Lost fic: Alaska [Sawyer, 500 words]
Disclaimer: not mine
Notes: Inspired by the request of Queen astra2104 for the lostsquee luau, who wanted to go back to the beginning. Using for fanfic100 #67, Snow.
Summary: An ode to Sawyer's t-shirt.
Alaska
by eponine119
July 25, 2007
After that first job, when he was nineteen, he got in his car and drove as fast as he could as far as he could go. The road took him to Alaska.
It was a strange place, and he felt strange in it. He drifted through honest jobs, fishing and oil and tour guiding. They made him weary and frustrated and thirsty.
He ended up in a bar, of course. The name over the door was Humpy's, which he was still enough of a boy to snicker over. Inside, he felt his knotted shoulders relax. The place was full of beer and live country music, and it made him feel normal again, like he was home. In his relief, he'd forgotten home was a place to run from.
The woman behind the bar was older (to nineteen, twenty-five was older) and plain. The kind of woman he liked. She asked him if he could tend bar before she even asked for his name. She knew he was lying when he said yes, but it didn't matter.
In the middle of summer they kissed in the sunlight in the middle of the night. That's when it started to feel like a con. When they slept together, the name she cried was his but not his. Slowly he was beginning to realize it didn’t matter how far he went. Sawyer was always there with him, because he was Sawyer now.
The first snowfall was in September. He was on the only one to race outside, face upturned, catching snowflakes on his tongue. He wasn't used to snow.
The inches piled up and the cold settled into his bones. He couldn't stand it, and he knew if he stayed much longer, he wouldn't be able to escape. It wouldn't be just the snow that trapped him. It'd be her, and the regulars at the bar, the temptation to lead an ordinary life.
He conned the first tourist lady in a fur coat that he came across and hit the road. All the way back to where it all began, to Jasper, Alabama. He had things to do. Revenge to get.
All that remained of that life and the kid he'd been was a blue t-shirt, so faded and soft the letters were almost illegible. He wore it when he needed to be reminded, when he was tempted to turn his back on his quest and try to find a normal life. So he wore it on the plane that took him away from his mistakes in Australia.
The island was like Alaska, in that it was a strange place and he felt strange in it. It was another chance, but his habits and ways were too deeply ingrained. Even when he tried to do the right thing, he failed. He was Sawyer now. It always came back around to that.
End.
Notes: Inspired by the request of Queen astra2104 for the lostsquee luau, who wanted to go back to the beginning. Using for fanfic100 #67, Snow.
Summary: An ode to Sawyer's t-shirt.
Alaska
by eponine119
July 25, 2007
After that first job, when he was nineteen, he got in his car and drove as fast as he could as far as he could go. The road took him to Alaska.
It was a strange place, and he felt strange in it. He drifted through honest jobs, fishing and oil and tour guiding. They made him weary and frustrated and thirsty.
He ended up in a bar, of course. The name over the door was Humpy's, which he was still enough of a boy to snicker over. Inside, he felt his knotted shoulders relax. The place was full of beer and live country music, and it made him feel normal again, like he was home. In his relief, he'd forgotten home was a place to run from.
The woman behind the bar was older (to nineteen, twenty-five was older) and plain. The kind of woman he liked. She asked him if he could tend bar before she even asked for his name. She knew he was lying when he said yes, but it didn't matter.
In the middle of summer they kissed in the sunlight in the middle of the night. That's when it started to feel like a con. When they slept together, the name she cried was his but not his. Slowly he was beginning to realize it didn’t matter how far he went. Sawyer was always there with him, because he was Sawyer now.
The first snowfall was in September. He was on the only one to race outside, face upturned, catching snowflakes on his tongue. He wasn't used to snow.
The inches piled up and the cold settled into his bones. He couldn't stand it, and he knew if he stayed much longer, he wouldn't be able to escape. It wouldn't be just the snow that trapped him. It'd be her, and the regulars at the bar, the temptation to lead an ordinary life.
He conned the first tourist lady in a fur coat that he came across and hit the road. All the way back to where it all began, to Jasper, Alabama. He had things to do. Revenge to get.
All that remained of that life and the kid he'd been was a blue t-shirt, so faded and soft the letters were almost illegible. He wore it when he needed to be reminded, when he was tempted to turn his back on his quest and try to find a normal life. So he wore it on the plane that took him away from his mistakes in Australia.
The island was like Alaska, in that it was a strange place and he felt strange in it. It was another chance, but his habits and ways were too deeply ingrained. Even when he tried to do the right thing, he failed. He was Sawyer now. It always came back around to that.
End.