Lost fic: "I Have A Bad Feeling About This"
Title: I Have A Bad Feeling About This
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Not mine, I wish.
Words: 635
Summary: Sawyer always like to think of himself as Han Solo.
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Characters: James “Sawyer” Ford and Han Solo
Author’s Notes: If you haven’t seen the original Star Wars trilogy, this fic will not make any sense to you. If you have - especially if you like Han - I hope this entertains you.
When James is ten, Foster Dad #1 takes him to see “Star Wars” at the big marquee theatre downtown. They go straight after school, buy brand-name soft drinks and popcorn, and sit in the fifth row. Foster Dad #1 winces at the noise, the explosions that shake their seats and bounce popcorn from the tub that sits on the armrest between them. James watches with rapt attention; eyes wide, mouth open, breathing silently. As soon as Greedo slumps over the table, James decides that Han Solo is his favorite character.
Han Solo is a scoundrel. Han Solo will avenge his parents’ deaths.
That October, he pulls on his blue dress pants and white button-down shirt that he had worn to greet Foster Parents #2 the month before. Foster Mom #2 pins a strip of red cloth down each pant leg: his very own “Corellian bloodstripe.” He paints an old Piggly Wiggly paper bag black, then cuts arm holes and a slit down the middle: a makeshift black vest. Foster Dad #2 helps him make a blaster from tin foil.
James uses the same Halloween costume four years in a row.
When he gets to high school, Foster Mom #3 insists that he take a Home-Ec class. James agrees, simply to get her off his back. When the teacher gives them free reign on their sewing final, he makes himself an honest-to-goodness black vest, with the chest pocket and everything.
Every costume party James goes to during his one semester in college, he goes as Han Solo. He finds friends among the boys who are trying to be men (and failing miserably) just like him; the ones who can hold their liquor and know all of Han’s lines from memory.
Every costume party Sawyer goes to with the rich sluts he pulls cons on, he goes as Han Solo. The ladies find it sexy. They tell him they all like “the bad boy”; if only they knew what the bad boy was about to pull over on them. When they tell Sawyer they love him, and they all do at some point, he smiles and simply says, “I know.”
When Jack gives him the gun, “just in case,” Sawyer wishes he had a hip holster to slip it into. He settles for the waistband of his jeans, but he can’t shake that childhood desire to whip a blaster from a holster along his red-striped leg.
As Sawyer pulls the gun on the kidnapping bastards in the motorboat, he can’t help but think that this was something Han Solo would have done. Sinking in the water, blood seeping through his shirt, he wonders why he had to be living the Special Edition version of life.
James had always hated the Special Editions. Han shot first. End of story.
Jin and Michael drag him up onto the sand, and he groans when they tug on his left arm. Jack and Sun run from the jungle, Kate at their heels, and Sawyer almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation: for the first time on the island, people are happy to him. It seems like he's just returned from destroying the Death Star; they're coming to greet a hero.
He isn’t a hero, though. He didn’t destroy the Death Star. He let those bastards take Walt.
Sawyer tries to explain it to Jack, tries to get him to understand why he needs to go now. Han wouldn’t have put up with his doctor shit, and neither will he.
“Stay down, Sawyer! Goddamn it, are you that much of a masochist that you wanna rip out your stitches?” Jack glares at him. “You’re lucky to be alive. Most people wouldn’t have made it back to the surface, you know.”
“Never tell me the odds,” James mutters, before slipping into unconsciousness.
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Not mine, I wish.
Words: 635
Summary: Sawyer always like to think of himself as Han Solo.
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Characters: James “Sawyer” Ford and Han Solo
Author’s Notes: If you haven’t seen the original Star Wars trilogy, this fic will not make any sense to you. If you have - especially if you like Han - I hope this entertains you.
When James is ten, Foster Dad #1 takes him to see “Star Wars” at the big marquee theatre downtown. They go straight after school, buy brand-name soft drinks and popcorn, and sit in the fifth row. Foster Dad #1 winces at the noise, the explosions that shake their seats and bounce popcorn from the tub that sits on the armrest between them. James watches with rapt attention; eyes wide, mouth open, breathing silently. As soon as Greedo slumps over the table, James decides that Han Solo is his favorite character.
Han Solo is a scoundrel. Han Solo will avenge his parents’ deaths.
That October, he pulls on his blue dress pants and white button-down shirt that he had worn to greet Foster Parents #2 the month before. Foster Mom #2 pins a strip of red cloth down each pant leg: his very own “Corellian bloodstripe.” He paints an old Piggly Wiggly paper bag black, then cuts arm holes and a slit down the middle: a makeshift black vest. Foster Dad #2 helps him make a blaster from tin foil.
James uses the same Halloween costume four years in a row.
When he gets to high school, Foster Mom #3 insists that he take a Home-Ec class. James agrees, simply to get her off his back. When the teacher gives them free reign on their sewing final, he makes himself an honest-to-goodness black vest, with the chest pocket and everything.
Every costume party James goes to during his one semester in college, he goes as Han Solo. He finds friends among the boys who are trying to be men (and failing miserably) just like him; the ones who can hold their liquor and know all of Han’s lines from memory.
Every costume party Sawyer goes to with the rich sluts he pulls cons on, he goes as Han Solo. The ladies find it sexy. They tell him they all like “the bad boy”; if only they knew what the bad boy was about to pull over on them. When they tell Sawyer they love him, and they all do at some point, he smiles and simply says, “I know.”
When Jack gives him the gun, “just in case,” Sawyer wishes he had a hip holster to slip it into. He settles for the waistband of his jeans, but he can’t shake that childhood desire to whip a blaster from a holster along his red-striped leg.
As Sawyer pulls the gun on the kidnapping bastards in the motorboat, he can’t help but think that this was something Han Solo would have done. Sinking in the water, blood seeping through his shirt, he wonders why he had to be living the Special Edition version of life.
James had always hated the Special Editions. Han shot first. End of story.
Jin and Michael drag him up onto the sand, and he groans when they tug on his left arm. Jack and Sun run from the jungle, Kate at their heels, and Sawyer almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation: for the first time on the island, people are happy to him. It seems like he's just returned from destroying the Death Star; they're coming to greet a hero.
He isn’t a hero, though. He didn’t destroy the Death Star. He let those bastards take Walt.
Sawyer tries to explain it to Jack, tries to get him to understand why he needs to go now. Han wouldn’t have put up with his doctor shit, and neither will he.
“Stay down, Sawyer! Goddamn it, are you that much of a masochist that you wanna rip out your stitches?” Jack glares at him. “You’re lucky to be alive. Most people wouldn’t have made it back to the surface, you know.”
“Never tell me the odds,” James mutters, before slipping into unconsciousness.