lost fic: lather, rinse, repeat and never come clean (sawyer, kate)
Title: lather, rinse, repeat (and never come clean)
Character(s)/Pairings(s): sawyer/kate
Word Count: 1,194
Rating: PG-13
Summary: she thinks how easy it would be to just reach out and touch him.
A/N: Written for the sacred_20 prompt, temptation. Not as sexy as it sounds.
Nothing gets fixed.
They wake up on sandy shores years later. Sayid is still bleeding out and Juliet is still crushed by the weight of their mistakes. They all still have problems that far exceed the benefits of their plans.
"Where to?" Hurley asks. His eyes focus on Sawyer but the words are directed to Jack, and everyone knows it.
"Head for the creek," Miles suggests, his lips turning up almost as if he was smirking.
Sawyer chuckles humorlessly. Kate's eyes lift a little.
But no one else gets it.
And that's when it sinks in.
---
Sun finds them washing their faces by the creek. Her happy reunion is cut short because there's a war brewing. Something bigger than Sawyer vs. Jack or Jack vs. Locke or The Others vs. The Survivors or Charles vs. Ben.
Jin tucks Sun's hand in his, and Kate watches how they both look away before they can frown.
it's always something with you people, Rose had said.
Kate didn't want to hear her then, but now, she's beginning to understand the point.
---
Sayid fades slowly. Like he's not allowed to die.
Juliet went fast. Like it was a blip on the radar.
Sawyer wonders if it makes a difference.
He watches Sayid breathing steady and Sun wiping his forehead with a towel. Sayid's eyes are closed and Sawyer bets that Sayid is imagining Sun is someone else. Someone who mattered to him.
that's all that matters in the end, Bernard had said.
Sawyer knows that was the moment of truth - the moment he can't take back.
Juliet died alone and cold with no one to imagine beside her.
But at least she went fast.
---
They're in chaos, but it's quiet. Death forces their hands in that regard so that Jack and the Others are forced to talk in whispers. Kate could be next to him, but she feels out of place. They talk about things she can't believe in and plans she'd rather not follow, but knows she will. She'd rather watch him work, regret how much he's changed and wonder if it's all her fault.
Her mother used to say that about Wayne. She had pushed him off the wagon. Kate never believed it then.
"He should have been one of them," Sawyer says.
Kate doesn't jump though his words catch her off guard. Last she saw Sawyer he was staring at Sun & Sayid.
It's the first words he's said to her since...she cannot recall. It feels like they haven't talked in three years.
She considers his words, watches how Jack smiles like Richard does, and remembers his sarcasm and persuasion and allusiveness when it mattered. He was happy when he was among the Others and maybe it wasn't just because he got to go home, but because he had found a home.
She thinks of Sawyer. Head of Dharma security. His home - little yellow houses on the opposite side of the fence.
And then there's her - who is lost no matter where she goes.
---
They bury Sayid next to Shannon.
Not on purpose, but things just happen that way.
They sit in silence around his grave, trying to pass it as something religious or memorial, but it's just static. Kate lists the names of Oceanic 815 passengers in her head, drawing them out so she can remember exactly how they died and count herself lucky.
Sawyer flexes his hands, his fingers curling in and out at the same steady pace as someone drawing breath. He's standing beside her, close enough that she can feel the edges of his warmth against her bare arm. It makes her skin tingle - a purely physical reaction which she buries for his sake.
Because she knows. She sees the way he looks at her - still. After everything that passed and all the words he tried to use as stop gaps between them.
She thinks how easy it would be to just reach out and touch him. Put her hand on his to make his fingers stop twitching.
At this point, they're doomed to stay unresolved. He will try to stay faithful to a dead woman's memory as some sort of compensation and she has suddenly become too noble to make him stop. If this were a novel, they'd call it character growth.
She wonders when growing pains stop aching.
---
Later she finds him where it all started. In the middle of the jungle. Secluded and soundless. Secrets left to die between the tall trees.
She sits beside him, so that their knees knock and their shoulders brush. This is how they always were. Without physical boundaries.
Their backs press against bamboo. It has little give and it makes the bones in Sawyer's fingers ache on impulse, remembering the press of the unforgiving plant against raw skin.
"This place makes you think of Sayid," Kate says because she's been reading his mind all day.
Sawyer doesn't answer, but Kate thinks it's true. Sawyer remembers the worst in Sayid because it's what he expected from him. It spoke to his keen ability to read people - see the darkness inside them as if they wore it as a badge.
"This is the only place I don't think of her," Sawyer says (it's a lie) because he thinks it will make her stop. There's so much history between them, crammed into three short months, which exceeds three long years.
And they both know that. It doesn't mean they have to talk about it.
But Kate pushes her luck today because she watched Sayid die alone and be buried in the same vein even though he was surrounded by people who cared. She knows the difference between love and something stronger that doesn't need to be named. So she asks. "How much of it was love? How much of it was the con?"
Sawyer's eyes narrow, and Kate is not surprised. He takes offense so easily. "You ain't got no right to ask me that."
Kate just stares at him without moving her lips. Her eyebrow twitches slightly and maybe it's enough to make her point. If anyone has a right to ask that question, it's her. She's the only one whose path resembles his to a tee.
Sawyer won't look at her when he finally answers. "They're one in the same."
At this point, Kate knows, the dealer would suggest you cut your losses and fold. Kate presses her bet. "Always?"
Sawyer's lips twitch, like there's some sort of secret in that question she didn't realize she was sharing. "Ninety-nine percent of the time." He finally turns to look at her, nudging her shoulder and wearing a dimpled grin that could almost pass for happy. "Can't like those odds, Freckles."
Kate is quiet, pensive almost. She leans her head on his shoulder, and he lets her.
"I never gamble," she says, smiling back.
It's all a step forward, which will probably lead to a step back. A path that never really goes anywhere, but is filled with extremes. It will be confusing and messy. It will hurt. But it will be worth it. Something better than running in neutral.
They've both missed this two-step where nothing gets fixed.
Character(s)/Pairings(s): sawyer/kate
Word Count: 1,194
Rating: PG-13
Summary: she thinks how easy it would be to just reach out and touch him.
A/N: Written for the sacred_20 prompt, temptation. Not as sexy as it sounds.
Nothing gets fixed.
They wake up on sandy shores years later. Sayid is still bleeding out and Juliet is still crushed by the weight of their mistakes. They all still have problems that far exceed the benefits of their plans.
"Where to?" Hurley asks. His eyes focus on Sawyer but the words are directed to Jack, and everyone knows it.
"Head for the creek," Miles suggests, his lips turning up almost as if he was smirking.
Sawyer chuckles humorlessly. Kate's eyes lift a little.
But no one else gets it.
And that's when it sinks in.
---
Sun finds them washing their faces by the creek. Her happy reunion is cut short because there's a war brewing. Something bigger than Sawyer vs. Jack or Jack vs. Locke or The Others vs. The Survivors or Charles vs. Ben.
Jin tucks Sun's hand in his, and Kate watches how they both look away before they can frown.
it's always something with you people, Rose had said.
Kate didn't want to hear her then, but now, she's beginning to understand the point.
---
Sayid fades slowly. Like he's not allowed to die.
Juliet went fast. Like it was a blip on the radar.
Sawyer wonders if it makes a difference.
He watches Sayid breathing steady and Sun wiping his forehead with a towel. Sayid's eyes are closed and Sawyer bets that Sayid is imagining Sun is someone else. Someone who mattered to him.
that's all that matters in the end, Bernard had said.
Sawyer knows that was the moment of truth - the moment he can't take back.
Juliet died alone and cold with no one to imagine beside her.
But at least she went fast.
---
They're in chaos, but it's quiet. Death forces their hands in that regard so that Jack and the Others are forced to talk in whispers. Kate could be next to him, but she feels out of place. They talk about things she can't believe in and plans she'd rather not follow, but knows she will. She'd rather watch him work, regret how much he's changed and wonder if it's all her fault.
Her mother used to say that about Wayne. She had pushed him off the wagon. Kate never believed it then.
"He should have been one of them," Sawyer says.
Kate doesn't jump though his words catch her off guard. Last she saw Sawyer he was staring at Sun & Sayid.
It's the first words he's said to her since...she cannot recall. It feels like they haven't talked in three years.
She considers his words, watches how Jack smiles like Richard does, and remembers his sarcasm and persuasion and allusiveness when it mattered. He was happy when he was among the Others and maybe it wasn't just because he got to go home, but because he had found a home.
She thinks of Sawyer. Head of Dharma security. His home - little yellow houses on the opposite side of the fence.
And then there's her - who is lost no matter where she goes.
---
They bury Sayid next to Shannon.
Not on purpose, but things just happen that way.
They sit in silence around his grave, trying to pass it as something religious or memorial, but it's just static. Kate lists the names of Oceanic 815 passengers in her head, drawing them out so she can remember exactly how they died and count herself lucky.
Sawyer flexes his hands, his fingers curling in and out at the same steady pace as someone drawing breath. He's standing beside her, close enough that she can feel the edges of his warmth against her bare arm. It makes her skin tingle - a purely physical reaction which she buries for his sake.
Because she knows. She sees the way he looks at her - still. After everything that passed and all the words he tried to use as stop gaps between them.
She thinks how easy it would be to just reach out and touch him. Put her hand on his to make his fingers stop twitching.
At this point, they're doomed to stay unresolved. He will try to stay faithful to a dead woman's memory as some sort of compensation and she has suddenly become too noble to make him stop. If this were a novel, they'd call it character growth.
She wonders when growing pains stop aching.
---
Later she finds him where it all started. In the middle of the jungle. Secluded and soundless. Secrets left to die between the tall trees.
She sits beside him, so that their knees knock and their shoulders brush. This is how they always were. Without physical boundaries.
Their backs press against bamboo. It has little give and it makes the bones in Sawyer's fingers ache on impulse, remembering the press of the unforgiving plant against raw skin.
"This place makes you think of Sayid," Kate says because she's been reading his mind all day.
Sawyer doesn't answer, but Kate thinks it's true. Sawyer remembers the worst in Sayid because it's what he expected from him. It spoke to his keen ability to read people - see the darkness inside them as if they wore it as a badge.
"This is the only place I don't think of her," Sawyer says (it's a lie) because he thinks it will make her stop. There's so much history between them, crammed into three short months, which exceeds three long years.
And they both know that. It doesn't mean they have to talk about it.
But Kate pushes her luck today because she watched Sayid die alone and be buried in the same vein even though he was surrounded by people who cared. She knows the difference between love and something stronger that doesn't need to be named. So she asks. "How much of it was love? How much of it was the con?"
Sawyer's eyes narrow, and Kate is not surprised. He takes offense so easily. "You ain't got no right to ask me that."
Kate just stares at him without moving her lips. Her eyebrow twitches slightly and maybe it's enough to make her point. If anyone has a right to ask that question, it's her. She's the only one whose path resembles his to a tee.
Sawyer won't look at her when he finally answers. "They're one in the same."
At this point, Kate knows, the dealer would suggest you cut your losses and fold. Kate presses her bet. "Always?"
Sawyer's lips twitch, like there's some sort of secret in that question she didn't realize she was sharing. "Ninety-nine percent of the time." He finally turns to look at her, nudging her shoulder and wearing a dimpled grin that could almost pass for happy. "Can't like those odds, Freckles."
Kate is quiet, pensive almost. She leans her head on his shoulder, and he lets her.
"I never gamble," she says, smiling back.
It's all a step forward, which will probably lead to a step back. A path that never really goes anywhere, but is filled with extremes. It will be confusing and messy. It will hurt. But it will be worth it. Something better than running in neutral.
They've both missed this two-step where nothing gets fixed.