Lost fic: Anniversaries [Sawyer/Kate, for the ficathon]
Summary: Sawyer just wants to be left alone, but Kate won't let him.
A/N: Written for the J/K/S ficathon, for Silke (aka cilly), who requested Sawyer/Kate, the waterfall, hints of Kate's past, and yummy Sawyer angst.
Disclaimer: Lost belongs to ABC and not to me.
Summary: Sawyer just wants to be left alone, but Kate won't let him.
A/N: Written for the J/K/S ficathon, for Silke (aka cilly), who requested Sawyer/Kate, the waterfall, hints of Kate's past, and yummy Sawyer angst.
Anniversaries
by eponine119
April 6, 2005
Sawyer woke up in a bad mood that day, and it only got worse from there, although he certainly had his reasons. He lay in his makeshift bed for several minutes, trying to find the energy it would take to face this day. Everyone else was already up; he could hear them moving around, shouting to each other, banging on things. The noise never seemed to stop, and today, each sound dug at him, filling him with rage.
He stepped out of his tent into the sunshine and cringed, both at its brightness stinging his eyes and at the sight of all the other survivors, going about their business like it was any other day. It hurt to see other people. His skin felt tight and there was a dull throb in his chest.
He wished there was booze. But it was long gone.
He stood there another moment, deciding what to do. Then he turned his back on the whole sorry mess of humanity and headed into the jungle. It was instantly cooler and dimmer, with the canopy of trees overhead blocking out the sun and the heat. Another few stomps down the path and the noise from the beach behind him was gone. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart and the light buzz of insects.
Silence wasn't something Sawyer usually craved, but now it began to soothe him. His pace slowed and his boots hit the ground less heavily. The weight in his chest lightened enough so that he could almost breathe again. He stayed out of the jungle as much as possible. He didn't like it there. It frightened him, and Sawyer didn't deal well with fear.
He didn't know how long he wandered. The path disappeared at one point but he kept walking. He didn't give any thought as to how he was going to find the beach again, or that there were monsters and boars and kidnappers and other predators out here. They could have him, for all he cared today.
He started hearing the soft hiss of water and turned instinctively in that direction. In another moment he was standing before the pool with the waterfall. The water shimmered an inviting, cool blue but Sawyer didn't go in. He climbed up, then stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and flung it down, then stretched out nearby. The heat of the rock, absorbed from the sun, seeped into his body, relaxing his tense, angry muscles. With the lull of the waterfall, he almost drifted off to sleep.
But then he started hearing sounds that didn't belong. The rustle of leaves not far off. Footsteps. So there were other people who knew about the waterfall, he thought, inhaling deeply without opening his eyes. At least they weren't giggling.
A shadow fell across his closed eyelids. He opened them slowly, steeling himself against the boogeyman. But it was Kate. The sight of her face was like a blow to his stomach. "Damn it," he whispered.
"Hello to you too," she replied, sitting down near him and beginning to peel some kind of fruit. "You hungry?"
"No," he declared, irritated. "What're you doing here?"
"It's a public waterfall," she pointed out, with a tilt of her head and a charming flash of smile that suggested she was kidding. He scowled, and she added, "I followed you."
"Why," he growled. He didn't like the way she was looking at him, so he reached for his shirt. But it was too disgusting to put back on, so he just held it awkwardly in his hands.
"I was worried about you," she admitted plainly.
On some other day, he might have teased her about it, but not now. "I'm all right," he said, in a tone that made it clear he wanted her to go away.
"You don't look all right," she said, and reached into her bag. "Here." She offered him a full bottle of water. He didn't reach for it and she waved her hand, insisting.
"I don't want it," he said, and pushed it away. The move went wrong, of course, and he knocked the bottle into the water. It bobbed on the surface, moving swiftly away from them, sucked toward the falls. For some reason it made him think of the fragility of life, and he lowered his eyes.
"What is wrong with you?" Kate demanded, and now she sounded almost annoyed.
Good, Sawyer thought, but he wasn't sure he meant it. She was irresistible to him when she wanted something, and she wouldn't have come out here if she hadn't wanted anything. And truth be told, he was a little touched that she'd followed him all the way out here. He sighed. "You ever suffer anniversaries?" he asked.
"Don't most people celebrate anniversaries?" Kate inquired, stressing her word choice.
He cast a sidelong glance at her. "Not that kind of anniversary."
"Oh," she said quietly and with perfect understanding. "If you want to talk about it --"
"Do you?" he repeated his initial question. She nodded slightly, not saying anything. He thought she looked pale. She knew what he was talking about. Maybe not exactly, but close enough. "Do you want to tell me all about it?" he challenged.
"Not really," she answered tightly.
"I ain't real sure that's fair, princess. Seeing as how you know all my dirty little secrets."
But they both knew it was bullshit. She wasn't going to tell him and he didn't really want to know. Kate wouldn't let him get away with changing the subject. "How long has it been?"
"Thirty years today," he said, feeling a certain finality. There wasn't much more to say beyond that. He still couldn't believe there were things in his life that had happened thirty years ago that he could recall with perfect clarity. In his head he wasn't much more than twenty. "Hell, I bet you weren't even born thirty years ago."
She smiled a little, but it wasn't really an answer. "What do you usually do to mark the date?" she asked.
He pressed his lips together, thinking about it. He didn't have a tradition, didn't believe in them. Some years he gave in and stayed the hell in bed, and other years he pretended it was any other day. At some point he always ended up with a bottle in his hand, trying to get numb, to find some kind of oblivion that never came. He just shook his head.
"Have you ever talked to anyone about it?" Kate pressed on.
He gave her another slow, burning look. "I told you." It wasn't really the truth. Other people knew. Something like that, it had a way of hanging over your whole life, coming up in small ways. Growing up, it was always on the table, just out of sight. When he got older and left, he intended to leave it behind, but somehow people found out or he told them or they knew. Like Hibbs, Hibbs just knew, like it was a story he heard at the time and put it together when he heard Sawyer's name. "I didn't come out here because I wanted company."
"You shouldn't be alone," Kate replied.
"I should," Sawyer said, the words foul in his mouth. He wanted to yell at her but he knew it wouldn't make her go away. The things that worked on other people to drive them away only seemed to draw her in closer. She was a twisted kind of girl that way and usually that was why he liked her. He stretched back out, trying to find the calm again, but it was gone with her sitting there looking at him. "Tell me about your days," he said, not thinking she would.
"My anniversary's a real anniversary," she said softly.
He chuckled. "That's right. I forgot you been married, Freckles. What's it like?" She was a long time in replying and he turned his head and looked at her. Something about her mouth made her look like she wanted to cry. He wished he was the kind of man who could make it all better, but he wasn't. "How'd it end?" Maybe he wanted to see her cry, since he couldn't. There was something stuck and broken inside him that kept him from shedding the tears. Maybe making her cry would make him feel better.
"He died." The words were almost inaudible, drown out by the waterfall. She looked absolutely miserable and sick. It did make him feel better.
"What's that?" He pretended he hadn't heard. Wanted to see what would happen if she had to say it again.
"He died." She raised her chin stubbornly as she forced the words out louder. And she looked at him like she'd beaten him, like she knew he'd heard her the first time.
"How?" Sawyer's lips curled into a semblance of a smile as he pushed harder.
"Don't ask me how," she snapped. She got up, dropping her bag and toeing off her shoes.
"Where ya going?" Sawyer asked, sitting up again so he could watch her.
"I'm going to get that bottle," Kate declared. "We can't afford to lose one." She stalked past him toward the edge.
His hand snaked out and grabbed her, stopping her progress. She shook him off and dove into the water. Sawyer moved closer to the edge so he could watch her. She swam like it was second nature to her, like some kind of mermaid or something. No, not a mermaid, he thought, watching the water beat down on her as she stood under the fall of water. A siren. Drawing men to their death.
For thirty years he'd been wishing he was dead. Knowing it was his fault they were. If it had been any other day, maybe his father wouldn't have come home. Maybe he would have been less angry. There were too many maybes for him to ever be free.
Kate scampered along the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. Then in a split second, her foot slipped and she went under. His breath caught and he waited for her to reappear. Except she didn't. "Damn it," he cried, and jumped into the water.
It was deep and icy and for a moment he was disoriented. Then he found the bottom and pushed off, blinking the water out of his eyes. The waterfall was thunderous from down here. "Kate," he yelled, twisting around to look for her, the sound gone the moment it left his lips.
Then through the water, he saw her. There was a mark on her cheek that would probably blossom into a bruise, but she was otherwise fine, standing in the dry cave formed behind the waterfall. Sawyer headed for her and his own foot slipped against the rocks. He went down hard and it took him a moment to drag himself up from under the weight of the water. He tasted blood and probed his teeth with his tongue, but everything seemed to be all right.
"What'd you find?" he asked.
She glanced up from where she was crouching and he saw something flash across her face. "You're hurt," she said.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and it came away stained red. "Yeah, I know," he said. It was a petty annoyance. "What'd you find?"
"The waterfall must have been sucking things in for years," she said, shifting to one side.
He leaned in to take a look. "I risked my life and all you found is seashells?" he cried.
"Look closer," she suggested, and dug her hand through the claylike sand. Paper ruffled up, ragged and waterlogged. It took him a moment to recognize the green printing on it, and then his eyebrows shot up. "There's a lot of it." She seemed to be waiting for him to dive in and grab it, so he remained still. "Where do you think it came from?"
"The crash," he replied.
"Who brings this much money on a plane?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Rich people."
"Seems strange it's not in a wallet," she added, and suddenly she sounded like she knew more about it than she was letting on, like with the suitcase they found in this pool. He frowned at her, wondering if this was somehow her money. If he'd been wrong about her all this time. "Guess it wouldn't fit," she said, satisfying herself, and looked at him. "What should we do with it?"
"Leave it," he said, making a dismissive gesture with his hands and rising to his feet.
"Are you feeling all right?" she asked, teasingly.
"No," he said darkly, turning his back on her. He picked his way carefully across the rocks, but he slipped again. Damn slick-soled boots. He should have taken them off but there wasn't time. He'd thought she was dead, or needed saving. Should have known better. This time he gashed open his hand, a long deep slice that hurt like hell as he swam for the other side of the pool.
She caught up with him halfway to the ledge where he'd been sunbathing. "Sawyer," she said.
"Just leave me alone, girl," he requested, surprised at the softness of his own voice. He was tired and he was in pain and he just wanted this day to be over. He couldn't deal with her right now. Couldn't deal with anyone. Hadn't asked to be followed.
She touched his shoulder but he kept moving. He swiped his shirt from the ground and started to put it on. She was behind him. He could feel her eyes and heard her pick up her bag and just stand there, watching him. Holding his palm up to the sunlight, he decided he'd be better off using his shirt to wrap it, even if it meant ruining the shirt. It was his favorite one, too. Plus now he was going to have to go see the doctor, probably the last person he wanted to face on a day like today. All of this was Kate's fault. He just wanted to be left alone.
But when he turned to go back to camp, he couldn't help glancing at her. In her eyes he saw such sorrow and empathy that it momentarily stopped him. He reached out, brushing the bruise on her cheek with his thumb. She didn't wince, but her eyes closed as she turned her face into his hand, like someone who'd been craving the human connection of touch. He knew that if he wanted to he could draw her into his arms with no resistance. But he also knew where that would lead, so he let his hand drop.
"I just wanted to be alone today," he said, and walked past her. He didn't hear her follow him. When he was far enough away, he glanced back and didn't see her. He was relieved, even though he could picture her standing by the waterfall with that tragic look on her face and it made him want to go back. But he had enough problems without taking her on.
He started to see that she'd left him something in the jungle. The trees were marked, every fifth one or so, leading him back to the crossroads where the trail was easily visible, one way to the caves and the other to the beach. He knew Kate could find her way through the jungle without a lick of help, so she must have done it for him. That almost made him smile and he was surprised to find he could smile at all on a day like today.
Even though his lip was split and he was pretty sure he needed stitches in his hand, even though he was stuck on a damn island and it had been thirty years today since his parents died, Sawyer was struck by the thought that this trail might be the best birthday present he'd ever gotten.
The end.
A/N: Written for the J/K/S ficathon, for Silke (aka cilly), who requested Sawyer/Kate, the waterfall, hints of Kate's past, and yummy Sawyer angst.
Disclaimer: Lost belongs to ABC and not to me.
Summary: Sawyer just wants to be left alone, but Kate won't let him.
A/N: Written for the J/K/S ficathon, for Silke (aka cilly), who requested Sawyer/Kate, the waterfall, hints of Kate's past, and yummy Sawyer angst.
Anniversaries
by eponine119
April 6, 2005
Sawyer woke up in a bad mood that day, and it only got worse from there, although he certainly had his reasons. He lay in his makeshift bed for several minutes, trying to find the energy it would take to face this day. Everyone else was already up; he could hear them moving around, shouting to each other, banging on things. The noise never seemed to stop, and today, each sound dug at him, filling him with rage.
He stepped out of his tent into the sunshine and cringed, both at its brightness stinging his eyes and at the sight of all the other survivors, going about their business like it was any other day. It hurt to see other people. His skin felt tight and there was a dull throb in his chest.
He wished there was booze. But it was long gone.
He stood there another moment, deciding what to do. Then he turned his back on the whole sorry mess of humanity and headed into the jungle. It was instantly cooler and dimmer, with the canopy of trees overhead blocking out the sun and the heat. Another few stomps down the path and the noise from the beach behind him was gone. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart and the light buzz of insects.
Silence wasn't something Sawyer usually craved, but now it began to soothe him. His pace slowed and his boots hit the ground less heavily. The weight in his chest lightened enough so that he could almost breathe again. He stayed out of the jungle as much as possible. He didn't like it there. It frightened him, and Sawyer didn't deal well with fear.
He didn't know how long he wandered. The path disappeared at one point but he kept walking. He didn't give any thought as to how he was going to find the beach again, or that there were monsters and boars and kidnappers and other predators out here. They could have him, for all he cared today.
He started hearing the soft hiss of water and turned instinctively in that direction. In another moment he was standing before the pool with the waterfall. The water shimmered an inviting, cool blue but Sawyer didn't go in. He climbed up, then stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and flung it down, then stretched out nearby. The heat of the rock, absorbed from the sun, seeped into his body, relaxing his tense, angry muscles. With the lull of the waterfall, he almost drifted off to sleep.
But then he started hearing sounds that didn't belong. The rustle of leaves not far off. Footsteps. So there were other people who knew about the waterfall, he thought, inhaling deeply without opening his eyes. At least they weren't giggling.
A shadow fell across his closed eyelids. He opened them slowly, steeling himself against the boogeyman. But it was Kate. The sight of her face was like a blow to his stomach. "Damn it," he whispered.
"Hello to you too," she replied, sitting down near him and beginning to peel some kind of fruit. "You hungry?"
"No," he declared, irritated. "What're you doing here?"
"It's a public waterfall," she pointed out, with a tilt of her head and a charming flash of smile that suggested she was kidding. He scowled, and she added, "I followed you."
"Why," he growled. He didn't like the way she was looking at him, so he reached for his shirt. But it was too disgusting to put back on, so he just held it awkwardly in his hands.
"I was worried about you," she admitted plainly.
On some other day, he might have teased her about it, but not now. "I'm all right," he said, in a tone that made it clear he wanted her to go away.
"You don't look all right," she said, and reached into her bag. "Here." She offered him a full bottle of water. He didn't reach for it and she waved her hand, insisting.
"I don't want it," he said, and pushed it away. The move went wrong, of course, and he knocked the bottle into the water. It bobbed on the surface, moving swiftly away from them, sucked toward the falls. For some reason it made him think of the fragility of life, and he lowered his eyes.
"What is wrong with you?" Kate demanded, and now she sounded almost annoyed.
Good, Sawyer thought, but he wasn't sure he meant it. She was irresistible to him when she wanted something, and she wouldn't have come out here if she hadn't wanted anything. And truth be told, he was a little touched that she'd followed him all the way out here. He sighed. "You ever suffer anniversaries?" he asked.
"Don't most people celebrate anniversaries?" Kate inquired, stressing her word choice.
He cast a sidelong glance at her. "Not that kind of anniversary."
"Oh," she said quietly and with perfect understanding. "If you want to talk about it --"
"Do you?" he repeated his initial question. She nodded slightly, not saying anything. He thought she looked pale. She knew what he was talking about. Maybe not exactly, but close enough. "Do you want to tell me all about it?" he challenged.
"Not really," she answered tightly.
"I ain't real sure that's fair, princess. Seeing as how you know all my dirty little secrets."
But they both knew it was bullshit. She wasn't going to tell him and he didn't really want to know. Kate wouldn't let him get away with changing the subject. "How long has it been?"
"Thirty years today," he said, feeling a certain finality. There wasn't much more to say beyond that. He still couldn't believe there were things in his life that had happened thirty years ago that he could recall with perfect clarity. In his head he wasn't much more than twenty. "Hell, I bet you weren't even born thirty years ago."
She smiled a little, but it wasn't really an answer. "What do you usually do to mark the date?" she asked.
He pressed his lips together, thinking about it. He didn't have a tradition, didn't believe in them. Some years he gave in and stayed the hell in bed, and other years he pretended it was any other day. At some point he always ended up with a bottle in his hand, trying to get numb, to find some kind of oblivion that never came. He just shook his head.
"Have you ever talked to anyone about it?" Kate pressed on.
He gave her another slow, burning look. "I told you." It wasn't really the truth. Other people knew. Something like that, it had a way of hanging over your whole life, coming up in small ways. Growing up, it was always on the table, just out of sight. When he got older and left, he intended to leave it behind, but somehow people found out or he told them or they knew. Like Hibbs, Hibbs just knew, like it was a story he heard at the time and put it together when he heard Sawyer's name. "I didn't come out here because I wanted company."
"You shouldn't be alone," Kate replied.
"I should," Sawyer said, the words foul in his mouth. He wanted to yell at her but he knew it wouldn't make her go away. The things that worked on other people to drive them away only seemed to draw her in closer. She was a twisted kind of girl that way and usually that was why he liked her. He stretched back out, trying to find the calm again, but it was gone with her sitting there looking at him. "Tell me about your days," he said, not thinking she would.
"My anniversary's a real anniversary," she said softly.
He chuckled. "That's right. I forgot you been married, Freckles. What's it like?" She was a long time in replying and he turned his head and looked at her. Something about her mouth made her look like she wanted to cry. He wished he was the kind of man who could make it all better, but he wasn't. "How'd it end?" Maybe he wanted to see her cry, since he couldn't. There was something stuck and broken inside him that kept him from shedding the tears. Maybe making her cry would make him feel better.
"He died." The words were almost inaudible, drown out by the waterfall. She looked absolutely miserable and sick. It did make him feel better.
"What's that?" He pretended he hadn't heard. Wanted to see what would happen if she had to say it again.
"He died." She raised her chin stubbornly as she forced the words out louder. And she looked at him like she'd beaten him, like she knew he'd heard her the first time.
"How?" Sawyer's lips curled into a semblance of a smile as he pushed harder.
"Don't ask me how," she snapped. She got up, dropping her bag and toeing off her shoes.
"Where ya going?" Sawyer asked, sitting up again so he could watch her.
"I'm going to get that bottle," Kate declared. "We can't afford to lose one." She stalked past him toward the edge.
His hand snaked out and grabbed her, stopping her progress. She shook him off and dove into the water. Sawyer moved closer to the edge so he could watch her. She swam like it was second nature to her, like some kind of mermaid or something. No, not a mermaid, he thought, watching the water beat down on her as she stood under the fall of water. A siren. Drawing men to their death.
For thirty years he'd been wishing he was dead. Knowing it was his fault they were. If it had been any other day, maybe his father wouldn't have come home. Maybe he would have been less angry. There were too many maybes for him to ever be free.
Kate scampered along the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. Then in a split second, her foot slipped and she went under. His breath caught and he waited for her to reappear. Except she didn't. "Damn it," he cried, and jumped into the water.
It was deep and icy and for a moment he was disoriented. Then he found the bottom and pushed off, blinking the water out of his eyes. The waterfall was thunderous from down here. "Kate," he yelled, twisting around to look for her, the sound gone the moment it left his lips.
Then through the water, he saw her. There was a mark on her cheek that would probably blossom into a bruise, but she was otherwise fine, standing in the dry cave formed behind the waterfall. Sawyer headed for her and his own foot slipped against the rocks. He went down hard and it took him a moment to drag himself up from under the weight of the water. He tasted blood and probed his teeth with his tongue, but everything seemed to be all right.
"What'd you find?" he asked.
She glanced up from where she was crouching and he saw something flash across her face. "You're hurt," she said.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and it came away stained red. "Yeah, I know," he said. It was a petty annoyance. "What'd you find?"
"The waterfall must have been sucking things in for years," she said, shifting to one side.
He leaned in to take a look. "I risked my life and all you found is seashells?" he cried.
"Look closer," she suggested, and dug her hand through the claylike sand. Paper ruffled up, ragged and waterlogged. It took him a moment to recognize the green printing on it, and then his eyebrows shot up. "There's a lot of it." She seemed to be waiting for him to dive in and grab it, so he remained still. "Where do you think it came from?"
"The crash," he replied.
"Who brings this much money on a plane?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Rich people."
"Seems strange it's not in a wallet," she added, and suddenly she sounded like she knew more about it than she was letting on, like with the suitcase they found in this pool. He frowned at her, wondering if this was somehow her money. If he'd been wrong about her all this time. "Guess it wouldn't fit," she said, satisfying herself, and looked at him. "What should we do with it?"
"Leave it," he said, making a dismissive gesture with his hands and rising to his feet.
"Are you feeling all right?" she asked, teasingly.
"No," he said darkly, turning his back on her. He picked his way carefully across the rocks, but he slipped again. Damn slick-soled boots. He should have taken them off but there wasn't time. He'd thought she was dead, or needed saving. Should have known better. This time he gashed open his hand, a long deep slice that hurt like hell as he swam for the other side of the pool.
She caught up with him halfway to the ledge where he'd been sunbathing. "Sawyer," she said.
"Just leave me alone, girl," he requested, surprised at the softness of his own voice. He was tired and he was in pain and he just wanted this day to be over. He couldn't deal with her right now. Couldn't deal with anyone. Hadn't asked to be followed.
She touched his shoulder but he kept moving. He swiped his shirt from the ground and started to put it on. She was behind him. He could feel her eyes and heard her pick up her bag and just stand there, watching him. Holding his palm up to the sunlight, he decided he'd be better off using his shirt to wrap it, even if it meant ruining the shirt. It was his favorite one, too. Plus now he was going to have to go see the doctor, probably the last person he wanted to face on a day like today. All of this was Kate's fault. He just wanted to be left alone.
But when he turned to go back to camp, he couldn't help glancing at her. In her eyes he saw such sorrow and empathy that it momentarily stopped him. He reached out, brushing the bruise on her cheek with his thumb. She didn't wince, but her eyes closed as she turned her face into his hand, like someone who'd been craving the human connection of touch. He knew that if he wanted to he could draw her into his arms with no resistance. But he also knew where that would lead, so he let his hand drop.
"I just wanted to be alone today," he said, and walked past her. He didn't hear her follow him. When he was far enough away, he glanced back and didn't see her. He was relieved, even though he could picture her standing by the waterfall with that tragic look on her face and it made him want to go back. But he had enough problems without taking her on.
He started to see that she'd left him something in the jungle. The trees were marked, every fifth one or so, leading him back to the crossroads where the trail was easily visible, one way to the caves and the other to the beach. He knew Kate could find her way through the jungle without a lick of help, so she must have done it for him. That almost made him smile and he was surprised to find he could smile at all on a day like today.
Even though his lip was split and he was pretty sure he needed stitches in his hand, even though he was stuck on a damn island and it had been thirty years today since his parents died, Sawyer was struck by the thought that this trail might be the best birthday present he'd ever gotten.
The end.