puppets on strings all dance and sing
Pulling off a good con required the ability to care or dismiss about things at will. For about five minutes, Sawyer had managed to forget that Richard Alpert was a man who had not aged a day in the span of approximately fifty years, that the Others had significantly more knowledge of the land than he did, that there was still no explanation to be found for the sentient smoke which crawled around the island at will and the man with the most knowledge among those stranded in the crash of Oceanic Flight 815 had fallen down a well which had suddenly disappeared and reappeared as the area seemingly flickered through time. What he took away were the facts that he had on Richard- that he knew John Locke had approached the Others years ago claiming to be their future leader, and that Daniel Faraday had similarly told them how to bury an unstable hydrogen bomb deep within the earth. It wasn't much, nor was either situation one which Sawyer had done anything to further while watching from the sidelines as he did, but it was enough, more than enough to buy weight with either side of an ongoing struggle he had no desire to involve himself in.
The problem being, of course, that regardless of the Others' and Dharma's motives, Sawyer needed to stay on that island. It didn't matter how much he wanted to hop on a submarine and head back stateside, or how much it chilled his spine to think that returning could give him some sort of power against the death of his parents. Hell, even the prospect of enjoying the seventies, free love and all the hippie crap that he normally abhorred like the true Southerner he was, could have been enough to pull Sawyer away with that free ticket Dharma wanted to give him. But he couldn't. Because John Locke had managed to save all of them from a hemorraging death, and Sawyer couldn't let a debt like that pass without at least trying to find the man and ensure his safety.
The Dharma Initiative wouldn't take him and his group without knowing that he had something to offer. And being able to bargain away the hostile natives on the island seemed like a damned good place to start. All it required was forking over a body.
But even a small cost like that began to feel grave the very moment Sawyer stepped back into the Dharma clinic, half a step behind Horace, catching a glimpse of Amy as she sat leaning over the bed which held her late husband's body, pallor just starting to settle on Paul's face. He tugged that gaze away, not wanting to regret his decision, not wanting to feel for the widow too much, lest he risk jeopardizing the interests of the group that was already looking to him to make all their decisions after Locke's sudden disappearance.
In the few hours he had known Amy, and in spite of the fact that he had never met Paul at all, Sawyer could see the strength it required to set one's feet down and be invested in something, some place, some person. He watched as Horace nodded, getting to his feet to give Amy space. Watched as Amy tugged a small, hand-carved wooden ankh from around her husband's neck and kissed it, rushing to leave, and caught her right before she passed with an apology no louder than a whisper.
"I'm sorry," Sawyer said.
She left without a word, but frankly it didn't matter anymore whether or not she appreciated the gesture. It wasn't given to prove anything, nor given to curry favor. Jim LaFleur was new, and even if Sawyer hadn't planned Jim's life down yet to every detail, he knew the personality that he wanted Jim to have.
His own.
"You need some help?" He asked Horace after getting to his feet, voice still hoarse and hushed in deference to the body laying on the bed.
"Hmm? Oh, nah, I've got it, thanks," Horace shook his head with a mutter, lost in thought. Sawyer turned to leave, still thinking of the others with him and how exactly he could break to them what had happened, when Horace suddenly spoke up again, stopping Sawyer in his tracks. "Hey, Jim. The sub leaving tomorrow morning, it returns in two weeks. Until then, you can stay, and look for the rest of your crew."
Even if Sawyer had wanted it in the first place, the offer still caught him by surprise, a sentiment he didn't need to feign in the slightest. "Thanks."
He turned again to leave, just managing to get a foot through the door when night suddenly turned to day, blinding him on all sides with bright sunlight as Sawyer winced in its wake. Gradually, he lowered his arms away from his eyes, squinting through the rays and blinking until his vision adjusted. It sounded like the island, birds chirping in the distance. Smelled of it, even, of overripe fruit having fallen to the ground, of damp and overturned earth, and just a hint of something else rusted and old. But it wasn't until Sawyer finally managed to open his eyes fully that he became aware of the too familiar set of bars in front of his face and the crunch of a broken fish biscuit under his foot, sending his eyes rolling violently and his arms swinging over his head. Biting his lower lip, Sawyer merely paced for a couple of seconds, cheeks flushing and breath growing heavy, feet pacing heavily around the perimeter of the cage. Suddenly, he ran toward the entrance, hands grabbing on the cool metal of the bars and shaking them violently before pounding uselessly on one.
"Son of a bitch!" he growled viciously, kicking the side of the door hard enough to lose his balance, stumbling back and letting his eyes rove around for anything that stood a chance of helping him out. Spotting a large slab of rock in the corner of the cage, he picked it up and carried it over to the rusting lock, positioning it just above before bringing it down with a loud clang. Several more times, he repeated the action, before his grip slipped and the rock fell out of his reach.
"Dammit," he breathed.
It was just his luck.
[ Traditional debut! Find him in the bear cage! ST/LT very welcome and open forever, and when better to meet Sawyer than when he's caged with no way out? :D ]
The problem being, of course, that regardless of the Others' and Dharma's motives, Sawyer needed to stay on that island. It didn't matter how much he wanted to hop on a submarine and head back stateside, or how much it chilled his spine to think that returning could give him some sort of power against the death of his parents. Hell, even the prospect of enjoying the seventies, free love and all the hippie crap that he normally abhorred like the true Southerner he was, could have been enough to pull Sawyer away with that free ticket Dharma wanted to give him. But he couldn't. Because John Locke had managed to save all of them from a hemorraging death, and Sawyer couldn't let a debt like that pass without at least trying to find the man and ensure his safety.
The Dharma Initiative wouldn't take him and his group without knowing that he had something to offer. And being able to bargain away the hostile natives on the island seemed like a damned good place to start. All it required was forking over a body.
But even a small cost like that began to feel grave the very moment Sawyer stepped back into the Dharma clinic, half a step behind Horace, catching a glimpse of Amy as she sat leaning over the bed which held her late husband's body, pallor just starting to settle on Paul's face. He tugged that gaze away, not wanting to regret his decision, not wanting to feel for the widow too much, lest he risk jeopardizing the interests of the group that was already looking to him to make all their decisions after Locke's sudden disappearance.
In the few hours he had known Amy, and in spite of the fact that he had never met Paul at all, Sawyer could see the strength it required to set one's feet down and be invested in something, some place, some person. He watched as Horace nodded, getting to his feet to give Amy space. Watched as Amy tugged a small, hand-carved wooden ankh from around her husband's neck and kissed it, rushing to leave, and caught her right before she passed with an apology no louder than a whisper.
"I'm sorry," Sawyer said.
She left without a word, but frankly it didn't matter anymore whether or not she appreciated the gesture. It wasn't given to prove anything, nor given to curry favor. Jim LaFleur was new, and even if Sawyer hadn't planned Jim's life down yet to every detail, he knew the personality that he wanted Jim to have.
His own.
"You need some help?" He asked Horace after getting to his feet, voice still hoarse and hushed in deference to the body laying on the bed.
"Hmm? Oh, nah, I've got it, thanks," Horace shook his head with a mutter, lost in thought. Sawyer turned to leave, still thinking of the others with him and how exactly he could break to them what had happened, when Horace suddenly spoke up again, stopping Sawyer in his tracks. "Hey, Jim. The sub leaving tomorrow morning, it returns in two weeks. Until then, you can stay, and look for the rest of your crew."
Even if Sawyer had wanted it in the first place, the offer still caught him by surprise, a sentiment he didn't need to feign in the slightest. "Thanks."
He turned again to leave, just managing to get a foot through the door when night suddenly turned to day, blinding him on all sides with bright sunlight as Sawyer winced in its wake. Gradually, he lowered his arms away from his eyes, squinting through the rays and blinking until his vision adjusted. It sounded like the island, birds chirping in the distance. Smelled of it, even, of overripe fruit having fallen to the ground, of damp and overturned earth, and just a hint of something else rusted and old. But it wasn't until Sawyer finally managed to open his eyes fully that he became aware of the too familiar set of bars in front of his face and the crunch of a broken fish biscuit under his foot, sending his eyes rolling violently and his arms swinging over his head. Biting his lower lip, Sawyer merely paced for a couple of seconds, cheeks flushing and breath growing heavy, feet pacing heavily around the perimeter of the cage. Suddenly, he ran toward the entrance, hands grabbing on the cool metal of the bars and shaking them violently before pounding uselessly on one.
"Son of a bitch!" he growled viciously, kicking the side of the door hard enough to lose his balance, stumbling back and letting his eyes rove around for anything that stood a chance of helping him out. Spotting a large slab of rock in the corner of the cage, he picked it up and carried it over to the rusting lock, positioning it just above before bringing it down with a loud clang. Several more times, he repeated the action, before his grip slipped and the rock fell out of his reach.
"Dammit," he breathed.
It was just his luck.
[ Traditional debut! Find him in the bear cage! ST/LT very welcome and open forever, and when better to meet Sawyer than when he's caged with no way out? :D ]