And The Highway Is My Home for toestastegood
Title: And The Highway Is My Home
Author: janie_tangerine
Recipient: toestastegood
Pairing or Characters: Kevin/Sawyer; Kate, Edward Mars and Jacob also appear.
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 5145
Warnings: completely and utterly non-linear narration; spoilers up until The Incident.
Prompt: Kevin/Sawyer, on the run together; I also tried to fit in some hand-holding. I hope it fits the bill!
Summary: Sawyer nods and swallows, trying to block out the fact that being stuck on the run from the Marshal he killed one time that didn’t happen, with Freckles’ former husband, who’s there because he tried to bail her out and then he bailed Sawyer out, isn’t funny at all. It actually sounds like a bad soap opera, but he won’t go dwelling on that.
Author notes: much thanks to siluria for the great (and fast) beta-ing and suggestions.
Edward Mars carefully puts the files next to each other on the desk. Both folders are opened, showing just the first page. One is thick and heavy; the other one is exceptionally thin. The first page shows a mug shot of a young man in his mid-twenties, dirty blond hair, piercing green eyes; the other one has a mere identification photo of a man in his mid-thirties, dark brown hair, eyes of the same color, regular face.
The first file says James Ford, the second says Kevin Callis. There’s a third one opened on the far left corner of the desk; it says Katherine Ann Austen, but Mars doesn’t really need that anymore. He closes the folder with a satisfied smile on his lips, and then puts it away. That one is finally taken care of.
Not that he’s going to be bored, now. He picks up Callis’ file and starts going through it carefully.
--
1. Brousard, Louisiana
The motel is one of the worst ones they’ve ended up in. Sawyer thinks that, on a zero to ten scale, it’d stand at minus fifteen. The wallpaper is rotten, and what the original color was is beyond anyone’s guess. The beds are narrow and hard, the hot water is busted, dust covers the floor, and the tv doesn’t catch a channel.
At least there aren’t cockroaches. If there had been, then it’d have been a minus fifty. He grabs his duffel from the ground and dumps it on the bed on the left. The door of the bathroom opens and Sawyer spares a glance at Kevin, who’s going towards the spare bed with just a towel around his waist. He’s shivering even though it’s the middle of August in Louisiana, and that’s proof enough that hot water isn’t an option in this crap heap.
“Why are we here, again?”
“’Cause we’re runnin’ low on money, hoss. ‘m going to hustle some pool tonight, I guess. Layin’ low doesn’t mean that we need to stay in a dump like this for another night.”
“I’m with you there,” Kevin mutters, putting some clothes on. Sawyer tries not to stare. At least, if they’re in this shit together, it’s not entirely his fault.
2. Searchlight, Nevada
They keep their sunglasses on.
The diner is small and the food is not anything exceptional, but it’s one state away. It should be safe, for a short while.
“So what, now?” Kevin asks, sipping black coffee and glancing each second behind his shoulder.
“First thing, stop that. If you wanna get noticed, that’s a dead giveaway. Second, I dunno about you, but the only answer I got here is - run.”
“Jesus,” Kevin breathes, and Sawyer doesn’t miss that Kevin winces a bit when he realizes what he has just said. “That’s crazy. I’m a cop. I’m usually doing the chasing .”
“Well, sorry to break this to you, but he ain’t ever gonna leave the both of us alone, or let this go.” Sawyer doesn’t tell him why he’s so sure about it. He can’t afford to explain something he doesn’t even have the words for. “Or ‘til he catches us, anyway.”
“Fuck,” Kevin mouths again (and winces, again); the word sounds foreign on his lips. Sawyer has to agree, there. That’s pretty much it.
“Well, I’m outta here in two hours. There’s a motel over there. If you wanna do this with company, ask for Billy Pilgrim.”
Sawyer leaves, bringing his bottle of beer along An hour later, as he packs the few things he has with him, there’s a knock on the door.
3. Chambers, Arizona
“You ever miss her?”
“After she left? I missed her every damn second. Now? Guess I’m mostly over it.”
“But not completely.”
“I’m here, right?”
“’m sorry for that.”
“Not your fault. Not mine either. I guess it’s just how it goes.”
“I guess it is, too.”
“...”
“...”
“This is so crazy.”
“Nah. You get used to it, after a while. It’s not too hard.”
“Do you know something about it?”
“Been there, done that, hoss.”
“Right. I figured you would.”
“Right.”
4. Thoreau, New Mexico
“You are not.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes, wishing they were inside the bar already. Clearly if you have a cop on the run, it doesn’t mean that anything illegal is allowed. Dammit.
“Yeah, I am. Cut that crap, Donnie Brasco. We’re almost broke, we need quick money, and if you got a better idea, share it.”
Kevin thinks about it for a minute, and then his shoulders slump in defeat.
“I figured. So now just get in and play the fuck along. Hustling pool ain’t half as bad as you think, y’know.”
--
Two hours later, Sawyer has four hundred dollars in his pocket and a decent quantity of alcohol in his system. Both things are making him feel comfortably better.
“You played with six people,” Kevin blurts as they get back to the motel.
“So what?” he answers, his good mood already vanishing.
“You could’ve conned just one person and got the same amount of money.”
“I could. I didn’t. So fucking what?”
Kevin smiles, almost imperceptibly.
“Next time, teach me.”
“What?”
“Well, we’re in this mess together. If you can’t do that for some reason, and we need money, and there’s no other way... I’ll have to learn. God knows I don’t want to, but...”
“If you put it that way,” Sawyer agrees, wishing that the island never made him quit smoking.
Well.
In theory the island didn’t happen, but in his head it fucking did. So he quit. But he could use a cigarette, right now. Hell, yes. “Why not,” he concludes, nodding.
Two days later, there’s another bar at lunch time, which means it’s almost empty. As he leans behind Kevin, covering his hands so that he realizes how he should handle the cue and explains how the whole deal goes down, he tries not to think anything beside this is necessary as their bodies fit together like jigsaw pieces.
If he liked it, Sawyer doesn’t say. Well, Sawyer doesn’t even think about it.
5. Los Angeles, California
Sawyer unfastens his seatbelt and he would be out in a second, if he hadn’t caught Kate’s eyes as the Marshal waited for her to stand up. She remembers. It’s painfully obvious.
He remembers too. He wishes he didn’t. She smiles apologetically, a small curve of her lips that makes his heart lose a beat for a second. He doesn’t rush out. He waits and then follows them , suddenly reluctant to get her out of his sight, at least for now.
He hadn’t expected to see someone waiting for him. Four or five cops, of course, arresting him for that damned Tampa Job, because of course those Australian fuck-ups had to warn the feds here that someone who was expelled from their country had been on that plane. What surprises him is that the cop who is apparently in charge of the whole operation recognizes Kate.
“Monica?” he whispers as soon as he sees her, while Sawyer’s wrists are already being handcuffed.
And then he remembers Kate drinking when he said, I’ve never been married.
Oh, it’d be just like Freckles to marry a fucking cop, and he just wishes he could tell somebody and laugh about it.
--
They both end up in the same cell at end of the hallway in the airport’s police station. The officer/Freckles’ husband/whatever is making some calls in order to take Sawyer back to Florida, and he’s talking with the fucked up Marshal in between. They can’t hear them, but Sawyer doesn’t want to.
He still remembers shooting Mars in the heart, or so he thought.
Anyway. It never happened. Like he and Freckles never happened, and so there shouldn’t be a reason for her to turn in his direction. She doesn’t know him, after all.
“You remember.”
Not a question.
“Yeah. So, that your husband? Appropriate, that he got my case.”
“I said it didn’t work out.”
“No. You never said it.”
“You know I did.”
He doesn’t answer; he knows she’s right. He waits for a second when no one is watching them and turns to her, giving her lips a soft kiss which is hello and goodbye and everything in between.
“Wasn’t ever gonna work out, was it?” he asks then, his voice rough. He wonders if Juliet is somewhere, and if she remembers. Maybe yes, maybe not. She’s lost to him anyway, so he just won’t think about her and it’ll make the whole thing more bearable.
“No. No, it wasn’t,” she answers, before suddenly her former husband comes into the cell area with a key in his hands.
Sawyer can’t really believe his eyes when he sees that he’s opening the door, and then both of their cuffs.
“Run,” he tells her when the metal hits the ground with a small click. “And you,” he tells Sawyer as he unlocks his cuffs, too, “punch me and I’ll say you managed to get away.”
“What?” Sawyer blurts out, not really getting this. What the fuck? He can’t possibly be still in love with her, or care about her so much that he’s willing to let them get away, even if he doesn’t even know Sawyer.
Right, he was willing to do this once, for Sayid, but he had known Sayid back then. It wasn’t...
And then Kate shakes her head.
“No,” she says, looking tired and defeated. And maybe it didn’t happen but it did happen, and the last three years extinguished the running streak inside her; or maybe she just wants to have it done with. Sawyer gets her; the Marshal would be after her in a second anyway.
“You have to, this is the only chance that you...”
“Kevin, no. You don’t have to do this. You never had to do this, you...”
“Fuck!” Sawyer hisses as raises his eyes and sees a young rookie at the end of the hallway, obviously watching them. He runs away and ten seconds later, an alarm starts to beep, and right, well, fuck this.
He spares a glance at Kate, grabs Callis’ arm (he thinks it was the surname, didn’t really catch the name), eyes an open window, feels thankful because this is the ground floor and runs towards it.
Except that the guy who fucking arrested him is standing still and not even trying to follow him.
“Listen, I dunno what got into your head, but it’s either you come and we might even get out or you stay and then it’s your fucking business. So?” he shouts over the alarm before he receives a slight nod. He still has to physically drag him out anyway, it’s not like Callis is helping much. He seems to be busier having a conscience crisis and that’s so not what Sawyer signed up for.
Jesus, he thinks as he runs towards the window and pushes his not exactly willing companion out before jumping himself, if someone had told me someday I’d bus a cop out of a police station I’d have laughed at them for a week. Seriously, what the fuck.
Luckily the window is opening on a back road; as they run towards the parking lot, the alarm is still pulsing inside Sawyer’s head and well, at least now he isn’t dragging Kate’s former husband along.
They run until they arrive at the parking lot behind the station. Callis’ shaking fingers hand Sawyer some keys and he glances towards a service car. Sawyer nods and gets behind the wheel and drives the fuck out of there before someone notices.
They’ll have to ditch the car as soon as possible.
6. Winchester, Illinois
It takes Sawyer three months to ask the question.
“What the hell were you thinkin’ anyway when you tried to bust her out?”
Kevin snorts and shakes his head as he stretches out on the motel bed.
“I figured it was going to be the last thing I could do for her.”
“Are you serious? After...”
“Guess I still loved her. More or less. I know she never really loved me, but it’s alright. I did. I don’t think I still do, but still. I wanted to do that for her. The fact that I had to do that for you too didn’t worry me much. I was just gonna chase you down anyway.”
“Right. Thank you. That’s just what you tell a guy to make him feel better, y’know?”
Kevin snorts again and doesn’t look too troubled with this.
“I mean, you fucking lost your job and you’re stuck with me when you were supposed to arrest me and that’s just it?”
“Just gimme a quarter, will you?”
Sawyer rolls his eyes and hands Kevin a couple.
Who’d have thought that he’d become fucking addicted to Magic Fingers. Life is indeed always full of surprises, Sawyer figures.
7. Jackson, Tennessee
So they should not do this.
But Sawyer doesn’t exactly feel like beating around the bush and he has (hasn’t) been through too much shit to give a damn whether this is crazy or not.
So Kevin has read his file and knows everything that is there. So Sawyer told him he shot a man in Sydney, not exactly just to watch him die, and that it was a mistake, and that he still feels a pang of wrenching guilt whenever he thinks about it, and he’s still kissing Sawyer anyway. Sawyer doesn’t really want to know why. He thinks he’s perfectly okay with not knowing.
So they’re sort of drunk. Sort of. Because in Sawyer’s book, one shot of whiskey after a couple of beers doesn’t really mean drunk, and he has had enough proof that Kevin is not a lightweight, and so, yeah. Not drunk. Surely tipsy enough to end up kissing, because for some fucked up reason that’s what they ended up doing, when they got into their room from the bar they had spent the last couple of hours in.
It just happened, though. One moment they were both sitting on the first bed that was in the way, the next they were staring at each other, and the next they had sort of moved at the same time and met halfway. It’s a weird kiss. Weird because they’re not exactly being tentative or shy, but they aren’t ravaging their respective mouths either. It’s like they want to do this but they haven’t figured out why or how. Kevin tastes like the shot of whiskey, and Sawyer figures he tastes the same, too. It’s not too bad, really, except for the whole I-am-kissing-a-former-cop-who-was-supposed-to-arrest-me-after-six-months-on-the-run-with-him factor which well, is weird, but then Kevin’s tongue starts slowly tracing the outline of Sawyer’s lips and he decides he’ll forget weird.
This is until the kiss breaks.
“The fuck are we doin’?” he asks, even if he doesn’t sound half as angry as he should feel. It just sounds like a rhetorical question, and he doesn’t expect that much of an answer.
“What does it seem like to you?” Kevin asks then, not missing a beat, his lips slowly tracing Sawyer’s pulse point, and fuck, his jeans are becoming way too tight.
“Well, seems like what it is to me, but... you don’t exactly seem the kind, y’know?”
Kevin shakes his head, his lips still there, his words vibrating against the hollow of Sawyer’s neck.
“Well. One year ago I had a job, I arrested criminals, I used to go to church every Sunday and I missed my beautiful wife who wasn’t what she said she was. Now I’m on the run with the guy I’m supposed to arrest, after I tried to get her to escape. Does it seem to you...” he stops for a second, grasping skin between his teeth for a mere second, “that the same person described in part one... would do what I said in part two?”
“... no.”
“Well, I’m the same person and I’m doing it now. I guess I stopped giving a damn.”
Sawyer should still call this off, and when the hell did he become the one with concerns, when for the first three weeks, at least, Kevin was a fish out of water and pretty much all over the place? Maybe, because some part of him learned to be concerned during those three years he didn’t spend on an island in the middle of nowhere, and he can’t let it go now. Even if it didn’t happen.
What the fuck, he thinks, why the hell not, and then he kisses Kevin back for good, and the switch clicks. Suddenly they’re all over each other, clothes getting thrown away, shoes kicking the ground, hands touching everywhere and fuck, yesyesyes is all that Sawyer’s head comes up with right now. Right, it’s not like he’s up for coherent thinking. He can do without.
Things slow down though, and that’s to be expected, because he might have stopped giving a damn, but he really doubts that his very own former officer from Florida has ever had sex with a guy his whole life. While it’s not like it’s Sawyer’s main thing, he did con a couple of guys once, and had another couple of one night stands on other occasions, so yeah, he thinks that it’s time to spice things up.
He turns so that Kevin is the one lying on the mattress and he’s the one on top, and after another long, slow kiss he unzips Kevin’s jeans and pushes them down before getting rid of his own. As he slowly positions himself over Kevin again, he takes some time to just watch. Well, he hasn’t exactly paid attention until now or anything, but he has to say that Freckles did have a nice taste after all. His right hand traces a random pattern on a toned chest, the left grabs Kevin’s hip, and Sawyer has to say that he likes the fact that, apart from being obviously overall good-looking, Kevin’s eyes actually look pretty fucking honest, even right now, and after everything.
He doesn’t think this is the time to rush things. There’ll be time, if they decide that this isn’t so crazy in four hours anyway; for now, he carefully slides so that Kevin’s hard-on, which was pressing into his thigh, is lined with Sawyer’s own. He lets Kevin moan into his mouth as he rubs slowly; the friction feels damn great. Sawyer decides after a short while that slow doesn’t really fit, and he starts going faster. At one point Kevin’s hand reaches down and starts stroking the both of them, and it’s messy and not exactly a pro’s job but it feels so fucking good; so much that Sawyer can’t really hold himself anymore and he comes hard, his skin on fire, his frame shaking. Not that for Kevin it’s much different, not from the way he moans, his mouth next to Sawyer’s ear, and that’s almost enough to make Sawyer wish they could go for round two. If only he didn’t know already that after this is over that’ll be it, for tonight at least.
After he collapses against Kevin, he doesn’t try to move much. Well, he goes through the effort of rolling down to his side, but that’s pretty much it. For a second he hopes that the walls aren’t too thin, then Kevin’s arm ends up somewhere around his waist and frankly, Sawyer doesn’t give a damn. For now. He’ll deal tomorrow. Or they’ll deal tomorrow. However it goes.
8. Salem, Oregon
Sawyer ditches the car’s old plates on the side of the road after acquiring new ones in some dump somewhere near Salem. He didn’t even check the name.; Kevin mostly just nods at him and waits for him to be done, before throwing him a rag which soon becomes covered in grease.
“Are you still sure that he’s following us?”
“That motherfucker? He ain’t ever gonna stop until he catches up. Unless he dies first.”
“How are you so sure again?”
Sawyer can’t exactly answer him. Because he wouldn’t stop with Kate, until I tried to be merciful and shot him in what I thought was his fucking heart on an island in the middle of the Pacific where I’ve never been isn’t really anything that can work for a sane response anyway.
“I just do,” he cuts, as he dumps the rag on the backseat and climbs in the driver’s seat. Kevin follows on the passenger’s, and after he turns on the engine, Sawyer decides that some music won’t hurt and his hand reaches for the radio.
... They may try and sell ya,
'cause it hangs them up
to see someone like you.
But you've gotta make your own kind of music
sing your own special song,
make your own kind of music even if nobody
else sings alo...
“Oh, this is a fucking joke,” Sawyer mutters before changing station and settling on the news. Kevin doesn’t comment.
There’s a limit to anything. Sawyer draws that limit at songs that Charlie used to play (or didn’t used to play) in that fucked up hatch, while he was stuck in a bed.
9. Athens, Georgia
“How much do you regret this?”
Kevin is having a look at his latest false driver’s license., It reads James Blake, and Sawyer really doesn’t find it funny that Kevin’s fake name would be his real one.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, you can’t possibly not regret this shit. Or at least part of it. Fuck this, it’s been eight months, if it ever felt to you like a vacation then by all standards it should be over.”
“I think I might regret it less than you would think,” Kevin whispers, his voice warm. It doesn’t help that he’s standing right in front of Sawyer, and that it’s July, and that they’re both standing shirtless on the side of another dusty godforsaken back road in the middle of nowhere, Georgia. Athens was the last civilized place Sawyer took notice of.
“The fuck?”
“I don’t exactly get how she could do it alone for all that time and how did she even found the time to marry me in the midst of it,. But you know., it ain’t that bad, except for the whole filthy motels business.”
“Jesus. You ain’t got no family that would have rather have you back in Florida?”
“My mother died a year after Mon... Kate left. I don’t think she was heartbroken or anything, but all that she had wanted was seeing me married, and maybe give her grandchildren, and well, that wasn’t gonna happen. She was the only relative I had. So no. Not really. And you haven’t got any neither.”
Sawyer nods. There’s still a man around whom he really, really ought to kill, but at this point he’s mostly over it. He has done it once, he won’t do it twice. Right, well, maybe he hasn’t done it, but you get the whole drill by this point.
Suddenly he figures that maybe he should just be done with this crap.
“You got a lighter?” he asks, and Kevin throws him one. Sawyer knew he had one. He always has one even if he loathes cigarettes. Always saying that it might come handy. Maybe now Sawyer can see the point. Oh, well. He takes a crumpled letter out of his pocket with one hand, holds the lighter with the other and when the paper catches fire, he throws it on the ground and watches it burn. When it’s all ashes and sparkles, he clamps his heel over it. Then a bit of black ash is all that’s left of it.
It wasn’t half as hard as he had imagined.
“Was that anything important?” Kevin asks, as he takes a sip from a plastic water bottle.
“No. No, it wasn’t,” Sawyer answers and if, before putting their shirts on and letting Kevin get the driver’s seat, their lips brush for a couple of seconds, it’s fine.
If at one point Kevin’s hand rests on the gear shift without moving (hell, the car is an automatic) and Sawyer just rolls his eyes and grabs it, no one says anything.
10. Asbury Park, New Jersey
“I can’t fucking believe that you wanna go to church.”
“Well, it’s Sunday, there’s a church here, Mars ain’t following us and I want to go.”
In five months, Sawyer thinks that he has learned to read Kevin well enough. He won’t ever back down.
“Fine. Just lay low, don’t confess and don’t catch any attention. I’ll be at the diner.”
Because hell, he didn’t have breakfast and he fucking needs coffee. Kevin is out of the room after a short nod and Sawyer just shrugs, grabs his jacket and goes to the diner. He’s sort of surprised to see that it’s full. Right, maybe this town isn’t the hole they usually hide up in, but still. There’s a free booth and he sits there, ordering a couple of pancakes, plain thanks, no chocolate or frilly stuff in there, and also some strong coffee, yes, black. The waitress brings everything back in a relatively short time and Sawyer is just in the process of drowning one of the pancakes in maple syrup (he doesn’t know why but he has this thing for classic pancakes with maple syrup) when a man taps his shoulder.
Sawyer doesn’t tense; if he does he’s fucked and he built his life on trying not to get fucked. In that sense, at least. It’s more or less in his blood, by this point. He turns and sees a man in his thirties, blond with clear eyes, regular face, nicely shaped mouth, wearing a pair of jeans, working boots and a flannel. Doesn’t smell like a cop.
“Sorry, do you mind if I sit there? The place is full and that was the only free...”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
Sawyer keeps on eating his pancakes as the other guy just stands there and waits for his order. It was coffee with bacon and scrambled eggs on the side. Not too bad, but Sawyer is just in the mood for sweet today.
“Are these good?” the guy asks at one point. Sawyer shrugs.
“Yeah. Pretty much. Yours?”
“Not bad.”
“Y’know something,” Sawyer mouths, even if he should by all means shut the fuck up right this moment, “you sorta look familiar. Like I’ve seen your face somewhere, but ages ago. Nah, drop it. I probably need to sleep more.” He realizes that it’s lame and he doesn’t really need to sleep more, but that’s the best choice of excuses.
The man smiles, small and enigmatic and familiar.
“Maybe it was someone who looked like me. Happens all the time.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does. Anyway, thanks for the chat. Gotta go though, I’m finished,” he says as he drinks the last of his coffee.
“You’re welcome. Have a safe trip. By the way, I’m Nick,” the guy says, and Sawyer can smell a fake name like nothing else.
“I’m Charlie,” he answers as he shakes the man’s hand, trying not to think too much about the fact that for a second he felt electricity creep up along his palm when he shook the hand.
“Right. Best of luck to you,” the Nick guy says as he gets back to his bacon.
It’s just when they’re in the car on their way out that Sawyer realizes he never told the guy that he was traveling, but that he wished Sawyer a safe trip regardless.
He doesn’t share the news with Kevin. Probably it didn’t mean shit anyway.
11. Trinidad, Colorado
“So, we’re really doin’ this?” Sawyer asks, sitting on the pretty-decent-for-once motel bed on the fifth day.
“Yes,” Kevin answers even if he doesn’t exactly sound sure.
Sawyer nods and swallows, trying to block out the fact that being stuck on the run from the Marshal he killed one time that didn’t happen, with Freckles’ former husband, who’s there because he tried to bail her out and then he bailed Sawyer out, isn’t funny at all. It actually sounds like a bad soap opera, but he won’t go dwelling on that.
“Alright. So. Why don’t we just start from scratch?” Kevin asks then, turning in his direction.
“What do you mean?”
Kevin half-smiles and extends a hand in Sawyer’s direction.
“Hello. My name is Kevin Callis. I only know who you are because I was assigned to that Tampa Job after the colleague of mine who had it ended up dead in a car accident. I used to be a cop from Florida, and I used to be married to an outlaw whom I tried to free one time too many. Nice to meet you.”
Sawyer snorts and shakes Kevin’s hand, not really believing he’s actually doing this.
“Right. My name’s Sawyer, after the guy who conned my mother when I was eight. I’ve been a con all my life. I was in Australia to find said guy, I didn’t find him, I really didn’t want to do the Tampa Job and I just took my chance when I could.”
He skips the whole and I crashed on an island with your former wife and we had a connection and then I time-traveled and fell in love with another woman and then a bomb exploded and it never happened at all, the end part.
They shake again and then it’s over. But Sawyer decides that since they’re starting from scratch, he might just go the whole way.
“Hey, y’know what?”
“What?”
“Just call me James and let’s be done with it.”
“James? Alright. And let me tell you, it suits you a whole lot better than Sawyer.”
Sawyer lets out another snort.
“So what, is this the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”
Kevin looks at least amused.
“Who knows.”
No one, Sawyer thinks, but it strangely feels alright.
--
Edward Mars closes Ford’s file and places it above Callis’, carefully, before smiling softly and making a couple of calls. When he’s done, he grabs his jacket from the chair, slips it on, and then looks at the files again.
“Well, enjoy the freedom as much as you can,” he whispers, “because from tomorrow? It’s your turn.”
His voice is satisfied and a bit excited as he leaves the room. True, he has always looked forward to the day he would arrest Kate Austen; but Edward Mars likes challenges, and she gifted him with one was a real, real turn of luck. There’s nothing like a good challenge to keep your senses and your mind sharp, and the both of them aren’t idiots that will do anything to help him catch them. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.
After all, the harder a challenge, the sweeter the reward. Mars smiles again. He can’t wait to get started.
End.
Author: janie_tangerine
Recipient: toestastegood
Pairing or Characters: Kevin/Sawyer; Kate, Edward Mars and Jacob also appear.
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 5145
Warnings: completely and utterly non-linear narration; spoilers up until The Incident.
Prompt: Kevin/Sawyer, on the run together; I also tried to fit in some hand-holding. I hope it fits the bill!
Summary: Sawyer nods and swallows, trying to block out the fact that being stuck on the run from the Marshal he killed one time that didn’t happen, with Freckles’ former husband, who’s there because he tried to bail her out and then he bailed Sawyer out, isn’t funny at all. It actually sounds like a bad soap opera, but he won’t go dwelling on that.
Author notes: much thanks to siluria for the great (and fast) beta-ing and suggestions.
Edward Mars carefully puts the files next to each other on the desk. Both folders are opened, showing just the first page. One is thick and heavy; the other one is exceptionally thin. The first page shows a mug shot of a young man in his mid-twenties, dirty blond hair, piercing green eyes; the other one has a mere identification photo of a man in his mid-thirties, dark brown hair, eyes of the same color, regular face.
The first file says James Ford, the second says Kevin Callis. There’s a third one opened on the far left corner of the desk; it says Katherine Ann Austen, but Mars doesn’t really need that anymore. He closes the folder with a satisfied smile on his lips, and then puts it away. That one is finally taken care of.
Not that he’s going to be bored, now. He picks up Callis’ file and starts going through it carefully.
--
1. Brousard, Louisiana
The motel is one of the worst ones they’ve ended up in. Sawyer thinks that, on a zero to ten scale, it’d stand at minus fifteen. The wallpaper is rotten, and what the original color was is beyond anyone’s guess. The beds are narrow and hard, the hot water is busted, dust covers the floor, and the tv doesn’t catch a channel.
At least there aren’t cockroaches. If there had been, then it’d have been a minus fifty. He grabs his duffel from the ground and dumps it on the bed on the left. The door of the bathroom opens and Sawyer spares a glance at Kevin, who’s going towards the spare bed with just a towel around his waist. He’s shivering even though it’s the middle of August in Louisiana, and that’s proof enough that hot water isn’t an option in this crap heap.
“Why are we here, again?”
“’Cause we’re runnin’ low on money, hoss. ‘m going to hustle some pool tonight, I guess. Layin’ low doesn’t mean that we need to stay in a dump like this for another night.”
“I’m with you there,” Kevin mutters, putting some clothes on. Sawyer tries not to stare. At least, if they’re in this shit together, it’s not entirely his fault.
2. Searchlight, Nevada
They keep their sunglasses on.
The diner is small and the food is not anything exceptional, but it’s one state away. It should be safe, for a short while.
“So what, now?” Kevin asks, sipping black coffee and glancing each second behind his shoulder.
“First thing, stop that. If you wanna get noticed, that’s a dead giveaway. Second, I dunno about you, but the only answer I got here is - run.”
“Jesus,” Kevin breathes, and Sawyer doesn’t miss that Kevin winces a bit when he realizes what he has just said. “That’s crazy. I’m a cop. I’m usually doing the chasing .”
“Well, sorry to break this to you, but he ain’t ever gonna leave the both of us alone, or let this go.” Sawyer doesn’t tell him why he’s so sure about it. He can’t afford to explain something he doesn’t even have the words for. “Or ‘til he catches us, anyway.”
“Fuck,” Kevin mouths again (and winces, again); the word sounds foreign on his lips. Sawyer has to agree, there. That’s pretty much it.
“Well, I’m outta here in two hours. There’s a motel over there. If you wanna do this with company, ask for Billy Pilgrim.”
Sawyer leaves, bringing his bottle of beer along An hour later, as he packs the few things he has with him, there’s a knock on the door.
3. Chambers, Arizona
“You ever miss her?”
“After she left? I missed her every damn second. Now? Guess I’m mostly over it.”
“But not completely.”
“I’m here, right?”
“’m sorry for that.”
“Not your fault. Not mine either. I guess it’s just how it goes.”
“I guess it is, too.”
“...”
“...”
“This is so crazy.”
“Nah. You get used to it, after a while. It’s not too hard.”
“Do you know something about it?”
“Been there, done that, hoss.”
“Right. I figured you would.”
“Right.”
4. Thoreau, New Mexico
“You are not.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes, wishing they were inside the bar already. Clearly if you have a cop on the run, it doesn’t mean that anything illegal is allowed. Dammit.
“Yeah, I am. Cut that crap, Donnie Brasco. We’re almost broke, we need quick money, and if you got a better idea, share it.”
Kevin thinks about it for a minute, and then his shoulders slump in defeat.
“I figured. So now just get in and play the fuck along. Hustling pool ain’t half as bad as you think, y’know.”
--
Two hours later, Sawyer has four hundred dollars in his pocket and a decent quantity of alcohol in his system. Both things are making him feel comfortably better.
“You played with six people,” Kevin blurts as they get back to the motel.
“So what?” he answers, his good mood already vanishing.
“You could’ve conned just one person and got the same amount of money.”
“I could. I didn’t. So fucking what?”
Kevin smiles, almost imperceptibly.
“Next time, teach me.”
“What?”
“Well, we’re in this mess together. If you can’t do that for some reason, and we need money, and there’s no other way... I’ll have to learn. God knows I don’t want to, but...”
“If you put it that way,” Sawyer agrees, wishing that the island never made him quit smoking.
Well.
In theory the island didn’t happen, but in his head it fucking did. So he quit. But he could use a cigarette, right now. Hell, yes. “Why not,” he concludes, nodding.
Two days later, there’s another bar at lunch time, which means it’s almost empty. As he leans behind Kevin, covering his hands so that he realizes how he should handle the cue and explains how the whole deal goes down, he tries not to think anything beside this is necessary as their bodies fit together like jigsaw pieces.
If he liked it, Sawyer doesn’t say. Well, Sawyer doesn’t even think about it.
5. Los Angeles, California
Sawyer unfastens his seatbelt and he would be out in a second, if he hadn’t caught Kate’s eyes as the Marshal waited for her to stand up. She remembers. It’s painfully obvious.
He remembers too. He wishes he didn’t. She smiles apologetically, a small curve of her lips that makes his heart lose a beat for a second. He doesn’t rush out. He waits and then follows them , suddenly reluctant to get her out of his sight, at least for now.
He hadn’t expected to see someone waiting for him. Four or five cops, of course, arresting him for that damned Tampa Job, because of course those Australian fuck-ups had to warn the feds here that someone who was expelled from their country had been on that plane. What surprises him is that the cop who is apparently in charge of the whole operation recognizes Kate.
“Monica?” he whispers as soon as he sees her, while Sawyer’s wrists are already being handcuffed.
And then he remembers Kate drinking when he said, I’ve never been married.
Oh, it’d be just like Freckles to marry a fucking cop, and he just wishes he could tell somebody and laugh about it.
--
They both end up in the same cell at end of the hallway in the airport’s police station. The officer/Freckles’ husband/whatever is making some calls in order to take Sawyer back to Florida, and he’s talking with the fucked up Marshal in between. They can’t hear them, but Sawyer doesn’t want to.
He still remembers shooting Mars in the heart, or so he thought.
Anyway. It never happened. Like he and Freckles never happened, and so there shouldn’t be a reason for her to turn in his direction. She doesn’t know him, after all.
“You remember.”
Not a question.
“Yeah. So, that your husband? Appropriate, that he got my case.”
“I said it didn’t work out.”
“No. You never said it.”
“You know I did.”
He doesn’t answer; he knows she’s right. He waits for a second when no one is watching them and turns to her, giving her lips a soft kiss which is hello and goodbye and everything in between.
“Wasn’t ever gonna work out, was it?” he asks then, his voice rough. He wonders if Juliet is somewhere, and if she remembers. Maybe yes, maybe not. She’s lost to him anyway, so he just won’t think about her and it’ll make the whole thing more bearable.
“No. No, it wasn’t,” she answers, before suddenly her former husband comes into the cell area with a key in his hands.
Sawyer can’t really believe his eyes when he sees that he’s opening the door, and then both of their cuffs.
“Run,” he tells her when the metal hits the ground with a small click. “And you,” he tells Sawyer as he unlocks his cuffs, too, “punch me and I’ll say you managed to get away.”
“What?” Sawyer blurts out, not really getting this. What the fuck? He can’t possibly be still in love with her, or care about her so much that he’s willing to let them get away, even if he doesn’t even know Sawyer.
Right, he was willing to do this once, for Sayid, but he had known Sayid back then. It wasn’t...
And then Kate shakes her head.
“No,” she says, looking tired and defeated. And maybe it didn’t happen but it did happen, and the last three years extinguished the running streak inside her; or maybe she just wants to have it done with. Sawyer gets her; the Marshal would be after her in a second anyway.
“You have to, this is the only chance that you...”
“Kevin, no. You don’t have to do this. You never had to do this, you...”
“Fuck!” Sawyer hisses as raises his eyes and sees a young rookie at the end of the hallway, obviously watching them. He runs away and ten seconds later, an alarm starts to beep, and right, well, fuck this.
He spares a glance at Kate, grabs Callis’ arm (he thinks it was the surname, didn’t really catch the name), eyes an open window, feels thankful because this is the ground floor and runs towards it.
Except that the guy who fucking arrested him is standing still and not even trying to follow him.
“Listen, I dunno what got into your head, but it’s either you come and we might even get out or you stay and then it’s your fucking business. So?” he shouts over the alarm before he receives a slight nod. He still has to physically drag him out anyway, it’s not like Callis is helping much. He seems to be busier having a conscience crisis and that’s so not what Sawyer signed up for.
Jesus, he thinks as he runs towards the window and pushes his not exactly willing companion out before jumping himself, if someone had told me someday I’d bus a cop out of a police station I’d have laughed at them for a week. Seriously, what the fuck.
Luckily the window is opening on a back road; as they run towards the parking lot, the alarm is still pulsing inside Sawyer’s head and well, at least now he isn’t dragging Kate’s former husband along.
They run until they arrive at the parking lot behind the station. Callis’ shaking fingers hand Sawyer some keys and he glances towards a service car. Sawyer nods and gets behind the wheel and drives the fuck out of there before someone notices.
They’ll have to ditch the car as soon as possible.
6. Winchester, Illinois
It takes Sawyer three months to ask the question.
“What the hell were you thinkin’ anyway when you tried to bust her out?”
Kevin snorts and shakes his head as he stretches out on the motel bed.
“I figured it was going to be the last thing I could do for her.”
“Are you serious? After...”
“Guess I still loved her. More or less. I know she never really loved me, but it’s alright. I did. I don’t think I still do, but still. I wanted to do that for her. The fact that I had to do that for you too didn’t worry me much. I was just gonna chase you down anyway.”
“Right. Thank you. That’s just what you tell a guy to make him feel better, y’know?”
Kevin snorts again and doesn’t look too troubled with this.
“I mean, you fucking lost your job and you’re stuck with me when you were supposed to arrest me and that’s just it?”
“Just gimme a quarter, will you?”
Sawyer rolls his eyes and hands Kevin a couple.
Who’d have thought that he’d become fucking addicted to Magic Fingers. Life is indeed always full of surprises, Sawyer figures.
7. Jackson, Tennessee
So they should not do this.
But Sawyer doesn’t exactly feel like beating around the bush and he has (hasn’t) been through too much shit to give a damn whether this is crazy or not.
So Kevin has read his file and knows everything that is there. So Sawyer told him he shot a man in Sydney, not exactly just to watch him die, and that it was a mistake, and that he still feels a pang of wrenching guilt whenever he thinks about it, and he’s still kissing Sawyer anyway. Sawyer doesn’t really want to know why. He thinks he’s perfectly okay with not knowing.
So they’re sort of drunk. Sort of. Because in Sawyer’s book, one shot of whiskey after a couple of beers doesn’t really mean drunk, and he has had enough proof that Kevin is not a lightweight, and so, yeah. Not drunk. Surely tipsy enough to end up kissing, because for some fucked up reason that’s what they ended up doing, when they got into their room from the bar they had spent the last couple of hours in.
It just happened, though. One moment they were both sitting on the first bed that was in the way, the next they were staring at each other, and the next they had sort of moved at the same time and met halfway. It’s a weird kiss. Weird because they’re not exactly being tentative or shy, but they aren’t ravaging their respective mouths either. It’s like they want to do this but they haven’t figured out why or how. Kevin tastes like the shot of whiskey, and Sawyer figures he tastes the same, too. It’s not too bad, really, except for the whole I-am-kissing-a-former-cop-who-was-supposed-to-arrest-me-after-six-months-on-the-run-with-him factor which well, is weird, but then Kevin’s tongue starts slowly tracing the outline of Sawyer’s lips and he decides he’ll forget weird.
This is until the kiss breaks.
“The fuck are we doin’?” he asks, even if he doesn’t sound half as angry as he should feel. It just sounds like a rhetorical question, and he doesn’t expect that much of an answer.
“What does it seem like to you?” Kevin asks then, not missing a beat, his lips slowly tracing Sawyer’s pulse point, and fuck, his jeans are becoming way too tight.
“Well, seems like what it is to me, but... you don’t exactly seem the kind, y’know?”
Kevin shakes his head, his lips still there, his words vibrating against the hollow of Sawyer’s neck.
“Well. One year ago I had a job, I arrested criminals, I used to go to church every Sunday and I missed my beautiful wife who wasn’t what she said she was. Now I’m on the run with the guy I’m supposed to arrest, after I tried to get her to escape. Does it seem to you...” he stops for a second, grasping skin between his teeth for a mere second, “that the same person described in part one... would do what I said in part two?”
“... no.”
“Well, I’m the same person and I’m doing it now. I guess I stopped giving a damn.”
Sawyer should still call this off, and when the hell did he become the one with concerns, when for the first three weeks, at least, Kevin was a fish out of water and pretty much all over the place? Maybe, because some part of him learned to be concerned during those three years he didn’t spend on an island in the middle of nowhere, and he can’t let it go now. Even if it didn’t happen.
What the fuck, he thinks, why the hell not, and then he kisses Kevin back for good, and the switch clicks. Suddenly they’re all over each other, clothes getting thrown away, shoes kicking the ground, hands touching everywhere and fuck, yesyesyes is all that Sawyer’s head comes up with right now. Right, it’s not like he’s up for coherent thinking. He can do without.
Things slow down though, and that’s to be expected, because he might have stopped giving a damn, but he really doubts that his very own former officer from Florida has ever had sex with a guy his whole life. While it’s not like it’s Sawyer’s main thing, he did con a couple of guys once, and had another couple of one night stands on other occasions, so yeah, he thinks that it’s time to spice things up.
He turns so that Kevin is the one lying on the mattress and he’s the one on top, and after another long, slow kiss he unzips Kevin’s jeans and pushes them down before getting rid of his own. As he slowly positions himself over Kevin again, he takes some time to just watch. Well, he hasn’t exactly paid attention until now or anything, but he has to say that Freckles did have a nice taste after all. His right hand traces a random pattern on a toned chest, the left grabs Kevin’s hip, and Sawyer has to say that he likes the fact that, apart from being obviously overall good-looking, Kevin’s eyes actually look pretty fucking honest, even right now, and after everything.
He doesn’t think this is the time to rush things. There’ll be time, if they decide that this isn’t so crazy in four hours anyway; for now, he carefully slides so that Kevin’s hard-on, which was pressing into his thigh, is lined with Sawyer’s own. He lets Kevin moan into his mouth as he rubs slowly; the friction feels damn great. Sawyer decides after a short while that slow doesn’t really fit, and he starts going faster. At one point Kevin’s hand reaches down and starts stroking the both of them, and it’s messy and not exactly a pro’s job but it feels so fucking good; so much that Sawyer can’t really hold himself anymore and he comes hard, his skin on fire, his frame shaking. Not that for Kevin it’s much different, not from the way he moans, his mouth next to Sawyer’s ear, and that’s almost enough to make Sawyer wish they could go for round two. If only he didn’t know already that after this is over that’ll be it, for tonight at least.
After he collapses against Kevin, he doesn’t try to move much. Well, he goes through the effort of rolling down to his side, but that’s pretty much it. For a second he hopes that the walls aren’t too thin, then Kevin’s arm ends up somewhere around his waist and frankly, Sawyer doesn’t give a damn. For now. He’ll deal tomorrow. Or they’ll deal tomorrow. However it goes.
8. Salem, Oregon
Sawyer ditches the car’s old plates on the side of the road after acquiring new ones in some dump somewhere near Salem. He didn’t even check the name.; Kevin mostly just nods at him and waits for him to be done, before throwing him a rag which soon becomes covered in grease.
“Are you still sure that he’s following us?”
“That motherfucker? He ain’t ever gonna stop until he catches up. Unless he dies first.”
“How are you so sure again?”
Sawyer can’t exactly answer him. Because he wouldn’t stop with Kate, until I tried to be merciful and shot him in what I thought was his fucking heart on an island in the middle of the Pacific where I’ve never been isn’t really anything that can work for a sane response anyway.
“I just do,” he cuts, as he dumps the rag on the backseat and climbs in the driver’s seat. Kevin follows on the passenger’s, and after he turns on the engine, Sawyer decides that some music won’t hurt and his hand reaches for the radio.
... They may try and sell ya,
'cause it hangs them up
to see someone like you.
But you've gotta make your own kind of music
sing your own special song,
make your own kind of music even if nobody
else sings alo...
“Oh, this is a fucking joke,” Sawyer mutters before changing station and settling on the news. Kevin doesn’t comment.
There’s a limit to anything. Sawyer draws that limit at songs that Charlie used to play (or didn’t used to play) in that fucked up hatch, while he was stuck in a bed.
9. Athens, Georgia
“How much do you regret this?”
Kevin is having a look at his latest false driver’s license., It reads James Blake, and Sawyer really doesn’t find it funny that Kevin’s fake name would be his real one.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, you can’t possibly not regret this shit. Or at least part of it. Fuck this, it’s been eight months, if it ever felt to you like a vacation then by all standards it should be over.”
“I think I might regret it less than you would think,” Kevin whispers, his voice warm. It doesn’t help that he’s standing right in front of Sawyer, and that it’s July, and that they’re both standing shirtless on the side of another dusty godforsaken back road in the middle of nowhere, Georgia. Athens was the last civilized place Sawyer took notice of.
“The fuck?”
“I don’t exactly get how she could do it alone for all that time and how did she even found the time to marry me in the midst of it,. But you know., it ain’t that bad, except for the whole filthy motels business.”
“Jesus. You ain’t got no family that would have rather have you back in Florida?”
“My mother died a year after Mon... Kate left. I don’t think she was heartbroken or anything, but all that she had wanted was seeing me married, and maybe give her grandchildren, and well, that wasn’t gonna happen. She was the only relative I had. So no. Not really. And you haven’t got any neither.”
Sawyer nods. There’s still a man around whom he really, really ought to kill, but at this point he’s mostly over it. He has done it once, he won’t do it twice. Right, well, maybe he hasn’t done it, but you get the whole drill by this point.
Suddenly he figures that maybe he should just be done with this crap.
“You got a lighter?” he asks, and Kevin throws him one. Sawyer knew he had one. He always has one even if he loathes cigarettes. Always saying that it might come handy. Maybe now Sawyer can see the point. Oh, well. He takes a crumpled letter out of his pocket with one hand, holds the lighter with the other and when the paper catches fire, he throws it on the ground and watches it burn. When it’s all ashes and sparkles, he clamps his heel over it. Then a bit of black ash is all that’s left of it.
It wasn’t half as hard as he had imagined.
“Was that anything important?” Kevin asks, as he takes a sip from a plastic water bottle.
“No. No, it wasn’t,” Sawyer answers and if, before putting their shirts on and letting Kevin get the driver’s seat, their lips brush for a couple of seconds, it’s fine.
If at one point Kevin’s hand rests on the gear shift without moving (hell, the car is an automatic) and Sawyer just rolls his eyes and grabs it, no one says anything.
10. Asbury Park, New Jersey
“I can’t fucking believe that you wanna go to church.”
“Well, it’s Sunday, there’s a church here, Mars ain’t following us and I want to go.”
In five months, Sawyer thinks that he has learned to read Kevin well enough. He won’t ever back down.
“Fine. Just lay low, don’t confess and don’t catch any attention. I’ll be at the diner.”
Because hell, he didn’t have breakfast and he fucking needs coffee. Kevin is out of the room after a short nod and Sawyer just shrugs, grabs his jacket and goes to the diner. He’s sort of surprised to see that it’s full. Right, maybe this town isn’t the hole they usually hide up in, but still. There’s a free booth and he sits there, ordering a couple of pancakes, plain thanks, no chocolate or frilly stuff in there, and also some strong coffee, yes, black. The waitress brings everything back in a relatively short time and Sawyer is just in the process of drowning one of the pancakes in maple syrup (he doesn’t know why but he has this thing for classic pancakes with maple syrup) when a man taps his shoulder.
Sawyer doesn’t tense; if he does he’s fucked and he built his life on trying not to get fucked. In that sense, at least. It’s more or less in his blood, by this point. He turns and sees a man in his thirties, blond with clear eyes, regular face, nicely shaped mouth, wearing a pair of jeans, working boots and a flannel. Doesn’t smell like a cop.
“Sorry, do you mind if I sit there? The place is full and that was the only free...”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
Sawyer keeps on eating his pancakes as the other guy just stands there and waits for his order. It was coffee with bacon and scrambled eggs on the side. Not too bad, but Sawyer is just in the mood for sweet today.
“Are these good?” the guy asks at one point. Sawyer shrugs.
“Yeah. Pretty much. Yours?”
“Not bad.”
“Y’know something,” Sawyer mouths, even if he should by all means shut the fuck up right this moment, “you sorta look familiar. Like I’ve seen your face somewhere, but ages ago. Nah, drop it. I probably need to sleep more.” He realizes that it’s lame and he doesn’t really need to sleep more, but that’s the best choice of excuses.
The man smiles, small and enigmatic and familiar.
“Maybe it was someone who looked like me. Happens all the time.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does. Anyway, thanks for the chat. Gotta go though, I’m finished,” he says as he drinks the last of his coffee.
“You’re welcome. Have a safe trip. By the way, I’m Nick,” the guy says, and Sawyer can smell a fake name like nothing else.
“I’m Charlie,” he answers as he shakes the man’s hand, trying not to think too much about the fact that for a second he felt electricity creep up along his palm when he shook the hand.
“Right. Best of luck to you,” the Nick guy says as he gets back to his bacon.
It’s just when they’re in the car on their way out that Sawyer realizes he never told the guy that he was traveling, but that he wished Sawyer a safe trip regardless.
He doesn’t share the news with Kevin. Probably it didn’t mean shit anyway.
11. Trinidad, Colorado
“So, we’re really doin’ this?” Sawyer asks, sitting on the pretty-decent-for-once motel bed on the fifth day.
“Yes,” Kevin answers even if he doesn’t exactly sound sure.
Sawyer nods and swallows, trying to block out the fact that being stuck on the run from the Marshal he killed one time that didn’t happen, with Freckles’ former husband, who’s there because he tried to bail her out and then he bailed Sawyer out, isn’t funny at all. It actually sounds like a bad soap opera, but he won’t go dwelling on that.
“Alright. So. Why don’t we just start from scratch?” Kevin asks then, turning in his direction.
“What do you mean?”
Kevin half-smiles and extends a hand in Sawyer’s direction.
“Hello. My name is Kevin Callis. I only know who you are because I was assigned to that Tampa Job after the colleague of mine who had it ended up dead in a car accident. I used to be a cop from Florida, and I used to be married to an outlaw whom I tried to free one time too many. Nice to meet you.”
Sawyer snorts and shakes Kevin’s hand, not really believing he’s actually doing this.
“Right. My name’s Sawyer, after the guy who conned my mother when I was eight. I’ve been a con all my life. I was in Australia to find said guy, I didn’t find him, I really didn’t want to do the Tampa Job and I just took my chance when I could.”
He skips the whole and I crashed on an island with your former wife and we had a connection and then I time-traveled and fell in love with another woman and then a bomb exploded and it never happened at all, the end part.
They shake again and then it’s over. But Sawyer decides that since they’re starting from scratch, he might just go the whole way.
“Hey, y’know what?”
“What?”
“Just call me James and let’s be done with it.”
“James? Alright. And let me tell you, it suits you a whole lot better than Sawyer.”
Sawyer lets out another snort.
“So what, is this the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”
Kevin looks at least amused.
“Who knows.”
No one, Sawyer thinks, but it strangely feels alright.
--
Edward Mars closes Ford’s file and places it above Callis’, carefully, before smiling softly and making a couple of calls. When he’s done, he grabs his jacket from the chair, slips it on, and then looks at the files again.
“Well, enjoy the freedom as much as you can,” he whispers, “because from tomorrow? It’s your turn.”
His voice is satisfied and a bit excited as he leaves the room. True, he has always looked forward to the day he would arrest Kate Austen; but Edward Mars likes challenges, and she gifted him with one was a real, real turn of luck. There’s nothing like a good challenge to keep your senses and your mind sharp, and the both of them aren’t idiots that will do anything to help him catch them. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.
After all, the harder a challenge, the sweeter the reward. Mars smiles again. He can’t wait to get started.
End.