the ice axe, for ciaimpala
Title: The Ice-Axe
Author: eponine119
Recipient: ciaimpala
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: A reunion in a bookshop.
Author notes: Thanks to A. for the beta
A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul. ~Franz Kafka
They met again on the sidewalk outside a bookstore. Snow was coming down hard, the wind blowing it diagonally, allowing it to creep underneath collars and sting into eyes. Both men walked with their heads down, due to the weather, and practically collided.
"Hey, look where you're going."
Jack felt an embarrassed heat flush through his skin, along with a frisson of excitement. He'd recognize that growly twang anywhere. He stopped and raised his head. The other man brushed by him, yanking open the door to the bookstore. "Sawyer."
He watched the recognition set in, and then Sawyer looked at him with that old, familiar animalistic fire in his eyes. "I don't go by that name no more," he said, and for a moment that was almost the end of it. Jack would take a step back and bypass the bookshop, and they would go their separate ways. But then Sawyer added, "Doc," and held the door open to him, an invitation to follow.
The store was warm enough to begin to thaw the ice glistening on their skin and hair. Jack shivered deliciously in the unexpected heat. The shop was small and cozy, the shelves dark against the walls and overbrimming with books. Sawyer shook his head, setting his hair swinging like a dog casting off water, and Jack passed his hand over his own short bristles. Looking back outside through the windows, the snow lost its viciousness. It fluttered softly, illuminated by the streetlight, settling into white drifts, hiding the ugly details. Everything became still and quiet.
The exact opposite of the island in their past, sunny and hot and so often loud with shouting.
"Long time," Sawyer said.
"Very long." Jack felt awkward in his agreement. He should have more to say. But they were just two men looking at the snow. He let out a slow breath, relaxing, and beside him he could feel that Sawyer did the same.
"What are you looking for?" Sawyer asked.
It took Jack by surprise. He tried to form an answer to what he'd taken to be an existential question, opening his mouth and then shaking his head.
"What kind of book?" Sawyer clarified.
He felt a pang of embarrassment at his misunderstanding. "I'm not really sure. A gift, maybe something about entertaining."
"For your --?" He let the question hang, as though unwilling to complete the thought, to say the word "wife".
"Mother," Jack specified.
"Sure," Sawyer said. "Come on back, we'll see what we've got." He paused at the counter to remove his jacket. He stretched out a hand suggestively and Jack shrugged out of his coat, handing it to him. Sawyer looked good in a casual dress shirt and slim jeans. "Your mother make you that sweater?" He ribbed Jack good-naturedly. Some things never changed.
"No. Do you work here?" He hesitated before following Sawyer further into the store.
"Yeah." A slow grin spread across his face.
Jack wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He'd seen Sawyer with a book in his hand often enough that it seemed a natural progression, but it also seemed too tame for the adventurous bad boy he'd once known. "Do you like it?" He'd known since he was a kid that he would be a doctor. He couldn't imagine having the wide world of professions open to him, to choose from.
"Yeah," Sawyer said and this time it seemed like an admission. A confession. He covered it up quickly by indicating a low shelf with the toe of his boot. "These are what we've got on entertaining." He bent to retrieve a particularly heavy coffee table edition. "I think she'd like this one."
Jack wanted to take offense at the presumption, since Sawyer didn't know the first thing about his mother, but when he accepted the weight of the book into his hands, he could tell just from the cover that it was the right choice. He flipped through it perfunctorily, feeling the glossy weight of the paper and glancing at the price on the inside of the flap. "I'll take it."
Sawyer ducked his head in a nod, then fixed Jack with an intense gaze. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Jack asked.
"You need something."
There were plenty of things Jack needed, but he didn't think he'd find any of them between the pages of a book. Then again, a book had led him here, to find Sawyer again.
He followed Sawyer up to the front of the store and set the book down on the counter, reaching for his wallet. Instead, Sawyer walked over to the door and turned the closed sign so that it faced out. "Turnin' into a blizzard out there." He grinned, showing those wicked dimples. His fingers deftly turned the lock. This gesture made Jack no longer a customer; the store was closed. "Good thing we're in here."
"What is it you think I need?"
"You'll know it when you see it." Sawyer walked past him and the counter again, into back part of the store. There was a real fireplace with a fire burning in it. Jack didn't think he'd ever seen a store with a fireplace before. It was wonderful, the scent of the wood and the small crackles and pops as the fire flared and breathed like a living thing. Two worn chairs angled in front of it, and Jack sank into one with an involuntary sigh.
He stared into the fire, finding himself relaxed and mesmerized by the dancing flame. Sawyer pressed a mug into his hand and took the other chair. Jack took a sip, and whiskey burned a trail of heat down his throat. Trust Sawyer to always have a secret stash. "Quite the setup you've got here."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
More questions flitted through Jack's mind - was this Sawyer's shop, was he the boss - but the answers seemed obvious enough that saying the words would have been extraneous. Similarly Sawyer didn't ask him anything about himself or what he had been up to. They just sat companionably by the fire, drinking. Jack turned his head and looked out the window at the drifting snow and thought nothing had ever been so perfect or so right.
"You figure out yet what you need?"
"Yes." And as Jack looked at Sawyer's hair shining in the glow of the fire, tasting the burn of whiskey on his lips, he could only think how lucky he was to have found it.
(end)
Author: eponine119
Recipient: ciaimpala
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: A reunion in a bookshop.
Author notes: Thanks to A. for the beta
A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul. ~Franz Kafka
They met again on the sidewalk outside a bookstore. Snow was coming down hard, the wind blowing it diagonally, allowing it to creep underneath collars and sting into eyes. Both men walked with their heads down, due to the weather, and practically collided.
"Hey, look where you're going."
Jack felt an embarrassed heat flush through his skin, along with a frisson of excitement. He'd recognize that growly twang anywhere. He stopped and raised his head. The other man brushed by him, yanking open the door to the bookstore. "Sawyer."
He watched the recognition set in, and then Sawyer looked at him with that old, familiar animalistic fire in his eyes. "I don't go by that name no more," he said, and for a moment that was almost the end of it. Jack would take a step back and bypass the bookshop, and they would go their separate ways. But then Sawyer added, "Doc," and held the door open to him, an invitation to follow.
The store was warm enough to begin to thaw the ice glistening on their skin and hair. Jack shivered deliciously in the unexpected heat. The shop was small and cozy, the shelves dark against the walls and overbrimming with books. Sawyer shook his head, setting his hair swinging like a dog casting off water, and Jack passed his hand over his own short bristles. Looking back outside through the windows, the snow lost its viciousness. It fluttered softly, illuminated by the streetlight, settling into white drifts, hiding the ugly details. Everything became still and quiet.
The exact opposite of the island in their past, sunny and hot and so often loud with shouting.
"Long time," Sawyer said.
"Very long." Jack felt awkward in his agreement. He should have more to say. But they were just two men looking at the snow. He let out a slow breath, relaxing, and beside him he could feel that Sawyer did the same.
"What are you looking for?" Sawyer asked.
It took Jack by surprise. He tried to form an answer to what he'd taken to be an existential question, opening his mouth and then shaking his head.
"What kind of book?" Sawyer clarified.
He felt a pang of embarrassment at his misunderstanding. "I'm not really sure. A gift, maybe something about entertaining."
"For your --?" He let the question hang, as though unwilling to complete the thought, to say the word "wife".
"Mother," Jack specified.
"Sure," Sawyer said. "Come on back, we'll see what we've got." He paused at the counter to remove his jacket. He stretched out a hand suggestively and Jack shrugged out of his coat, handing it to him. Sawyer looked good in a casual dress shirt and slim jeans. "Your mother make you that sweater?" He ribbed Jack good-naturedly. Some things never changed.
"No. Do you work here?" He hesitated before following Sawyer further into the store.
"Yeah." A slow grin spread across his face.
Jack wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He'd seen Sawyer with a book in his hand often enough that it seemed a natural progression, but it also seemed too tame for the adventurous bad boy he'd once known. "Do you like it?" He'd known since he was a kid that he would be a doctor. He couldn't imagine having the wide world of professions open to him, to choose from.
"Yeah," Sawyer said and this time it seemed like an admission. A confession. He covered it up quickly by indicating a low shelf with the toe of his boot. "These are what we've got on entertaining." He bent to retrieve a particularly heavy coffee table edition. "I think she'd like this one."
Jack wanted to take offense at the presumption, since Sawyer didn't know the first thing about his mother, but when he accepted the weight of the book into his hands, he could tell just from the cover that it was the right choice. He flipped through it perfunctorily, feeling the glossy weight of the paper and glancing at the price on the inside of the flap. "I'll take it."
Sawyer ducked his head in a nod, then fixed Jack with an intense gaze. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Jack asked.
"You need something."
There were plenty of things Jack needed, but he didn't think he'd find any of them between the pages of a book. Then again, a book had led him here, to find Sawyer again.
He followed Sawyer up to the front of the store and set the book down on the counter, reaching for his wallet. Instead, Sawyer walked over to the door and turned the closed sign so that it faced out. "Turnin' into a blizzard out there." He grinned, showing those wicked dimples. His fingers deftly turned the lock. This gesture made Jack no longer a customer; the store was closed. "Good thing we're in here."
"What is it you think I need?"
"You'll know it when you see it." Sawyer walked past him and the counter again, into back part of the store. There was a real fireplace with a fire burning in it. Jack didn't think he'd ever seen a store with a fireplace before. It was wonderful, the scent of the wood and the small crackles and pops as the fire flared and breathed like a living thing. Two worn chairs angled in front of it, and Jack sank into one with an involuntary sigh.
He stared into the fire, finding himself relaxed and mesmerized by the dancing flame. Sawyer pressed a mug into his hand and took the other chair. Jack took a sip, and whiskey burned a trail of heat down his throat. Trust Sawyer to always have a secret stash. "Quite the setup you've got here."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
More questions flitted through Jack's mind - was this Sawyer's shop, was he the boss - but the answers seemed obvious enough that saying the words would have been extraneous. Similarly Sawyer didn't ask him anything about himself or what he had been up to. They just sat companionably by the fire, drinking. Jack turned his head and looked out the window at the drifting snow and thought nothing had ever been so perfect or so right.
"You figure out yet what you need?"
"Yes." And as Jack looked at Sawyer's hair shining in the glow of the fire, tasting the burn of whiskey on his lips, he could only think how lucky he was to have found it.
(end)