(no subject)
Title: Better
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Sawyer, Jack
Prompt: #24 - I Want You To Hate Me for
un_love_you
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,536
Summary: This was precisely why he didn't get involved. Somehow he'd always screw it up and they'd wind up hating him with every fiber of their being. He was a fool to think this would be any different.
This was precisely why he didn’t get involved. Somehow he’d always fuck it up and they’d wind up hating him with every fiber of their being.
He was a fool to think that this would be any different.
---
The car pulled up outside of the small house around noon and Sawyer knew something was up. People didn’t just show up at his house in the middle of the day. He turned the volume all the way down on the television that had been providing background noise for the past hour and a half, and he hid the bills he’d been paying - how domestic of him - under the book he hadn’t yet gotten around to reading. He listened to the slam of the car door, the footsteps on the driveway and then up the cement steps. Silence as the storm door opened, then a tentative knock.
He glanced out the window, through the drapes that she had insisted on putting up, and found himself peering at Jack’s six foot something frame as he stood outside, looking stiff and overworked. Same shit, different day. Sawyer went ahead and opened the unlocked door, just as Jack was about to knock again, hand poised. “What are you doing here Doc?”
Jack gave him a look of surprise, obviously expecting a different reaction. Sawyer wasn’t sure why he was here, but he could guarantee it wasn’t because he was bored and just felt like coming around to visit. Jack shifted his eyes past Sawyer, into the living room. “Can I come in?”
Sawyer shrugged and stepped aside, letting Jack pass by, and closing the door behind him. “What’s with the unannounced visit? You can’t pick up a phone?” He asked, as Jack looked around briefly, taking in the house. Sawyer didn’t know why he bothered. Jack had been there before, recently even. Nothing had changed.
“I was busy with patients. Thought I’d swing by on my break. It’s not like you have a whole lot of pressing matters.” Jack pointed out, never seeing those bills that lay on the table or the beginnings of dinner that set simmering on the stove, his best attempts at trying to live a normal life. He didn’t really think Sawyer was capable of much responsibility, because when they’d come back from the island Jack had gone a little crazy, and when he’d finally pulled himself back together he’d turned into a version of his father, unaffected and edging on condescending. All Jack saw were failures, his own as well as the people around him. “You have drapes.”
“She put them up. Said they made her feel like a grown up or something. I thought the kid would accomplish that just fine but apparently I was mistaken.” Jack nodded but didn’t say a word. “So, what do I owe the house call to?”
Jack looked up the stairs, pausing to listen for signs of life other than the two of them. When he didn’t hear anything, he asked. “Where is she?”
Sawyer frowned. “Work. She doesn’t get off until three.” He watched the other man relax, just barely. “I can have her give you a call if that’s what this is about.”
“No, it’s not.” Jack told him, turning to face him for the first time since he’d walked in. “I don’t really know how to say this actually.”
“Just spit it out Doc.” Sawyer said, cutting him off. “I can take it, I’m a big boy.”
Jack sighed, running a hand over his hair, closely cropped once more. He’d seen Jack sporting the bearded, homeless person look a while back. It didn’t work for him one bit. “I appreciate what you’ve done here. How much you’ve changed your ways.” Jack stopped looking at him. “It’s just…I’m looking out for her. And she cares about you a lot, and I know you feel something for her too. But she -“
“You don’t know nothing,” he growled. Jack wasn’t in his head. He hadn’t been in a long time. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”
The quick intake of breath told Sawyer that he’d just summarized exactly what Jack had been stammering out. “You’re a con man Sawyer. You lie, you cheat, you steal. It’s in your nature to the point where it’s not even your fault.”
“Was a con man, Jack.” Sawyer corrected, adding emphasis to the past tense. That wasn’t him anymore. He wasn’t Sawyer anymore. At least, that’s the story he was telling people nowadays, not that he was sure he believed it. He just knew he needed to believe it. “I haven’t run scams since we got back. You know that.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re living in a house that was paid for by remnants of the money you scammed out of your old marks. That doesn’t change the fact that there’s at least a dozen people who want you dead for things you did in the past. You’re not the safest person to be around, no matter how different you claim to be now.” Claim to be, as in Jack didn’t believe it either.
“Yeah and I’ve been living here for the past year and a half and nothing has happened. We’ve been perfectly fine, and you just -“
“She’s my sister.” Jack interjected, firmly. “Half or not, she’s the only family I’ve got. She’s my responsibility.”
“Oh, get off of it, Doc. I think you’re taking this just a bit too seriously, don’t you.” The look Jack gave him stated that clearly he didn’t agree. Gee, what a surprise. “And what exactly am I supposed to do? Kick her out? Do you think that’s the ideal course of action?”
“She can stay with me…”
“Yeah, she’ll be real fuckin’ keen on that once she finds out that you’re the reason all this went down in the first place.” Sawyer shot back, ignoring the way Jack was glaring daggers at him. He’d had it with trying to have a civil conversation with Jack. This was the only way they could get anything accomplished. Voices raised, words laced with venom, and occasionally a punch or two.
“What, you want to cause more problems?” Jack asked. “Is that what you want to do? You want to turn her against me just because you can’t have her? Because if you cared about her at all you would keep your fucking mouth shut.”
“And if you cared about her at all you would walk out the damn door.” Sawyer held his own ground, refusing to let Jack win this round. He wasn’t letting her go. Not without a fight. And he knew he was going to lose too. “She’s happy.”
“For now.” Jack replied, before taking a step back, taking a breath, and calming down, the tension in the room breaking just a bit. “Sawyer, I know you don’t want to do this but it’s the best thing for everyone in the long run. You and I both know that if those people ever find out where you are they aren’t going to go after you; they’re going to go after everyone and everything you care about. That’s a real short list, and she ranks high.”
“Get out,” he told him, voice low, solid.
Jack nodded after a moment. “You know I’m right, Sawyer.” Jack said, and Sawyer felt him rest a hand on his arm. Comforting, yet manipulative. A lot like his father, Sawyer thought. Silently he cursed the man for cheating on his wife twenty-five years ago. If he hadn’t there would be no pretty blonde with the clear blue eyes and the son that thankfully took after his mother. Then he wouldn’t be standing in his living room, listening to the door slam, his heart feeling like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.
---
“Hey,” her voice rang out just before the door shut, and he heard her purse being set down, keys hitting the table. The shifting of paper bags told him she’d been to the grocery store before coming home.
He didn’t say anything, just stared at the same page he’d been staring at for the past half hour, unable to think straight, unable to function for the moment.
The surprised gasp told him she’d walked into the kitchen. “Oh, you made dinner.” The sound of the lid being lifted off the pot. “Smells good.”
Any other day he would’ve smiled, today he just wondered why he even bothered cooking it. It wouldn’t be eaten, not tonight.
“I’ve got to pick up Aaron in an hour. He’s at a friend’s house, and you know how picky he is at dinner, so I don’t want to leave him there and give Kyle Truman’s poor mother any more trouble than she already has.” The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing stopped abruptly. “Are you in there?”
When he spoke his voice sounded rougher than usual. “Yeah, just…busy.”
“Did something happen?” Claire asked, concerned.
Yeah, your brother, he thought. Instead, he said, “No, everything’s fine.”
“You don’t really expect me to buy that excuse do you?” Sawyer didn’t answer, hoping she’d stop trying to make conversation, stop caring how his day went, just stop. “Alright, fine. Though this quiet, moody thing has got to go.”
He listened to her go up the stairs, felt his hand stiffen and lock up, blood pounding in his ears. He tried to reason his headache out as having to do with reading, without his glasses, for long periods of time, but he knew that wasn’t it. She wasn’t up there for a minute before he heard her come back down, and into the living room, stopping a few feet away from him.
“Are we going somewhere?” She asked, innocently. She didn’t even suspect that something was up. Part of him thought she probably did but was trying to cover it up in case nothing was. Either way she was pretty convincing.
“No, we’re not.”
Claire missed the emphasis, what wasn’t being said. “Well then why is my stuff all packed up?”
He closed the book, losing his place for lack of a bookmark, steeling his gaze, hiding all inner turmoil in favor of returning to his old persona. Dropping James, the man who cooked, and paid bills, and played the live-in boyfriend, and becoming Sawyer, the man who didn’t give a fuck who he hurt as long as it wasn’t him. Except he wasn’t hurting himself with this. “Because you are.”
She frowned, tilting her head to one side the way she did when she was confused and didn’t really know what to say. “Okay…” she left it intentionally open ended, hoping he would elaborate. He wasn’t going to. “Are you going to tell what’s going on Sawyer, because I’ve had a good day, and I don’t want to ruin it by playing games.”
“That’s the way I am, Mamacita. If you don’t like it maybe you shouldn’t be here.” He reverted to form, using nicknames instead of actual names. It helped him detach himself.
“What are you…?” She started.
“Do I really need to spell this out for you?” He cut in, sitting up that much straighter, watching her take a step back, the emotions on her face a mix between hurt and anticipation. He didn’t know what she thought he was going to do, but he didn’t like it all the same. “I’m talking about you leaving. Your bags are packed; now all you need to do is pick up the little rugrat and be on your merry little way.”
“Why are you doing this?” Claire asked, as he got up, started walking away from her, into the hallway, up the stairs, just away from her. He didn’t want to have to look at her. “Sawyer, stop it!” She caught up with him by the stairs, grabbed his arm and pulling hard enough that he had no choice but to turn around. “What’s going on? Did something happen, did someone say something?”
“Why can’t you just accept that maybe I’m done playing house?” He responded, trying to pull away. She refused to let go, held firm, nails digging into the skin of his arm. Sawyer knew he was stronger than her, he could leave if he wanted to, but part of him didn’t want to move.
“Because I know you better than you think I do. I’m not stupid, I know something happened so why won’t you just tell me so we can fix this…“
“You’re just like him you know, always with the fixing things. Wake up, girlie, some things can’t be fixed.”
“So this is about Jack now?” She asked, and he this time he did escape her grasp, climbing the stairs, her at his heels. “Did he come here?”
“No,” he told her, lying. This whole act was a lie. Or maybe it was this life that had been a lie in the first place and he just hadn’t yet realized it.
“Stop lying!” Claire yelled, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back against the wall, rough but not hard enough to hurt, trapping her between him and the ivory wall that he’d painted last summer.
“Don’t believe me, ask him yourself. As long as you’re there you might as well just stay.” He knew that despite Jack’s newfound manipulative personality he was looking out for Claire. Just in the only way he knew how apparently. She’d be fine with him.
Her hands came up, a motion to push him away but she ended up grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt, as she asked again, slower, calmer, “Why are you doing this? Why are you saying all of this, and acting like someone you’re not?”
Because I need you to hate me, he thought. Because that was the only way she would leave, the only way he knew how to get her to leave. But it’s not like he could say that to her face. “You don’t have a clue who I am.”
He didn’t expect her to lean up and close the space between them, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, even as he felt the tears fall from her eyes, down her cheeks, salt on his own skin from the close proximity. When she pulled back, she found his eyes, “When are you going to learn to stop pushing everyone away?”
Claire didn’t let him have a chance to respond. She squirmed out of his grasp, going into the bedroom, and he didn’t try to stop her. Nor did he try to stop her when she walked past him, back down the stairs, baggage in hand. It wasn’t all of it but it was a start. She had her hand on the doorknob, leaving without a goodbye, when he said, “You deserve better than me.”
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, eyes narrowed slightly, anger and disappointment in her face now. “How would you know what I deserve?”
The door slammed for the second time that day, and he tried to remind himself that this was what was necessary to keep her safe. This is what he wanted. What had to happen.
Or was it?
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Sawyer, Jack
Prompt: #24 - I Want You To Hate Me for
un_love_you
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,536
Summary: This was precisely why he didn't get involved. Somehow he'd always screw it up and they'd wind up hating him with every fiber of their being. He was a fool to think this would be any different.
This was precisely why he didn’t get involved. Somehow he’d always fuck it up and they’d wind up hating him with every fiber of their being.
He was a fool to think that this would be any different.
---
The car pulled up outside of the small house around noon and Sawyer knew something was up. People didn’t just show up at his house in the middle of the day. He turned the volume all the way down on the television that had been providing background noise for the past hour and a half, and he hid the bills he’d been paying - how domestic of him - under the book he hadn’t yet gotten around to reading. He listened to the slam of the car door, the footsteps on the driveway and then up the cement steps. Silence as the storm door opened, then a tentative knock.
He glanced out the window, through the drapes that she had insisted on putting up, and found himself peering at Jack’s six foot something frame as he stood outside, looking stiff and overworked. Same shit, different day. Sawyer went ahead and opened the unlocked door, just as Jack was about to knock again, hand poised. “What are you doing here Doc?”
Jack gave him a look of surprise, obviously expecting a different reaction. Sawyer wasn’t sure why he was here, but he could guarantee it wasn’t because he was bored and just felt like coming around to visit. Jack shifted his eyes past Sawyer, into the living room. “Can I come in?”
Sawyer shrugged and stepped aside, letting Jack pass by, and closing the door behind him. “What’s with the unannounced visit? You can’t pick up a phone?” He asked, as Jack looked around briefly, taking in the house. Sawyer didn’t know why he bothered. Jack had been there before, recently even. Nothing had changed.
“I was busy with patients. Thought I’d swing by on my break. It’s not like you have a whole lot of pressing matters.” Jack pointed out, never seeing those bills that lay on the table or the beginnings of dinner that set simmering on the stove, his best attempts at trying to live a normal life. He didn’t really think Sawyer was capable of much responsibility, because when they’d come back from the island Jack had gone a little crazy, and when he’d finally pulled himself back together he’d turned into a version of his father, unaffected and edging on condescending. All Jack saw were failures, his own as well as the people around him. “You have drapes.”
“She put them up. Said they made her feel like a grown up or something. I thought the kid would accomplish that just fine but apparently I was mistaken.” Jack nodded but didn’t say a word. “So, what do I owe the house call to?”
Jack looked up the stairs, pausing to listen for signs of life other than the two of them. When he didn’t hear anything, he asked. “Where is she?”
Sawyer frowned. “Work. She doesn’t get off until three.” He watched the other man relax, just barely. “I can have her give you a call if that’s what this is about.”
“No, it’s not.” Jack told him, turning to face him for the first time since he’d walked in. “I don’t really know how to say this actually.”
“Just spit it out Doc.” Sawyer said, cutting him off. “I can take it, I’m a big boy.”
Jack sighed, running a hand over his hair, closely cropped once more. He’d seen Jack sporting the bearded, homeless person look a while back. It didn’t work for him one bit. “I appreciate what you’ve done here. How much you’ve changed your ways.” Jack stopped looking at him. “It’s just…I’m looking out for her. And she cares about you a lot, and I know you feel something for her too. But she -“
“You don’t know nothing,” he growled. Jack wasn’t in his head. He hadn’t been in a long time. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”
The quick intake of breath told Sawyer that he’d just summarized exactly what Jack had been stammering out. “You’re a con man Sawyer. You lie, you cheat, you steal. It’s in your nature to the point where it’s not even your fault.”
“Was a con man, Jack.” Sawyer corrected, adding emphasis to the past tense. That wasn’t him anymore. He wasn’t Sawyer anymore. At least, that’s the story he was telling people nowadays, not that he was sure he believed it. He just knew he needed to believe it. “I haven’t run scams since we got back. You know that.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re living in a house that was paid for by remnants of the money you scammed out of your old marks. That doesn’t change the fact that there’s at least a dozen people who want you dead for things you did in the past. You’re not the safest person to be around, no matter how different you claim to be now.” Claim to be, as in Jack didn’t believe it either.
“Yeah and I’ve been living here for the past year and a half and nothing has happened. We’ve been perfectly fine, and you just -“
“She’s my sister.” Jack interjected, firmly. “Half or not, she’s the only family I’ve got. She’s my responsibility.”
“Oh, get off of it, Doc. I think you’re taking this just a bit too seriously, don’t you.” The look Jack gave him stated that clearly he didn’t agree. Gee, what a surprise. “And what exactly am I supposed to do? Kick her out? Do you think that’s the ideal course of action?”
“She can stay with me…”
“Yeah, she’ll be real fuckin’ keen on that once she finds out that you’re the reason all this went down in the first place.” Sawyer shot back, ignoring the way Jack was glaring daggers at him. He’d had it with trying to have a civil conversation with Jack. This was the only way they could get anything accomplished. Voices raised, words laced with venom, and occasionally a punch or two.
“What, you want to cause more problems?” Jack asked. “Is that what you want to do? You want to turn her against me just because you can’t have her? Because if you cared about her at all you would keep your fucking mouth shut.”
“And if you cared about her at all you would walk out the damn door.” Sawyer held his own ground, refusing to let Jack win this round. He wasn’t letting her go. Not without a fight. And he knew he was going to lose too. “She’s happy.”
“For now.” Jack replied, before taking a step back, taking a breath, and calming down, the tension in the room breaking just a bit. “Sawyer, I know you don’t want to do this but it’s the best thing for everyone in the long run. You and I both know that if those people ever find out where you are they aren’t going to go after you; they’re going to go after everyone and everything you care about. That’s a real short list, and she ranks high.”
“Get out,” he told him, voice low, solid.
Jack nodded after a moment. “You know I’m right, Sawyer.” Jack said, and Sawyer felt him rest a hand on his arm. Comforting, yet manipulative. A lot like his father, Sawyer thought. Silently he cursed the man for cheating on his wife twenty-five years ago. If he hadn’t there would be no pretty blonde with the clear blue eyes and the son that thankfully took after his mother. Then he wouldn’t be standing in his living room, listening to the door slam, his heart feeling like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.
---
“Hey,” her voice rang out just before the door shut, and he heard her purse being set down, keys hitting the table. The shifting of paper bags told him she’d been to the grocery store before coming home.
He didn’t say anything, just stared at the same page he’d been staring at for the past half hour, unable to think straight, unable to function for the moment.
The surprised gasp told him she’d walked into the kitchen. “Oh, you made dinner.” The sound of the lid being lifted off the pot. “Smells good.”
Any other day he would’ve smiled, today he just wondered why he even bothered cooking it. It wouldn’t be eaten, not tonight.
“I’ve got to pick up Aaron in an hour. He’s at a friend’s house, and you know how picky he is at dinner, so I don’t want to leave him there and give Kyle Truman’s poor mother any more trouble than she already has.” The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing stopped abruptly. “Are you in there?”
When he spoke his voice sounded rougher than usual. “Yeah, just…busy.”
“Did something happen?” Claire asked, concerned.
Yeah, your brother, he thought. Instead, he said, “No, everything’s fine.”
“You don’t really expect me to buy that excuse do you?” Sawyer didn’t answer, hoping she’d stop trying to make conversation, stop caring how his day went, just stop. “Alright, fine. Though this quiet, moody thing has got to go.”
He listened to her go up the stairs, felt his hand stiffen and lock up, blood pounding in his ears. He tried to reason his headache out as having to do with reading, without his glasses, for long periods of time, but he knew that wasn’t it. She wasn’t up there for a minute before he heard her come back down, and into the living room, stopping a few feet away from him.
“Are we going somewhere?” She asked, innocently. She didn’t even suspect that something was up. Part of him thought she probably did but was trying to cover it up in case nothing was. Either way she was pretty convincing.
“No, we’re not.”
Claire missed the emphasis, what wasn’t being said. “Well then why is my stuff all packed up?”
He closed the book, losing his place for lack of a bookmark, steeling his gaze, hiding all inner turmoil in favor of returning to his old persona. Dropping James, the man who cooked, and paid bills, and played the live-in boyfriend, and becoming Sawyer, the man who didn’t give a fuck who he hurt as long as it wasn’t him. Except he wasn’t hurting himself with this. “Because you are.”
She frowned, tilting her head to one side the way she did when she was confused and didn’t really know what to say. “Okay…” she left it intentionally open ended, hoping he would elaborate. He wasn’t going to. “Are you going to tell what’s going on Sawyer, because I’ve had a good day, and I don’t want to ruin it by playing games.”
“That’s the way I am, Mamacita. If you don’t like it maybe you shouldn’t be here.” He reverted to form, using nicknames instead of actual names. It helped him detach himself.
“What are you…?” She started.
“Do I really need to spell this out for you?” He cut in, sitting up that much straighter, watching her take a step back, the emotions on her face a mix between hurt and anticipation. He didn’t know what she thought he was going to do, but he didn’t like it all the same. “I’m talking about you leaving. Your bags are packed; now all you need to do is pick up the little rugrat and be on your merry little way.”
“Why are you doing this?” Claire asked, as he got up, started walking away from her, into the hallway, up the stairs, just away from her. He didn’t want to have to look at her. “Sawyer, stop it!” She caught up with him by the stairs, grabbed his arm and pulling hard enough that he had no choice but to turn around. “What’s going on? Did something happen, did someone say something?”
“Why can’t you just accept that maybe I’m done playing house?” He responded, trying to pull away. She refused to let go, held firm, nails digging into the skin of his arm. Sawyer knew he was stronger than her, he could leave if he wanted to, but part of him didn’t want to move.
“Because I know you better than you think I do. I’m not stupid, I know something happened so why won’t you just tell me so we can fix this…“
“You’re just like him you know, always with the fixing things. Wake up, girlie, some things can’t be fixed.”
“So this is about Jack now?” She asked, and he this time he did escape her grasp, climbing the stairs, her at his heels. “Did he come here?”
“No,” he told her, lying. This whole act was a lie. Or maybe it was this life that had been a lie in the first place and he just hadn’t yet realized it.
“Stop lying!” Claire yelled, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back against the wall, rough but not hard enough to hurt, trapping her between him and the ivory wall that he’d painted last summer.
“Don’t believe me, ask him yourself. As long as you’re there you might as well just stay.” He knew that despite Jack’s newfound manipulative personality he was looking out for Claire. Just in the only way he knew how apparently. She’d be fine with him.
Her hands came up, a motion to push him away but she ended up grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt, as she asked again, slower, calmer, “Why are you doing this? Why are you saying all of this, and acting like someone you’re not?”
Because I need you to hate me, he thought. Because that was the only way she would leave, the only way he knew how to get her to leave. But it’s not like he could say that to her face. “You don’t have a clue who I am.”
He didn’t expect her to lean up and close the space between them, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, even as he felt the tears fall from her eyes, down her cheeks, salt on his own skin from the close proximity. When she pulled back, she found his eyes, “When are you going to learn to stop pushing everyone away?”
Claire didn’t let him have a chance to respond. She squirmed out of his grasp, going into the bedroom, and he didn’t try to stop her. Nor did he try to stop her when she walked past him, back down the stairs, baggage in hand. It wasn’t all of it but it was a start. She had her hand on the doorknob, leaving without a goodbye, when he said, “You deserve better than me.”
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, eyes narrowed slightly, anger and disappointment in her face now. “How would you know what I deserve?”
The door slammed for the second time that day, and he tried to remind himself that this was what was necessary to keep her safe. This is what he wanted. What had to happen.
Or was it?