Lost fic: If We Make It Through December [2600 words]
Summary: It's meant to be the happy time of year
If we make it through December
by eponine119
November 29, 2020
Things get quieter in their yellow house after Juliet changes the calendar to December. There's a picture of a snowy, wintry scene that makes her avert her eyes, it's so incongruous to the tropical island outside their door.
It hangs ominously over the four of them as they eat dinner that night. “You from somewhere that snows?” Sawyer asks Juliet.
She shakes her head. “Miami.”
He raises his eyebrows in something like a nod. His accent leaves her no room to reciprocate the question; they all know vaguely where he's from. “Enos?”
“I'm from Encino,” Miles says, and the tone reminds Sawyer that he'd said as much before. Miles looks at Jin, who has his head lowered so his chin rests on his hand, staring at the image on the wall. “Does it snow in Korea?”
“Yes,” Jin replies. “But it does not... stay.”
“Stick,” Juliet says. “It doesn't stick.”
“It melts,” Miles elaborates.
Jin falls back into silence, eyes fixed on the calendar. In thirty days, they'll take it down and hang up a new one for a 1975. A year they never expected to see - or see again.
…
“Awful quiet at dinner.” Sawyer approaches Juliet, who's sitting by herself on the porch. The sky above them is black and clear, and the air is still warm enough that he's sweating. He sits on the rough, hard floor at her feet and leans back so he can see her face. “You wanna talk about it?”
“I think we all thought we'd be home by now,” she says. She looks at him. “You did, too.”
He allows that she's right about that.
“You think they made it?” she asks. They don't talk about this much, Jack and Kate and Sun and everyone else who were on the helicopter when the freighter went up in smoke.
He shakes his head. He plucks a piece of grass and tosses it away, underhand. “Hard to say.” They sit there in silence, as he waits for her to say something more, but she doesn't.
…
“Horace and Amy have a Christmas tree,” Miles reports at dinner, about a week later. His tone is flat and almost, but not quite, bored.
“Where the hell'd they find one'a those?” Sawyer asks.
“It's plastic,” Juliet replies flatly, as though it should have been obvious.
“Just like everything else in the seventies,” Miles laments.
“Funny how fast he jumped on that,” Sawyer says, about Horace and Amy, but no one takes him up on it. He takes a look at the faces he sees around the table. All of them, still down in the mouth. Juliet looks pale. Miles pushes his casserole from one side of his plate to the other, and it was his turn to cook so you'd think he'd have made something he likes. Jin stares absently at the calendar on the wall.
“What're you mopin' for?” Sawyer asks Jin.
“They celebrate Christmas in Korea, James,” Juliet points out.
“That right?” Sawyer says. “Learn somethin' new every day.” He looks at Jin and sighs. “So, do we gotta get ourselves a Christmas tree?” he asks.
No one says yes, and no one can bring themselves to say no. But Sawyer can read the room. Another reminder would be unwelcome.
…
The quiet deepens. There are more leftovers now, for lunch, because no one seems to have much appetite for dinner. The fridge is full of meals, half-eaten and then abandoned.
Miles opens his thermos and takes a look inside. His mouth turns down at the corners. He takes a couple of bites, then pushes it across the table, over to Sawyer.
Sawyer shovels it in without giving it much thought, barely tasting it. They all react differently.
“You got family, Miles?” he asks.
The other man's eyes slide away. He takes a moment before he can figure out how to answer, and that intrigues Sawyer. “Not anymore.”
Sawyer nods, because that's something he can understand. “What'd it look like for you, then? Holidays.”
Miles looks at him again. “When I was a kid, my mom did the best she could. Single mom. Never had a real tree. Half the time she just picked up a pizza for the big dinner. Forget turkey, pizza was the real treat. One year I got an Atari. That was a good year.” He smiles at the memory. “Still not sure how she pulled that off.”
“And now?” Sawyer prompts.
“Now I live on a goddamn island three years before I was born,” Miles says. His eyes flash, and he looks like he wants to say more, but he bites off the words, closing his mouth with a faint click of his teeth.
“I mean, last year. Year before.”
Miles shakes his head, looking up into the corner of the room. “Sometimes I still play that Atari.”
…
“What's it like in Korea?” Sawyer asks Jin. It's just the two of them at dinner. Miles is on the evening shift, and Juliet's working late. He nods to the calendar. “You said you did Christmas.”
“We have other holidays for family,” Jin says. “Christmas is more... for man and woman, together.”
“Romantic?” Sawyer supplies the word.
“Yes,” Jin replies, and his eyes are sad and faraway.
Sawyer could ask if he misses Sun, but he already knows the answer.
“Sun, she like to shop,” Jin says. His face brightens at the memory.
“Don't they all,” Sawyer says, and it makes him smile.
“We spend the day together. Just us two. And Bpo Bpo.” Jin sees Sawyer's question. “Puppy.”
“You had a puppy?” Sawyer asks, and Jin nods. Sawyer tries to think of something encouraging to say, but it takes too long and the moment kind of dies between them. Jin looks down at his meal and swallows hard. Sawyer reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, but Jin shakes his head and rises from the table, going into his room and closing the door.
Sawyer sighs.
…
He hears someone crying in the middle of the night. He can't quite tell who it is, but it doesn't matter. It's no good that anyone is crying. He sighs noisily and closes his eyes. It's all he can hear, and it gets under his skin. Sawyer figures he can lie here in bed awake or he can do something about it, so he gets up.
His plan was to pretend like he was going to the bathroom, so he does. He flushes, and hears a little sniffle-gasp that makes him flinch. The person who's crying is trying to stop, or hide it so he won't hear.
“Too late,” he says, leaning against the door frame to Juliet's room. He watches her wipe her eyes on her hands. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight.
“The proper protocol when you hear someone crying is to pretend you didn't hear it,” she informs him. Another tear rolls down her cheek. He wants to brush it away, but he doesn't.
“Maybe in your house,” he says, and it makes him think about being a kid. All the times no one came to comfort him. Maybe in his house, too. But not anymore. “Not on my watch, Blondie,” he says. He indicates the hallway with his head. “C'mon.”
She gets out of bed and they go into the kitchen. Her nose is pink around the edges, and he sees now the blue-purple smudges underneath her eyes. She wipes her eyes again and puts her hands into the back pockets of her pajama pants.
He pours some milk into a saucepan on the stove, then edges past her to the liquor cabinet in the living room. A few minutes later, they sit at the table together and she wraps her hands around the warm mug of spiked milk.
“So talk,” he says.
Her mouth turns up in one corner and she shakes her head, then takes a sip. Her eyes widen and she looks at him. “That's strong.”
“Juliet.” He wants her to tell him.
“I should be used to being away from home at Christmas by now,” she says. “But it gets harder every year, not easier.” She presses her lips together like she might start crying again.
“'n this year you're further than ever,” he remarks, to show that he understands.
She nods miserably and stares down into her milk. “We always went to the beach. Christmas morning. I wonder if she still does.”
“Your sister, right?” he asks.
She nods again. “Did Miles or Jin cry when you questioned them?”
“I didn't question nobody,” Sawyer bristles.
“I hate crying,” she declares, rubbing her eyes.
“Talkin' about things is supposed to help,” he points out. “Y'all been moping all over the damn place for the better part of a month. I had to do something.”
“Did talking ever help you, James?” She nails him with a look.
“No,” he replies slowly.
She blinks at him and then continues to stare him down. “How do you celebrate Christmas?”
“I... don't,” he replies, feeling incredibly awkward. He doesn't think stocking up at the liquor store on Christmas Eve counts as celebrating.
“Then you have no idea,” Juliet says.
“I'm tryin' to!” he protests. He shoves his hands through his hair, pushing it back, exasperated. “Look, we just gotta get through this. We're here now.”
“We know, James,” she replies, quietly. They look at each other for a long moment. Then she picks up her glass and drains it.
Sawyer watches it hit her, all the booze he poured into her cup and the lack of sleep and the sadness. She squinches her eyes closed and groans, then folds her arms on the table and puts her head down. “'m so tired,” she mumbles.
He looks at her messy yellow hair and puts his hand on her head. It's warm; he hadn't expected that. His fingers sink through the tangles and the curls to rub the tense muscles of her neck. “We're gonna make it, Blondie,” he promises her.
Then the heat rises into his face and he starts to feel embarrassed about what he's doing. He starts to withdraw. “Mmm,” she says, like a purr in the back of her throat, without lifting her head. “Don't stop.”
His hand freezes, and he draws a deep breath. Then he restarts his massage. Her skin is soft underneath his fingertips. It isn't long before he's aware that her breathing has evened out and he knows that she's asleep.
He pulls away carefully, not wanting to wake her. Not quite sure what to do, he stands. Watching her, he tugs the crocheted afghan from the back of the couch and drapes it over her shoulders. Then he turns off the kitchen light and leaves her be.
…
The days don't really grow shorter here, and the weather remains constant - hot and sunny, with rain showers every afternoon.
Things don't really get any easier, either. The house remains eerily quiet as everyone keeps mostly to themselves. They move in and out of their rooms without saying much, barely looking at each other. The sadness and depression is palpable.
Sawyer just puts his head down. He can take his own advice and get through it. It's only another couple of weeks of tiptoeing around. All this is going to break once January gets here. It has to.
…
He stomps into the house one day after work to find Juliet, Miles and Jin sitting around the living room. The lights are on and no one is frowning. The air seems lighter. Sawyer stops in the doorway and frowns, wondering what the hell is going on.
Juliet looks at him and smiles a welcoming smile. “Sit down,” she says, and gestures to the open seats. “We were just talking about Christmas.”
His eyebrows remain drawn down over his eyes, but he sits on the edge of the sofa. He keeps his mouth shut.
“We call him Santa Haraboji,” Jin says, picking up where he left off before Sawyer came in. “It means... Grandpa Santa.”
“I love that,” Juliet says, glancing at Sawyer with her eyes sparkling.
“Grandpa Santa,” Miles repeats, amused.
“We decided we're going to make our own traditions this year,” Juliet explains to Sawyer. “Jin is going to make dinner.”
Sawyer starts to relax. He nods, thinking of the fish Jin caught when they were living on the beach, and how delicious it was.
“My mom always recited The Night Before Christmas to me before bed on Christmas Eve, when I was a kid,” Miles says. He looks away. “But I think... I'm going to learn the Grinch instead.”
“We're going to go down to the beach in the morning,” Juliet adds quietly. “Since that was my family tradition. It'll be different, but I'd like to do it again here.”
Sawyer wonders how she's spent the last three Christmases, with the Others. Whatever they did, he figures she faked her way through it. The decade isn't the only thing that's changed.
“What tradition is yours?” Jin asks him.
“Well, I ain't gonna dress up like Grandpa Santa, that's for damn sure,” Sawyer says, irritated and closed off, and he instantly realizes it was the wrong thing to say. He picks up the item he had in his hands when he came in, the cardboard sleeve holding a record album, and he spins it end over end between his hands. Now he's not so sure. He glances at Juliet without thinking about it, and sees encouragement in her blue eyes.
“I remembered this thing from when I was a kid. Musta heard it on the radio, but it always stuck with me. Found myself thinkin' it, this time of year.”
“Merle Haggard?” Miles reads off the album doubtfully. “I hate country music.”
“Miles,” Juliet says warningly.
Sawyer remains where he's sitting, hanging his head, looking down at the record. What the hell was he thinking? This was obviously a bad idea. “Y'know what, never mind.” He gets up to stalk off to his room.
“I want to hear it,” Juliet says, and it makes him stop. She meets his eyes. “James?”
He hates that she can do this to him. “Fine,” he sighs, and stamps over to the record player. He splits the plastic wrap on the album with the corner of his thumbnail and draws out the pristine black disk. Holding it by the edges, he fits it onto the turntable and drops the needle on the first track.
“If we make it through December, we'll be fine,” Merle Haggard advises, in song. “Got plans to be in a warmer town by summertime. Maybe even California.”
Sawyer hasn't heard this song in years. Aside from the title, he's mostly forgotten the lyrics, especially that part, about hoping to be somewhere else. It's what they all want. It hurts, and for the first time, he thinks he understands.
He raises his head, still standing in front of the record player, feeling their eyes on his back. He turns his head first, not looking at any of them, then glancing at all of them. Jin meets his eyes. Miles nods, like he understands. Juliet smiles, like she agrees. Sawyer feels his shoulders relax.
“So how'd you say 'Merry Christmas' in Korean?” Sawyer asks, with a buoyancy he doesn't quite feel.
“Keuriseumaseu jal bonaeseyo.”
Sawyer nods, and he smiles. They're going to be okay. They're going to make it. That's all they have to do.
(end)
If we make it through December
by eponine119
November 29, 2020
Things get quieter in their yellow house after Juliet changes the calendar to December. There's a picture of a snowy, wintry scene that makes her avert her eyes, it's so incongruous to the tropical island outside their door.
It hangs ominously over the four of them as they eat dinner that night. “You from somewhere that snows?” Sawyer asks Juliet.
She shakes her head. “Miami.”
He raises his eyebrows in something like a nod. His accent leaves her no room to reciprocate the question; they all know vaguely where he's from. “Enos?”
“I'm from Encino,” Miles says, and the tone reminds Sawyer that he'd said as much before. Miles looks at Jin, who has his head lowered so his chin rests on his hand, staring at the image on the wall. “Does it snow in Korea?”
“Yes,” Jin replies. “But it does not... stay.”
“Stick,” Juliet says. “It doesn't stick.”
“It melts,” Miles elaborates.
Jin falls back into silence, eyes fixed on the calendar. In thirty days, they'll take it down and hang up a new one for a 1975. A year they never expected to see - or see again.
…
“Awful quiet at dinner.” Sawyer approaches Juliet, who's sitting by herself on the porch. The sky above them is black and clear, and the air is still warm enough that he's sweating. He sits on the rough, hard floor at her feet and leans back so he can see her face. “You wanna talk about it?”
“I think we all thought we'd be home by now,” she says. She looks at him. “You did, too.”
He allows that she's right about that.
“You think they made it?” she asks. They don't talk about this much, Jack and Kate and Sun and everyone else who were on the helicopter when the freighter went up in smoke.
He shakes his head. He plucks a piece of grass and tosses it away, underhand. “Hard to say.” They sit there in silence, as he waits for her to say something more, but she doesn't.
…
“Horace and Amy have a Christmas tree,” Miles reports at dinner, about a week later. His tone is flat and almost, but not quite, bored.
“Where the hell'd they find one'a those?” Sawyer asks.
“It's plastic,” Juliet replies flatly, as though it should have been obvious.
“Just like everything else in the seventies,” Miles laments.
“Funny how fast he jumped on that,” Sawyer says, about Horace and Amy, but no one takes him up on it. He takes a look at the faces he sees around the table. All of them, still down in the mouth. Juliet looks pale. Miles pushes his casserole from one side of his plate to the other, and it was his turn to cook so you'd think he'd have made something he likes. Jin stares absently at the calendar on the wall.
“What're you mopin' for?” Sawyer asks Jin.
“They celebrate Christmas in Korea, James,” Juliet points out.
“That right?” Sawyer says. “Learn somethin' new every day.” He looks at Jin and sighs. “So, do we gotta get ourselves a Christmas tree?” he asks.
No one says yes, and no one can bring themselves to say no. But Sawyer can read the room. Another reminder would be unwelcome.
…
The quiet deepens. There are more leftovers now, for lunch, because no one seems to have much appetite for dinner. The fridge is full of meals, half-eaten and then abandoned.
Miles opens his thermos and takes a look inside. His mouth turns down at the corners. He takes a couple of bites, then pushes it across the table, over to Sawyer.
Sawyer shovels it in without giving it much thought, barely tasting it. They all react differently.
“You got family, Miles?” he asks.
The other man's eyes slide away. He takes a moment before he can figure out how to answer, and that intrigues Sawyer. “Not anymore.”
Sawyer nods, because that's something he can understand. “What'd it look like for you, then? Holidays.”
Miles looks at him again. “When I was a kid, my mom did the best she could. Single mom. Never had a real tree. Half the time she just picked up a pizza for the big dinner. Forget turkey, pizza was the real treat. One year I got an Atari. That was a good year.” He smiles at the memory. “Still not sure how she pulled that off.”
“And now?” Sawyer prompts.
“Now I live on a goddamn island three years before I was born,” Miles says. His eyes flash, and he looks like he wants to say more, but he bites off the words, closing his mouth with a faint click of his teeth.
“I mean, last year. Year before.”
Miles shakes his head, looking up into the corner of the room. “Sometimes I still play that Atari.”
…
“What's it like in Korea?” Sawyer asks Jin. It's just the two of them at dinner. Miles is on the evening shift, and Juliet's working late. He nods to the calendar. “You said you did Christmas.”
“We have other holidays for family,” Jin says. “Christmas is more... for man and woman, together.”
“Romantic?” Sawyer supplies the word.
“Yes,” Jin replies, and his eyes are sad and faraway.
Sawyer could ask if he misses Sun, but he already knows the answer.
“Sun, she like to shop,” Jin says. His face brightens at the memory.
“Don't they all,” Sawyer says, and it makes him smile.
“We spend the day together. Just us two. And Bpo Bpo.” Jin sees Sawyer's question. “Puppy.”
“You had a puppy?” Sawyer asks, and Jin nods. Sawyer tries to think of something encouraging to say, but it takes too long and the moment kind of dies between them. Jin looks down at his meal and swallows hard. Sawyer reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, but Jin shakes his head and rises from the table, going into his room and closing the door.
Sawyer sighs.
…
He hears someone crying in the middle of the night. He can't quite tell who it is, but it doesn't matter. It's no good that anyone is crying. He sighs noisily and closes his eyes. It's all he can hear, and it gets under his skin. Sawyer figures he can lie here in bed awake or he can do something about it, so he gets up.
His plan was to pretend like he was going to the bathroom, so he does. He flushes, and hears a little sniffle-gasp that makes him flinch. The person who's crying is trying to stop, or hide it so he won't hear.
“Too late,” he says, leaning against the door frame to Juliet's room. He watches her wipe her eyes on her hands. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight.
“The proper protocol when you hear someone crying is to pretend you didn't hear it,” she informs him. Another tear rolls down her cheek. He wants to brush it away, but he doesn't.
“Maybe in your house,” he says, and it makes him think about being a kid. All the times no one came to comfort him. Maybe in his house, too. But not anymore. “Not on my watch, Blondie,” he says. He indicates the hallway with his head. “C'mon.”
She gets out of bed and they go into the kitchen. Her nose is pink around the edges, and he sees now the blue-purple smudges underneath her eyes. She wipes her eyes again and puts her hands into the back pockets of her pajama pants.
He pours some milk into a saucepan on the stove, then edges past her to the liquor cabinet in the living room. A few minutes later, they sit at the table together and she wraps her hands around the warm mug of spiked milk.
“So talk,” he says.
Her mouth turns up in one corner and she shakes her head, then takes a sip. Her eyes widen and she looks at him. “That's strong.”
“Juliet.” He wants her to tell him.
“I should be used to being away from home at Christmas by now,” she says. “But it gets harder every year, not easier.” She presses her lips together like she might start crying again.
“'n this year you're further than ever,” he remarks, to show that he understands.
She nods miserably and stares down into her milk. “We always went to the beach. Christmas morning. I wonder if she still does.”
“Your sister, right?” he asks.
She nods again. “Did Miles or Jin cry when you questioned them?”
“I didn't question nobody,” Sawyer bristles.
“I hate crying,” she declares, rubbing her eyes.
“Talkin' about things is supposed to help,” he points out. “Y'all been moping all over the damn place for the better part of a month. I had to do something.”
“Did talking ever help you, James?” She nails him with a look.
“No,” he replies slowly.
She blinks at him and then continues to stare him down. “How do you celebrate Christmas?”
“I... don't,” he replies, feeling incredibly awkward. He doesn't think stocking up at the liquor store on Christmas Eve counts as celebrating.
“Then you have no idea,” Juliet says.
“I'm tryin' to!” he protests. He shoves his hands through his hair, pushing it back, exasperated. “Look, we just gotta get through this. We're here now.”
“We know, James,” she replies, quietly. They look at each other for a long moment. Then she picks up her glass and drains it.
Sawyer watches it hit her, all the booze he poured into her cup and the lack of sleep and the sadness. She squinches her eyes closed and groans, then folds her arms on the table and puts her head down. “'m so tired,” she mumbles.
He looks at her messy yellow hair and puts his hand on her head. It's warm; he hadn't expected that. His fingers sink through the tangles and the curls to rub the tense muscles of her neck. “We're gonna make it, Blondie,” he promises her.
Then the heat rises into his face and he starts to feel embarrassed about what he's doing. He starts to withdraw. “Mmm,” she says, like a purr in the back of her throat, without lifting her head. “Don't stop.”
His hand freezes, and he draws a deep breath. Then he restarts his massage. Her skin is soft underneath his fingertips. It isn't long before he's aware that her breathing has evened out and he knows that she's asleep.
He pulls away carefully, not wanting to wake her. Not quite sure what to do, he stands. Watching her, he tugs the crocheted afghan from the back of the couch and drapes it over her shoulders. Then he turns off the kitchen light and leaves her be.
…
The days don't really grow shorter here, and the weather remains constant - hot and sunny, with rain showers every afternoon.
Things don't really get any easier, either. The house remains eerily quiet as everyone keeps mostly to themselves. They move in and out of their rooms without saying much, barely looking at each other. The sadness and depression is palpable.
Sawyer just puts his head down. He can take his own advice and get through it. It's only another couple of weeks of tiptoeing around. All this is going to break once January gets here. It has to.
…
He stomps into the house one day after work to find Juliet, Miles and Jin sitting around the living room. The lights are on and no one is frowning. The air seems lighter. Sawyer stops in the doorway and frowns, wondering what the hell is going on.
Juliet looks at him and smiles a welcoming smile. “Sit down,” she says, and gestures to the open seats. “We were just talking about Christmas.”
His eyebrows remain drawn down over his eyes, but he sits on the edge of the sofa. He keeps his mouth shut.
“We call him Santa Haraboji,” Jin says, picking up where he left off before Sawyer came in. “It means... Grandpa Santa.”
“I love that,” Juliet says, glancing at Sawyer with her eyes sparkling.
“Grandpa Santa,” Miles repeats, amused.
“We decided we're going to make our own traditions this year,” Juliet explains to Sawyer. “Jin is going to make dinner.”
Sawyer starts to relax. He nods, thinking of the fish Jin caught when they were living on the beach, and how delicious it was.
“My mom always recited The Night Before Christmas to me before bed on Christmas Eve, when I was a kid,” Miles says. He looks away. “But I think... I'm going to learn the Grinch instead.”
“We're going to go down to the beach in the morning,” Juliet adds quietly. “Since that was my family tradition. It'll be different, but I'd like to do it again here.”
Sawyer wonders how she's spent the last three Christmases, with the Others. Whatever they did, he figures she faked her way through it. The decade isn't the only thing that's changed.
“What tradition is yours?” Jin asks him.
“Well, I ain't gonna dress up like Grandpa Santa, that's for damn sure,” Sawyer says, irritated and closed off, and he instantly realizes it was the wrong thing to say. He picks up the item he had in his hands when he came in, the cardboard sleeve holding a record album, and he spins it end over end between his hands. Now he's not so sure. He glances at Juliet without thinking about it, and sees encouragement in her blue eyes.
“I remembered this thing from when I was a kid. Musta heard it on the radio, but it always stuck with me. Found myself thinkin' it, this time of year.”
“Merle Haggard?” Miles reads off the album doubtfully. “I hate country music.”
“Miles,” Juliet says warningly.
Sawyer remains where he's sitting, hanging his head, looking down at the record. What the hell was he thinking? This was obviously a bad idea. “Y'know what, never mind.” He gets up to stalk off to his room.
“I want to hear it,” Juliet says, and it makes him stop. She meets his eyes. “James?”
He hates that she can do this to him. “Fine,” he sighs, and stamps over to the record player. He splits the plastic wrap on the album with the corner of his thumbnail and draws out the pristine black disk. Holding it by the edges, he fits it onto the turntable and drops the needle on the first track.
“If we make it through December, we'll be fine,” Merle Haggard advises, in song. “Got plans to be in a warmer town by summertime. Maybe even California.”
Sawyer hasn't heard this song in years. Aside from the title, he's mostly forgotten the lyrics, especially that part, about hoping to be somewhere else. It's what they all want. It hurts, and for the first time, he thinks he understands.
He raises his head, still standing in front of the record player, feeling their eyes on his back. He turns his head first, not looking at any of them, then glancing at all of them. Jin meets his eyes. Miles nods, like he understands. Juliet smiles, like she agrees. Sawyer feels his shoulders relax.
“So how'd you say 'Merry Christmas' in Korean?” Sawyer asks, with a buoyancy he doesn't quite feel.
“Keuriseumaseu jal bonaeseyo.”
Sawyer nods, and he smiles. They're going to be okay. They're going to make it. That's all they have to do.
(end)