FIC: Science, Faith, and Fate - 3/??? - Jack/James "Sawyer" Ford Rated PG
Title: Science, Faith, and Fate, Part 3 of ???
Pairing: Jack/James "Sawyer" Ford
Rating: PG for some cussin' and some boy ogling...I *promise*, there will be smut *someday*
Summary: In Jack's head, everything that was broken needed to be fix...*wanted* to be fixed.
Warnings: AU, slash...SMUT! But not here and not yet. ;p Potential spoilers for episode 2.01: MAN OF SCIENCE, MAN OF FAITH
Disclaimer: the LOST boys aren't mine...damn it. But I'll put them back in JJ's toybox when I'm done playing.
A/N: Beta'd this time...by the glorious and sexy rogueapprentice. ;p I changed some stuff, though, so if it sucks it's still my fault. This little slasher is cured of teh writer's block, and I'm feelin' cocky. *giggles and iz immature*
Just FYI, this is an AU fic...extrapolated from MAN OF SCIENCE, MAN OF FAITH.
For everyone who asked/begged/CAPSLOCKOFDOOM'd for more and is enjoying this series. Especially for uberaeryn and alliecat8, our resident LOST Conspiracy Theorists. Or just LOST Theorists...'conspiracy' makes it sound cooler.
* * * * *
// “I told him -- I made a promise I couldn't keep -- I swore that I'd fix him and I couldn't. I failed.”//
//“Right. Just one thing -- what if you did fix ‘im?”//
//“I didn't.”//
//“But what if you did?”//
//“You don't know what you're talking about, man.”//
//“I don't? Why not?”//
//“Because with his situation that would be a miracle, brother.”//
//“Oh, and you don't believe in miracles? I mean...not all of ‘em are big ‘uns, like makin’ the crippled walk or the blind to see...but if the little ones can happen, why not somethin’ bigger?”//
//“Because it’s impossible.”//
//“Impossible...right. Well then, I'm going to give you some advice anyway. You have to lift it up.”//
The odd exchange at the stadium kept running through his head like a record, one he couldn’t shut off. It was the kind of ‘what if’ he didn’t need...because he’d seen it. He’d been there.
That guy...Desmond...he hadn’t seen what Jack had. James Ford’s back was a mangled mess, there were no other words for it. There wasn’t anything to do but damage control...just make sure the poor bastard didn’t die on him.
Looking over at where Ford lay, still unconscious in recovery, Jack felt another overwhelming wave of defeat as he remembered his final words before the anesthesiologist had put Ford under.
//“C’me here...c’mere, Doc. Wanna tell you a little secret. C’mon, closer...it’s okay. ‘Kay? Bastard like me ought not t’ be walkin’ ‘round anyhow. Just promise me you’ll help me pick a badass set o’ wheels if I live through this, ‘kay?”//
Somehow, he must have known...that silent promise Jack made to him...this cocksure, broken man in his care. All the running in the world couldn’t let Jack escape the truth...and the pain in his throbbing ankle was a welcome punishment for leaving that strong, stunning body permanently shattered.
“Am I alive?”
Jack blinked, eyes flicking up to find Ford’s own wide open and fixed on him. It took a moment before he could answer. “Yeah. Yeah, you're alive.”
James nodded, then took a deep breath and made a face, raising an eyebrow. “Damn, Doc...you reek.”
The blunt remark caught Jack off guard, eliciting a soft chuckle from him...there he went, forcing things out of Jack that he had no business experiencing. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean...you are *really* well marinated.”
Jack stood, limping closer as he scooted his chair in. “Yeah, I went for a run.”
“What’d you do, a lap around the state?”
“Well I showered...I mean, I guess I just didn't cool. I wanted to get back down here and check on you. It was a Tour de Stade.”
His eyes registered confusion, gleaming with it. “A tour de whatnow?...”
“When you run all the steps in every section of a stadium up and down.” Jack explained with a slight shrug.
“Why in the blue hell would you do that?”
“I'm intense.” he quipped, managing a weak smile.
James rolled his eyes, and again Jack laughed. “Yeah, Doc...I just bet you are. Real hardcore spinal surgeon. Well, did you finish?”
“No, I hurt my ankle.”
James sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment and lifting one hand slowly, sluggishly to push his hair out of his eyes. Irrationally, Jack’s fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to do it for him. “Well, sucks t’ be you, I reckon.”
“Yeah...guess so.”
James was quiet a moment, then opened his eyes and gazed at Jack again, blue eyes shining and sharp with curiosity, nearly cutting into him physically with inquiry. “So...you gonna tell me how it went?”
Jack paused, then swallowed hard. “James--”
“Sawyer.”
He blinked, frowning. “What?”
“Nobody fuckin’ calls me James...it’s Sawyer.”
“Why Sawyer?”
“Cause I can talk an even better game than ol’ Tom, and I’m twice as pretty. You gonna update me or what?”
Jack would have laughed, but the weight of what he knew was just too heavy to let the corners of his mouth lift again. “Ja...Sawyer...the damage to your back was extensive.” he began slowly, looking down at his hands as he tried to keep the lump he felt in his throat from rising. “I did everything I could but your spinal column was... I couldn't repair it. You're going to be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of your life.”
He looked up to say he was sorry...but Sawyer was smiling. Grinning, actually.
“Yer yankin’ my chain, right?” he asked, features etched with amusement. “I mean...I’ve pulled some fast ones in my time, but you’re pretty good, I gotta say.”
Jack shook his head slowly. “No...I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
Sawyer raised an eyebrow, and Jack watched as the humor in his eyes faded into incredulity. “Yer serious.”
“Yes, I am.”
He hesitated a moment, then lifted one hand and pointed to the end of the bed. “Well my dancin’ shoes say yer wrong, Marathon Man.”
Jack turned in the direction he was pointing...and froze.
He was moving his toes. Left...right...left...stop. Then again...left, right, left, left...
Rising from his chair, Jack limped to the foot of Sawyer’s bed and flipped up the blankets. Removing, a ballpoint pen from the collar of his surgical scrubs, he retracted the point and lightly scratched the sole of Sawyer’s foot, nearly laughing when his foot twitched. “Can you feel this?”
“Yeah.” Sawyer’s voice trembled a little, like he was trying not to laugh.
“Can you feel this?” he echoed, scratching the joint of his ankle.
“Yep.”
He did laugh this time, glancing up with tears in his eyes to find that Sawyer was smiling slightly...but those unnaturally expressive eyes were shining from within, filled with every bit of the joy that Jack himself was feeling. “This?”
“Yeah.”
“This?”
“Would you get me my damn boots already, I’m set to walk on outta here.”
Jack laughed long and hard, feeling the tears run down his cheeks at the same time. “This can’t be happening.”
“Tell that to my feet, Doc.” Sawyer chuckled, rotating his left foot and watching it move with keen interest. After a moment, he winced. “My left leg’s killin’ me.”
“Yeah...you dislocated your left knee in the crash. Given the shaky chances of this procedure we just did, an orthopedic surgeon hasn’t been in yet.” Jack explained. “I’ll send a good one in to see you tomorrow...you probably have a torn ACL, among other things.”
“You mean like all them pro wrestlers get?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Sawyer nodded, then looked up at Jack again with a strange softness in his eyes...something warm, almost awestruck. “Guess you saved my life, huh?”
Jack nodded, smiling slightly. “Yeah...guess I did.” He paused, sobering. “That okay with you?”
For a moment those eyes were startled, and Jack felt a small spark of triumph. “What?”
“When you came in, you said I should just let you go. Sawyer...no, *James*...you’re alive now, but I’m not gonna lie: this is only the beginning. This right here? Should not be happening, and that’s the truth. If I were you? I wouldn’t mess this up.”
The warmth faded from his eyes, turning from still waters to sapphires, brilliant, cool, and hard as stone the second Jack said his name. “Yeah, well...I ain’t exactly a genius at getting shit right.”
There was honesty in that tone...a resignation that wasn’t simply stating something he believed was true, but that *was* true...in his world.
Jack moved to his side and rested one hand on the edge of the mattress above his head, leaning in a bit. “I won’t *let* you mess this up.” he replied flatly.
Sawyer raised an eyebrow, and while those eyes remained hard and flinty, they warmed a bit with something Jack couldn’t quite identify...something almost like pleasure, a twisted delight at being pushed. “That a threat, Marathon Man?”
“No...it’s a promise. I’m not letting you screw this up.” Jack paused, chewing on his lips for a second before renewing his vow. “God as my witness...I am going to fix you.”
* * * * *
On the other side of the partition, he watched Sawyer smile enigmatically. “That’s just sadistic, y’know...and you call yourself a nurse.”
A high, pleasant feminine laugh rang out as the pretty dark-haired young woman beside him took a note on his chart. “If I had a nickel for every time a ‘dying’ patient tried to squeeze a kiss out of me...”
“Lemme guess, you could retire?”
“No...I’d have about forty five cents.”
“Pretty little thing like you? Now why am I surprised?”
“Because I said ‘no?’ I have a feeling you don’t hear that a lot. I’ve only been here a few months. And anyway...your doctor might not approve.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“He’s my cousin.”
At the stunned look on Sawyer’s face, Jack finally rounded the corner with a grin. “Morning, Kate...how’s our patient doing?”
“For a man with a broken leg? Not bad.” Kate quipped with a grin, finishing her note and handing Jack the chart. “I hear you fixed up his back already.”
“So it seems.”
Kate grinned, then glanced back at Sawyer. “If you’ll excuse me, Tex...I’m going in for report. I’ll see you later.”
“Bet yer ass you will, Freckles!” he called out after her, shooting Jack an incredulous look. “That’s yer *cousin?*”
Jack laughed, nodding. “Yeah...our mothers are sisters. How you feeling today?”
“Like shit warmed over twice...night’s sleep didn’t do shit. Can’t ya give me somethin’ else fer the pain? This shit ain’t workin’.” Sawyer grumbled, gesturing with his hand, which was connected to an IV.
“Actually, that’s your antibiotics.” Jack informed him, looking over Sawyer’s chart before glancing up again. “That transparent patch on your chest is your pain medication.”
Sawyer looked down and tugged at the collar of his hospital gown, revealing a smooth expanse of well-muscled, tanned skin marred by a clear patch of plastic. Jack’s eyes were riveted for a moment, but he hastily returned to Sawyer’s chart.
“It’s dilaudid.” Jack explained briskly. “Delivered epidermally...you’ll get a fresh one tomorrow, one patch is good for about two days.”
“You gotta be shittin’ me, Doc.” he sighed, head falling back against his bed.
“Look, if you’re that uncomfortable, I can prescribe some hydrocordone to take an edge off, but you can only have it about every twelve hours.” Jack finally relented. “Other than that, there’s not much I can do.”
“Anyone ever tell you yer bedside manner stinks, Doc?”
Jack snorted, looking up again. “Yeah...same people that told me about my hair.”
Sawyer met his eyes with a small smile, and Jack felt a flare of warmth in his chest at the sight of it. It was fleeting, but the small upturn of lips was radiant for a split second before smile turned to smirk, somehow marring that expressive face by closing it off to him. “Well maybe y’all should work on both, don’t ya think?”
Jack ignored the question, making a note on Sawyer’s chart before hanging it on the end of his bed again. Walking over, he grabbed a chair and brought it to Sawyer’s bedside, sitting down. “James...”
“Told you, Doc...it’s Sawyer.”
“That’s not your name.” he shot back without blinking. “Right now, I’d prefer to deal straight with you.”
“Well I wouldn’t.”
“Then you’re going to be an invalid for the rest of your life.”
That got Sawyer’s attention. “What? You said--”
“I know what I said yesterday and I know what I saw...what you did...but you’re not out of the woods yet. For starters, you’re still in serious condition. You lost a lot of blood, and you’re AB Negative, which makes things kind of tricky.”
“How?”
“That’s a rare blood type. Very rare. Now usually we have more than enough on hand, but we had another AB case in here a few days ago that put a big dent in our supply. We have some on hand, but if you have any family members who could--”
“I don’t.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“You don’t need to.” The voice that touched Jack’s ears was a low, primal growl, the eyes cold and devoid of all good humor. “You wanna know if I got someone who might wanna save my ass. I don’t. End of disucssion.”
Jack was a little bit startled by the reaction, but not much. The man reminded him too much of a golden-haired jungle cat, and right now he was acting like a wounded animal backed into a corner.
“All right.” he finally replied as evenly as he could. “Okay...nothing big to worry about. We’ve still got a few units on hand, plus I can scour the staff for any donors. I suggested family because of the delicacy of your condition. A relation is sometimes a better match. But that does bring me to my next concern: your care.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Jack was grateful looks couldn’t kill. Those eyes were like daggers when he did that... “What about my care? Just fix my knee and get me the fuck outta here.”
“It’s not that easy. Fixing your knee’s just the start. Your back is still healing, and if you add the knee surgery, you’re going to be laid up for a long while. Now I’ve talked to an orthopedist on the staff here, his name is John Locke. He’s the best in his field, and I think he can probably get you ready to start walking within a couple months.”
“*Months?!?*”
“Yes, and note I said *start* walking. It could take another couple of months for you to be mobile again. Sawyer, your back was broken and your leg split in two, for all intents and purposes. After you’ve healed from the surgery, you’ll have to start a pretty rigorous physical therapy plan. It’s not going to be easy...in fact, it’s going to be downright painful and more than a little taxing on your pride and your patience.”
“What the fuck are you tryin’ to say?”
“I’m saying that just because you *can* walk again doesn’t necessarily mean that you *will.*”
“You sayin’ I can’t do it?” Sawyer growled.
Jack regarded him for a moment...then raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what it takes.”
Before Sawyer could answer him, Jack stood and walked away from him with a smile on his face as a streak of low, snarling curses grew fainter the further he got from Sawyer’s bed.
Pairing: Jack/James "Sawyer" Ford
Rating: PG for some cussin' and some boy ogling...I *promise*, there will be smut *someday*
Summary: In Jack's head, everything that was broken needed to be fix...*wanted* to be fixed.
Warnings: AU, slash...SMUT! But not here and not yet. ;p Potential spoilers for episode 2.01: MAN OF SCIENCE, MAN OF FAITH
Disclaimer: the LOST boys aren't mine...damn it. But I'll put them back in JJ's toybox when I'm done playing.
A/N: Beta'd this time...by the glorious and sexy rogueapprentice. ;p I changed some stuff, though, so if it sucks it's still my fault. This little slasher is cured of teh writer's block, and I'm feelin' cocky. *giggles and iz immature*
Just FYI, this is an AU fic...extrapolated from MAN OF SCIENCE, MAN OF FAITH.
For everyone who asked/begged/CAPSLOCKOFDOOM'd for more and is enjoying this series. Especially for uberaeryn and alliecat8, our resident LOST Conspiracy Theorists. Or just LOST Theorists...'conspiracy' makes it sound cooler.
* * * * *
// “I told him -- I made a promise I couldn't keep -- I swore that I'd fix him and I couldn't. I failed.”//
//“Right. Just one thing -- what if you did fix ‘im?”//
//“I didn't.”//
//“But what if you did?”//
//“You don't know what you're talking about, man.”//
//“I don't? Why not?”//
//“Because with his situation that would be a miracle, brother.”//
//“Oh, and you don't believe in miracles? I mean...not all of ‘em are big ‘uns, like makin’ the crippled walk or the blind to see...but if the little ones can happen, why not somethin’ bigger?”//
//“Because it’s impossible.”//
//“Impossible...right. Well then, I'm going to give you some advice anyway. You have to lift it up.”//
The odd exchange at the stadium kept running through his head like a record, one he couldn’t shut off. It was the kind of ‘what if’ he didn’t need...because he’d seen it. He’d been there.
That guy...Desmond...he hadn’t seen what Jack had. James Ford’s back was a mangled mess, there were no other words for it. There wasn’t anything to do but damage control...just make sure the poor bastard didn’t die on him.
Looking over at where Ford lay, still unconscious in recovery, Jack felt another overwhelming wave of defeat as he remembered his final words before the anesthesiologist had put Ford under.
//“C’me here...c’mere, Doc. Wanna tell you a little secret. C’mon, closer...it’s okay. ‘Kay? Bastard like me ought not t’ be walkin’ ‘round anyhow. Just promise me you’ll help me pick a badass set o’ wheels if I live through this, ‘kay?”//
Somehow, he must have known...that silent promise Jack made to him...this cocksure, broken man in his care. All the running in the world couldn’t let Jack escape the truth...and the pain in his throbbing ankle was a welcome punishment for leaving that strong, stunning body permanently shattered.
“Am I alive?”
Jack blinked, eyes flicking up to find Ford’s own wide open and fixed on him. It took a moment before he could answer. “Yeah. Yeah, you're alive.”
James nodded, then took a deep breath and made a face, raising an eyebrow. “Damn, Doc...you reek.”
The blunt remark caught Jack off guard, eliciting a soft chuckle from him...there he went, forcing things out of Jack that he had no business experiencing. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean...you are *really* well marinated.”
Jack stood, limping closer as he scooted his chair in. “Yeah, I went for a run.”
“What’d you do, a lap around the state?”
“Well I showered...I mean, I guess I just didn't cool. I wanted to get back down here and check on you. It was a Tour de Stade.”
His eyes registered confusion, gleaming with it. “A tour de whatnow?...”
“When you run all the steps in every section of a stadium up and down.” Jack explained with a slight shrug.
“Why in the blue hell would you do that?”
“I'm intense.” he quipped, managing a weak smile.
James rolled his eyes, and again Jack laughed. “Yeah, Doc...I just bet you are. Real hardcore spinal surgeon. Well, did you finish?”
“No, I hurt my ankle.”
James sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment and lifting one hand slowly, sluggishly to push his hair out of his eyes. Irrationally, Jack’s fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to do it for him. “Well, sucks t’ be you, I reckon.”
“Yeah...guess so.”
James was quiet a moment, then opened his eyes and gazed at Jack again, blue eyes shining and sharp with curiosity, nearly cutting into him physically with inquiry. “So...you gonna tell me how it went?”
Jack paused, then swallowed hard. “James--”
“Sawyer.”
He blinked, frowning. “What?”
“Nobody fuckin’ calls me James...it’s Sawyer.”
“Why Sawyer?”
“Cause I can talk an even better game than ol’ Tom, and I’m twice as pretty. You gonna update me or what?”
Jack would have laughed, but the weight of what he knew was just too heavy to let the corners of his mouth lift again. “Ja...Sawyer...the damage to your back was extensive.” he began slowly, looking down at his hands as he tried to keep the lump he felt in his throat from rising. “I did everything I could but your spinal column was... I couldn't repair it. You're going to be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of your life.”
He looked up to say he was sorry...but Sawyer was smiling. Grinning, actually.
“Yer yankin’ my chain, right?” he asked, features etched with amusement. “I mean...I’ve pulled some fast ones in my time, but you’re pretty good, I gotta say.”
Jack shook his head slowly. “No...I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
Sawyer raised an eyebrow, and Jack watched as the humor in his eyes faded into incredulity. “Yer serious.”
“Yes, I am.”
He hesitated a moment, then lifted one hand and pointed to the end of the bed. “Well my dancin’ shoes say yer wrong, Marathon Man.”
Jack turned in the direction he was pointing...and froze.
He was moving his toes. Left...right...left...stop. Then again...left, right, left, left...
Rising from his chair, Jack limped to the foot of Sawyer’s bed and flipped up the blankets. Removing, a ballpoint pen from the collar of his surgical scrubs, he retracted the point and lightly scratched the sole of Sawyer’s foot, nearly laughing when his foot twitched. “Can you feel this?”
“Yeah.” Sawyer’s voice trembled a little, like he was trying not to laugh.
“Can you feel this?” he echoed, scratching the joint of his ankle.
“Yep.”
He did laugh this time, glancing up with tears in his eyes to find that Sawyer was smiling slightly...but those unnaturally expressive eyes were shining from within, filled with every bit of the joy that Jack himself was feeling. “This?”
“Yeah.”
“This?”
“Would you get me my damn boots already, I’m set to walk on outta here.”
Jack laughed long and hard, feeling the tears run down his cheeks at the same time. “This can’t be happening.”
“Tell that to my feet, Doc.” Sawyer chuckled, rotating his left foot and watching it move with keen interest. After a moment, he winced. “My left leg’s killin’ me.”
“Yeah...you dislocated your left knee in the crash. Given the shaky chances of this procedure we just did, an orthopedic surgeon hasn’t been in yet.” Jack explained. “I’ll send a good one in to see you tomorrow...you probably have a torn ACL, among other things.”
“You mean like all them pro wrestlers get?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Sawyer nodded, then looked up at Jack again with a strange softness in his eyes...something warm, almost awestruck. “Guess you saved my life, huh?”
Jack nodded, smiling slightly. “Yeah...guess I did.” He paused, sobering. “That okay with you?”
For a moment those eyes were startled, and Jack felt a small spark of triumph. “What?”
“When you came in, you said I should just let you go. Sawyer...no, *James*...you’re alive now, but I’m not gonna lie: this is only the beginning. This right here? Should not be happening, and that’s the truth. If I were you? I wouldn’t mess this up.”
The warmth faded from his eyes, turning from still waters to sapphires, brilliant, cool, and hard as stone the second Jack said his name. “Yeah, well...I ain’t exactly a genius at getting shit right.”
There was honesty in that tone...a resignation that wasn’t simply stating something he believed was true, but that *was* true...in his world.
Jack moved to his side and rested one hand on the edge of the mattress above his head, leaning in a bit. “I won’t *let* you mess this up.” he replied flatly.
Sawyer raised an eyebrow, and while those eyes remained hard and flinty, they warmed a bit with something Jack couldn’t quite identify...something almost like pleasure, a twisted delight at being pushed. “That a threat, Marathon Man?”
“No...it’s a promise. I’m not letting you screw this up.” Jack paused, chewing on his lips for a second before renewing his vow. “God as my witness...I am going to fix you.”
* * * * *
On the other side of the partition, he watched Sawyer smile enigmatically. “That’s just sadistic, y’know...and you call yourself a nurse.”
A high, pleasant feminine laugh rang out as the pretty dark-haired young woman beside him took a note on his chart. “If I had a nickel for every time a ‘dying’ patient tried to squeeze a kiss out of me...”
“Lemme guess, you could retire?”
“No...I’d have about forty five cents.”
“Pretty little thing like you? Now why am I surprised?”
“Because I said ‘no?’ I have a feeling you don’t hear that a lot. I’ve only been here a few months. And anyway...your doctor might not approve.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“He’s my cousin.”
At the stunned look on Sawyer’s face, Jack finally rounded the corner with a grin. “Morning, Kate...how’s our patient doing?”
“For a man with a broken leg? Not bad.” Kate quipped with a grin, finishing her note and handing Jack the chart. “I hear you fixed up his back already.”
“So it seems.”
Kate grinned, then glanced back at Sawyer. “If you’ll excuse me, Tex...I’m going in for report. I’ll see you later.”
“Bet yer ass you will, Freckles!” he called out after her, shooting Jack an incredulous look. “That’s yer *cousin?*”
Jack laughed, nodding. “Yeah...our mothers are sisters. How you feeling today?”
“Like shit warmed over twice...night’s sleep didn’t do shit. Can’t ya give me somethin’ else fer the pain? This shit ain’t workin’.” Sawyer grumbled, gesturing with his hand, which was connected to an IV.
“Actually, that’s your antibiotics.” Jack informed him, looking over Sawyer’s chart before glancing up again. “That transparent patch on your chest is your pain medication.”
Sawyer looked down and tugged at the collar of his hospital gown, revealing a smooth expanse of well-muscled, tanned skin marred by a clear patch of plastic. Jack’s eyes were riveted for a moment, but he hastily returned to Sawyer’s chart.
“It’s dilaudid.” Jack explained briskly. “Delivered epidermally...you’ll get a fresh one tomorrow, one patch is good for about two days.”
“You gotta be shittin’ me, Doc.” he sighed, head falling back against his bed.
“Look, if you’re that uncomfortable, I can prescribe some hydrocordone to take an edge off, but you can only have it about every twelve hours.” Jack finally relented. “Other than that, there’s not much I can do.”
“Anyone ever tell you yer bedside manner stinks, Doc?”
Jack snorted, looking up again. “Yeah...same people that told me about my hair.”
Sawyer met his eyes with a small smile, and Jack felt a flare of warmth in his chest at the sight of it. It was fleeting, but the small upturn of lips was radiant for a split second before smile turned to smirk, somehow marring that expressive face by closing it off to him. “Well maybe y’all should work on both, don’t ya think?”
Jack ignored the question, making a note on Sawyer’s chart before hanging it on the end of his bed again. Walking over, he grabbed a chair and brought it to Sawyer’s bedside, sitting down. “James...”
“Told you, Doc...it’s Sawyer.”
“That’s not your name.” he shot back without blinking. “Right now, I’d prefer to deal straight with you.”
“Well I wouldn’t.”
“Then you’re going to be an invalid for the rest of your life.”
That got Sawyer’s attention. “What? You said--”
“I know what I said yesterday and I know what I saw...what you did...but you’re not out of the woods yet. For starters, you’re still in serious condition. You lost a lot of blood, and you’re AB Negative, which makes things kind of tricky.”
“How?”
“That’s a rare blood type. Very rare. Now usually we have more than enough on hand, but we had another AB case in here a few days ago that put a big dent in our supply. We have some on hand, but if you have any family members who could--”
“I don’t.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“You don’t need to.” The voice that touched Jack’s ears was a low, primal growl, the eyes cold and devoid of all good humor. “You wanna know if I got someone who might wanna save my ass. I don’t. End of disucssion.”
Jack was a little bit startled by the reaction, but not much. The man reminded him too much of a golden-haired jungle cat, and right now he was acting like a wounded animal backed into a corner.
“All right.” he finally replied as evenly as he could. “Okay...nothing big to worry about. We’ve still got a few units on hand, plus I can scour the staff for any donors. I suggested family because of the delicacy of your condition. A relation is sometimes a better match. But that does bring me to my next concern: your care.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Jack was grateful looks couldn’t kill. Those eyes were like daggers when he did that... “What about my care? Just fix my knee and get me the fuck outta here.”
“It’s not that easy. Fixing your knee’s just the start. Your back is still healing, and if you add the knee surgery, you’re going to be laid up for a long while. Now I’ve talked to an orthopedist on the staff here, his name is John Locke. He’s the best in his field, and I think he can probably get you ready to start walking within a couple months.”
“*Months?!?*”
“Yes, and note I said *start* walking. It could take another couple of months for you to be mobile again. Sawyer, your back was broken and your leg split in two, for all intents and purposes. After you’ve healed from the surgery, you’ll have to start a pretty rigorous physical therapy plan. It’s not going to be easy...in fact, it’s going to be downright painful and more than a little taxing on your pride and your patience.”
“What the fuck are you tryin’ to say?”
“I’m saying that just because you *can* walk again doesn’t necessarily mean that you *will.*”
“You sayin’ I can’t do it?” Sawyer growled.
Jack regarded him for a moment...then raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what it takes.”
Before Sawyer could answer him, Jack stood and walked away from him with a smile on his face as a streak of low, snarling curses grew fainter the further he got from Sawyer’s bed.