Fic: Understanding Words (Sawyer/Sun)
Title: Understanding Words (5 of 12 in a series, see below)
Pairing: pre-’ship Sawyer/Sun
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sun is starting to pick up on Sawyer’s way of speaking. But, lord help them, they’re finally going to break through some of this sadness that’s been holding them.
Note: This season 2 AU involves Jin’s death on the raft, and it diverges from the show sometime after Sawyer recovers from his bullet wound. Also, I know it’s easy to be leery of getting into a series: it takes a long time to read the previous parts. Of course it would be helpful for you to have read the previous stories (especially the first), but I really think you can pick up here and be just fine. x-posted to sawyerxsun.
previous stories:
Understanding
Understanding Love
Understanding Failure
Understanding Gardening
Understanding Words
“Son of a bitch,” Sun murmured, rubbing furiously at her knee. She’d just whacked it on the table in the hatch living room, but she had to laugh at herself. She felt silly, and what was even sillier was the thought that this was one thing she didn’t miss about civilization: furniture that she would invariably run into, stub her toe against, or smack her elbows on.
She’d come down to the hatch to find something that might pass for a large vase-she had some flowers she wanted to put out in the cemetery, for Shannon, Boone, and Jin. She had thought about planting the flowers there, but that seemed somehow wrong. She thought flowers shouldn’t grow out of such ground, nor should anyone have to trample over the graves almost daily to water them. So, instead, she decided to periodically take some cuttings and leave them there, to make the place more beautiful and to remind them of these lives, rather than the deaths they ended with. It was fitting: in life, all three were beautiful; scarred, but lovely. Then again, Sun tended to see everyone that way.
She was examining the contents of the kitchen cabinets when Kate came around the corner.
“I thought I heard somebody,” she said.
“Just me. Do you remember seeing anything that I might be able to put some flowers in?”
“I try not to look around much down here. This place still sorta gives me the creeps. You should ask Sawyer. I bet he has something.”
“I already tried Sawyer.”
“I’m sure there’s something suitable in all the stuff he has. He’s just not using his imagination. Too bad he wouldn’t let you root through it to look for yourself.”
“He did. He let me look at his things. But he doesn’t have as much as he used to.”
Kate regarded her strangely for a second before she shook her head almost imperceptibly. A moment later, she said, “Oh, I’ve got an idea. I heard Hurley complaining about how he’d gone to the trouble to save one of those empty mayonnaise containers, but somehow it got cracked near the top. Maybe he’d let you have it.”
“Thanks, Kate. I reckon he might.”
“You reckon?”
“Was that…?”
Kate smiled and shook her head. “No. I know what you mean. That’s a perfectly natural word to use…if you’re from Tennessee. You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Sawyer lately, haven’t you?”
“I…suppose I have.”
“Anytime I see him, he’s with you. Nobody else has managed to coax him out of his tent.”
“Coax?”
“Convince. Usually means you have to try a lot of tactics, sometimes sneaky ones.”
“You don’t need to coax Sawyer. You just have to ask him.”
“No, you just have to ask him,” she said, raising her eyebrows and walking off into the computer room. Sun had the distinct feeling Kate was more than a little annoyed with her; there was a sudden awkwardness between the two of them. Or maybe it wasn’t so sudden. Really, Kate had been weird around her for a long time, although she had assumed it was because everyone was a little weird around her, and around Sayid and Michael. She had thought perhaps Kate was as ill equipped as the rest of them to deal with loss, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. It seemed to be something more.
Sun was halfway back to the beach again, thinking about how annoyed Sawyer would be with her for going through the jungle by herself, when it hit her, like a cartoon lightbulb of recognition. It was not so much what Sun lost as what she gained: Sawyer. Kate was jealous. It made her giggle, because there was absolutely nothing to be jealous of. Sawyer was simply someone she was comfortable with, and she was happy that she seemed to serve the same purpose for him. If that was reason for Kate to get territorial…
She chuckled to herself. So, she thought, there is at least one person who has felt Sawyer’s withdrawal from the world. It made her think that perhaps Sawyer needed to start interacting with people again. As she did also. The proof was in her own speaking.
“I’m starting to talk like him,” she mumbled to herself. “Son of a bitch.” She giggled, then she felt the smallest and most unexpected of tugs on her heart. If she pushed him back into the world, would she be giving him up?
She was walking out onto the beach before she could finally admit to herself that, no, she didn’t want to give up spending time with Sawyer. She smiled, but underneath that was confusion. And pain. And something else she couldn’t name.
*****
“Hello, Hurley.”
“Hey, Sun.” Hurley was examining his tent, checking it for leaks, testing the rope that held it together. “How’s it going?”
“Fine. I’ve been feeling much better lately.”
“Good to know.”
“I was wondering if you had something that you might give me?”
He smirked at her, in that playful, warm way he had. “I doubt if Sawyer doesn’t have it, I will.”
“What makes you think Sawyer would give me any of his things?”
“Because he would. Are you crazy? You’re like his best friend now.” He added, under his breath, “If he’s capable of having a best friend.”
“Why do people think so badly of Sawyer?”
“Because he can be a real…well, he’s not nice. That’s it. Maybe he’s been nice to you, but…”
“I realize that he can be difficult, and that before the raft he was often…rude and cruel, but he’s not the same man anymore.”
Hurley’s forehead knit in concentration and worry, and finally released in acceptance. “If you say so.”
“Hurley…”
“No. I’m serious. If you say he’s stopped being an asshole, I believe you. Maybe he has. But it’s only a matter of time before he starts feeling better, and then…”
Two things were clear to Sun as she left him a few minutes later with a cracked mayonnaise container tucked under her arm: Hurley wanted to believe her about Sawyer, but he wasn’t sure it was smart. It made her wonder herself. It’s not as if she hadn’t been all too aware of his behavior and his attitude, and how the biggest part of it hadn’t magically been wiped away by his near-death experience. She thought about the man he presented to her. Her Sawyer was often grouchy, sometimes so quiet it could be unnerving, but he was also generous, despite behaving as though he was put-upon, and, above all, really good company. He seemed to sense her moods, infusing their walks and talks with humor or his own brand of philosophy or simply being near her without invading her thoughts.
But when she thought about it, it was hard to reconcile this vision of him, the man he was with her now, with the nearly mythic image of him that survived in people’s minds. Before the raft, Sawyer was the camp mercenary, looking out mainly for himself, quick to improve his own situation at the expense of others’. It was also true that he wasn’t very nice. She might even have used the word cruel. She had heard the names. He had somehow avoided racial slurs where she was concerned, but it was probably more due to Jin than any delicacy on his part. She could imagine that a man who would call Sayid Mohammed or Abdul would call her any number of insensitive or hurtful things.
She shook her head. He hadn’t. He had never done anything to hurt her, and she couldn’t let herself fixate on his past. Even if he was more scarred than lovely.
*****
He was at her beachside garden when she got there. He wasn’t really doing anything, merely sitting around, reading a book. She was hit with two very different and very confusing impulses. The first was anger. He wasn’t doing anything. He was strong, healthy now and capable of helping people in so many ways, but here he sat, lost in his world of books, shutting out the rest of the world. When he looked up and smiled as she approached, it was suddenly clear to her that she was no better than a security blanket, someone he could hide behind in order to avoid his life.
When he looked at her, she also felt the full force of that second thing: Sawyer was sometimes much more lovely than scarred, sitting there looking like an ethereal version of himself, that bronzed skin finally getting back the color it had lost during his sickness. His almost clear green-blue eyes met hers openly before they took on their veil of sarcasm, and she steadied herself against it, against another change in her perception of him.
“Hey there, Sunshine.”
“Hi, Sawyer. What are you doing?”
“Just passing the time.”
Like that anger that had come upon her suddenly, it came out of her mouth before she could stop it: “Perhaps you should pass it somewhere else.”
A bewildered hurt framed his face, set his jaw. “You tired of me already, then?”
“I just think…”
“What?” he snapped, and she wondered how they had gone from a casual greeting to this horrible tension so fast.
“What do you do with yourself all day?”
“Generally, I do whatever you tell me. Why, I don’t know.” He did know, but he was being defensive now.
“I think there are people on the island that are tired of you ignoring them.”
“People? Who? The ones who haven’t stepped foot near me since I washed up again. I’m sure there were a few who threw a parade when I was gone.” She hadn’t heard this self-pity in a long time. Had it always remained in him, or had it simply flared up again?
“If they haven’t come around, it’s because you scare them.”
“I do, do I?” he said, his voice going flat. “How come I don’t scare you, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I do. I think you’re about ten times as miserable as I am, and you don’t know any better how to talk to people without feeling stupid and overwhelmed. But you wanna kick me out? Fine. It’s your fucking garden.”
She couldn’t say anything as he stalked away. She couldn’t say come back, even if she wanted to. She could only wonder if she hadn’t got exactly what she wanted: she would get to see what he was really like, which Sawyer he was to her now.
Tears were waiting, hot at the back of her eyes. It tightened her throat and she fiercely fought against it. If earlier she had been flippantly thankful for this island existence because it rid her of furniture, she was now reminded of the small conveniences of a house. In a real house, she could cry and kick things and curse to her heart’s content. Now, here, she had no place to be alone that people couldn’t hear her, at least no place that wasn’t far away and wouldn’t provoke innumerable questions. She thought disparagingly of the hatch shower, but she knew she would have to do what she was sometimes forced to do in her own home in Korea: take out her frustration on her garden. She hoped she could find enough weeds and dead shoots to pull up before she had to set about the more delicate task of picking flowers. She was halfway sorry she had planted these red flowers here, because they were so close, under her shaking hands and only a few yards away from Sawyer’s tent.
*****
In the end, she didn’t have the heart to cut flowers for the dead with so much uncertainty and frustration in her heart. So she went back to her tent to try and calm down. She lay completely still and breathed deeply, feeling the grit under her nails and still seeing his face in her head, going from welcoming to angry in just a few moments. What had she done? He was not a forgiving man, much like her husband had not been quick to get over hurt feelings. Of course, Jin always expected her to forgive him much more quickly for his million little hurts.
What Sawyer said had hurt her, and she knew that it was because it was true. She was just as unwilling as he was to join the rest of the world. It was hard. She couldn’t even talk to Kate or Hurley without feeling like life was a difficult negotiation that she wasn’t prepared for anymore. Sun breathed in counts of four: in, out, hold. It didn’t seem to calm her like it usually did, and when she reached a holding breath, it felt heavy, impossible. She suddenly ached because of what she and Sawyer had. It had been such a helpful thing, but they were becoming too dependent on each other now.
Breathe in. How did I get here?
Breathe out. Why can’t we move forward?
Hold. Have I been holding him back, keeping him to myself?
Breathe in. I will not give him up.
Breathe out. How did I get here?
Hold. I don’t have to hold him so tightly.
He might never be who I want him to be.
But aren’t I happy with the man he is?
Since when do I assume the worst?
Since…
“Jin,” she said. In Korean, she muttered: “What would you think, Jin, about this man who is so much like you and yet not you? I am speaking like him now.”
She feel asleep crying, but softly.
*****
In her dreams, she was at home. Always. Sun dreamt of home: familiar food, clothes, people. Jin. She mostly dreamt that they were happy. She was always somehow fixing him in her dreams, seeing him the way she wanted to rather than the way he was. In her waking life, she couldn’t help but focus on the things that scared her, so in her dreams, things were fine.
When she woke up that afternoon, she knew two things: she had dreamt of Jin wearing the clothes she’d last seen him in, and he was standing in their kitchen, cooking her fish as he did on the island, but this time with a skillet and spice enough to make her actually want to eat it. The other thing she knew was he was speaking in English, speaking her English, tinged with Sawyer’s drawl, peppered with his southern American idioms. She shook her head against the absurdity of it. She knew it should feel like a blow or a betrayal, but what she felt was resolution and a sense of clarity.
She had been angry with Sawyer for no reason since what Kate had said earlier that day about the way she talked. But he had never asked her to adopt his language; she simply had. And she had never asked him to speak Korean to her, so he had not. Perhaps he had never once come to use even the most common of Korean expressions, the ones she still used, because it was not so easy for him, practically speaking. And it would clearly mean too much. It would mean…
She suddenly saw just why Kate had been so jealous of her. Knowing this, the dream left her and she went back to her garden to work, this time not to excavate feeling but to bury it. She took cuttings from several plants, reds that ranged from burgundy to an almost orange one that reminded her of fire. But a thought nagged her: what sense did it make to run from the one person she felt she understood the best on the island? And why in the holy hell was she running?
*****
She had almost pushed her confusion down far enough that she couldn’t feel it shake her balance as she carried the plastic jug of flowers up to the cemetery. She placed it in a spot where they would all see it as they passed, and where Shannon, Boone, and Jin might see it if they were in those graves. But they weren’t. She didn’t believe that people haunted the ground where they were buried. Therefore, she never spoke to Jin here, not once in the three months he’s been gone. He had hated cemeteries when he was alive. He had hated death, having seen it in his own family often enough. Finally, she could intimately understand just how it could effect a person.
She sat there beside the flowers, looking out over the ocean. She was used to the salt and the feel of sand under her feet now, but it had taken a few weeks for her to accustom herself to it. It had taken Jin less time than anyone to feel at home here, despite his being trapped in a suit, land-locked for so many years. It was as if some part of him had never forgotten the simplicity of his childhood. Those things had the power to hold him even after all the things he’d done and the harsh words they’d said. Had she forgiven him? she suddenly wondered. Perhaps. It was hard to tell anything anymore.
A shadow fell across the flowers beside her and she looked up to see Kate standing an arm’s length away.
Kate said, “I thought I’d find you here.”
“You were right. Hurley had a container perfect for the flowers.”
“They look nice, Sun. I know Sayid will appreciate seeing them.”
“He visits this place?”
“Nearly every night, after dark. He doesn’t stay long. I think he says his nightly prayers here. I would love to stay and listen to the musical way his language sounds, but it seems intrusive, so I don’t. But I know he does come here.”
“I don’t know why. I can’t stand it,” Sun said.
In the ensuing silence, Sun realized that something had shifted between them again. Kate wasn’t angry anymore, only slightly uncomfortable, as if she were waiting for something. So Sun looked at her frankly, and Kate said, “So, Sawyer came out to the hatch to see me.”
“Oh?”
“He’s worried about you.”
“I don’t know why.”
“For the same reason we all are, I guess. And, I think he’s worried you’re mad at him.”
“I’m not mad.”
“That’s what I said. I told him you’ve put up with just about all of his moods, so you should be able to survive this one too.” Kate let her gaze rest on the three mounds of dirt briefly, then she said, “Sawyer hadn’t spoken to me in a week. Or anybody, really. It’s good that he left his tent for a while.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“And it’s good that you left your tent for a while today, too. You know, right, that you can tell me anything. I can be a good listener.”
“I know.”
Kate started to walk away, but then she stopped. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little weird lately. I think I can be a little over-protective of Sawyer. It’s because I worry about him.”
“Kate, are you in love with him?”
She let out a long breath, shaking her head. “Boy, you have been around him a lot. You’ve learned to be direct. No, I’m not in love with Sawyer. I flirt, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Then why…?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say he reminds me of too many people I’ve loved, and he reminds me of myself. I feel like somebody needs to stick up for him.”
“I feel like if I’m going to be friends with Sawyer, I might need your help sometimes.”
“I don’t reckon you will,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “You do just fine.” She was ambling off when she turned and said, “Do me a favor: go talk to him.”
*****
“Well, how-de-do. If it isn’t the garden police,” he said when she stepped around his tent and found him sitting outside, stirring a small fire. The sun had gone down, sinking into the water so fast it still surprised her. Sawyer’s attitude of self-protection did not.
“I’m sorry.”
His face instantly went hard, even more protective somehow, then it softened. Even his voice was more gentle. “For what?”
“For being mean to you this afternoon.”
“It wasn’t mean. It was the truth.”
“The truth can be mean.”
“I reckon it can.” That was all the apology she would likely get from him about the subject, but it was enough. He gestured to the patch of ground beside him, and she sat down tentatively, aware for perhaps the first time in a long while of the nearness of his body, and of the sound of his voice, smooth despite his sarcasm.
He said, “You did a nice job with the flowers.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, Freckles took me to task today. Said you and me spend too much time moping. I told her we don’t mope.”
“No?”
“We wallow. We in general pretend that nothing bothers us. I hate watching you be so sad.” She frowned, apparently looking confused, because he said, “I know, I know. You’ve done a real nice job not inflicting it on anybody-“
“Inflicting?”
“Do you know the word burden?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think you and me hate to be a burden to anybody. So we act like we’re not a burden to each other, and we don’t let anybody else try and take the load off.” His seriousness broke for a moment as he cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t come up with this on my own, mind you. Kate did. She says we should try and let other people take the load off.”
“It’s not so bad anymore.”
“But it’s still there. You know what I told Kate? I told her we were good at letting go of burdens.”
“Are we?”
“You think it’s a lie? Well, I think you’ve been shouldering a lot of my crap for too long.” He smiled at her, shaking his head apparently at something in her expression. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
Suddenly, his hand was sliding over the back of her palm, large and hot, but skimming lightly, unsure. It didn’t hit her suddenly, and that was surprising; instead, it was as if a star fell, and she was watching it come closer and closer to the earth. Then she felt her heart give a kick, and she knew. She had forgiven Sawyer for the man he had been, just as surely as she had forgiven Jin in that breaking open of her heart on the beach as he prepared to leave her. The past no longer mattered. She should have known that about this island. It wasn’t as though it didn’t exist, but it didn’t hold them down anymore. They could throw off whatever parts of themselves they didn’t like, return to a purer form. Luckily, Sawyer’s purer form didn’t involve stripping him of all the things she had probably, since that very first day, found valuable in him.
She couldn’t look at him as his hand finally lay snugly against hers. It was too hard to look. But she found her gaze resting on his arm, the one she had changed the bandages on and helped stretch over his head as he recovered. Now, it was only scarred and lovely, and she lay her head against it, not knowing anything else to do.
Pairing: pre-’ship Sawyer/Sun
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sun is starting to pick up on Sawyer’s way of speaking. But, lord help them, they’re finally going to break through some of this sadness that’s been holding them.
Note: This season 2 AU involves Jin’s death on the raft, and it diverges from the show sometime after Sawyer recovers from his bullet wound. Also, I know it’s easy to be leery of getting into a series: it takes a long time to read the previous parts. Of course it would be helpful for you to have read the previous stories (especially the first), but I really think you can pick up here and be just fine. x-posted to sawyerxsun.
previous stories:
Understanding
Understanding Love
Understanding Failure
Understanding Gardening
Understanding Words
“Son of a bitch,” Sun murmured, rubbing furiously at her knee. She’d just whacked it on the table in the hatch living room, but she had to laugh at herself. She felt silly, and what was even sillier was the thought that this was one thing she didn’t miss about civilization: furniture that she would invariably run into, stub her toe against, or smack her elbows on.
She’d come down to the hatch to find something that might pass for a large vase-she had some flowers she wanted to put out in the cemetery, for Shannon, Boone, and Jin. She had thought about planting the flowers there, but that seemed somehow wrong. She thought flowers shouldn’t grow out of such ground, nor should anyone have to trample over the graves almost daily to water them. So, instead, she decided to periodically take some cuttings and leave them there, to make the place more beautiful and to remind them of these lives, rather than the deaths they ended with. It was fitting: in life, all three were beautiful; scarred, but lovely. Then again, Sun tended to see everyone that way.
She was examining the contents of the kitchen cabinets when Kate came around the corner.
“I thought I heard somebody,” she said.
“Just me. Do you remember seeing anything that I might be able to put some flowers in?”
“I try not to look around much down here. This place still sorta gives me the creeps. You should ask Sawyer. I bet he has something.”
“I already tried Sawyer.”
“I’m sure there’s something suitable in all the stuff he has. He’s just not using his imagination. Too bad he wouldn’t let you root through it to look for yourself.”
“He did. He let me look at his things. But he doesn’t have as much as he used to.”
Kate regarded her strangely for a second before she shook her head almost imperceptibly. A moment later, she said, “Oh, I’ve got an idea. I heard Hurley complaining about how he’d gone to the trouble to save one of those empty mayonnaise containers, but somehow it got cracked near the top. Maybe he’d let you have it.”
“Thanks, Kate. I reckon he might.”
“You reckon?”
“Was that…?”
Kate smiled and shook her head. “No. I know what you mean. That’s a perfectly natural word to use…if you’re from Tennessee. You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Sawyer lately, haven’t you?”
“I…suppose I have.”
“Anytime I see him, he’s with you. Nobody else has managed to coax him out of his tent.”
“Coax?”
“Convince. Usually means you have to try a lot of tactics, sometimes sneaky ones.”
“You don’t need to coax Sawyer. You just have to ask him.”
“No, you just have to ask him,” she said, raising her eyebrows and walking off into the computer room. Sun had the distinct feeling Kate was more than a little annoyed with her; there was a sudden awkwardness between the two of them. Or maybe it wasn’t so sudden. Really, Kate had been weird around her for a long time, although she had assumed it was because everyone was a little weird around her, and around Sayid and Michael. She had thought perhaps Kate was as ill equipped as the rest of them to deal with loss, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. It seemed to be something more.
Sun was halfway back to the beach again, thinking about how annoyed Sawyer would be with her for going through the jungle by herself, when it hit her, like a cartoon lightbulb of recognition. It was not so much what Sun lost as what she gained: Sawyer. Kate was jealous. It made her giggle, because there was absolutely nothing to be jealous of. Sawyer was simply someone she was comfortable with, and she was happy that she seemed to serve the same purpose for him. If that was reason for Kate to get territorial…
She chuckled to herself. So, she thought, there is at least one person who has felt Sawyer’s withdrawal from the world. It made her think that perhaps Sawyer needed to start interacting with people again. As she did also. The proof was in her own speaking.
“I’m starting to talk like him,” she mumbled to herself. “Son of a bitch.” She giggled, then she felt the smallest and most unexpected of tugs on her heart. If she pushed him back into the world, would she be giving him up?
She was walking out onto the beach before she could finally admit to herself that, no, she didn’t want to give up spending time with Sawyer. She smiled, but underneath that was confusion. And pain. And something else she couldn’t name.
*****
“Hello, Hurley.”
“Hey, Sun.” Hurley was examining his tent, checking it for leaks, testing the rope that held it together. “How’s it going?”
“Fine. I’ve been feeling much better lately.”
“Good to know.”
“I was wondering if you had something that you might give me?”
He smirked at her, in that playful, warm way he had. “I doubt if Sawyer doesn’t have it, I will.”
“What makes you think Sawyer would give me any of his things?”
“Because he would. Are you crazy? You’re like his best friend now.” He added, under his breath, “If he’s capable of having a best friend.”
“Why do people think so badly of Sawyer?”
“Because he can be a real…well, he’s not nice. That’s it. Maybe he’s been nice to you, but…”
“I realize that he can be difficult, and that before the raft he was often…rude and cruel, but he’s not the same man anymore.”
Hurley’s forehead knit in concentration and worry, and finally released in acceptance. “If you say so.”
“Hurley…”
“No. I’m serious. If you say he’s stopped being an asshole, I believe you. Maybe he has. But it’s only a matter of time before he starts feeling better, and then…”
Two things were clear to Sun as she left him a few minutes later with a cracked mayonnaise container tucked under her arm: Hurley wanted to believe her about Sawyer, but he wasn’t sure it was smart. It made her wonder herself. It’s not as if she hadn’t been all too aware of his behavior and his attitude, and how the biggest part of it hadn’t magically been wiped away by his near-death experience. She thought about the man he presented to her. Her Sawyer was often grouchy, sometimes so quiet it could be unnerving, but he was also generous, despite behaving as though he was put-upon, and, above all, really good company. He seemed to sense her moods, infusing their walks and talks with humor or his own brand of philosophy or simply being near her without invading her thoughts.
But when she thought about it, it was hard to reconcile this vision of him, the man he was with her now, with the nearly mythic image of him that survived in people’s minds. Before the raft, Sawyer was the camp mercenary, looking out mainly for himself, quick to improve his own situation at the expense of others’. It was also true that he wasn’t very nice. She might even have used the word cruel. She had heard the names. He had somehow avoided racial slurs where she was concerned, but it was probably more due to Jin than any delicacy on his part. She could imagine that a man who would call Sayid Mohammed or Abdul would call her any number of insensitive or hurtful things.
She shook her head. He hadn’t. He had never done anything to hurt her, and she couldn’t let herself fixate on his past. Even if he was more scarred than lovely.
*****
He was at her beachside garden when she got there. He wasn’t really doing anything, merely sitting around, reading a book. She was hit with two very different and very confusing impulses. The first was anger. He wasn’t doing anything. He was strong, healthy now and capable of helping people in so many ways, but here he sat, lost in his world of books, shutting out the rest of the world. When he looked up and smiled as she approached, it was suddenly clear to her that she was no better than a security blanket, someone he could hide behind in order to avoid his life.
When he looked at her, she also felt the full force of that second thing: Sawyer was sometimes much more lovely than scarred, sitting there looking like an ethereal version of himself, that bronzed skin finally getting back the color it had lost during his sickness. His almost clear green-blue eyes met hers openly before they took on their veil of sarcasm, and she steadied herself against it, against another change in her perception of him.
“Hey there, Sunshine.”
“Hi, Sawyer. What are you doing?”
“Just passing the time.”
Like that anger that had come upon her suddenly, it came out of her mouth before she could stop it: “Perhaps you should pass it somewhere else.”
A bewildered hurt framed his face, set his jaw. “You tired of me already, then?”
“I just think…”
“What?” he snapped, and she wondered how they had gone from a casual greeting to this horrible tension so fast.
“What do you do with yourself all day?”
“Generally, I do whatever you tell me. Why, I don’t know.” He did know, but he was being defensive now.
“I think there are people on the island that are tired of you ignoring them.”
“People? Who? The ones who haven’t stepped foot near me since I washed up again. I’m sure there were a few who threw a parade when I was gone.” She hadn’t heard this self-pity in a long time. Had it always remained in him, or had it simply flared up again?
“If they haven’t come around, it’s because you scare them.”
“I do, do I?” he said, his voice going flat. “How come I don’t scare you, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I do. I think you’re about ten times as miserable as I am, and you don’t know any better how to talk to people without feeling stupid and overwhelmed. But you wanna kick me out? Fine. It’s your fucking garden.”
She couldn’t say anything as he stalked away. She couldn’t say come back, even if she wanted to. She could only wonder if she hadn’t got exactly what she wanted: she would get to see what he was really like, which Sawyer he was to her now.
Tears were waiting, hot at the back of her eyes. It tightened her throat and she fiercely fought against it. If earlier she had been flippantly thankful for this island existence because it rid her of furniture, she was now reminded of the small conveniences of a house. In a real house, she could cry and kick things and curse to her heart’s content. Now, here, she had no place to be alone that people couldn’t hear her, at least no place that wasn’t far away and wouldn’t provoke innumerable questions. She thought disparagingly of the hatch shower, but she knew she would have to do what she was sometimes forced to do in her own home in Korea: take out her frustration on her garden. She hoped she could find enough weeds and dead shoots to pull up before she had to set about the more delicate task of picking flowers. She was halfway sorry she had planted these red flowers here, because they were so close, under her shaking hands and only a few yards away from Sawyer’s tent.
*****
In the end, she didn’t have the heart to cut flowers for the dead with so much uncertainty and frustration in her heart. So she went back to her tent to try and calm down. She lay completely still and breathed deeply, feeling the grit under her nails and still seeing his face in her head, going from welcoming to angry in just a few moments. What had she done? He was not a forgiving man, much like her husband had not been quick to get over hurt feelings. Of course, Jin always expected her to forgive him much more quickly for his million little hurts.
What Sawyer said had hurt her, and she knew that it was because it was true. She was just as unwilling as he was to join the rest of the world. It was hard. She couldn’t even talk to Kate or Hurley without feeling like life was a difficult negotiation that she wasn’t prepared for anymore. Sun breathed in counts of four: in, out, hold. It didn’t seem to calm her like it usually did, and when she reached a holding breath, it felt heavy, impossible. She suddenly ached because of what she and Sawyer had. It had been such a helpful thing, but they were becoming too dependent on each other now.
Breathe in. How did I get here?
Breathe out. Why can’t we move forward?
Hold. Have I been holding him back, keeping him to myself?
Breathe in. I will not give him up.
Breathe out. How did I get here?
Hold. I don’t have to hold him so tightly.
He might never be who I want him to be.
But aren’t I happy with the man he is?
Since when do I assume the worst?
Since…
“Jin,” she said. In Korean, she muttered: “What would you think, Jin, about this man who is so much like you and yet not you? I am speaking like him now.”
She feel asleep crying, but softly.
*****
In her dreams, she was at home. Always. Sun dreamt of home: familiar food, clothes, people. Jin. She mostly dreamt that they were happy. She was always somehow fixing him in her dreams, seeing him the way she wanted to rather than the way he was. In her waking life, she couldn’t help but focus on the things that scared her, so in her dreams, things were fine.
When she woke up that afternoon, she knew two things: she had dreamt of Jin wearing the clothes she’d last seen him in, and he was standing in their kitchen, cooking her fish as he did on the island, but this time with a skillet and spice enough to make her actually want to eat it. The other thing she knew was he was speaking in English, speaking her English, tinged with Sawyer’s drawl, peppered with his southern American idioms. She shook her head against the absurdity of it. She knew it should feel like a blow or a betrayal, but what she felt was resolution and a sense of clarity.
She had been angry with Sawyer for no reason since what Kate had said earlier that day about the way she talked. But he had never asked her to adopt his language; she simply had. And she had never asked him to speak Korean to her, so he had not. Perhaps he had never once come to use even the most common of Korean expressions, the ones she still used, because it was not so easy for him, practically speaking. And it would clearly mean too much. It would mean…
She suddenly saw just why Kate had been so jealous of her. Knowing this, the dream left her and she went back to her garden to work, this time not to excavate feeling but to bury it. She took cuttings from several plants, reds that ranged from burgundy to an almost orange one that reminded her of fire. But a thought nagged her: what sense did it make to run from the one person she felt she understood the best on the island? And why in the holy hell was she running?
*****
She had almost pushed her confusion down far enough that she couldn’t feel it shake her balance as she carried the plastic jug of flowers up to the cemetery. She placed it in a spot where they would all see it as they passed, and where Shannon, Boone, and Jin might see it if they were in those graves. But they weren’t. She didn’t believe that people haunted the ground where they were buried. Therefore, she never spoke to Jin here, not once in the three months he’s been gone. He had hated cemeteries when he was alive. He had hated death, having seen it in his own family often enough. Finally, she could intimately understand just how it could effect a person.
She sat there beside the flowers, looking out over the ocean. She was used to the salt and the feel of sand under her feet now, but it had taken a few weeks for her to accustom herself to it. It had taken Jin less time than anyone to feel at home here, despite his being trapped in a suit, land-locked for so many years. It was as if some part of him had never forgotten the simplicity of his childhood. Those things had the power to hold him even after all the things he’d done and the harsh words they’d said. Had she forgiven him? she suddenly wondered. Perhaps. It was hard to tell anything anymore.
A shadow fell across the flowers beside her and she looked up to see Kate standing an arm’s length away.
Kate said, “I thought I’d find you here.”
“You were right. Hurley had a container perfect for the flowers.”
“They look nice, Sun. I know Sayid will appreciate seeing them.”
“He visits this place?”
“Nearly every night, after dark. He doesn’t stay long. I think he says his nightly prayers here. I would love to stay and listen to the musical way his language sounds, but it seems intrusive, so I don’t. But I know he does come here.”
“I don’t know why. I can’t stand it,” Sun said.
In the ensuing silence, Sun realized that something had shifted between them again. Kate wasn’t angry anymore, only slightly uncomfortable, as if she were waiting for something. So Sun looked at her frankly, and Kate said, “So, Sawyer came out to the hatch to see me.”
“Oh?”
“He’s worried about you.”
“I don’t know why.”
“For the same reason we all are, I guess. And, I think he’s worried you’re mad at him.”
“I’m not mad.”
“That’s what I said. I told him you’ve put up with just about all of his moods, so you should be able to survive this one too.” Kate let her gaze rest on the three mounds of dirt briefly, then she said, “Sawyer hadn’t spoken to me in a week. Or anybody, really. It’s good that he left his tent for a while.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“And it’s good that you left your tent for a while today, too. You know, right, that you can tell me anything. I can be a good listener.”
“I know.”
Kate started to walk away, but then she stopped. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little weird lately. I think I can be a little over-protective of Sawyer. It’s because I worry about him.”
“Kate, are you in love with him?”
She let out a long breath, shaking her head. “Boy, you have been around him a lot. You’ve learned to be direct. No, I’m not in love with Sawyer. I flirt, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Then why…?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say he reminds me of too many people I’ve loved, and he reminds me of myself. I feel like somebody needs to stick up for him.”
“I feel like if I’m going to be friends with Sawyer, I might need your help sometimes.”
“I don’t reckon you will,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “You do just fine.” She was ambling off when she turned and said, “Do me a favor: go talk to him.”
*****
“Well, how-de-do. If it isn’t the garden police,” he said when she stepped around his tent and found him sitting outside, stirring a small fire. The sun had gone down, sinking into the water so fast it still surprised her. Sawyer’s attitude of self-protection did not.
“I’m sorry.”
His face instantly went hard, even more protective somehow, then it softened. Even his voice was more gentle. “For what?”
“For being mean to you this afternoon.”
“It wasn’t mean. It was the truth.”
“The truth can be mean.”
“I reckon it can.” That was all the apology she would likely get from him about the subject, but it was enough. He gestured to the patch of ground beside him, and she sat down tentatively, aware for perhaps the first time in a long while of the nearness of his body, and of the sound of his voice, smooth despite his sarcasm.
He said, “You did a nice job with the flowers.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, Freckles took me to task today. Said you and me spend too much time moping. I told her we don’t mope.”
“No?”
“We wallow. We in general pretend that nothing bothers us. I hate watching you be so sad.” She frowned, apparently looking confused, because he said, “I know, I know. You’ve done a real nice job not inflicting it on anybody-“
“Inflicting?”
“Do you know the word burden?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think you and me hate to be a burden to anybody. So we act like we’re not a burden to each other, and we don’t let anybody else try and take the load off.” His seriousness broke for a moment as he cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t come up with this on my own, mind you. Kate did. She says we should try and let other people take the load off.”
“It’s not so bad anymore.”
“But it’s still there. You know what I told Kate? I told her we were good at letting go of burdens.”
“Are we?”
“You think it’s a lie? Well, I think you’ve been shouldering a lot of my crap for too long.” He smiled at her, shaking his head apparently at something in her expression. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
Suddenly, his hand was sliding over the back of her palm, large and hot, but skimming lightly, unsure. It didn’t hit her suddenly, and that was surprising; instead, it was as if a star fell, and she was watching it come closer and closer to the earth. Then she felt her heart give a kick, and she knew. She had forgiven Sawyer for the man he had been, just as surely as she had forgiven Jin in that breaking open of her heart on the beach as he prepared to leave her. The past no longer mattered. She should have known that about this island. It wasn’t as though it didn’t exist, but it didn’t hold them down anymore. They could throw off whatever parts of themselves they didn’t like, return to a purer form. Luckily, Sawyer’s purer form didn’t involve stripping him of all the things she had probably, since that very first day, found valuable in him.
She couldn’t look at him as his hand finally lay snugly against hers. It was too hard to look. But she found her gaze resting on his arm, the one she had changed the bandages on and helped stretch over his head as he recovered. Now, it was only scarred and lovely, and she lay her head against it, not knowing anything else to do.