The Things He Lost
Characters/Pairings: Sawyer, Richard
Rating: PG
Summary: Boys are disappearing from Sawyer's town, and some familiar faces may be responsible.
Notes: Kind of AU. I don't know how this would fit into the main story.
There isn't much once you pass the used car lot. Everything starts running together: fields, a random spotting of shrubs and trees, a couple of houses and mailboxes and driveways and the things that usually accompany houses. There isn't much, but a gravel road runs through all of it, and it's the only home any of em have ever known.
The boys. The girls. Their mamas and daddies. The school and the church and the used car lot and the bar were staples of their lives, and who knew there was anything to miss? Bicycles rusting in ditches and a pretty girl every now and then. That's all a young boy knew. There wasn't nothing to miss.
Except the boys that just left sometimes.
Boys you'd see hammering on the Coke machine one Friday afternoon when they were supposed to be in school just vanished by Monday. Some people would say they saw them playing by their back fence. Others claim they drove past them on the gravel road and thought it was nice that kids were spending their time outside instead of inside with the devil's music like the older kids were doing so often.
But no matter what they'd been doing last, no one ever saw them again.
A few realized that the only ones who ever left were the ones who wouldn't be missed much, and just like the technological advances found in larger towns and cities, they weren't missed much.
Some made up wild stories about mountain folk who wanted new blood. Others whispered about abusive daddies and booze and old business deals gone bad. Some of the older boys were subject to rumors about the pretty girls they spent time with. They were most certainly dodging responsibility.
The town pastor took a hard-nosed "don't ask, don't tell" approach to the problem. It wasn't anyone's business whether the father was abusive, or the mother couldn't handle him anymore and sent him off for her parents to raise. Nobody needed to know their affairs.
*
James didn't believe in boys who just plain disappeared.
Naw, he had gotten lost plenty of times and come out in a completely new town he didn't know existed. Then he just walked back through the woods for a day or two to get back home and told Nan he'd just been fishing and got lost along the way.
He expected that the boys--some he knew pretty well--just found something better on the other side of the woods. He never found nothing worth sticking around for, but maybe they got lost in other woods or walked longer, in another direction. He hoped they found something better.
As he cut across a field on his way back home, he wondered how anyone could get lost out here for more than a couple of days. Nothing but sky and grass, some trees and the occasional wild animal. Evening was creeping up on the countryside and things looked different than they did in the daylight, but these kids had spent their entire lives out here. Sleeping under trees, hunting squirrels, trying to impress girls. And they all seemed damn happy when they left.
But they were all alone. James himself would have been written off as a runaway, of course. Even his grandparents would back that up. There was a set of train tracks way out by the county line that he would follow sometimes in hopes of finding a train he could hop, but he never had any intentions of running for good.
Who runs away from free food?
And none of them had problems at home that he knew of. Everyone's daddy drank in this town. The bar and the PTA were made up of the same faces. Everyone had issues, but none of the boys who disappeared had much to complain about. They were all troublemakers, they all liked girls more than they needed to, and they all skipped church. But they were good students when they tried, or they would have been.
Eddie built a rocket and won a prize at the fair in Murfreesboro. Sal built a car and drove it to Macon and back last summer. And Gene and his brother Carl wrote a book about birds that won a literary award. No one saw that one coming.
In a way, James was kind of relieved that he hadn't done anything special. That seemed to be the one thing they all had in common. But they probably just ran off to bigger things, bigger cities. They'd read an article in twenty years about Eddie working for NASA. And then the rumors would stop.
No, mountain folk didn't steal nobody.
*
James rounded the corner that led to his driveway and was met with blinding white light. He cursed, shielding his eyes.
A car was sitting just in front of the driveway. His grandparents owned a truck and no one ever traveled this road. The car had a smooth look to it--curves where most cars he saw around here had straight lines. The lights dimmed slightly, as if someone inside the car realized they were blinding him.
The driver's side door opened and the shape of a man emerged from the car. James braced himself to fight if he had to, but he doubted a wiry 12-year-old could do anything to a grown man. Luckily, the man didn't seem to be taking an aggressive stance. Instead, he rested a hand on the roof of his car and seemed to be scratching his ear with the other. James prepared to say something but the man spoke first.
"You know, you shouldn't be out after dark."
"I know my way around," he responded shakily. The stranger spoke smoothly, confidently.
"Well," he said as he started to walk around the car, "I've found that one can get lost in the most familiar of places."
His face and body were clear at last. The man had dark hair and eyes and was wearing a plain white dress shirt and tie. He was smiling in a slightly off-putting way, and he put both of his hands in his front pockets.
When James just stared at him, he tried again. "I could take you to a friend's house if you like."
"My house is right up here, thanks." He gestured at the driveway for effect.
The man raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well I saw a truck leave just a few minutes before you showed up. I don't think they're home."
"They don't go anywhere on Saturdays," he said coldly. "And why are you here, anyway? Who are you?"
The man's smile faded slightly. "My car was having some issues, and I wanted to stop in front of a house. We're pretty far out."
"And my grandpa didn't help you?"
His smile had all but disappeared.
And the words escaped his mouth before he had time to think.
"What happened to Gene?"
Several things happened at once. James decided this was too much and tried to run; the man moved quickly for the first time and went for his wrists; the engine of another car roared to life somewhere down the road. This startled the man and he released him.
They were not alone, although the man seemed to be calling for someone else. And James ran. He ran so hard he threw up when he stopped. And he realized that the boys weren't being sent off to their extended families in Indiana or Kentucky--they weren't running from responsibility, they weren't finding better lives. They weren't being stolen by mountain folk, either, but that was closer to the truth.
Later, when Nan and Pop told him that they had received an urgent call about Aunt Lisa, only to find her alive and well at home that evening. They were glad he had found his way to Ron's house, and that he had gotten a hot meal. He never told them what happened that night. He didn't see what good it would do.
Nobody went missing after that, at least not to his knowledge. The town talked more about that than they ever did the disappearances. And it wasn't until years later, long after James became Sawyer, did he remember the night he had blocked so efficiently from his memory. The man he had forgotten. The boys he played board games with. The rocket they launched for the first time in Eddie's backyard, the book they had laughed at Gene and Carl for writing, the car Sal worked so hard to build that summer. And it wasn't until Sal emerged from beneath a blue Volkswagen bus with grease on his hands but the same eyes, the same hair, the same skill as a mechanic, did he fully remember the things time had stolen from him.
Rating: PG
Summary: Boys are disappearing from Sawyer's town, and some familiar faces may be responsible.
Notes: Kind of AU. I don't know how this would fit into the main story.
There isn't much once you pass the used car lot. Everything starts running together: fields, a random spotting of shrubs and trees, a couple of houses and mailboxes and driveways and the things that usually accompany houses. There isn't much, but a gravel road runs through all of it, and it's the only home any of em have ever known.
The boys. The girls. Their mamas and daddies. The school and the church and the used car lot and the bar were staples of their lives, and who knew there was anything to miss? Bicycles rusting in ditches and a pretty girl every now and then. That's all a young boy knew. There wasn't nothing to miss.
Except the boys that just left sometimes.
Boys you'd see hammering on the Coke machine one Friday afternoon when they were supposed to be in school just vanished by Monday. Some people would say they saw them playing by their back fence. Others claim they drove past them on the gravel road and thought it was nice that kids were spending their time outside instead of inside with the devil's music like the older kids were doing so often.
But no matter what they'd been doing last, no one ever saw them again.
A few realized that the only ones who ever left were the ones who wouldn't be missed much, and just like the technological advances found in larger towns and cities, they weren't missed much.
Some made up wild stories about mountain folk who wanted new blood. Others whispered about abusive daddies and booze and old business deals gone bad. Some of the older boys were subject to rumors about the pretty girls they spent time with. They were most certainly dodging responsibility.
The town pastor took a hard-nosed "don't ask, don't tell" approach to the problem. It wasn't anyone's business whether the father was abusive, or the mother couldn't handle him anymore and sent him off for her parents to raise. Nobody needed to know their affairs.
*
James didn't believe in boys who just plain disappeared.
Naw, he had gotten lost plenty of times and come out in a completely new town he didn't know existed. Then he just walked back through the woods for a day or two to get back home and told Nan he'd just been fishing and got lost along the way.
He expected that the boys--some he knew pretty well--just found something better on the other side of the woods. He never found nothing worth sticking around for, but maybe they got lost in other woods or walked longer, in another direction. He hoped they found something better.
As he cut across a field on his way back home, he wondered how anyone could get lost out here for more than a couple of days. Nothing but sky and grass, some trees and the occasional wild animal. Evening was creeping up on the countryside and things looked different than they did in the daylight, but these kids had spent their entire lives out here. Sleeping under trees, hunting squirrels, trying to impress girls. And they all seemed damn happy when they left.
But they were all alone. James himself would have been written off as a runaway, of course. Even his grandparents would back that up. There was a set of train tracks way out by the county line that he would follow sometimes in hopes of finding a train he could hop, but he never had any intentions of running for good.
Who runs away from free food?
And none of them had problems at home that he knew of. Everyone's daddy drank in this town. The bar and the PTA were made up of the same faces. Everyone had issues, but none of the boys who disappeared had much to complain about. They were all troublemakers, they all liked girls more than they needed to, and they all skipped church. But they were good students when they tried, or they would have been.
Eddie built a rocket and won a prize at the fair in Murfreesboro. Sal built a car and drove it to Macon and back last summer. And Gene and his brother Carl wrote a book about birds that won a literary award. No one saw that one coming.
In a way, James was kind of relieved that he hadn't done anything special. That seemed to be the one thing they all had in common. But they probably just ran off to bigger things, bigger cities. They'd read an article in twenty years about Eddie working for NASA. And then the rumors would stop.
No, mountain folk didn't steal nobody.
*
James rounded the corner that led to his driveway and was met with blinding white light. He cursed, shielding his eyes.
A car was sitting just in front of the driveway. His grandparents owned a truck and no one ever traveled this road. The car had a smooth look to it--curves where most cars he saw around here had straight lines. The lights dimmed slightly, as if someone inside the car realized they were blinding him.
The driver's side door opened and the shape of a man emerged from the car. James braced himself to fight if he had to, but he doubted a wiry 12-year-old could do anything to a grown man. Luckily, the man didn't seem to be taking an aggressive stance. Instead, he rested a hand on the roof of his car and seemed to be scratching his ear with the other. James prepared to say something but the man spoke first.
"You know, you shouldn't be out after dark."
"I know my way around," he responded shakily. The stranger spoke smoothly, confidently.
"Well," he said as he started to walk around the car, "I've found that one can get lost in the most familiar of places."
His face and body were clear at last. The man had dark hair and eyes and was wearing a plain white dress shirt and tie. He was smiling in a slightly off-putting way, and he put both of his hands in his front pockets.
When James just stared at him, he tried again. "I could take you to a friend's house if you like."
"My house is right up here, thanks." He gestured at the driveway for effect.
The man raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well I saw a truck leave just a few minutes before you showed up. I don't think they're home."
"They don't go anywhere on Saturdays," he said coldly. "And why are you here, anyway? Who are you?"
The man's smile faded slightly. "My car was having some issues, and I wanted to stop in front of a house. We're pretty far out."
"And my grandpa didn't help you?"
His smile had all but disappeared.
And the words escaped his mouth before he had time to think.
"What happened to Gene?"
Several things happened at once. James decided this was too much and tried to run; the man moved quickly for the first time and went for his wrists; the engine of another car roared to life somewhere down the road. This startled the man and he released him.
They were not alone, although the man seemed to be calling for someone else. And James ran. He ran so hard he threw up when he stopped. And he realized that the boys weren't being sent off to their extended families in Indiana or Kentucky--they weren't running from responsibility, they weren't finding better lives. They weren't being stolen by mountain folk, either, but that was closer to the truth.
Later, when Nan and Pop told him that they had received an urgent call about Aunt Lisa, only to find her alive and well at home that evening. They were glad he had found his way to Ron's house, and that he had gotten a hot meal. He never told them what happened that night. He didn't see what good it would do.
Nobody went missing after that, at least not to his knowledge. The town talked more about that than they ever did the disappearances. And it wasn't until years later, long after James became Sawyer, did he remember the night he had blocked so efficiently from his memory. The man he had forgotten. The boys he played board games with. The rocket they launched for the first time in Eddie's backyard, the book they had laughed at Gene and Carl for writing, the car Sal worked so hard to build that summer. And it wasn't until Sal emerged from beneath a blue Volkswagen bus with grease on his hands but the same eyes, the same hair, the same skill as a mechanic, did he fully remember the things time had stolen from him.