(lost) who we are
Title: Who We Are
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Sawyer, Desmond
Spoilers: Up to "Meet Kevin Johnson"
Prompt: "I thought if I acted like someone else, I’d feel more comfortable with myself." - lostsquee; "I can be like you." - un_love_you
Summary: "It’s not what you do, it’s what you are."
There was no moon that night, but the approaching storm lit up the sky like violent fireworks, providing just enough light through the tiny windows for Sawyer to weave his way between the bodies that littered the floor beneath his feet. Most of them lay motionless in sleep, but it could easily have been the eternal stillness of Death, whose icy grip had strangled the life from countless bodies scattered across the jungle outside.
There was a soft whimper in the dark, a sound he had grown accustomed to in the past few days. It was the sound of heartbreak, of loss. And though he could not make her out in the shadows, he could imagine Claire’s small frame trembling in the dark, arms outstretched in search of a bodily warmth she would never find. As he stepped out of the temple and into the night, he wondered for whom she cried that night. For the lover who had died or the son she had lost.
The air was thick and heavy with humidity as he leaned up against the stone wall just outside the entrance to the temple. He reached into the front pocket of his shirt and produced a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches that he had pilfered from the barracks before they had fled. When he brought the lit cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, his body went numb in ecstasy.
There was a flash of lightening immediately followed by a roar of thunder so deafening that it seemed to shake the very earth beneath his feet. Again and again the sky flashed, the heavens roared, and the island shook as if cowering in fear as Mother Nature unleashed her punishment for the crimes committed by its inhabitants.
Behind him, someone cleared their throat and Sawyer cast a glance over his shoulder. He could see nothing in the darkness, but then another flash of lightening illuminated the tunneled entrance to the temple and revealed a disheveled man with a look of absolute exhaustion in his eyes. Sawyer nodded his head in greeting and slid over on the wall to make room.
“Out again, eh, brother?”
Sawyer shrugged and passed the cigarette over to the newcomer who hesitated before taking a long drag. He exhaled so slowly and deeply that Sawyer glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was still breathing, so very much like the sigh of death his exhale had seemed. Desmond passed the cigarette back to Sawyer.
“Gonna have to stop givin’ me that,” he said, motioning to the cigarette in Sawyer’s hand, “It’s bad for my health.”
Sawyer snorted and put the cigarette to his lips. “There’re things out in that jungle that’ll kill me before this will.”
“Aye, but do you really have to stand out here all night and expose yourself to both?”
“It ain’t natural, us penned up in there like animals waiting to be slaughtered. I’d rather be out there, fending for myself.”
“Then why’re you still here?”
Sawyer said nothing and flicked his cigarette out into the night. The two stood in silence for a few moments, watching as the storm raged overhead.
Desmond turned to look at Sawyer, whose face was still gazing upward, the reflection of lightening flashing in his eyes.
“You ever been in love, brother?”
Sawyer’s jerked his head down to look at Desmond. The question had caught him off guard, such a change from their usual rapport of drawing comfort from the presence of another who shared a vicious need to survive. Sawyer labored for his own survival because that was all he had known for most of his life; to do anything else was completely foreign to him. He sensed that Desmond was just as heedful of his own continued existence, but why after so many had fallen into hopelessness, he was not sure.
Sawyer turned to face him, but the other man’s eyes were staring out into the darkness.
“Once,” Sawyer answered before he could stop himself, “But it didn’t stick.”
Desmond turned his head to look at Sawyer. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “She ran.”
“People do frivolous things for love. Leave when they should stay. Yield when they should fight…” He sighed and went silent for a moment. “It’s worth fighting for. Struggling for. But if you never feel worthy, if you never feel worth her love, then what’s the point, yeah?”
Sawyer’s brow furrowed. “Why are you tellin’ me this?”
“Do you believe a person can change?”
He shook his head. “People don’t change. They can act, they can lie. Hell, they may even kid themselves into thinkin’ they’ve changed. Nobody smiles wider than a fool. But deep down…” He paused as a memory surfaced, one that had haunted him every day since. “‘It’s not what you do, it’s what you are.’ You can dress a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he’s still a wolf.”
Desmond nodded slowly and looked back out in to the jungle.
There was a rumble of distant thunder. The storm had passed.
Sawyer pushed himself away from the wall and began to retreat back into the temple for another sleepless night. He glanced to see if Desmond was following, but he was motionless, still gazing thoughtfully into the dark jungle. He looked back at Sawyer.
“I have to believe a man can change. That the man he is is not necessarily the man he’s supposed to be.”
Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck, looked down at his feet for a moment and then back at Desmond. “Well,” he shrugged, “I never was an optimist.” He smiled half-heartedly and nodded his head toward the entrance of the temple.
Desmond joined him, and the two men quietly returned to their sanctuary and were swallowed up by the darkness. Bodies still littered the floor like a pillaged mausoleum, and Claire’s soft whimpers broke the silence and filled the air with a sadness so thick it was suffocating.
Sawyer found his corner and slid to the floor, resting his head against the cool, stone wall. Desmond’s words echoed in his ears, and as he closed his eyes and waited for morning, he wondered just who it was he was supposed to be.
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Sawyer, Desmond
Spoilers: Up to "Meet Kevin Johnson"
Prompt: "I thought if I acted like someone else, I’d feel more comfortable with myself." - lostsquee; "I can be like you." - un_love_you
Summary: "It’s not what you do, it’s what you are."
There was no moon that night, but the approaching storm lit up the sky like violent fireworks, providing just enough light through the tiny windows for Sawyer to weave his way between the bodies that littered the floor beneath his feet. Most of them lay motionless in sleep, but it could easily have been the eternal stillness of Death, whose icy grip had strangled the life from countless bodies scattered across the jungle outside.
There was a soft whimper in the dark, a sound he had grown accustomed to in the past few days. It was the sound of heartbreak, of loss. And though he could not make her out in the shadows, he could imagine Claire’s small frame trembling in the dark, arms outstretched in search of a bodily warmth she would never find. As he stepped out of the temple and into the night, he wondered for whom she cried that night. For the lover who had died or the son she had lost.
The air was thick and heavy with humidity as he leaned up against the stone wall just outside the entrance to the temple. He reached into the front pocket of his shirt and produced a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches that he had pilfered from the barracks before they had fled. When he brought the lit cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, his body went numb in ecstasy.
There was a flash of lightening immediately followed by a roar of thunder so deafening that it seemed to shake the very earth beneath his feet. Again and again the sky flashed, the heavens roared, and the island shook as if cowering in fear as Mother Nature unleashed her punishment for the crimes committed by its inhabitants.
Behind him, someone cleared their throat and Sawyer cast a glance over his shoulder. He could see nothing in the darkness, but then another flash of lightening illuminated the tunneled entrance to the temple and revealed a disheveled man with a look of absolute exhaustion in his eyes. Sawyer nodded his head in greeting and slid over on the wall to make room.
“Out again, eh, brother?”
Sawyer shrugged and passed the cigarette over to the newcomer who hesitated before taking a long drag. He exhaled so slowly and deeply that Sawyer glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was still breathing, so very much like the sigh of death his exhale had seemed. Desmond passed the cigarette back to Sawyer.
“Gonna have to stop givin’ me that,” he said, motioning to the cigarette in Sawyer’s hand, “It’s bad for my health.”
Sawyer snorted and put the cigarette to his lips. “There’re things out in that jungle that’ll kill me before this will.”
“Aye, but do you really have to stand out here all night and expose yourself to both?”
“It ain’t natural, us penned up in there like animals waiting to be slaughtered. I’d rather be out there, fending for myself.”
“Then why’re you still here?”
Sawyer said nothing and flicked his cigarette out into the night. The two stood in silence for a few moments, watching as the storm raged overhead.
Desmond turned to look at Sawyer, whose face was still gazing upward, the reflection of lightening flashing in his eyes.
“You ever been in love, brother?”
Sawyer’s jerked his head down to look at Desmond. The question had caught him off guard, such a change from their usual rapport of drawing comfort from the presence of another who shared a vicious need to survive. Sawyer labored for his own survival because that was all he had known for most of his life; to do anything else was completely foreign to him. He sensed that Desmond was just as heedful of his own continued existence, but why after so many had fallen into hopelessness, he was not sure.
Sawyer turned to face him, but the other man’s eyes were staring out into the darkness.
“Once,” Sawyer answered before he could stop himself, “But it didn’t stick.”
Desmond turned his head to look at Sawyer. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “She ran.”
“People do frivolous things for love. Leave when they should stay. Yield when they should fight…” He sighed and went silent for a moment. “It’s worth fighting for. Struggling for. But if you never feel worthy, if you never feel worth her love, then what’s the point, yeah?”
Sawyer’s brow furrowed. “Why are you tellin’ me this?”
“Do you believe a person can change?”
He shook his head. “People don’t change. They can act, they can lie. Hell, they may even kid themselves into thinkin’ they’ve changed. Nobody smiles wider than a fool. But deep down…” He paused as a memory surfaced, one that had haunted him every day since. “‘It’s not what you do, it’s what you are.’ You can dress a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he’s still a wolf.”
Desmond nodded slowly and looked back out in to the jungle.
There was a rumble of distant thunder. The storm had passed.
Sawyer pushed himself away from the wall and began to retreat back into the temple for another sleepless night. He glanced to see if Desmond was following, but he was motionless, still gazing thoughtfully into the dark jungle. He looked back at Sawyer.
“I have to believe a man can change. That the man he is is not necessarily the man he’s supposed to be.”
Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck, looked down at his feet for a moment and then back at Desmond. “Well,” he shrugged, “I never was an optimist.” He smiled half-heartedly and nodded his head toward the entrance of the temple.
Desmond joined him, and the two men quietly returned to their sanctuary and were swallowed up by the darkness. Bodies still littered the floor like a pillaged mausoleum, and Claire’s soft whimpers broke the silence and filled the air with a sadness so thick it was suffocating.
Sawyer found his corner and slid to the floor, resting his head against the cool, stone wall. Desmond’s words echoed in his ears, and as he closed his eyes and waited for morning, he wondered just who it was he was supposed to be.