For Sawyer (Timed for... whenever)

[little_moons]

We had dinner, like a family, but that only seemed to make it more obvious how many chairs around the table are empty now. The girls are moody, angry and cranky and sad, even though they don't always seem to know why, but when we sit at the table, the three of us, it's like they know how thin a thread I'm hanging on by and they just... behave. They

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[cibosity]

I'm pretty sure that all people get moments in their lives when all they can do is stare at the hell that fate's put them in, and I'll be the first to admit- I've had plenty of times when I'm tempted to do little more than give God the finger and ask him why the hell he's singled me out for all this crap. Why the hell he decided to riddle me with a bunch of weaknesses, then have my life shaped so that every single one matters, like I'm just some tragic figure for his divine amusement

[little_moons]

My hair's hanging down in my face when I cut him a sideways look, smoke curling around my head, but I manage a faint smile, one corner of my lips just barely turning upwards.

"Figure I can spare it," I murmur, and my voice sounds impossibly rusty, like I haven't spoken for days, even though I know that isn't true.

On the other end of the bar, there's a scar on the wood. Sirius Black was here carved in by hand, over two years ago. I fuckin' refuse to look at it, but I can't seem to forget it. It's been like that, fuckin' digging into my goddamn skull, the knowledge that it's there, for fuckin' weeks.

[cibosity]

He sounds almost worse than he looks- and I ain't referring to his bone structure, I'll tell you that. I still remember the day I arrived, starin' at a smile from between the bars of a friggin' cage, one that I wanted to wipe right off his smug little face. For the next few months, Neil McCormick was basically the only person who seemed to have his shit together on the island, like there wasn't nothin' that fazed him. Now, he's just broken. Can't blame him. Hell, I was broken for years after I lost my parents- might still be broken now.

But that ain't the kind of look you see without trying to do something about it.

Don't know what, though. So I just take another swig of whiskey, hissing through my lips at the burn. Feels good.

"Every time... you the world's gotten enough of you, it goes and proves that you can lose even more, don't it?" I say quietly, knowing that it don't sound too comforting. "Makes it damned hard to focus on the positive."

[little_moons]

"Didn't take you for some kind of fuckin' optimist in the first place," I say with a snort of laughter, arching a brow, 'cause he speaks the fuckin' truth, but none of it's gonna make either of us feel any better.

The whiskey might. For a little while.

"So, who's Mr. Sawyer?" I ask, cutting right down to it, 'cause I know he remembers seeing me that day. There's no point pretending like I didn't.

[cibosity]

"Hey, I've been plenty optimistic in my life," I argue right back, if only because I feel like digging in my heels, giving someone some grief in the way that I used to, by being the argumentative ass of the group. Anything I say these days, however, feels a bit watered down. Like folks have seen too much of my redeemable side to ever buy that I oughta be shoved off to the side. Hell, it's a prison of my own making. A radio show, a position on the IPD... I thought it was what I wanted. Maybe it still is. "Gimme a peer, a couple of choice magazines or a nice book, pair of glasses, I'm set. It's the good life."

But it sure cements a certain Sawyer in people's minds, one who doesn't get the chance to turn everyone else away when he damned well wants.

Like when Neil asks that question.

I pause before I answer. "Man who conned my mom," I reply quietly, before taking another swig of whiskey. A longer one.

[little_moons]

I'm quiet for a long moment, takin' that in. It says more about him than probably anything he's ever told me, outright. And I look at him now and all I can see is that little boy, sittin' on the front steps of the compound and lookin' like his whole world had just fallen to pieces. More importantly, I think about how familiar it was, and how I remember exactly what that was like-- being eight years old and just... lost.

"So, the name? You just..." That's the part I can't quite be sure of. How he went from James Ford, that lost little kid, to Sawyer, a decent guy walkin' around convinced that he's worth nothin'.

[cibosity]

At least it looks like I've provided him with a decent distraction. Good. He needs it. And it ain't like I've been able to keep my damn mind off of what happened anyway, myself. First, it was those nightmares. Then, the island just decided that it wasn't enough to leave me with a bit of plausible deniability, no. It had to let everyone see and touch that little kid I used to be.

"I became Sawyer," I grit out, though my voices sounds more weary than hard, like I've run over this damn beaten path far too many times in my years. "Became the very man I was huntin' all those years. Conned my way around and didn't realize it 'til-"

Hell, what's the point in keeping any of it from him anymore?

"'Til I saw a little kid starin' me straight in the face. His mama right there, tryin' to cover for me, playing me off as a friend from work. If he hadn't come out..."

[little_moons]

It's funny. Sometimes I wonder if Heider wasn't trying to mold me into something. Maybe it was unintentional, but he taught me all his tricks, who to go for and when, how to make a kid do whatever you wanted.

If a kid does good you gotta reward 'em.

I could see myself going down a different path, using that, thoughts that I've had that I don't wanna admit to anyone. All those things I did back when I was a kid. How easy it was to get the other guys in class afraid of me. How easy it was to keep them from tattling to the teachers about me. And all those little things I learned from him that came in handy when I started to hook.

It seems crazy to let yourself become the person you hate, the person who fucked you over, but maybe it's just inevitable. It's something I avoided, for the most part, but I can see it, that possible path I could've taken, following me around like a ghost wherever I go.

The shit that happens to you when you're a kid... It sticks with you more than anything. It fucks with everything. One summer, one night

[cibosity]

It ain't the first time someone's asked me this question. Hell, there are people who refuse to call me Sawyer, who insist that I'm James now, and that there ain't no point comparing me to a man without an ounce of regret in his heart. Maybe. Sometimes I feel like I've made myself into a half-decent man, but I know it's only 'cause there are places that let me start over. Even on that other island, people didn't start off knowin' who I was, or what I'd done; back there, I immediately pushed everyone away. Seemed like the right thing to do, seemed like it was the only way to protect them when I still couldn't get over the fact that I hadn't found Tom Sawyer

[little_moons]

"Probably not," I agree, one corner of my mouth lifting in a faint smile. He'll always be that guy, but he's other stuff, too. And maybe he thinks I don't get that, but I do. You are who you are. You can't run from it. There's no such thing as a blank slate. You carry around your decisions with you, for the rest of your life. Good or bad.

Some of 'em, you can make up for, but only if you're lucky.

"Did you ever find 'im? The real one?"

[cibosity]

Son of a bitch. It all comes flooding back, only in patches, like I can't see the full picture anymore. I'm not sure I ever did. I can smell shrimp in the air, hear it sizzling in the background. I can feel the thud of worn food under my fist as I try and call out to Locke. (It's been some time since I've thought of him, and even that just twists my gut like someone's shoved a knife right on in there.) The rattle of chains, the struggle of a dying breath.

It ain't something that you ever forget, but hell if it's anything you ever truly remember. I knock back another shot, pouring one straight after.

"I killed the real one. I couldn't- I couldn't stop myself."

[little_moons]

"Did it help?" I ask, already knowing the answer. There isn't a whole lot of closure in death, no matter how final it may be. Not for the people left behind. As far as punishments go, it's too quick, and it leaves the living behind to clean up the mess left afterward. I would've gotten no pleasure in seeing Heider dead. Not by my own hands, or anyone else's.

I reach for the bottle, my hand briefly touching his, but there's no offer behind it. No flirting or playfulness. It's mindless, or maybe it's meant to be comforting. I don't fucking know.

[cibosity]

The brush of a hand burns a hell of a lot worse than the liquor. Sympathy always does, when you know you ain't done nothing to deserve it. Killing Tom Sawyer doesn't make me a good person, doesn't make me strong, and hell, it doesn't even keep the ghosts shackled to the past. All it does is leave me with more blood on my hands and memories that ain't ever gonna wash away. I try to stand it, let Neil do whatever comforting he feels like he's gotta right now, 'cause there ain't much that's a greater pain in the ass than people shoving good intentions away (I'd know, it's why I spent so much time doing so in the first place), but soon enough I pull away.

Don't feel sorry for me.

Don't you try to understand.

"I dunno," I breathe instead, gaze slowly meeting his. "But if he came 'round again, I know I'd do it. I wouldn't change my mind, even knowing what I do now."

[little_moons]

"We all keep makin' the same fuckin' mistakes over and over," I mutter with a snort, reaching for the bottle and taking a swig.

"This place... It keeps tryin' to teach us shit, I think, but I dunno if any of it ever really sticks. I mean, you think I don't... I get it, man. More than you know. You gotta problem with that, you can kiss my ass. I spent half of my fuckin' life, every goddamn thing I did, was because of one guy. Every fucked up thing in my life, you could trace a fuckin' line back to him."

[cibosity]

Jesus. I start to wonder how the two of us are ever gonna emerge from the bar at this rate. Because every word of his rings so goddamned true that I feel it digging into the ground and under my skin, and soon enough there won't be anything to hold us up anymore. It's not just the words. It's the way that they sound, bitter and yet... yet they ain't, not exactly. Not quite giving up, but having given up long ago on some of the details, given up on himself. I know that he's had some time to think of himself as a bit more, as part of that marriage, as one of many guardians to those two little girls. But with all that torn away, well, looks like I've got some company at last.

It's almost pathetic, how nice it fools me into feeling, not being alone.

"What'd yours do?"

[little_moons]

"He fucked me. Literally. Convinced me that we were in love and that the rest of the world just didn't understand us," I admit with a bitter snort of laughter, 'cause it just... it sounds pathetic. He sounds pathetic. That's all he ever was, and it's sad that I once thought he was so amazing.

"Taught me how to get people to do whatever I wanted. Turned me into a really fuckin' great liar. And then he disappeared without a fuckin' word, and I was left waitin' for him to come back. And the really fuckin' pathetic part is that I didn't realize how much I fuckin' hated him until I came here."