Title: Two's company, three's a crowd.
Author: Anita-Louise
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He never had to fight anyone for Cassy.
They're at it again, and he rolls his eyes at the sight, shifting his position on the floor with a disgruntled sigh. Making lovey-dovey eyes at one another under the guise of concern. They don't glance over at him though, oh no. Three's a crowd, and all that jazz. So he just sits there, watching them, waiting for the Others, or Dharma, or whatever they're calling themselves now to come back and do their thing.
They're not allowed to talk, that's been made clear. After the hefty whack with a stick that caused his head to throb, he shut up quickly. No one could ever say that he, Sawyer, was a slow learner. But that's the thing: they don't need words. Jack has this silent connection with her, something that he doesn't, and probably couldn't, because James, Sawyer, Ford doesn't do connections. He's a fuck 'em and leave 'em kinda guy, and it suits him, and his lifestyle just fine.
At least it did.
The jealously hits him from nowhere, packing a punch right in his gut, and he can feel it start to creep into his eyes. And he can't understand it because he's never felt it before, and he realises this must be what he's read about in books that he's devoured over the years.
He tears his eyes away and forces himself to focus on something, anything but them, so he chooses to stare at the door as though it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen, and tries to stifle the hate that's surging through him. Somewhere in the recess of his mind, a little voice tells him that a look is nothing, it's not like they've made out or anything… then he thinks back and remembers the rift that appeared between them out of nowhere, and the avoidance on both their parts, and it causes another wave of jealousy -- envy -- to swell up in him, and confuses him even more.
He never had to fight anyone for Cassy.
He has to know, has to see, and glances back at them, but this time, Jack's now holding her hand and she's smiling up at him with bright eyes in the dim light of the room, and he knows he's lost; lost her to a game that he wasn't sure that he was playing. He scrubs at his eyes and tries to rub away his thoughts and not care, because Sawyer doesn't care, but somewhere along the way, she entangled both him and Jack and it became personal. She became a prize, and he wonders if that's all this is to him: winning. Just like poker, hell, just like when he managed to up-turn the camp and steal all the guns and meds.
He honestly hadn't seen this day coming. Enjoying their bantering and flirting as much as any other guy, he hadn't thought about what might happen when she made her choice, what it would feel like to lose, although, deep down, he knew that she would always choose Jack. He looks back over at Jack and wonders if he had ever thought about whether she would choose Sawyer; whether his feeble attempts with Ana-Lucia where a by product of just that.
Now, Jack's smiling like the cat that got the cream, his fingers caressing hers' gently, which Sawyer considers strange considering the circumstances, but then that little niggling voice speaks again, reminding that he himself would be smiling, and he hangs his head dejectedly. Freckles made her choice, and hell, what was the saying? Plenty more fish in the sea? So, he stifles down his inner green monster, swallows the lie, and clears his throat loudly which them both turn their heads towards him, startled.
"Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore, Jack-o."