For Queen elise_509
For her Queenly request,
elise_509 has asked to be reminded what she loved about James Ford so that she might recapture that after Season 5. Darling, it’s ironic for me that you have fallen out with Sawyer, for you were the person who first made me like him, when my impression of him was so much the leering redneck. Through the way you captured his true voice in your fics, even your AU fics, you saw into his head and shared the vision of his character in a way that canon Sawyer occasionally pushed away.
So I’m regifting - giving you back bits of your own work that are among my personal favorites, that might reacquaint you with the heart and soul of the Sawyer that you love! *big Hurley hug*
(some excerpts are rated R for language)
An Artist’s Touch
“Yeah, what would you have pegged me as?” James challenges playfully, but Jack isn’t confident enough to match his tone, pulling back as James tries to push forward.
“Wouldn’t have pegged you as anything, really,” Jack murmurs lowly, hiding his discomfort with another sip of his wine. “I’m not very good at judging people.”
“All you have to do is sit back and watch, Jack,” James replies. “People want you to figure them out just as much as they don’t. Ain’t no point in bein’ a mystery if you don’t have an answer. Wait long enough and people will show you what they’re about.” He pauses. “Eventually.”
A Pain That I’m Used To
Sawyer did what Sawyer wanted and Jack had spent his whole life putting others first and never doing what he wanted. They’d still wound up the same. Alone.
He knows that while Sawyer was in fact a walking and talking lie, down to his name, but stripped down to the basics, he was the most honest person he’d ever met. He spoke what he thought and didn’t hold back for someone else’s sake. Jack, a person who treasured honesty, tried to be upfront about everything with everyone, but knew deep down that he had yet to meet a person who truly knew him. Such a task would be impossible for anyone, because not even Jack knows who he is. He just knows what people want him to be.
..............
“Fucking kiss me or kill me already, Doc,” Sawyer murmurs after a few moments, his voice hoarse, low, but soft, with a hint of barely concealed desperation. Jack’s lips dance across his again, feather light, and Sawyer bites back a groan. “Please, Jack…”
and much, much later:
from Part 6
Sawyer stops to take a look at Jack and realizes that he’s falling asleep already, his head back against the headboard, the Chinese container still in hand. Sawyer sighs and reaches over, taking it from him and setting it aside, then shakes his head.
“Tryin’ to tell you a god damn story and you’re fallin’ asleep.”
“Mmm…sorry…” Jack mumbles, turning on his side and slipping down to his pillow, too tired to care.
“Whatever.” Sawyer says, pretending to be pissed off even though he completely understands. He clears the rest of the bed off and lays down next to Jack, turning off the TV and the light on his nightstand before fitting himself against Jack’s body. “Bought all this fuckin’ food and you don’t even eat it,” he mutters, nonetheless letting Jack wrap his arms around him and pull him closer.
“Love you, Sawyer,” Jack murmurs sleepily against his shoulder. Sawyer covers Jack’s hands with his and settles against his pillow, laughing lightly.
“Fuckin’ love you too, Jackass.”
Laura, sometimes you have the knack for writing the show before the writers do. A little foreshadowing of James LaFleur:
Nailed
Sawyer watches them as they nod and bound toward his truck. They’re eager to please but clumsy and stupid, like big Saint Bernard puppies that want approval but accidentally destroy the house as they lumber about. It’s strange to have them running around and doing as he says and it’s probably for that reason why he tends to forgive them anything, even though he snipes and criticizes them enough to make them fear that he won’t just let it go. His patience has grown considerably since he took them on; he’s never had people who looked up to him before and truth is, he kind of gets a kick out of it.
Some days he's tempted to tell them that they shouldn't respect him, shouldn't want his approval, dash their rosy-colored image of him by telling them both about his sordid past, but he doesn't. He looks at the life he's created for himself since he's been back and decides to let it be. He's a real live stand-up guy now, with business cards that actually have his real phone number and real name on them. The little white rectangles read James Ford, Ford Construction, but eventually he tells everyone to call him Sawyer. It's the one habit he just hasn't been able to break.
and a little dose of rain and storm for today's Queen, siluria
Nailed, part three
“Roof’s all done…I don’t mind a little rain,” Sawyer murmurs, eyes rising toward the ceiling and then leveling back toward Jack, giving him a small shrug.
“You used to hate it. On the island.” Sawyer fixes Jack with a surprised stare; he can’t help it. Jack has never brought up the island before, not on his own. He recovers and pretends to consider the point for a moment.
“I hated getting wet…I didn’t mind the rain.” He smiles but his eyes darken, gaining a bit of predatory confidence as he suddenly feels that Jack is right where he wants him.
“Is there a difference?” Jack inquires, his voice hitching as Sawyer’s hands find his hips, holding him tightly. Sawyer moves so close that his next words brush against Jack’s cheeks like a warm caress.
“’Course there is…” Jack shifts underneath his touch, apprehensive but yearning. “One you’re watchin’ the storm... the other, well, you’re in it, ain’t ya.”
His words become touch, hands soft on Jack’s freshly shaven face. Sawyer holds Jack delicately when he presses his lips to his face, his kisses feather light over Jack’s skin until he claims his mouth. When he moves to deepen it, Jack’s hands find his wrists, trying to stop it even though he was the one who drew Sawyer in. Sawyer hushes him, not allowing him to pull back.
“I know you’re in it, Doc…I know.”
“Sawyer…” Jack whispers, the two syllables shattering underneath the weight of all the contradictory emotions they tried to support.
“C’mon, Doc…only a damned fool stands out ‘n the rain when he knows full well he can come inside.”
Jack opens his mouth like he wants to say something but he stops abruptly, instead opting to press his parted lips to Sawyer’s.
Something gives, something breaks and suddenly the kiss is passionate, fervent; he feels Jack with him more than he has felt before. He never realized until then that this is what he always imagined kissing Jack would be like. Every kiss before this one, the ones that had sent shivers down his spine, pale in comparison. This is real. This is right.