Land of the Gun (100moods - Prompt #3: Angry)
Title: Land of the Gun
Fandom: LOST
Characters: James "Sawyer" Ford, Alexandra Rousseau, mentions of the Others
Prompt: #3 (Angry) // LOST Fic Battle 2010 (Alex/Sawyer, pistol)
Word Count: 636
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Guns? And mentions of violence.
Summary: He just needed to make sure she survived.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
Land of the Gun
He just needed to make sure she survived. What she did with her life afterward was none of his concern. She could steal people's money or fall in love or take her own life, as long as anything she did had nothing to do with him. He could not be responsible for ruining the life of yet another child.
So he took a pistol that was not meant for someone like her, hid it out of everyone's view and brought it to her.
"Do you know how to use a gun?" he asked swiftly, desperately. He was out of breath, and she wondered how he found the courage to speak while panicking.
She just nodded and said, "I've seen too many people use one before."
He didn't even think about her words and said, "Great. Then I don't gotta tell you how to use it 'cause I don't got time." He outstretched his arm, carefully holding the lethal object so she wouldn't have to be afraid to take it from him. "Take it and escape, all right?"
And she just stared back and forth between this man and the gun, and she wondered if they were one and the same.She didn't want to stay and find out, but she didn't want to leave, either--the outcomes of both decisions could be one and the same, too. They could result in pain, a sudden desire for ignorance. So she just stood there and didn't care that his expression was turning angrier and angrier with every passing second.
"Come on. Aren't you gonna take the gun?"
She found the courage to shake her head. Why was he helping her, anyway? She couldn't trust him. She wouldn't trust him. She kept shaking her head and clenched her fists to ensure that they would not have the chance to grasp the gun.
He sighed. "All right. I ain't askin' you to anymore. I'm tellin' you to. Take the goddamn gun and run."
She found that the message wasn't getting through to him so she started taking steps backward to get away from him. But he muttered more swears and forcefully opened the palms of her hands and gave her no choice but to wrap her fingers around the barrel of the gun and she flinched because she was afraid it was going to fire and hurt somebody with the sudden carelessness he was displaying.
"Just stay safe. Don't disappear on your parents. Stay alive. Whatever. You hear me?" he asked, moving a few steps back and preparing to flee.
She guessed she nodded because a few seconds later, he said, "All right," and then he was gone.
And she stood there and her eyes could only focus on the gun she was loosely holding. And she remembered hearing a million other gunshots directed toward people she loved and people she hated and she remembered the sick, twisted smiles on the faces of those who used the guns. And it occurred to her that she didn't know what he was running from or what she was supposed to be running from at this very moment. It was probably the Others. It was always, always the Others. But they knew her. She was one of them, and he just didn't know it when she was given the gun. She was one of them, and they wouldn't hurt her. They wouldn't dare. Would they?
And she realized she didn't care about the threat and that she cared more about hating herself for not fighting him, for refusing to take the gun and doing what she was told. Because doing nothing like she did had gotten her absolutely nowhere but here, lost and confused and becoming a monster just like everyone else on the island.
She dropped the gun and ran from herself.
Fandom: LOST
Characters: James "Sawyer" Ford, Alexandra Rousseau, mentions of the Others
Prompt: #3 (Angry) // LOST Fic Battle 2010 (Alex/Sawyer, pistol)
Word Count: 636
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Guns? And mentions of violence.
Summary: He just needed to make sure she survived.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
Land of the Gun
He just needed to make sure she survived. What she did with her life afterward was none of his concern. She could steal people's money or fall in love or take her own life, as long as anything she did had nothing to do with him. He could not be responsible for ruining the life of yet another child.
So he took a pistol that was not meant for someone like her, hid it out of everyone's view and brought it to her.
"Do you know how to use a gun?" he asked swiftly, desperately. He was out of breath, and she wondered how he found the courage to speak while panicking.
She just nodded and said, "I've seen too many people use one before."
He didn't even think about her words and said, "Great. Then I don't gotta tell you how to use it 'cause I don't got time." He outstretched his arm, carefully holding the lethal object so she wouldn't have to be afraid to take it from him. "Take it and escape, all right?"
And she just stared back and forth between this man and the gun, and she wondered if they were one and the same.She didn't want to stay and find out, but she didn't want to leave, either--the outcomes of both decisions could be one and the same, too. They could result in pain, a sudden desire for ignorance. So she just stood there and didn't care that his expression was turning angrier and angrier with every passing second.
"Come on. Aren't you gonna take the gun?"
She found the courage to shake her head. Why was he helping her, anyway? She couldn't trust him. She wouldn't trust him. She kept shaking her head and clenched her fists to ensure that they would not have the chance to grasp the gun.
He sighed. "All right. I ain't askin' you to anymore. I'm tellin' you to. Take the goddamn gun and run."
She found that the message wasn't getting through to him so she started taking steps backward to get away from him. But he muttered more swears and forcefully opened the palms of her hands and gave her no choice but to wrap her fingers around the barrel of the gun and she flinched because she was afraid it was going to fire and hurt somebody with the sudden carelessness he was displaying.
"Just stay safe. Don't disappear on your parents. Stay alive. Whatever. You hear me?" he asked, moving a few steps back and preparing to flee.
She guessed she nodded because a few seconds later, he said, "All right," and then he was gone.
And she stood there and her eyes could only focus on the gun she was loosely holding. And she remembered hearing a million other gunshots directed toward people she loved and people she hated and she remembered the sick, twisted smiles on the faces of those who used the guns. And it occurred to her that she didn't know what he was running from or what she was supposed to be running from at this very moment. It was probably the Others. It was always, always the Others. But they knew her. She was one of them, and he just didn't know it when she was given the gun. She was one of them, and they wouldn't hurt her. They wouldn't dare. Would they?
And she realized she didn't care about the threat and that she cared more about hating herself for not fighting him, for refusing to take the gun and doing what she was told. Because doing nothing like she did had gotten her absolutely nowhere but here, lost and confused and becoming a monster just like everyone else on the island.
She dropped the gun and ran from herself.