A Pain That I'm Used To - Part One Cont'd
Sawyer peels off his shirt with a slight groan, stretching his sore muscles. Nothing like 10 hours sitting on a bus to do a body good. He drops the shirt on the bedpost and kicks his shoes off, letting them stay where they fall. His reflection in the mirror looks tired and a little bedraggled; the bus ride and the booze were showing. He glances at the clock - 3:30AM. His body is tired but his mind is racing. He runs his hand through his hair and then gives up in disgust.
“Should take a shower, s’pose,” he says to no one but himself, undoing the top button of his jeans. He stops, his gaze falling on the boxes in the corner. Curiosity beckons him to sneak a peek, a part of him wanting to know what Jack is so eager to forget.
Sawyer slowly opens the top box. There’s a pillow on top; he picks it up, knowing it must be Kate’s. He brings it to his nose, a faint trace of her still lingering there, mixed with smells of fancy shampoo and perfume that she had been lacking on the island. He sets the pillow to the side and looks down, finding a stack of framed photographs underneath.
“Shit…” he mutters quietly, picking up the one on top. Jack is sitting behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Her fingers are twined with his. They’re both smiling; huge, honest smiles. Kate looked happy. Happy as he’d ever seen her, anyway. They looked like a perfect, beautiful couple, like a pair of models in a J. Crew catalog, modeling a lifestyle that doesn’t exist for anyone but in fantasy. But it had existed for them, if only for a brief moment. The picture captured it and Jack had hid it away, not wanting to be reminded of what was now gone. What Kate had thrown away, using both hands to do it.
A noise comes from behind him and he finds Jack in the doorway. His eyes travel from the picture to Sawyer and then back to the picture. Sawyer stares at him, like a kid caught red-handed stealing money from his parents sock drawer, too scared to move for fear that a sudden movement will make things worse. Sawyer can tell all Jack wants to do is ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, grab the picture from his hands and put it away. As usual, Sawyer can see him bite it back in favor of pretending he’s stronger than that.
“You two looked real happy, Jack…” Sawyer finally says quietly, gesturing to the photograph. Jack’s eyes drift down toward it, pain evident on his face.
“We were…I thought we were, anyway,” Jack replies, barely audible. He walks over and stops by Sawyer’s side, extending a key out to him. “Just in case I get called to the hospital tomorrow morning. You never know. If I’m not here, just let yourself out and leave the key inside the mailbox.” Jack doesn’t look at him, fearing his face will betray his plans to leave the house as early as possible before Sawyer wakes.
“Okay. Thanks,” Sawyer nods, for once purposely trying not to crack wise or break the tension by being rude. He takes the key from Jack, his fingers brushing against his. The touch sends a jolt of electricity shooting through his body. Jack doesn’t seem to notice, instead looking at the picture in Sawyer’s other hand. Pain creases his brow. The urge to kiss away the sorrow from Jack’s face is almost too strong to handle. He lets his hand linger on Jack’s a little too long, moves in a little too close. His breath hitches and he’s surprised Jack can’t see his heart beating against his bare chest. Jack would have to be blind, deaf, and numb not to have noticed something.
“I…I should go take a shower, it’s gettin’ late,” Sawyer forces out, his voice cracking. He steps away from Jack and shoves the photograph and pillow back inside their box hurriedly. Not looking at Jack, he sticks the key in his pocket and leaves the room as quickly as possible without making it obvious he’s running scared.
Once the bathroom door closes behind him, he rests his forehead against it, breathing heavily. It is all coming back too fast, all the feelings he had been holding back for the past year. It’s hitting him in waves, sucking him down into a strong undertow of heartache and desire. He finds himself drowning in thoughts of all the times he had woken up in a night sweat, aroused and overwhelmed, trying to convince himself as he came in his own hand that it wasn’t Jack’s body he was imagining on his, it wasn’t Jack’s name that yearningly escaped his lips.
Why had he given in? He’d been doing fine fighting it, especially knowing that Jack was snuggled into domesticity with Kate. It was easier when Jack was completely out of the picture. Out of sight, out of mind…for the most part. Never entirely.
Even after Kate had been to see him, he’d waited two weeks before deciding to come to Toronto. He hadn’t been able to sleep for the anxiety and desire that the thought of seeing Jack again pulled up within him. The idea of nursing Jack through a broken heart was not appealing in the slightest, yet he had come anyhow.
His fist is aiming for the door but he stops himself from connecting just in time, punching the air instead.
“Fuck,” he mutters, furious with himself. When would he ever stop punishing himself? Would there ever be a time when he didn’t try to hurt himself? He doubted it. Why else would he be locked inside Jack’s bathroom in the middle of the night, lusting after someone he could never have and has never even admitted out loud to wanting?
He turns on the shower full blast and doesn’t wait for the water to heat up. The cold water is what he needs, the stinging, harsh cold just another form of pain he knows he deserves.
His body is still aching for Jack and he curses himself, using every ounce of willpower he has not to let himself find release.
“Kate, think about Kate,” he tells himself, his jaw clenched as he leans into the stream of water, shivering in the cold. “Think about Kate.”
“How about buying a girl a beer?”
Sawyer turns and almost drops the mug of beer he’s holding. He quickly sets it down on the bar top and slides it away from him toward a customer.
“Well fuck me,” Sawyer exclaims, a real genuine smile lighting his face. “Freckles. What in god’s name you doin’ here?”
“Got your postcard,” Kate holds up a battered post card of Fenway Park as she slides onto a bar stool across from him. “Thanks.”
“I sent that a fuckin’ long time ago, girlie - your Canadian mail really that slow?” Sawyer teases, cracking open a bottle of beer and handing it to her.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve called or written, or something…” Kate replies, pushing her long hair from her face. Sawyer can see clearly that something is wrong, just from the look on her face.
“So why the visit, Sassafras? Just happened to be in Boston and thought you’d drop in?” The smile leaves his face as his voice tightens. He steels himself for whatever bomb she’s about to drop.
“Something like that,” she says and looks around the bar. “I’ve…been on the road lately.” She changes topics quickly. “So, this is a nice place. You own it yet?”
“Workin’ on it,” Sawyer grins with forced cockiness.
“Seems real popular with the ladies,” Kate winks, looking up and down the bar and seeing an overwhelming percentage of female clientele. “Couldn’t have anything to do with little old you, could it?” Kate smiles against the rim of her beer, observing his appearance. His hair is slightly shorter, his face clean-shaven, but he’s still essentially the same old Sawyer.
“Well, you know these Yanks can’t resist a good ol’ Southern boy,” Sawyer smirks, opening up a beer for himself and taking a sip.
“Anybody in particular falling for your charms?”
“No, not really,” Sawyer tells her, eyes narrowing as he looks across the bar at her.
“Too bad.”
“Yeah. Too bad. What about you? You still with him?”
“That’s kinda why I’m here,” Kate informs him, lacking the courage to look him in the eye.
“Oh, is it now,” Sawyer mutters, though he had to admit, he already knew, somehow. “Well if you think I’m letting in you in my pants for a rebound fuck, you’ll have to ask real nice.” He chuckles and Kate rolls her eyes at him. Sawyer takes another sip and then sets the beer down, looking at her with a tinge of seriousness. “So, was it you or Jackass that did the breaking up?”
“We…it was me,” Kate says quietly, unconsciously rubbing her left ring finger. Sawyer notices and swallows hard.
“You two were…?”
“Yeah…we were…” Kate replies, her voice growing even weaker, if possible.
“So how’d the good doc do it? Rose petals and champagne and all that shit?”
“He took me to Niagara Falls…he knew I’d never been…” A small, heartbreaking smile comes to her face as she remembers. “And we were just walking along Table Rock, right by the falls…and suddenly he just turned to me and…I didn’t see it coming. It was totally spontaneous, so unlike him - he didn’t even have a ring yet. He just…asked…” She stops, realizing she’s getting far too emotional.
“How freaking romantic,” Sawyer sneers, downing another large gulp of alcohol. Suddenly the desire to drink himself into oblivion is coming on strong.
“Forget it. I know you’d rather not hear it, you don’t need me talking about it and rubbing it in your face.”
“So if you don’t mind me bein’ blunt, what happened? Cause you sure don’t seem like you’re upset with him.”
“I just…” Kate can’t explain but she senses she doesn’t have to. She never had to with Sawyer. “He’s Jack, Sawyer. He never asks me to be anything but honest with him…and I couldn’t even do that. He’s just so…he would never…I want to be a better person for him, and I just can’t. I can’t.”
“So you left.”
“I left.”
“I coulda predicted as much,” he mumbles. “Bet he didn’t see it comin’ though. He beg you to stay? I bet he begged.”
“Look, there’s a reason I’m here.”
“Figured. Don’t seem like a trip you took for shits and giggles, does it?”
“I’ll just get to it,” she draws a deep breath in preparation before spitting it out. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“You can ask all right, no guarantees I’ll do it,” Sawyer replies warily.
“I…I need you to go see him, Sawyer. I need someone to see if he’s all right.”
“What?” Sawyer is so taken aback that he almost drops his beer. Kate gazes at him with her best plaintive expression. “No, Kate. No fucking way. Ask someone else. Anyone else.”
“Sawyer…”
“Anyone would drop their shit and go to Jack if you asked them to, Kate, you know that. Call Sun or Charlie or somethin’. There ain’t nobody worse to see Jack than me. The man hates my guts.”
“It has to be you, Sawyer.”
“And why’s that?”
“Sawyer…you know why.”
“I do? That’s news to me, darlin’.”
“You really want me to say it?”
“Unless it’s hard to pronounce, sure. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“You’ve got to see him through this. You understand him, even if he doesn’t know it. You’re the only one who loves him as much as I do,” Kate states, her eyes meeting his. She sees the shock and uncertainty, then the desperate attempt to understand what has just passed between them. She hadn’t been sure before this, but now she’s positive she had been right about everything.
“Are you shittin’ me?” He laughs her off, though his face is full of panic.
“I’m not kidding here, Sawyer.”
“It sure seems like a sick joke to me,” he shoots back, his laughter giving way to anxiety and anger.
“Sawyer, don’t get pissed. I know you don’t want him to know. He doesn’t. I didn’t say anything.”
“Freckles, have you gone fuckin’ nuts? Where the holy hell are you gettin’ this crap from?”
“Sawyer, come on. It’s me. You don’t have to bullshit with me.”
“I’m not bullshittin’ anything.”
“I saw the way you looked at him. I saw how you acted those last weeks on the island, especially when he was sick…and I know none of it was about me-“
“Who says it wasn’t? If I’m rememberin’ right, and I’m sure I am, you came to me, you screwed me, and then you went back to him. Seems like I had every reason to keep away from you two,” Sawyer snaps. “You got some nerve, comin’ in here after a whole year has gone by, actin’ like nothing’s happened, and pulling this on me.”
“If it’s not true, Sawyer, why are you so defensive? Why not just snark it off like you do everything else?” Kate retorts, angry at his attitude.
“Leave,” Sawyer orders, his face full of anger, a look that Kate had seen often yet every time its intensity startled her. “Just drink your beer and get your ass outta here.”
“Fine,” Kate knocks her head back and quickly chugs the rest of her beer. She slams the bottle on the counter and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re a coward, Sawyer.”
“Look who’s callin’ the kettle black,” he snorts, taking the empty from the bar. He wipes the bottle ring with a rag and gestures to the exit. “Door’s that way.”
Kate looks at him for a moment, then slowly rises from the stool. She digs something from her pocket and sets it on the counter.
“Here’s the address. In case you lost it.”
Sawyer picks it up and crumples it, throwing it in the garbage. Kate rolls her eyes.
“He needs someone, Sawyer.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have left him then,” Sawyer responds, his voice bordering on a growl. “It’s your mess, I ain’t cleanin’ it up. You feel that bad, maybe you should go on back. You know he’d take ya. Doc’s one forgiving son of a bitch.”
“I can’t, Sawyer. You know I can’t,” Kate half-whispers. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?”
“I’ve got other customers to take care of,” Sawyer turns from her and walks toward the other end of the bar. Kate digs in her pocket and throws a five on the counter for the beer, and then takes one last look at Sawyer before walking to the exit. Sawyer glances over as the door slams shut, wincing at the noise.
He stands in silence for a moment, perfectly aware some half-drunk college sorority girl behind him is asking for another cranberry and vodka. He turns around and acknowledges her with a small grunt, not caring about getting a tip. He makes her drink without thinking about it, on autopilot, not caring if it tastes like shit.
Sawyer shoves it toward her, sloshing some onto the counter. He doesn’t bother to wipe it up or apologize and doesn’t take notice when she complains. Walking back down the bar, he bends down and fishes the crumpled piece of paper out and looks at it.
“God damn it,” he mutters to himself, shoving it into his pocket.
Sawyer turns off the shower and steps out, not caring as water pours off of him and onto the floor. The rug is soaked within seconds and water slowly creeps across the linoleum floor, but Sawyer doesn’t make any movement to clean it up. He braces himself against the counter, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
“Just calm the fuck down, you stupid ass,” he whispers to himself, willing thoughts of Jack from his head. He remains frozen for almost a whole minute before he breaks himself away, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He considers throwing clothes on and leaving right then, sleeping sitting up in a plastic chair at a bus station seeming more comfortable than staying here, one room away from Jack, but he can’t bring himself to do it. As much as it hurts to be here and as badly he wants to the leave, an equal part of him never wants to go.
*******
The television is casting blue shadows on the wall behind Jack, the image far too bright in the dark of the room. Jack has no idea what he’s even watching; not a single word of it is sinking into his brain. His thoughts are too crowded for trivial things. Since Kate left, he’d been nothing but broken and confused. He had thought things couldn’t get any worse. But since Sawyer walked into that hotel, he didn’t even know which way was up.
The man had always been able to get under his skin, since day one. Theoretically, Sawyer was everything that Jack wasn’t, the id to his superego. Sawyer did what Sawyer wanted and Jack had spent his whole life putting others first and never doing what he wanted. They’d still wound up the same. Alone.
He knows that while Sawyer was in fact a walking and talking lie, down to his name, but stripped down to the basics, he was the most honest person he’d ever met. He spoke what he thought and didn’t hold back for someone else’s sake. Jack, a person who treasured honesty, tried to be upfront about everything with everyone, but knew deep down that he had yet to meet a person who truly knew him. Such a task would be impossible for anyone, because not even Jack knows who he is. He just knows what people want him to be.
The stairs creak and Jack glances back over his left shoulder toward the front staircase. Sawyer is walking down slowly, lingering in each step as if unsure of his footing.
“What are you doing up?” He asks. Sawyer shrugs.
“Can’t sleep. Came to get a book,” he points to the bookcases, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you still doin’ awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep either,” Jack responds, returning his gaze to the television.
“What are you watching?” Sawyer inquires, crossing behind the couch to get to the bookcase. He eyes the TV., not recognizing the program.
“Something on the History Channel, about Ancient Rome, I think. Not sure.”
“You ain’t sure?” Sawyer snorts, a small laugh escaping him.
“Not really paying attention,” Jack sighs, picking up the remote and muting the television. “I’m too tired to focus but I just can’t sleep.”
“Why not?”
“I have things on my mind,” he says lowly, picking a piece of lint off the arm of the couch next to him. “You know how it is.”
“Yeah…yeah I do,” Sawyer’s tone assures Jack that he really does, in fact, know exactly how it is. “Mind if I sit?” He stops at the side of the couch, book in hand. Jack nods his head.
“Go ahead. What book do you have?” Jack reaches out and turns the binding toward him, twisting it in Sawyer’s hand. “Sense & Sensibility. Austen. I guess you really will read anything you can get your hands on, won’t you?” Sawyer sits down, shooting a warning look at Jack.
“So it’s a chick book. You own it, Doc, don’t go giving me shit about it.”
“It’s not mine.” Jack’s heavy voice hits Sawyer like a ton of bricks. He falls silent for a moment, finding that he’s dug himself into a hole. He struggles to find something to help him climb out.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought you’d…I thought her stuff was gone.”
“Every time I think I’ve got it all, I find something else,” Jack mumbles, turning his attention back to the television. They watch it in silence for awhile, Jack not bothering to take it off mute.
“You should know, Jack…Kate and I fucked.” Sawyer’s words come out of nowhere, he knows, but he had to say it. He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen, wondering which one of Jack’s fists will hit him first.
“I figured as much,” Jack’s voice is sad, not angry, as if he’d been expecting it all along.
“Not…not when she came to see me in Boston, Jack.”
“Then when do you mean?”
“On the island.”
“Oh.”
“That’s it? Oh?” Sawyer sits up straight, turning to face Jack.
“Yeah…oh,” Jack repeats. He crosses his arms in front of him, focusing hard on the TV. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” Sawyer looks at him in disbelief, his reaction not in the least what he had expected. Jack lets out a long, exhausted sigh. “Was it going on all along?”
“It was only one time.”
“When?”
“About two months before we got rescued.”
“Who started it? Did she come to you or did you go to her?”
“Jack, don’t do that,” Sawyer groans, flopping back against the couch.
“Do what?”
“Details are only gonna make it worse.”
“Sawyer, did she come to you?” Jack demands. Sawyer gives in.
“Yes. But I sure as hell didn’t fight it. Afterward, she just went back to you and pretended it never happened.”
A look of understanding and clarity washes over Jack’s face, as if suddenly all the pieces have fallen into place.
“It was right before you started staying away from camp, then?” He asks. “Is that why you pretty much stopped talking to me? Because of Kate?”
“You could say that.” Sawyer says after faltering for a moment.
”Why are you telling me this, Sawyer? How is this going to make anything better?” His voice breaks, pain seeping through the cracks. “Are you in love with her?”
“I don’t-“
“If you love her so much, why are you even here? Why didn’t you go after her? You really hate me that much, that you had to come up here and remind me not only that I lost Kate, but to let me know I never even really had her?”
“That’s not why I came. I don’t love her, Jack. It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like? Because I cannot even fathom what’s going on in that head of yours. I know you enjoy being cruel, but this is above and beyond, even for you.”
“I just thought you should know. Maybe help you realize Kate’s not worth it.”
“You don’t understand anything, Sawyer.”
“Hell, maybe I don’t,” Sawyer mumbles. Jack just stares at him, wanting so desperately to stop the searing anguish and overwhelmed with the urge to beat and kick Sawyer, make him feel physically as he does if he can’t feel it emotionally.
Instead he doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, giving it up and letting it die. He turns away, leaning an elbow on his knee and bending his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Jack closes his eyes tight, wishing that he could will Sawyer to just disappear.
“Kate’s an idiot, Jack,” Sawyer finally murmurs, so quietly Jack can barely hear him.
“What?” Jack asks, wondering if he heard him correctly.
“I said that Kate’s an idiot. She doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue how lucky she was.” His tone is laden with meaning, heavy with something that Jack had never heard from any man, much less Sawyer. It sounded different, that masculine voice ringing in his ears, though the feelings behind it had reached him before from a number of female lips. Jack turns his head to look at Sawyer and finds the other man staring at him. The look in Sawyer’s eyes causes his mouth to go dry.
“Why are you here, Sawyer?” Jack forces the words out, sensing for the first time that in the end it has nothing to do with Kate. He waits, not sure he’s ready to hear Sawyer’s response.
“I told ya that already,” Sawyer breaks from him, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said anything.
“No, Sawyer. Why are you here?” After a minute of silence ticks by, it’s evident that Sawyer is not going to give Jack the answer. Jack sighs and gets up and starts toward the stairs. “I’m going to sleep, Sawyer. I’m done with this.”
“Come on, Doc, don’t get all pissed off now,” Sawyer says. “It don’t gotta be like this.”
“It is like this.” Jack states, not looking back.
“Would you just stop huffin’ for a second, you Jackass?” Sawyer mutters angrily. Jack doesn’t pay any heed to him. “I said stop, Jack.” Sawyer stands up as Jack stops, turning around, ready to challenge Sawyer.
“Why should I, Sawyer? Why should I sit here if you’re not going to tell me what your game is? You obviously want something, just tell me what it is and let’s be done with it. I’m fed up with your strange idea of compassion, if that’s what this is supposed to be.”
“Oh that hurts, Jack,” Sawyer replies, mockingly. Jack glares at him. Sawyer turns serious, showing the annoyance his snarky remark had been meant to cover. “You really think that little of me? I have to have an ulterior motive to come here and see you? What do you think I want? Money?”
“I don’t know, Sawyer. All I know is that this,” he gestures between Sawyer and himself, “Isn’t making any sense to me. If it’s not about Kate, then yes, I am at a loss as to why you’re here making nice after being MIA since we got back. Forgive me for being suspicious, but I don’t think I’m far off the mark.” Jack knows that what he’s saying isn’t really quite what he feels, but all he wants to do is get Sawyer away from himself. What he was feeling made him confused and uncomfortable and the quickest solution was to remove the cause.
“You think you’re near the mark? Doc, you ain’t even in the ballpark,” Sawyer scoffs, shaking his head.
“Then give me a clue here, Sawyer, if I’m really so wrong. Give me an idea why you’re here,” Jack replies. He waits for Sawyer to respond, and when the other man stands there, silent, Jack once again turns his back to him.
In one split second, his world turns upside down. Sawyer’s rough hand grabs his forearm, twisting his body around forcefully and bringing Jack back to face him. Instinctively he tries to resist, but Sawyer holds firm. Sawyer’s mouth is on his, hungrily demanding a response from Jack’s lips.
Jack’s mind goes blank as if fried by a circuit overload, his mind only able to process the sensation of Sawyer’s insistent kiss and nothing else. Reflexively he tries to pull himself from Sawyer’s grasp but Sawyer’s grip holds tightly on his wrists. Sawyer’s lips are bruising and masculine, the rough stubble on his face brushing against Jack’s own shadowed cheeks; Jack makes a small noise against Sawyer’s kiss, trying to tell him to stop. Instead he ends up welcoming Sawyer’s searching tongue into his mouth.
Sawyer presses himself closer to Jack’s body, not wanting to let the kiss end. When it does end, that will be it. He’d never get another chance. He is amazed Jack hasn’t shoved him away yet; despite his grip on Jack’s hands, he knows Jack could easily push him away if he really tried. He seeks out Jack’s tongue with his own, feeling the hot wet heat of Jack’s mouth encircle him and invade his own mouth.
Something in Jack’s body relents; Sawyer can feel it in the way his muscles relax ever so slightly and his arms stop tugging away from his grip. Sawyer takes the risk and lets go, freeing his own hands to explore Jack’s body. He eagerly moves his hands everywhere all at once, trying to memorize the feel of Jack’s ass, his chest, his hair, his face, everything, as quickly as he can.
He moves even closer to Jack, still at a loss as to why Jack hasn’t put a stop to things yet but not about to stop and ask.
Jack is in a complete and utter haze, reveling in the feeling of Sawyer’s hands on his body. He knows he shouldn’t want it, but the feel of someone so close makes him feel more alive than he had felt in a long time. To Jack, Sawyer feels good…he felt really good. Too good. He feels Sawyer’s erection grind against his hip and feels his own cock harden in response.
“Oh god,” he breathes out, suddenly overwhelmed by the power of it all. He pushes Sawyer away from him, shell-shocked and gasping for breath.
“That should give you an idea why I’m here, Jack,” Sawyer states, tossing his hair back from his face. He looks straight at Jack, steeling himself for whatever Jack’s about to do, almost daring him to go nuts over it. His hands in his pockets, he waits as if what had just occurred was nothing out of the ordinary and Jack’s response is amusing. “Clear it up any?” He asks with a small smirk.
Jack doesn’t know what to do. He stares at Sawyer, dumbfounded. His first instinct is to yell at Sawyer, ask him what the hell he was thinking. But he can’t deny that he had let Sawyer do it. He is excited and aroused and his body is already yearning for more. He’d never felt any inclination to be with another man but the desire to pull Sawyer back to him feels stronger than any need he’d ever had. Suddenly he feels nauseous.
Was Sawyer just fucking with him? He was capable of it; maybe Sawyer wanted him to respond only so he could rebuff him and throw Jack’s actions back in his face. No one would put it past Sawyer to use sex as a weapon.
Looking at Sawyer now, though, Jack knows this isn’t the case. He doesn’t know how he knows it, but he does.
“Sawyer…” Jack starts, but Sawyer stops him.
“Do me a favor and let’s not do that. Just spare me,” Sawyer says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m gone in the mornin’ and you can pretend I never laid a hand on ya.”
Jack can’t put together the words to tell Sawyer what he wants. He can’t quite believe it himself, how badly he desires Sawyer to be back in his arms as he was merely seconds ago. He doesn’t know how to ask, too afraid to say it out loud.
He takes a tentative step toward Sawyer, forcing his eyes upward to seek the other man’s. He doesn’t know what happens in between, but he finds his lips brushing lightly against Sawyer’s, flirting with the ghost of a kiss. Their mouths move like whispers, neither of them moving to deepen the kiss.
“Fucking kiss me or kill me already, Doc,” Sawyer murmurs after a few moments, his voice hoarse, low, but soft, with a hint of barely concealed desperation. Jack’s lips dance across his again, feather light, and Sawyer bites back a groan. “Please, Jack…”
Jack lets himself go, sinking into the feeling of another hot, dangerous kiss. Sawyer responds with equal fervor, pressing his body flush against Jack’s, this time wanting Jack to feel the insistent hardness of his cock rubbing against him. Jack’s hands go to his neck, his fingers brushing against his jaw line as he guides Sawyer’s kiss. Sawyer slips his hands underneath Jack’s loose gray t-shirt, a surge of sexual need firing through him as he realizes that touching Jack was better than in his dreams.
He pushes the shirt upwards, revealing Jack’s taut, defined stomach. He wants to follow the thin trail of hair down into Jack’s boxers. He wants to wrap his hand around Jack’s cock, to run his hand up and down its length, to make Jack come fast and hard, but forces himself to resist. He easily could’ve reached down and taken what he wanted, but rushing Jack could backfire. A minute ago, he didn’t think Jack would even kiss him. A hand job surely would be taking it too far.
Sawyer settles for pulling Jack’s shirt over his head. Tossing it to the floor, his hands roam over Jack’s strong shoulder blades and his collarbone, his skin hot under Sawyer’s fingers. He slides his mouth down to the pulse point in Jack’s throat; his heart is racing. He can feel its erratic beat beneath his lips. Jack’s breathing is heavy and labored. The sound of Jack gasping for breath is hopelessly erotic. Sawyer’s erection strains painfully against the confines of his jeans. Every inch of him is begging for Jack’s touch. He grinds himself against Jack, instinct taking over. He moves hard and purposefully, pleasure coursing through his veins as Jack groans.
God, I could come just like this, Sawyer thinks to himself. Jack wouldn’t even have to touch him and he’d lose control.
“Oh shit…fuck…” Jack mumbles, his hips finally responding to Sawyer’s and thrusting back toward him. The friction is unbearable. Every nerve in Jack’s body is on high alert; he hasn’t felt this way since the very first time he and Kate had had sex, on the island. The feeling frightens him, makes him feel like he did when he clumsily lost his virginity to an older more experienced girl, two lifetimes ago. All thoughts of finesse and trying to make it last are non-existent; it’s all about thrusting and touching and fumbling with one another’s bodies, racing toward the end with uncontrollable speed.
He can’t. Not like this. Not a single thing about it makes any sense.
Jack tries to pull away but Sawyer holds tight against him.
“Quit thinkin’, Doc,” Sawyer mumbles into his ear. “Just quit thinkin’ and do what feels good for once.” And then his hand is firmly around him, tugging him free of his boxers in an ungraceful but effective motion. Jack bites his lip and throws his head back, his adam’s apple straining against his arched neck as he tries hard to remember to breathe, to swallow, to function. Sawyer brushes his thumb against Jack’s sensitive tip, quivering in excitement himself as a visible shudder goes through Jack’s body.
“Sawyer….Sawyer…we should…we have to stop…” Jack stutters between breaths. An impish grin plays on Sawyer’s lips and he takes his hand away from Jack’s body.
“We do?” Sawyer asks. “You really want me to stop?” He swipes liquid from Jack’s tip again for emphasis, causing Jack to muffle a groan. Jack nods, though his body seems unwilling to comply. Sawyer pushes Jack’s boxers down to his ankles and guides Jack down onto the couch, sitting him down in the center of it. He presses Jack back against the cushions gently but forcefully and strips the boxers from around Jack’s feet. Jack starts to fight it, moving to get up, but Sawyer places the palm of his hand against Jack’s chest and presses him back.
“How about you let me take care of you this time, huh, Doc? Let me be you and you can be me. Just think about yourself…” Sawyer settles down between Jack’s knees, kneeling on the carpet before him. His hands slowly move up Jack’s inner thighs, his gaze remaining on Jack’s. He flicks his tongue out and sweeps it across Jack’s head. Jack winces, the pleasure so intense he’s on the verge of pain.
“Think about yourself, Jack…Think about this. Do you like this?” He repeats the action again and Jack shivers. He doesn’t answer. “Tell me you like it, Jack. Tell me you want me to do it again.” Jack doesn’t respond and Sawyer bends forward, his breath hot between Jack’s legs. “Tell me, Jack. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Fuck…” Jack lets out. “Do it again, Sawyer, please…oh shit…” Sawyer complies by doing much more than that, working his whole mouth around the head of Jack’s cock and sucking. Slowly, his tongue surges along the underside of Jack’s length, slipping downward toward the base, swallowing him an inch at a time.
Jack looks down at Sawyer’s bobbing head with blurry eyes, sensing his impending orgasm building quickly in the pit of his stomach, his cock struggling for release. He reaches out with his left hand and clutches onto the arm of the couch, his fingernails digging in as hard as they can, while the other hand finds Sawyer’s head, his fingers twining in his blonde hair. Jack guides Sawyer’s head as his mouth moves up and down, trying hard not to urge Sawyer to move faster.
“God that feels so fucking good,” Jack mumbles, followed by something else completely incoherent. Sawyer marvels at the feel of Jack fucking his mouth, not minding at all when his hips buck a little too hard. He just responds by applying more pressure and moving faster.
‘Sawyer, I’m gonna…I’m gonna-“ Jack tries to pull out of Sawyer’s mouth but Sawyer doesn’t let him go, urging Jack to let go with his tongue. He can feel Jack resisting, guessing that Jack had never been selfish or thoughtless enough to come in some girl’s mouth before, knowing Jack would try to be considerate in that respect. That suspicion only makes Sawyer determined to keep Jack inside. Persistently he keeps on task, moving his hand between Jack’s legs and squeezing gently as he continues to slide his mouth over Jack’s throbbing cock.
“Sawyer…!” Jack spurts out a final warning before his self-control breaks, cursing as his cock begins to quiver and twitch against Sawyer’s rough tongue. Jack’s stomach muscles tighten and both his hands clutch furiously at whatever they can, throwing his head back again as he comes violently. Sawyer tries to keep his mouth relaxed as Jack violently thrusts two, three, four times into him, the tip of his cock brushing the back of his throat. Jack’s body sinks into the couch cushions, his legs and stomach trembling with the aftershocks of his earthquake of an orgasm.
Sawyer lets Jack’s cock soften inside his mouth before dragging his lips off of him, Jack letting out a small whimper as he does so. He moves from between Jack’s legs slowly, taking in the sight of the spent and wasted man before him, wondering how in hell this even happened. Never in a million years had he ever thought this was possible. Sawyer leans his elbows on Jack’s thighs and kisses Jack deeply.
Jack can taste himself in Sawyer’s mouth, his body tingling with the memory of Sawyer swallowing him so completely. Now weak and willing, he lets Sawyer push him back until he’s lying down along the length of the couch. Sawyer gently lowers his weight on top of him, kicking the pillow away from the end by his feet. His jeans rub roughly against Jack’s naked and sensitive body; Jack only moans in appreciation of the sensation.
Sawyer’s own erection rubs between Jack’s legs and Sawyer presses his hips down hard, hoping to work Jack up into another frenzy. He wants to feel that powerful again, to feel Jack completely weak under his touch. He wants to see the look in Jack’s eyes when he comes. Jack is no longer passively accepting Sawyer’s ministrations, however, finally emerging from his post-orgasmic haze and working a hand in between their bodies as Sawyer continues to kiss him, trying to pull down Sawyer’s zipper and get off his jeans.
Sawyer stops him, pausing for a moment and looking him in the eyes.
“This ain’t about me, Jack, it’s about you,” he says, although he almost loses his train of thought as Jack ignores him anyway and unzips him. Not surprisingly, Jack finds Sawyer without boxers, his cock meeting no resistance as it springs from its confines and presses up against Sawyer’s toned stomach.
"But this..." Jack runs his hand down Sawyer’s erection to illustrate his words, “is what I want.” Jack isn’t entirely sure why he wants it or how to do it, but he lets the primal urge take over. He begins to pump Sawyer, slowly but firmly. Sawyer holds himself up over Jack’s body just enough to allow Jack’s movement below his waist.
“Fuck, Jack…I’ve wanted this…so long…” Sawyer murmurs. Jack wonders if Sawyer would’ve admitted that had his cock not been in Jack’s hand, but the admission causes his own body to stir once again. He moves his hand a little harder over Sawyer, hoping that he’s doing this correctly. He’s trying to do it the way he likes it himself, but he’d never done this to another man before.
“Is this all right?” He whispers, looking up as Sawyer’s face contorts with pleasure.
“God damn, yeah, it’s more than all right,” Sawyer replies, breathless. A series of grunts and groans escape his throat as he grinds against Jack in time with Jack’s movements. In all the sex he’s ever had, nothing has ever been as arousing as feeling Jack’s hard, muscled body move under his. He wants to come, he wants release, but not like this. He wants to come inside Jack. His cock twitches in Jack’s grasp at the very thought of it.
Jack moves his hand away from Sawyer as Sawyer begins thrusting faster than Jack can concentrate on moving his hand. Now it’s the slide of body against body, cock against cock. Jack is aroused again, surprised that he’s ready for more almost instantly.
“Jack…” Sawyer gasps, followed by something Jack can’t understand, interrupted as it is by a punctuated groan and whispered curse. Minutes pass before Sawyer tries again, finally aware Jack perhaps had absolutely no idea what he’d said.
“Jack…upstairs…”
“Upstairs…?” Jack replies, unable to process the word as Sawyer runs his tongue along the edge of his ear.
“Upstairs…” He repeats. “This couch is fuckin’ uncomfortable…”
Jack pushes Sawyer off of him and Sawyer panics, thinking that he’s went too far too fast. He’s unable to mask his feelings fast enough and Jack, for the first time, sees everything Sawyer’s thinking, displayed right on his face. He leans forward and kisses Sawyer deeply.
“You’re right, it’s killing my back,” Jack says with a light smile as he pulls away. He climbs off the couch, looking down at Sawyer. “Upstairs.” Sawyer stands quickly, his hands on Jack’s hips, tugging the other man’s body back against his.
Within seconds, they’re pushing and pulling one another up the stairs, hitting elbows and ankles on banisters and steps, colliding with everything they touch but too focused on getting to a bed to care. At the landing, Jack’s back slams against the wall, grunting in pain as Sawyer holds him against it with the full weight of his body.
“Window, Sawyer,” Jack mumbles and Sawyer glances to their right, smirking before kissing Jack even harder. Jack can only imagine what someone outside might be seeing, Sawyer’s half naked body and eager hands rubbing all over Jack’s completely naked form as they kiss one another with reckless abandon, like two men who had gone far too long without physical contact. “I have neighbors...”
“Then someone’s getting a hell of a show,” Sawyer chuckles against Jack’s neck, obviously not caring at all if they are both on accidental exhibition. Jack starts to lead Sawyer toward his bedroom but Sawyer guides him back toward the guest room. “Not there, in here,” Sawyer mumbles. He doesn’t feel like fucking Jack in his and Kate’s bed. He wasn’t sure he could exorcise all those ghosts tonight. They stumble as Sawyer hits his hip against the doorjamb and then again when they come in contact with the bed.
Jack sits down on the edge of the bed as he eases Sawyer’s jeans easily over his narrow hips. Sawyer steps back as he removes himself of the offending article, throwing them aside and stepping back toward Jack. Jack looks up at Sawyer, standing in front of him, and tentatively reaches out, settling his hands on Sawyer’s hips. He leans forward, running his mouth over Sawyer’s muscled abdomen, tracing the outline of his taut stomach with his tongue.
“Fuck…” Sawyer mutters as Jack’s mouth closes around him, wetness and warmth encircling him in one timid but unbelievably erotic movement. Jack’s mouth moves along his length and however unpracticed and unsure, it was already the best blowjob he’d ever received. Though he knows he has to stop him, he lets Jack continue for a few moments longer, reveling in the feeling of his fantasies coming true. The reality of it was better than any dream he’d ever had.
Mustering up every ounce of resolve he has, Sawyer gently pushes Jack’s shoulders, easing his mouth from between his legs. Jack looks up at him and Sawyer can see the uncertainty, shame, and confusion in his eyes, among many other emotions.
“I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before,” Jack apologizes, blushing slightly and averting his gaze. Sawyer laughs and Jack’s head snaps up. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“No, not bad at all…” Sawyer bends down, dipping his head to kiss Jack. “Annoyingly enough, Doc, you’re ‘bout damn near perfect at it. Ain’t there anything you do suck at?”
“You, apparently,” Jack quips, raising an eyebrow at him. Sawyer laughs and then stands back a bit, putting his body on display for Jack.
“How ‘bout that…I’m standing here buck naked with a ragin’ hard on,” He gestures downward, “And you’re head’s still clear ‘nough to make blowjob jokes. I ain’t doin’ something right.”
“You’re the one who stopped me, Sawyer,” Jack points out.
“Well that’s cause I want something else,” Sawyer says, bending down to him again, his breath hot against Jack’s ear.
“What’s that?” Jack asks, his voice very quiet.
“I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so bad I’m going crazy,” Sawyer feels Jack’s muscles tense underneath his hands and prepares himself for the coming denial. He doesn’t move, he just waits for Jack to do something in response. Nothing comes.
Jack leans back slightly to look at Sawyer, wondering why Sawyer stopped speaking. “Well fuck me, then,” Jack tells him, a honest-to-goodness grin appearing on his face for the first time since Sawyer had arrived. Sawyer shakes his head.
“I ain’t kiddin’, Doc.”
The grin disappears.
“Neither am I,” Jack replies.
Sawyer’s eyes darken to almost black as he hears Jack’s words. He presses Jack down onto the bed, the fabric of the quilt cool against his flushed skin. Gently, he situates himself between Jack’s legs, closing his eyes as a rush of desire races through his veins at the incredibly intimate contact. He bites down on his own lip, hard, trying to keep himself from plunging into Jack right then and there.
Sawyer can taste blood on his lips as he concentrates on working one finger, then two, into Jack's body.
Jack’s mouth finds his; it hurts to kiss now. His bottom lip is split and bleeding, but the throbbing pain caused by Jack’s lips on his is well worth it. Jack gasps into Sawyer’s mouth as Sawyer begins to move his fingers inside of Jack’s body. The look in Jack’s eyes causes Sawyer’s own body to tremor and for a moment he thinks he’s going to lose it, that it would be over with before he can even get started. Sawyer closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down, at least a little bit. Jack doesn’t help matters by bucking up toward Sawyer’s body, urging him on.
“Forget the foreplay, Sawyer,” Jack pleads. “Just fuck me.” Sawyer pulls back his head slightly so he can gauge Jack’s expression.
“It’s gonna hurt like that, Doc,” He tells him, though he’s about two seconds away from going insane with need.
“I’m a masochist, remember?” Jack mumbles, his hands finding Sawyer’s ass and squeezing firmly, pressing Sawyer’s groin tightly to his. “Please…”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Sawyer retorts with something resembling a hungry growl. He positions his cock, dripping with his own excitement and wet with Jack’s saliva, at Jack’s entrance and takes a deep breath, trying to enter him slowly and gently despite his desire to ram into him hard and fast.
Jack hisses in pain as Sawyer fills him completely, burying himself inside with one long, drawn out movement. Sawyer uses every ounce of willpower he has left to not move, waiting patiently for Jack to adjust to the unfamiliar invasion of his body. Sawyer gazes down at the other man, watching as the agony of his intrusion dissipates from Jack’s face. After a few moments, Sawyer experimentally moves his hips, just slightly, and Jack winces, his jaw clenching.
“Want to stop?” Sawyer asks, not knowing how in the world he would actually be able to stop if Jack said yes.
“Fuck, no…” Jack gasps, this time moving his own hips. The hurt is slowly converting itself into pleasure, a pleasure that was unlike anything Jack had ever felt before in his life. Sawyer painstakingly repeats his previous action, drawing out and pushing back in, feeling Jack begin to relax around him, allowing him inside. Jack’s eyes are tightly closed, his head tilted back against the pillows. Sawyer watches him as he moves, having never seen anything more erotic than Jack, slowly losing control. He can literally feel it slipping away, Jack’s body reacting in a totally primal way, ceding all power in the situation to Sawyer.
For an instant, Sawyer wonders if Jack was ever like this with Kate. Had he let down his guard with her? Had he grasped and pulled, cussed and groaned like this when he was inside her, or had he screwed her with the same clinical, controlled precision that he brought to all other aspects of his life? He’d seen them once, by accident on purpose, and ever since had always imagined Jack making love to Kate as if she were a fragile china doll, moving slow and carefully caressing her as if she’d break, never rushing, never out of control. Showing her the respect and caution that a girl like Kate had probably never been shown, during sex or in life. Sawyer certainly had never shown it to her during their brief interlude. But maybe Jack hadn’t either. Maybe he’d taken her in the same exact way he’s being taken now, all fire and passion.
Maybe in the bedroom, in between the sheets, Jack stopped being who everyone wanted him to be and he just was.
The feel of Jack’s hand moving between their rocking bodies and grabbing hold of his own cock rips Sawyer from his thoughts. Sawyer moves immediately and covers Jack’s hand with his, both of their fingers wrapping around Jack’s erection and pumping hard as Sawyer continues to thrust into Jack’s willing body.
“Come for me, Jack,” Sawyer demands, his voice husky and deep. Jack lets out a guttural moan and begins fisting harder, but he doesn’t oblige Sawyer’s request. “Open your eyes, Jack, and come for me. I want to watch you come,” Sawyer pleads again, groaning himself.
Jack forces his eyes open but his lids feel heavy. He can’t keep them open; the sensation is too much.
“You picturing her, Doc?” Sawyer’s words are rough in his ear, punctuated by escalating harder thrusts.
“It’s not about her,” Jack replies. “Oh god, shit…fuck…” He tosses his head back on the pillow again as he struggles against his orgasm for control of his body.
“Then fucking open your eyes and look at me. Come. Now.” Sawyer commands. Jack clearly isn’t so pliable after all; it’s obvious that he’s fighting it, and fighting hard. He wants Sawyer to come first. Jack once again forces his gaze to Sawyer, his pupils dilated with intense pleasure and unable to focus entirely. He’s so fucking beautiful, Sawyer thinks, dipping his head and capturing Jack’s mouth in his, mimicking the thrusting of his body with his tongue.
Jack’s body starts to tighten around him and beneath him and Sawyer knows he’s about to lose control. His own body can’t handle it either and he has to let Jack win the battle. He comes wildly, back bowing as he empties himself into Jack. The world around him goes black and he feels dizzy, but he manages to train his eyes on Jack’s face as he thrusts one last time, spending himself completely.
“Let go, Jack,” he orders, gathering together enough coordination to pump Jack’s cock one more time before Jack finally gives in, his eyes rolling upward, the most erotic sound Sawyer had ever heard escaping from his throat, hips bucking upward, the white-hot stream of creamy liquid covering both their hands and chests.
Sawyer lets himself collapse on top of Jack, sticky and wet but satiated. He can feel Jack trembling underneath him and realizes that he’s trembling too. Completely wasted, he lies on Jack for a few moments while he catches his breath, then begins kissing Jack’s neck, then his jaw line, before seeking his mouth once more. Jack lets out a tiny whimper as Sawyer moves, pulling out and readjusting himself on top of him.
“I told you I’d get ya hooked up with somethin’ pretty,” Sawyer murmurs against Jack’s mouth, small laugh playing at his lips.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” Jack whispers back, though clearly in amazement and not in dismay. Sawyer pulls back from him and grins.
“You’ll definitely believe it later when you’re fucking sore all over,” he teases. “Sure I will be too…I ain’t done that in a long time.”
“How many times have you…” Jack stops, shaking his head. “Forget that, I don’t want to know.”
“A few,” Sawyer supplies with a shrug. “Strictly business. But I ain’t never kissed a man before tonight.” It’s clear Jack doesn’t quite believe him. “Hand to god.”
“Doesn’t mean much when you’re not religious, Sawyer,” Jack replies, laughing lightly.
“Got a point. Well, it don’t matter much anyway.”
“I almost did, once,” Jack says softly after a moment of silence passes.
“Did what, once?” Sawyer inquires. “Screw another guy?”
“Kiss you.”
“When?”
“One night by the river…you were smoking.” Jack looks away. “That doesn’t narrow it down much for you though.”
“No, I remember,” Sawyer replies with a sardonic laugh, all too familiar with the memory, having played the moment over and over in his mind, wondering how things would’ve been different if he had just bit the bullet and kissed Jack right then and there. “All this time I thought I almost kissed you,” he snorts. “Never had the idea that you were thinkin’ the same thing.” He brushes Jack’s lip with his thumb, tracing the outline of his bottom lip in a gesture that was ingrained in both their minds. “Damn, I wanted to kiss you so bad.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Sawyer rolls off the top of Jack, laying flat on the bed beside him, looking up at the ceiling. “Probably cause you would’ve freaked.” He laughs out loud. “Beat my ass, gotten Ana to beat my ass - hell anyone would’ve beat my ass for ya without even askin’ why. Besides, you were obviously putting it to Kate damn near every night…I thought I was so damn horny I was just imagining things.”
“You always put things so delicately, Sawyer,” Jack chuckles, putting an arm behind his head and looking up at the ceiling as well, glancing sideways at Sawyer.
“Got a gift, Doc,” Sawyer retorts.
“And Sun wouldn’t have. Or Claire.”
“Wouldn’t have what?”
“Beat your ass. Definitely not Hurley. Maybe not Libby either.”
“Naw, she woulda wanted to have a sit down and talk about my god damn feelings…”
They fall into silence beside one another, Sawyer wishing he knew what Jack was thinking and Jack wondering what to think at all.
Sawyer rolls on his side, resisting the urge to touch Jack’s chest or run his hands through his short hair, trying to protect himself from whatever is about to come when what’s just happened finally hits Jack.
“You thinking about Kate?” Sawyer says, propping himself on his elbow and his head in his hand. Jack turns toward him and then pushes himself up so he’s sitting back against the headboard.
“No, I’m not,” Jack replies, clearly lying through his teeth.
“You don’t gotta hide nothin’, Jack, I know what this was to you.”
“And what was it, Sawyer?” Jack asks, annoyed with Sawyer’s presumption.
“Revenge. Confusion. Desperation. Whatever,” Sawyer shrugs. “I ain’t no fool.” He slowly starts rebuilding the wall around himself, knowing from the look on Jack’s face that he’s struck a nerve. “Guess that’s why she sent me up here…knew I’m too much of an ass not to take advantage of you.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” Jack says, then pauses, a thought occurring to him. Sawyer sees the realization sweep over Jack's face.
“What?”
“Did she know?”
“Know what?”
“About you. About this. Did she think this would happen?”
“I don’t know what she thought, Jack. I doubt she thought you’d be game, think she just counted on me being too much of a pussy to leave you up here hurtin’ all alone. Wanted me to be your friend or something.”
Jack scoffs at this, climbing off of the bed.
“Guess her plan backfired,” Sawyer adds, cocking his eyebrows at Jack as he watches Jack cross the room, admiring his naked body. “Too bad we didn’t have a video camera around, we could’ve shown her exactly how much it backfired,” he smirks at Jack.
“That would’ve hardly solved anything.”
“No, but it would’ve felt damn good to see her face when she saw you coming in my mouth,” Sawyer says. “Though you’d never admit that, the fine, upstanding, decent individual that you are.” Jack glares at him.
“Oh, we’re back to mocking me now? That’s great, Sawyer, that’s just perfect.” He waves Sawyer off, heading for the door. “I’m taking a fucking shower and then I’m going to bed.”
“Jack…” Sawyer begins, but stops when he realizes Jack isn’t about to come back. “Shit,” he mutters, pounding the mattress with his fist. Couldn’t he have just let it lie? No, he had to open his stupid trap and verbally vomit all over everything. He shouldn’t have brought her up. He had Jack, even if it was just for the night, he had him, and not just sexually.
But of course, in worrying about Jack freaking out, he did everything in his power to actually make sure that Jack freaked out. Maybe it would’ve been fine if he had just left Jack to his thoughts. Maybe Jack would be falling asleep next to him right now if he hadn’t fucked it all up.
There were too many ‘ifs’ to think about and Sawyer knows they’ll just continue to pile up if he doesn’t try to fix things right away.
He pushes open the bathroom door, hearing the water running at full blast. Steam is starting to circulate in the air, the water obviously beginning to warm up. Not having any clothes to rid himself of, he gently pushes aside the shower curtain. Jack is facing the wall, holding himself up with both hands, the powerful stream of water from the showerhead pouring over his face. His whole body is shaking, despite the warmth.
“Jack, look…I’m sorry,” Sawyer speaks. Jack doesn’t turn around or show any surprise as he responds, as if he knew Sawyer was there all along.
“Sawyer, please not now.”
“It has to be now, Jack,” Sawyer says adamantly. Jack turns to face him, water streaming down his back. His eyes are red and Sawyer’s not sure the droplets running down his face are from the shower or if Jack had been crying. Jack stares at him as if wondering why Sawyer is even there, what he’s still trying to do and why. Sawyer doesn’t know what to say to make it right so instead he steps fully into the shower and wraps his strong arms around Jack, pulling him close.
“God, Sawyer…I just miss her so much,” Jack says, and Sawyer realizes as Jack’s chest heaves against his that Jack really is crying. “I’m so sorry.”
”Shhh…” Sawyer whispers in his ear, closing his eyes as his own heart breaks into a thousand tiny pieces. He’d known it all along but hearing Jack say it out loud was something he couldn’t prepare for. He’d offered himself to be used and that’s exactly what had happened. Nothing more. “I know.”
He lets Jack cling to him in the shower until the water runs cold, rinsing away any remainders of the heat between them.
Afterward, he leads Jack to his own bed and finally lets go, leaving him in the darkness of his and Kate’s bedroom all alone. He wanted to stay with him, to lay down next to him and make him believe that everything would be fine. But he knew everything wouldn’t be, for either of them. He is fresh out of lies for the night.
Fifteen minutes later, Sawyer returns to Jack’s doorway, fully dressed in last night’s clothes. Jack is asleep although his face looks worried and worn even as he slumbers. Taking one last look, Sawyer closes the door and heads downstairs, then outside. He looks up and down the empty street in the faint morning light, thinking it appropriate that he is completely alone.
Not knowing which way to go and not particularly caring, Sawyer chooses to turn left, figuring eventually he’ll hit a main drag and find a cab to take him to the bus station. He wants to get back to Boston as soon as possible and begin forgetting about Jack all over again.
Upstairs in his bedroom, Jack wakes up with a start as he hears the front door close. He waits for a moment, knowing what that sound meant but not wanting to get up and face it. Slowly he forces himself out of bed, his body sore and still crying out for more sleep. He stops in front of the closed guest room door, already knowing what he’s going to find when he opens it.
The room is empty; it looks as if it hadn’t even been touched. No reminders of Sawyer betrayed the occurrences of the previous night - even the bed is made. Jack closes his eyes and leans his head against the doorframe, fighting back the wave of hurt that threatens to tumble over him.
Not able to deal with it, for once Jack Shephard turns his back on reality and decides to solve the problem some other day. All he wants right now is to disappear.
TBC
Go Back To: Part 1
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