The Third Law of Motion
Title: The Third Law of Motion
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Word Count: 4000
Rating: PG
A/N: Just a quick one for the luau 2009 at lostsquee for
elise_509 who asked for us to help her fall back in love with Sawyer. This one takes place around 5x10. Hope you enjoy. :)
^^ The Third Law of Motion
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Kate could still hear the familiar sounds of the ocean crashing in the distance even though she knew it wasn't really there. They were too far inland to hear much over the trill of canopy birds and the occasional backfiring of an engine. It was almost surreal to be experiencing it at all, cars, and houses, in the middle of the jungle where they had survived for almost three months with next to nothing.
She remembered how eager they had been to flee last time. To rescue Jack, to get the hell out of there; back when he was the driving force to get them home. She could only see his back from her vantage point on the porch step. Sawyer too was watching him, head slunk low as he sauntered off into the darkness.
"Nice night, Freckles," he bridged the gap between their houses.
"Yeah, it is," Kate croaked, wincing at the sound of her own voice.
He blinked at her and cocked his head toward where Jack had been standing. "Hell, ain't Doc Giggles head'n the wrong direction?"
"He's staying with Hurley." She ran her fingers along the gouges in the veranda, turning slightly so she didn't quite have to meet his eyes.
He gave a low snort. "Maybe you oughta invite him over. Doc'll be real pleasant tomorrow, Pillsbury snores like a god damn elephant."
Her eyes flashed with something he couldn't read nor begin to understand. "Since when did you start worrying about Jack?" She countered defensively.
"Since when did you stop?" He retorted, feeling the edge smolder from his voice. Whatever irritation and anger he had lashed at Jack for disrupting his seemingly 'perfect' life in Dharmaville seemed to fizzle straight out of him like a deflated balloon. He wet his lips, opening him mouth wide enough to bear his teeth and sigh.
"If there's something wrong with Jacko I need to know about it."
"You need to know about it?" She repeated coldly, squaring her shoulders and fixing him with a lethal glare.
"You need to know about it... how after the island we were happy, he proposed to me. Me of all people, getting married. You need to know about how we had the perfect life, house in the suburbs, ice cream and a stroll on the boardwalk on Saturdays. Then he changed, left me to raise Aaron. You need to know about how he started drinking and calling me every Friday night stoned on his pills? Is that it James?"
Sawyer raised an eyebrow in disbelief, mildly surprised to hear the former doctor hand been around town after all.
"Guess you're gonna have to give him a second chance ain't ya, Kate? He’s given you enough." He said a little too harshly, wincing at the loud crack of her hand connecting with his cheek.
He gingerly rubbed his face. "You've got one hell of a backhand. You been practicing?"
"How can you even suggest that?" She seethed, her eyes narrowing with contempt.
Pissed off he shot back at her, "Cause you and me had our chance Freckles. And Doc Mopey over there, he needs ya."
Kate's muscles tensed. His eyes trained on the way she recoiled, as if she was falling back into old habits, ready to run. Only this time there was nowhere to run.
Grunting, Sawyer threw up his hands, "Look, I'm just saying that the Doc, hasn't been the Doc since he's been back. He refused to save the damn kid. That's like the god damn Pope being convicted of murder."
"People change, James. You of all people should know that."
He shrugged. "Change ain't so bad, Freckles. At least most of the time."
"So you and Juliet..." she paused.
"I love her," he finished for her, unsure if admitting something they had been skating around was good for them or if he was just rubbing salt in the wound.
"You seem happy. Both of you. That's good." She sounded bitter, jealous almost.
"And you love Jack," he reminded. "Maybe you should take a page out of his book and try fixing him?"
"Never thought I'd see the day you started sticking of for him," Kate breathed, fighting back the rawness in her tone. She wrung her hands and pushed herself away from the railing. She took a deep breath and tilted her head skyward, storm clouds were moving in masking the last sliver of moonlight from illuminating the grass. It even smelled like rain.
He ignored her obvious efforts to find a quick escape and shuffled his feet.
"Come on," he nodded toward the house that he and Juliet shared. "Let's move this little discussion inside."
Juliet was sitting on the couch when they entered, flipping through an old magazine. She didn't look at all surprised to see them there, even with Kate shouldering away to one side, increasingly uncertain.
"Don't you think you were a little hard on him?" She glanced up at Sawyer who grinned slightly though he was almost on the verge of feeling guilty. Maybe he had changed.
"Just wanted to see if the Doc had any fight at all left in him. Didn't expect him to hang his head and take it. Turns out he's been having himself a hell of a pity party since he led the Great Chopper Escape. Freckles here tells me he starting to turn after his old man and popping pills like some sort of VH1 has-been."
The blonde woman's response was muffled by a loud knocking and Hurley shuffling in to meet them.
“What’s eating you, Mongo?” The southerner quirked an eyebrow at the larger man’s uneasy expression.
“Dudes, I think there’s something wrong with Jack.”
“Why’s that, Mutton Chops?”
Hurley shook his head, frowning. “He’s just sitting on the couch staring at the wall. It’s like he’s snapped or something and I mean the dude was assigned to be a janitor, what’s with that?”
“Best I could do on short notice.” Sawyer huffed, waving him in. “Was work’n on getting it changed.”
Kate’s bottom lip twitched. “Has he been drinking?”
“Not that I know of.” Hurley squinted to see her in the dull lamplight that flickered across the pasty walls.
Something painful played along her lips. “He started blaming himself for all of this. He became obsessed with finding the island.”
“It sounds like he’s depressed.” Juliet dropped the magazine on the coffee table, glancing from Sawyer to Kate and back again.
I heard once Winston Churchill read a book every night, even during the Blitz. He said it made him think better. It's how I like to run things. I think. I'm sure that doesn't mean that much to you, 'cause back when you were calling the shots, you pretty much just reacted. See, you didn't think, Jack, and as I recall, a lot of people ended up dead.
The southerner shoved his hands into his pockets and suddenly felt almost guilty. He had only been trying to get a rise out of Jack. To get him to react.
“Question is, Ladies, what are we gonna do about it.” He continued smoothly, letting himself sink into the warn out fabric of the dusty wingback chair by the bookshelf. He tapped the polished end table and frowned.
“What makes you think we can do anything?” Kate was hesitant, afraid that after all they had been through together that he couldn’t be fixed, that he wasn’t worth that second change despite, the third and the fourth he had given her.
“Cause I don’t think you’ll like living with the alternative, Freckles.” Sawyer's voice was dry and serious, crackling in the air around them. “We’ve gotta find a way to give El Docko his stethoscope back.”
“Maybe you should take him camping so he can be island Jack again?” Hurley quipped earning an odd look from Kate.
“Island Jack?” Sawyer scoffed.
“You know, when he was all hardcore and leader like.”
“He does have a point, James. You could try the whole male bonding thing.Taking him out into the jungle might just do him some good.” Juliet fixed him with a persistent grin that made groan and shake his head.
The expression on his face was incredulous. “With Jacko? Well damn just a second there, let me go get my fishing rod and then afterwards we can head over to Cavetown and roast marshmallows. I ain't Oprah, Sweetheart.”
“Dude, everybody loves marshmallows,” Hurley assured. “Come on, Jack’s really not looking so good.”
“Oh hell no Deepdish, can’t we just drop him off on Dr. Phil’s doorstep and be done with it?” He wasn't liking where this was going at all.
“That might actually help,” Kate said slowly. She wanted to see the old Jack more than anyone.
That was it. He was cornered. God damn Brokeback Mountain with Jacko.
“Fine. Doc and I will hit the beaten track. Guess we’ll need a plan then.” Sawyer threw up his hands and spoke with a begrudging tone. Hurley watched, an amused expression creeping across his face that seemed to spread right up to his eyes.
“Care to share with the class?” The con man glared at him pointedly.
“Sorry, it’s just you’re acting more like Jack then Jack is.”
"Well that’s just dandy,” Sawyer snorted, rolling his eyes.
***
Hurley didn’t know what Seconal was, but he did know that when he put it in Jack’s coffee the next morning the man was on the floor before less than a third of the mug had been drained.
“For your own good, dude.” He had whispered apologetically as Sawyer hoisted him in a fireman’s carry and tossed him in the back of the hippy style Dharma van. The doctor’s head lolled as southerner slammed the door, glancing across the compound to make sure they weren’t being watched.
“I’ve taken the day off, so you’ll have to find a way to amuse yourself without Dr. Giggles here,” he grunted.
“Just get him back to normal.” Hurley grinned as the con man rolled his eyes. “He ain’t ever been normal to begin with.”
Kate and Juliet were watching them from the front porch. Sawyer arced his hand in a wave, still sputtering, as he slid into the driver’s seat and mumbled something into his radio.
They had been driving for over an hour before Jack moaned, dragging his sleep muddled brain into a state of half alertness. Waking up was like pulling himself up from under water. It took effort. Five more minutes before he finally opened his eyes and ten after that to finally notice Sawyer’s pale blue ones staring back at him. The expression on the con man's face was unreadable, calculating, as his features knitted together in a brief moment of concentration.
Disoriented, Jack rolled to sit up only to be pushed back down by two strong hands.
“Easy Hoss, take a minute to catch your breath,” Sawyer drawled slowlly as he unfolded himself from Jack’s field of vision, allowing the dark haired male to notice, for the first time, that he was in the back of the van from yesterday. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes and reopening them again. The southerner was leaning back from the driver’s seat, a semi-guilty expression plastered across his lips.
“You drugged me.” Jack stated flatly, squeezing the bridge of his nose. His head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.
Sawyer didn’t respond right away. He had changed into an old blue t-shirt and was surveying a battered, topographic map that was pressed against the steering wheel. A sleek pair of sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. “Hugo may have slipped you a little something.” he agreed finally. "Didn't think he had it in him."
“And now you’re kidnapping me,” Jack stated groggily and very much annoyed. He pushed himself to a seated position, ignoring the blood rushing to his head. The woozy feeling intensified when he crawled across the back seat and made a lunge for the door handle. Sawyer hadn’t bothered to lock it so he half fell, half stumbled out of the vehicle as the door released.
Shaking it off, he stood up straight and scanned the area wildly for some sort of indication to where he was. Miles upon miles of cypress trees cut crudely into the landscape in all directions.
“Jesus Sawyer, if you are going to kill me at least have the guts to tell me to my face.” His tone was dry holding the slightest hint of worry.
Sawyer watched him through the windshield, not bothering to hide a grin so wide that his teeth were showing. “No worries, Doc,” he called through the open door. “If that was the plan you would have kicked off long ago,” his voice was playful almost.
“Then what the hell did you bring me out here for?” Jack’s voice held a familiar trace of irritation.
The con man tossed a black and green back pack at his feet. “Figured you’d enjoy the view,” he shrugged. "Hell, it'd make a damn fine postcard."
"Sawyer, what are we doing here?" He let the hand that was squeezing the bridge of his nose drop back to his side.
"Looked like ya needed a break from Dharmavile, Doc. Clean'n toilets and dust'n off chalk boards starting ta get to ya?"
"I'm doing just fine." Jack snapped the sharpest voice he could, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.
"Well from where I'm standing you need a vacation. That why you came back here Docko? Ya know most people just hit Vegas, hell even Disneyworld ain't half bad, but Craphole Island...damn, ain't a good sign." Sawyer drawled in a thick tone.
"I came back to save you...all of you." The former spinal surgeon told him breathlessly, but it was lacking the weight of confident emotion that would have backed him in the past.
"Then do everyone a favour and save yourself first."
He grunted and rolled his eyes as Jack looked away, the ground suddenly becoming a hell of a lot more interesting.
"If this is your idea of taking me out to the wood shed and shooting me," his cool, flat voice rasped unexpectedly from the spot where he was looking. His response was in the form of a large backpack that the short haired man instinctively caught though it almost knocked him to the ground.
"Maybe that ain't a bad idea." Sawyer grinned. "Too bad Freckles would have something to say about that, Juliet too. Gotta keep the ladies happy, Doc."
Jack’s tongue clicked off the roof of his mouth in annoyance. “I’ll stay here,” he hissed.
“Fine. I sure as hell ain't carrying ya."
Sawyer wriggled into his backpack and pocketed his keys before handing a crumpled piece of paper to Jack. “There’s a compass in the glove box. If you change yer mind follow the river north for about a mile. There's a small grove on the other side of the ravine, that’s where I’m gonna have myself a nice little camp fire and be sing'n kumbaya with the polar bears."
Jack snarled and clamored back into the vehicle where he sat in the driver’s seat for a long time. Sawyer’s retreating form was nothing more than a spec on the far horizon, masked by both the trees and the increasing cloud cover. Groaning, he pressed his head up against the side window and folded his arms, peering at a swallow that had scuttled into a near by tree. It vanished under the foliage as he slammed his palm into the glass, giving it a few hard smacks before he relented.
Giving up, Jack forced open the glove box rather roughly; the compass was exactly where Sawyer said it would be. He picked it up and rolled it around in his hand, glowering down at the thing trying to make sense of it in the crisp morning light.
“Glad you could make it,” Sawyer glanced up at him coyly, turning his head at the sound of scuffing steps.
Jack had the right mind-set to tell him to go to hell, but the southerner turned his back to him before he could respond.
“Make yourself at home,” he gestured to the area with his hand.
Jack gazed at him unpleasantly. “Like I have a choice,” he scowled and settled on a near by rock.
"Easy, Jacko. I'll bet it's been a while since you've got to enjoy all the modern island convinces of pissing on trees and run'n through the jungle looking for hatches. Guess they don't serve wild boar back home, huh?" He paused to pull a large bottle of Dharma whiskey out of his pack. Jack's eyes trained on it.
"Freckles said you threw yerself one hell of a party." He slugged back a long gulp, arcing his head in such a way that his Adam's apple bobbed down his tanned neck. "Gotta say I'm surprised about that one. Had you pegged as more of the sensible 'no thanks, I'm driving' type."
"Fuck off, Sawyer." Jack grated, but made no motion to move.
"Why, don't ya want some?" He grabbed the bottle by its neck and held it in the space between their bodies. He almost frowned as he watched the doctor's resolve weaken and reach to take it. Whatever internal battle that was raging inside of him was not strong enough to override the need that was almost primal.
“Well, I’ll tell ya what, Doc.” Sawyer yanked the bottle away at the last second, making the doctor frown and draw away from him as though he would burn.
“I’ll give ya some if ya talk. Ain't nothing wrong with wanting it, just gotta know when to stop.” He folded his arms, waiting.
“Talk?” Jack toyed with the word as it rolled off his tongue, momentarily confused. He shifted, feeling the spine of the rock dig into his back, a firm solid weight that kept him grounded to the southerner's words.
Sawyer cocked an eyebrow watching the movement. “You know, it’s when you move yer mouth and words come out.”
“Don’t patronize me,” he grumbled. “I know what you’re doing."
"That right?" He took a sip and grinned. "Boy howdy, it's damn good, even for Dharma."
"Kate put you up to this," he huffed, wringing his hands because he had nothing better to do with it.
"Think so?" The con man pushed himself up to bridge the distance between them. "You think that you're that fucked up that she sent me to straighten you out? What's the world coming to, Jacko?" His tone was cool, but his eyes flicked with something that Jack couldn't identify.
"Sawyer, I don't know what you expected, but we're not going to talk about Kate. I'm not having this conversation with you." The short haired man tried to brush him off.
"Right, why do I have the feeling you probably wouldn't notice if she danced butt naked in you lap. The sex really that bad or were you just not around enough?"
Jack balled his fists to the point he was almost white-knuckled. "You trying to make me hit you. That what you want? How am I supposed to react to that? Get up and punch you?" The anger dripped from his tone, his voice changing pitch with every syllable until he was positively growling.
It was starting to sound like not a half bad idea.
"As long as I get some damn reaction out of you I don't care if you dress in drag and do the hula." Sawyer retorted, exasperated. Giving in, he nudged Jack with the bottle.
“I wanted to go back.” Jack accepted it as he dropped to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest, savoring the bitter liquid. It had been too long.
“Every Friday night I, I fly from LA to Tokyo or, Singapore, Sydney. And then I, I get off and I, have a drink, and then I fly home. I want to crash. I don't care about anybody else on board. Every little bump we hit or turbulence, I mean I actually close my eyes and I pray that I can get back but it never happens. I can’t do this anymore.” It was no longer just his voice that was shaking, but the alcohol seemed to make it all better, deadened it in a burning haze.
Sawyer looked him dead in the eyes. Fiery blue locking with a tired brown. “You’re not a coward, Doc, even if you are trying to take the easy way out.”
“The easy way?” Jack scoffed.
“Hell, that’s probably why you went to the booze in the first place, figured you’d be closer to your old man that way.”
“You don't know anything about me.” Jack didn’t have the energy to take a swing at him or maybe he didn’t have the will to try. If he thought about it, it was probably a mixture of both.
“Yer right.”
Jack followed Sawyer's movements with his eyes.
“But I do know that yer falling into it just like he did and yer afraid of what you’ll have to do to get yourself out.”
Jack swallowed, suddenly realizing how dry his throat felt even with the alcohol. “He always said that I would never amount to anything.”
“And he didn’t mean it. Told me himself.” Sawyer’s tone was careful.
“Yeah,” the doctor snorted. “Did he tell you that he was always too drunk to give a damn about his family?”
“Yup, and that he didn’t have the guts to make things right himself. You’re a lucky man, Doc.”
“Lucky?” Jack was laughing now, his head tossed back in a guttural, throaty laugh that resonated from his stomach.
“Lucky?” He whispered again.
“Yes lucky. Your daddy cared enough to tell someone that he regretted what he did. Even if it was to a total stranger in a bar while he was piss-ass drunk.”
“Wow, give the man a medal.”
Sawyer paused and gave Jack a look somewhere between pity and irritation.
“My daddy shot my momma and turned the gun on himself in my own bedroom,” he returned evenly. Something untraceable flickered in his eyes but he blinked and flushed it away as quickly as it came.
Jack looked at him unbelieving at first until his face faltered. “I’m...sorry.”
“Yeah well, I guess we all got daddy issues don’t we? S'okay, I won't tell anybody about our little meeting in Sydney, Doc. The past is the past for a reason. Ya just gotta learn to let it go. Freckles sure did."
"I lost her" he scoffed into the bottle, steaming the rim with his breath. It felt a hell of a lot like square one, 11:00 AM and here he was headed down the road of being to drunk to care what he said or did.
"Yet she follows you back to this damn hell hole and you're wound too tight to see it."Sawyer nudged the bottle out of his hands and took a good long sip. "It's simple physics, Jacko. Action, reaction. You just gotta learn to react."
Jack grunted and stared at a patch of dirt on the ground. "I didn't lose anything, did I?" He mumbled after a long moment, realizing something that just hadn't quite sunken in before.
"Only you're personality, Doc, but you never really had much of one to begin with."
Characters: Jack/Sawyer
Word Count: 4000
Rating: PG
A/N: Just a quick one for the luau 2009 at lostsquee for
elise_509 who asked for us to help her fall back in love with Sawyer. This one takes place around 5x10. Hope you enjoy. :)
^^ The Third Law of Motion
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Kate could still hear the familiar sounds of the ocean crashing in the distance even though she knew it wasn't really there. They were too far inland to hear much over the trill of canopy birds and the occasional backfiring of an engine. It was almost surreal to be experiencing it at all, cars, and houses, in the middle of the jungle where they had survived for almost three months with next to nothing.
She remembered how eager they had been to flee last time. To rescue Jack, to get the hell out of there; back when he was the driving force to get them home. She could only see his back from her vantage point on the porch step. Sawyer too was watching him, head slunk low as he sauntered off into the darkness.
"Nice night, Freckles," he bridged the gap between their houses.
"Yeah, it is," Kate croaked, wincing at the sound of her own voice.
He blinked at her and cocked his head toward where Jack had been standing. "Hell, ain't Doc Giggles head'n the wrong direction?"
"He's staying with Hurley." She ran her fingers along the gouges in the veranda, turning slightly so she didn't quite have to meet his eyes.
He gave a low snort. "Maybe you oughta invite him over. Doc'll be real pleasant tomorrow, Pillsbury snores like a god damn elephant."
Her eyes flashed with something he couldn't read nor begin to understand. "Since when did you start worrying about Jack?" She countered defensively.
"Since when did you stop?" He retorted, feeling the edge smolder from his voice. Whatever irritation and anger he had lashed at Jack for disrupting his seemingly 'perfect' life in Dharmaville seemed to fizzle straight out of him like a deflated balloon. He wet his lips, opening him mouth wide enough to bear his teeth and sigh.
"If there's something wrong with Jacko I need to know about it."
"You need to know about it?" She repeated coldly, squaring her shoulders and fixing him with a lethal glare.
"You need to know about it... how after the island we were happy, he proposed to me. Me of all people, getting married. You need to know about how we had the perfect life, house in the suburbs, ice cream and a stroll on the boardwalk on Saturdays. Then he changed, left me to raise Aaron. You need to know about how he started drinking and calling me every Friday night stoned on his pills? Is that it James?"
Sawyer raised an eyebrow in disbelief, mildly surprised to hear the former doctor hand been around town after all.
"Guess you're gonna have to give him a second chance ain't ya, Kate? He’s given you enough." He said a little too harshly, wincing at the loud crack of her hand connecting with his cheek.
He gingerly rubbed his face. "You've got one hell of a backhand. You been practicing?"
"How can you even suggest that?" She seethed, her eyes narrowing with contempt.
Pissed off he shot back at her, "Cause you and me had our chance Freckles. And Doc Mopey over there, he needs ya."
Kate's muscles tensed. His eyes trained on the way she recoiled, as if she was falling back into old habits, ready to run. Only this time there was nowhere to run.
Grunting, Sawyer threw up his hands, "Look, I'm just saying that the Doc, hasn't been the Doc since he's been back. He refused to save the damn kid. That's like the god damn Pope being convicted of murder."
"People change, James. You of all people should know that."
He shrugged. "Change ain't so bad, Freckles. At least most of the time."
"So you and Juliet..." she paused.
"I love her," he finished for her, unsure if admitting something they had been skating around was good for them or if he was just rubbing salt in the wound.
"You seem happy. Both of you. That's good." She sounded bitter, jealous almost.
"And you love Jack," he reminded. "Maybe you should take a page out of his book and try fixing him?"
"Never thought I'd see the day you started sticking of for him," Kate breathed, fighting back the rawness in her tone. She wrung her hands and pushed herself away from the railing. She took a deep breath and tilted her head skyward, storm clouds were moving in masking the last sliver of moonlight from illuminating the grass. It even smelled like rain.
He ignored her obvious efforts to find a quick escape and shuffled his feet.
"Come on," he nodded toward the house that he and Juliet shared. "Let's move this little discussion inside."
Juliet was sitting on the couch when they entered, flipping through an old magazine. She didn't look at all surprised to see them there, even with Kate shouldering away to one side, increasingly uncertain.
"Don't you think you were a little hard on him?" She glanced up at Sawyer who grinned slightly though he was almost on the verge of feeling guilty. Maybe he had changed.
"Just wanted to see if the Doc had any fight at all left in him. Didn't expect him to hang his head and take it. Turns out he's been having himself a hell of a pity party since he led the Great Chopper Escape. Freckles here tells me he starting to turn after his old man and popping pills like some sort of VH1 has-been."
The blonde woman's response was muffled by a loud knocking and Hurley shuffling in to meet them.
“What’s eating you, Mongo?” The southerner quirked an eyebrow at the larger man’s uneasy expression.
“Dudes, I think there’s something wrong with Jack.”
“Why’s that, Mutton Chops?”
Hurley shook his head, frowning. “He’s just sitting on the couch staring at the wall. It’s like he’s snapped or something and I mean the dude was assigned to be a janitor, what’s with that?”
“Best I could do on short notice.” Sawyer huffed, waving him in. “Was work’n on getting it changed.”
Kate’s bottom lip twitched. “Has he been drinking?”
“Not that I know of.” Hurley squinted to see her in the dull lamplight that flickered across the pasty walls.
Something painful played along her lips. “He started blaming himself for all of this. He became obsessed with finding the island.”
“It sounds like he’s depressed.” Juliet dropped the magazine on the coffee table, glancing from Sawyer to Kate and back again.
I heard once Winston Churchill read a book every night, even during the Blitz. He said it made him think better. It's how I like to run things. I think. I'm sure that doesn't mean that much to you, 'cause back when you were calling the shots, you pretty much just reacted. See, you didn't think, Jack, and as I recall, a lot of people ended up dead.
The southerner shoved his hands into his pockets and suddenly felt almost guilty. He had only been trying to get a rise out of Jack. To get him to react.
“Question is, Ladies, what are we gonna do about it.” He continued smoothly, letting himself sink into the warn out fabric of the dusty wingback chair by the bookshelf. He tapped the polished end table and frowned.
“What makes you think we can do anything?” Kate was hesitant, afraid that after all they had been through together that he couldn’t be fixed, that he wasn’t worth that second change despite, the third and the fourth he had given her.
“Cause I don’t think you’ll like living with the alternative, Freckles.” Sawyer's voice was dry and serious, crackling in the air around them. “We’ve gotta find a way to give El Docko his stethoscope back.”
“Maybe you should take him camping so he can be island Jack again?” Hurley quipped earning an odd look from Kate.
“Island Jack?” Sawyer scoffed.
“You know, when he was all hardcore and leader like.”
“He does have a point, James. You could try the whole male bonding thing.Taking him out into the jungle might just do him some good.” Juliet fixed him with a persistent grin that made groan and shake his head.
The expression on his face was incredulous. “With Jacko? Well damn just a second there, let me go get my fishing rod and then afterwards we can head over to Cavetown and roast marshmallows. I ain't Oprah, Sweetheart.”
“Dude, everybody loves marshmallows,” Hurley assured. “Come on, Jack’s really not looking so good.”
“Oh hell no Deepdish, can’t we just drop him off on Dr. Phil’s doorstep and be done with it?” He wasn't liking where this was going at all.
“That might actually help,” Kate said slowly. She wanted to see the old Jack more than anyone.
That was it. He was cornered. God damn Brokeback Mountain with Jacko.
“Fine. Doc and I will hit the beaten track. Guess we’ll need a plan then.” Sawyer threw up his hands and spoke with a begrudging tone. Hurley watched, an amused expression creeping across his face that seemed to spread right up to his eyes.
“Care to share with the class?” The con man glared at him pointedly.
“Sorry, it’s just you’re acting more like Jack then Jack is.”
"Well that’s just dandy,” Sawyer snorted, rolling his eyes.
***
Hurley didn’t know what Seconal was, but he did know that when he put it in Jack’s coffee the next morning the man was on the floor before less than a third of the mug had been drained.
“For your own good, dude.” He had whispered apologetically as Sawyer hoisted him in a fireman’s carry and tossed him in the back of the hippy style Dharma van. The doctor’s head lolled as southerner slammed the door, glancing across the compound to make sure they weren’t being watched.
“I’ve taken the day off, so you’ll have to find a way to amuse yourself without Dr. Giggles here,” he grunted.
“Just get him back to normal.” Hurley grinned as the con man rolled his eyes. “He ain’t ever been normal to begin with.”
Kate and Juliet were watching them from the front porch. Sawyer arced his hand in a wave, still sputtering, as he slid into the driver’s seat and mumbled something into his radio.
They had been driving for over an hour before Jack moaned, dragging his sleep muddled brain into a state of half alertness. Waking up was like pulling himself up from under water. It took effort. Five more minutes before he finally opened his eyes and ten after that to finally notice Sawyer’s pale blue ones staring back at him. The expression on the con man's face was unreadable, calculating, as his features knitted together in a brief moment of concentration.
Disoriented, Jack rolled to sit up only to be pushed back down by two strong hands.
“Easy Hoss, take a minute to catch your breath,” Sawyer drawled slowlly as he unfolded himself from Jack’s field of vision, allowing the dark haired male to notice, for the first time, that he was in the back of the van from yesterday. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes and reopening them again. The southerner was leaning back from the driver’s seat, a semi-guilty expression plastered across his lips.
“You drugged me.” Jack stated flatly, squeezing the bridge of his nose. His head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.
Sawyer didn’t respond right away. He had changed into an old blue t-shirt and was surveying a battered, topographic map that was pressed against the steering wheel. A sleek pair of sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. “Hugo may have slipped you a little something.” he agreed finally. "Didn't think he had it in him."
“And now you’re kidnapping me,” Jack stated groggily and very much annoyed. He pushed himself to a seated position, ignoring the blood rushing to his head. The woozy feeling intensified when he crawled across the back seat and made a lunge for the door handle. Sawyer hadn’t bothered to lock it so he half fell, half stumbled out of the vehicle as the door released.
Shaking it off, he stood up straight and scanned the area wildly for some sort of indication to where he was. Miles upon miles of cypress trees cut crudely into the landscape in all directions.
“Jesus Sawyer, if you are going to kill me at least have the guts to tell me to my face.” His tone was dry holding the slightest hint of worry.
Sawyer watched him through the windshield, not bothering to hide a grin so wide that his teeth were showing. “No worries, Doc,” he called through the open door. “If that was the plan you would have kicked off long ago,” his voice was playful almost.
“Then what the hell did you bring me out here for?” Jack’s voice held a familiar trace of irritation.
The con man tossed a black and green back pack at his feet. “Figured you’d enjoy the view,” he shrugged. "Hell, it'd make a damn fine postcard."
"Sawyer, what are we doing here?" He let the hand that was squeezing the bridge of his nose drop back to his side.
"Looked like ya needed a break from Dharmavile, Doc. Clean'n toilets and dust'n off chalk boards starting ta get to ya?"
"I'm doing just fine." Jack snapped the sharpest voice he could, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.
"Well from where I'm standing you need a vacation. That why you came back here Docko? Ya know most people just hit Vegas, hell even Disneyworld ain't half bad, but Craphole Island...damn, ain't a good sign." Sawyer drawled in a thick tone.
"I came back to save you...all of you." The former spinal surgeon told him breathlessly, but it was lacking the weight of confident emotion that would have backed him in the past.
"Then do everyone a favour and save yourself first."
He grunted and rolled his eyes as Jack looked away, the ground suddenly becoming a hell of a lot more interesting.
"If this is your idea of taking me out to the wood shed and shooting me," his cool, flat voice rasped unexpectedly from the spot where he was looking. His response was in the form of a large backpack that the short haired man instinctively caught though it almost knocked him to the ground.
"Maybe that ain't a bad idea." Sawyer grinned. "Too bad Freckles would have something to say about that, Juliet too. Gotta keep the ladies happy, Doc."
Jack’s tongue clicked off the roof of his mouth in annoyance. “I’ll stay here,” he hissed.
“Fine. I sure as hell ain't carrying ya."
Sawyer wriggled into his backpack and pocketed his keys before handing a crumpled piece of paper to Jack. “There’s a compass in the glove box. If you change yer mind follow the river north for about a mile. There's a small grove on the other side of the ravine, that’s where I’m gonna have myself a nice little camp fire and be sing'n kumbaya with the polar bears."
Jack snarled and clamored back into the vehicle where he sat in the driver’s seat for a long time. Sawyer’s retreating form was nothing more than a spec on the far horizon, masked by both the trees and the increasing cloud cover. Groaning, he pressed his head up against the side window and folded his arms, peering at a swallow that had scuttled into a near by tree. It vanished under the foliage as he slammed his palm into the glass, giving it a few hard smacks before he relented.
Giving up, Jack forced open the glove box rather roughly; the compass was exactly where Sawyer said it would be. He picked it up and rolled it around in his hand, glowering down at the thing trying to make sense of it in the crisp morning light.
“Glad you could make it,” Sawyer glanced up at him coyly, turning his head at the sound of scuffing steps.
Jack had the right mind-set to tell him to go to hell, but the southerner turned his back to him before he could respond.
“Make yourself at home,” he gestured to the area with his hand.
Jack gazed at him unpleasantly. “Like I have a choice,” he scowled and settled on a near by rock.
"Easy, Jacko. I'll bet it's been a while since you've got to enjoy all the modern island convinces of pissing on trees and run'n through the jungle looking for hatches. Guess they don't serve wild boar back home, huh?" He paused to pull a large bottle of Dharma whiskey out of his pack. Jack's eyes trained on it.
"Freckles said you threw yerself one hell of a party." He slugged back a long gulp, arcing his head in such a way that his Adam's apple bobbed down his tanned neck. "Gotta say I'm surprised about that one. Had you pegged as more of the sensible 'no thanks, I'm driving' type."
"Fuck off, Sawyer." Jack grated, but made no motion to move.
"Why, don't ya want some?" He grabbed the bottle by its neck and held it in the space between their bodies. He almost frowned as he watched the doctor's resolve weaken and reach to take it. Whatever internal battle that was raging inside of him was not strong enough to override the need that was almost primal.
“Well, I’ll tell ya what, Doc.” Sawyer yanked the bottle away at the last second, making the doctor frown and draw away from him as though he would burn.
“I’ll give ya some if ya talk. Ain't nothing wrong with wanting it, just gotta know when to stop.” He folded his arms, waiting.
“Talk?” Jack toyed with the word as it rolled off his tongue, momentarily confused. He shifted, feeling the spine of the rock dig into his back, a firm solid weight that kept him grounded to the southerner's words.
Sawyer cocked an eyebrow watching the movement. “You know, it’s when you move yer mouth and words come out.”
“Don’t patronize me,” he grumbled. “I know what you’re doing."
"That right?" He took a sip and grinned. "Boy howdy, it's damn good, even for Dharma."
"Kate put you up to this," he huffed, wringing his hands because he had nothing better to do with it.
"Think so?" The con man pushed himself up to bridge the distance between them. "You think that you're that fucked up that she sent me to straighten you out? What's the world coming to, Jacko?" His tone was cool, but his eyes flicked with something that Jack couldn't identify.
"Sawyer, I don't know what you expected, but we're not going to talk about Kate. I'm not having this conversation with you." The short haired man tried to brush him off.
"Right, why do I have the feeling you probably wouldn't notice if she danced butt naked in you lap. The sex really that bad or were you just not around enough?"
Jack balled his fists to the point he was almost white-knuckled. "You trying to make me hit you. That what you want? How am I supposed to react to that? Get up and punch you?" The anger dripped from his tone, his voice changing pitch with every syllable until he was positively growling.
It was starting to sound like not a half bad idea.
"As long as I get some damn reaction out of you I don't care if you dress in drag and do the hula." Sawyer retorted, exasperated. Giving in, he nudged Jack with the bottle.
“I wanted to go back.” Jack accepted it as he dropped to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest, savoring the bitter liquid. It had been too long.
“Every Friday night I, I fly from LA to Tokyo or, Singapore, Sydney. And then I, I get off and I, have a drink, and then I fly home. I want to crash. I don't care about anybody else on board. Every little bump we hit or turbulence, I mean I actually close my eyes and I pray that I can get back but it never happens. I can’t do this anymore.” It was no longer just his voice that was shaking, but the alcohol seemed to make it all better, deadened it in a burning haze.
Sawyer looked him dead in the eyes. Fiery blue locking with a tired brown. “You’re not a coward, Doc, even if you are trying to take the easy way out.”
“The easy way?” Jack scoffed.
“Hell, that’s probably why you went to the booze in the first place, figured you’d be closer to your old man that way.”
“You don't know anything about me.” Jack didn’t have the energy to take a swing at him or maybe he didn’t have the will to try. If he thought about it, it was probably a mixture of both.
“Yer right.”
Jack followed Sawyer's movements with his eyes.
“But I do know that yer falling into it just like he did and yer afraid of what you’ll have to do to get yourself out.”
Jack swallowed, suddenly realizing how dry his throat felt even with the alcohol. “He always said that I would never amount to anything.”
“And he didn’t mean it. Told me himself.” Sawyer’s tone was careful.
“Yeah,” the doctor snorted. “Did he tell you that he was always too drunk to give a damn about his family?”
“Yup, and that he didn’t have the guts to make things right himself. You’re a lucky man, Doc.”
“Lucky?” Jack was laughing now, his head tossed back in a guttural, throaty laugh that resonated from his stomach.
“Lucky?” He whispered again.
“Yes lucky. Your daddy cared enough to tell someone that he regretted what he did. Even if it was to a total stranger in a bar while he was piss-ass drunk.”
“Wow, give the man a medal.”
Sawyer paused and gave Jack a look somewhere between pity and irritation.
“My daddy shot my momma and turned the gun on himself in my own bedroom,” he returned evenly. Something untraceable flickered in his eyes but he blinked and flushed it away as quickly as it came.
Jack looked at him unbelieving at first until his face faltered. “I’m...sorry.”
“Yeah well, I guess we all got daddy issues don’t we? S'okay, I won't tell anybody about our little meeting in Sydney, Doc. The past is the past for a reason. Ya just gotta learn to let it go. Freckles sure did."
"I lost her" he scoffed into the bottle, steaming the rim with his breath. It felt a hell of a lot like square one, 11:00 AM and here he was headed down the road of being to drunk to care what he said or did.
"Yet she follows you back to this damn hell hole and you're wound too tight to see it."Sawyer nudged the bottle out of his hands and took a good long sip. "It's simple physics, Jacko. Action, reaction. You just gotta learn to react."
Jack grunted and stared at a patch of dirt on the ground. "I didn't lose anything, did I?" He mumbled after a long moment, realizing something that just hadn't quite sunken in before.
"Only you're personality, Doc, but you never really had much of one to begin with."