an act, she can hear it in his voice.
“Yeah. Ever since he found you in the jungle and brought you back.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s fine.” Jack shrugs noncommittally, keeping his gaze turned downward.
“I don’t know. It’s not like him,” Kate replies.
“Can you do me a favor and help me check my leg?” Jack asks, purposefully changing the subject. Kate nods. She takes the top of the sheet and pulls it down gingerly, cringing as she sees Jack’s leg.
“Oh, god, Jack…”
“Kate, it’s normal. It’s fine.”
“Does it hurt really bad?”
“Not at the moment…Sun must’ve given me something.”
“Should I get her? Do you need her help? Can I do anything?” Kate peppers him with questions, concerned.
“It’s all right, Kate. It’s just a broken bone,” he assures her, touched that she so obviously cares so much. With great pain, he manages to sit up straighter, instructing Kate to prod and probe different places on his leg, telling her what she should be looking for.
“How long is this going to take to heal?”
“Well, luckily it’s a closed fracture…the tibia will probably take five, six months to completely heal.”
“God, Jack…” Kate sighs.
“Hopefully Locke can make me some crutches.”
“I’m sure he’s already on it.” Kate pulls his covers back up, tucking them in gently around his waist. Her fingers lightly brush over his horribly bruised abdomen and she lets out a long breath. “What were you doing out there, Jack? All by yourself?”
“I just needed some time alone.” Jack’s voice is low; he doesn’t meet her questioning stare. “Must’ve lost my footing, fell. You know the rest.”
“It’s lucky Sawyer found you. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you, Jack. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Kate moves closer to him, gently placing her hand on his good knee. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Kate.”
Sawyer watches the exchange from a distance, not able to hear what they’re saying. When Kate puts her hand on his leg, he turns away, not wanting to see what’s going to happen next. Somehow he knew it would happen. The thought of losing Jack had scared him completely; he knew it would cause the same feelings in Kate. He had expected her to face her feelings, it had only been a matter of time.
For a moment he thinks sardonically that this is it, the moment when he really loses Jack.
But that isn’t true at all. Jack had been lost since before the accident. Perhaps he’d never even been his to lose in the first place.
Back inside the bedroom, Kate is readjusting Jack’s blankets nervously, wanting to tell him so much but lacking the courage. Jack watches her intently as if he’s trying to read her every expression.
“Sawyer brought this blanket for you,” she explains, picking up the edge of the heaviest blanket. “You should be impressed that you rated enough for him to dig through his vast stockpile.” She smiles at him but he doesn’t seem to be listening to her anymore.
Jack touches the blanket lightly, recognizing it all too well. How many times had its rough wool rubbed against his skin in the dead of night as he and Sawyer came together in the jungle? He’d always smiled when Sawyer would pull the blanket from his pack and lay it out on the ground, the gesture of protection and thoughtfulness undermining Sawyer’s insistence that he didn’t care.
“So he’s really been acting strangely, huh?” Jack finally asks Kate after a moment of heavy silence.
“I tried to talk to him about it,” Kate informs him. She rolls her eyes. “You can imagine how that went.”
“He wouldn’t say anything?”
“He said some people are just ‘made to suffer’,” she quotes. “I never took Sawyer for the wallowing type, but that sure seems like what he’s doing for some reason. He says it’s fate, that some people don’t have a choice.”
“That’s why the Sox’ll never win the series,” Jack says quietly. Kate’s head snaps toward him.
“What did you say?”
“That’s why the Sox’ll never win the series,” Jack repeats. He takes Kate’s confused expression to mean that she doesn’t know what he means. “It’s something my dad used to say. An excuse. He’d screw up and then write it off, saying it couldn’t be helped.”
“Does…” Kate starts to ask him if he’d told Sawyer about his unique expression when something clicks inside her brain, the pieces starting to fall into place. “That’s exactly what Sawyer said.”
“What, that the Sox will never win the series?”
“Yeah, word for word,” Kate confirms. Jack nods, picking a piece of lint from the blanket. She watches him carefully, wondering how she hadn’t seen it before. Tons of things that had struck her as odd before now make perfect sense. Jack and Sawyer disappearing from camp sometimes, being gone for hours. No one had ever assumed they were together - they left separately and there was no reason to think…
Sawyer had switched shifts for hatch duty numerous times; now it struck her that he somehow always ended up working with Jack. Jack had been spending more time on the beach than he used to as well. Sawyer was laying off the constant sexual innuendo just as Jack had stopped spending most of his time with her. Taken apart, these things meant nothing. Together…they could mean something else completely.
She looks at Jack now, knowing that she’s right.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Jack?” Kate asks softly. Jack doesn’t know what she means. “About you and Sawyer. Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack doesn’t seem surprised when she mentions him and Sawyer.
“I wanted to. Believe me, Kate, I did. Sawyer didn’t want to let anyone know.”
“How long has it been, Jack? When did this start?”
“Two months ago,” Jack almost seems relieved to be telling her. Kate shifts in her seat, stunned, trying to process all of this new information. “I know. I should have told you.”
“Why…why didn’t Sawyer want you to…what is he, ashamed? Does he think that we’d-“
“He thinks I’m in love with you.” Jack states. Kate can’t keep her face from falling. For awhile, she had thought the same thing. “Kate…” He says softly, knowing he’s hurt her. “I care about you. Very much. Too much. But it’s not…that’s different than love.”
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t know. I could, if he’d let me.”
“People don’t let you fall in love, Jack, you just do.”
“Then maybe I am. But he doesn’t want that. He made that very clear the night before…before this.” Jack stops, nodding down toward his injuries. Understanding, revelation, pass over Kate’s face.
“So that’s why you went out there alone. Sawyer…”
“It was just a stupid fight,” Jack shakes his head, worried that Kate might be blaming Sawyer for what happened. “I needed to get away. It was my own fault.”
“Sawyer’s been beating himself up over it.”
“He shouldn’t be.”
“You should talk to him, Jack.”
“I get the feeling he doesn’t want to talk.” Jack replies. Kate shakes her head, not agreeing. It’s then she notices the gray t-shirt Sawyer left behind, hanging off the edge of the bed. It had been pushed aside when Kate had pulled down the covers to check Jack’s leg. She picks it up and unfurls it.
“Jack, look.” She turns the shirt in her hands to face him, a smile on her face.
“Where did you get that?”
“That’s why he must have…” Kate starts, remembering Sawyer’s mad dash from the boat to the hatch. “Hang on a second, Jack.” She gets up, shirt in hand, and walks out into the main room. Sawyer is sitting next to Sun on the kitchen stool; he’d been watching them, she knows, though the second she emerges he averts his gaze quickly, trying to act like he hadn’t been. She approaches him, holding the shirt out to him.
“You and the doc have a nice little chat?” He asks, bitterly.
“Here.” She holds the t-shirt out to him.
“What…?” He eyes it like he doesn’t know what it is. Kate shoots him a look.
“Don’t pretend anymore, Sawyer,” she demands, physically grabbing his hand and forcing the shirt into it. “Just go in there and tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
”You know what.”
“I don’t got the slightest idea what you’re talkin’ about, kitten. You’re gonna have to stop bein’ so damn cryptic.”
“You must tell Jack that you love him,” Sun interrupts forcefully. Both Sawyer and Kate look at her in amazement. “He deserves to know, Sawyer.”
“She’s right,” Kate agrees. Sawyer looks between them, shocked.
“What, does everyone know?” They shake their heads at him.
“Just us.”
“Well, you don’t know the whole of it. Anyway, I ain’t one for declarations.”
“But that’s why you came here, isn’t it? With the shirt?” Kate asks, pointing to it. “Don’t be a coward, Sawyer.”
“I ain’t no coward, Freckles.”
“Then don’t run away,” she retorts and points toward the bedroom.
“Go, Sawyer,” Sun encourages him, seeing that he is still waffling. Finally he gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind him gently. Kate and Sun exchange looks.
“Are you all right?” Sun asks her, knowing that doing that must’ve been hard. Kate shakes her head.
“No,” she replies. Her eyes are welling up, but she forces a smile through the threatening tears. “But I will be.”
*******
Jack watches Sawyer as he closes the door and then moves across the room toward him.
“Thought you left.”
“Didn’t.”
“I’m glad.”
“You and Kate have a nice talk?”
“I told her, Sawyer.”
“Gathered as much,” Sawyer mutters.
“Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Jack inquires, put off by his lack of reaction.
“Look, Jack…”
“Was this ever about Kate, really?” He asks, softly. “It’s not.”
“No, maybe it’s not.”
“Then what is it? What are you so scared of?” Jack tries to move, to go to Sawyer, but it hurts too much. Sawyer points at him.
“That. I’m scared of that, right there.”
“What?”
“You gettin’ hurt.”
“This wasn’t your fault, Sawyer. I fell. It could’ve happened at any time.”
“It is my fault, Jackass,” Sawyer retorts, then changes direction. “Look, I don’t usually get attached to people, Jack. It ain’t what I do. Or else shit like this happens.”
“You are not responsible-“
“I do nothin’ but hurt people, Jack, can’t you see that?”
“No. I don’t think that’s true.”
“I thought that I couldn’t do this. I thought…” Sawyer trails off. “Look, reason I came here was to show you somethin’.”
“What?“
Sawyer holds out the shirt to Jack, moving closer so he can see it.
“What the…is that real?”
“Official merchandise,” Sawyer smirks. “World Series…believe that?”
“Where did you get that?”
“The boat.” Sawyer crumples up the shirt and throws it aside. “Looks like fate don’t know shit after all.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed by Jack’s waist, his eyes locked on Jack’s face.
“Sawyer…” Jack opens his mouth to speak but Sawyer’s lips tenderly cover his, kissing him gingerly, carefully. Sawyer only touches Jack’s face, leaning over him at an awkward angle to keep from accidentally hurting him. He breaks away gently and then caresses Jack’s cheek, pulling back to look at him.
“Used to think I was cursed or something, Jack. Thought I could be nothing but bad news.”
“Now?” Jack asks quietly, daring to hope for the answer he wants.
“Now? Well…now you can be good enough for the both of us,” Sawyer smiles genuinely for the first time since he had found Jack, unconscious in the jungle. “Maybe eventually I can change things around. Hell, if the Red Sox can win the damn series…anything’s possible.”
“I should tell you something, Sawyer,” Jack says, looking quite serious. Sawyer’s stomach drops, getting the feeling that whatever’s about to come isn’t anything good. “The Sox were my father’s team.”
“So?”
“I fucking hate the Red Sox,” he grins at Sawyer. Sawyer groans in frustration and makes a move like he’s going to hit Jack, then stops himself.
“Boy, if you weren’t hurt, I’d wallop you right now. I thought you were gonna-“
“Sawyer?” Jack cuts his tirade short. “I love you. You know that, right?” Sawyer falls quiet for a second, then leans over Jack again, placing a hand on either side of his head, supporting himself. He kisses him deeply, assuredly.
“Yeah. I know it. Do you know it?” He murmurs.
“Know what?”
“The feeling’s mutual,” he whispers before kissing him again. When he draws away, they’re both breathless. “Let me ask you something.”
“Anything.”
“This mean you’re a damn Yankees fan?”
“You’re such an ass,” Jack laughs lightly, trying to draw Sawyer back to him but not able to move enough to do so.
“What? Man’s got a right to know!” Sawyer chuckles.
“Sawyer?”
“What?”
“Shut up.” Sawyer looks at Jack, at the lopsided grin on his face, and happily complies. Just kissing him isn’t enough, he wants so much more. He wants all of him. Always.
“God, I can’t wait until you feel better, Doc,” he breathes against Jack’s lips.
“Me either.”
END