Disc: I don't own them, but I take them out for walks on the weekend.
A.N.: This is my fist foray into Lost Fanfic. I finally got bored of Buffy and Spike! Plus, I'm really warming up to these characters, especially since it looks like Sawyer and Jack are starting to understand each other. Can I just say… I hate love triangles!
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A humming, a slight buzzing noise was coming from somewhere inside the tent. Sayid scrambled for the radio. It had been so long since he'd laid eyes on it, he had almost forgotten it existed at all. Sawyer and Jack bickered about baseball teams as they walked by, but stopped when they noticed Sayid frantically rummaging through his things.
"What's up with him?" Sawyer asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Can't find your other grey sock, Mustafa?"
"What's going on Sayid?" added Jack, with a more serious tone.
"Can't you hear it?" he asked excitedly, as he threw some clothes about
"Hear what?" Sawyer replied sceptically.
"This." Sayid held the make-shift radio out with triumph, and then just as quickly, held it up to his ear, and fiddled with the knob. As the static emanating from the speaker began to sound more and more like a human voice, the other two men drew closer.
It was a man's voice. Older, Australian.
…..hissss…bzzz….approximately 4 hours…. I repeat, this is the Annabelle Lee, responding to distress call of Oceanic flight 815. We have triangulated your location. Help is on the way. Will arrive in approximately 4 hours. Over…..
The three men stared at each other in disbelief. Sayid's hand loosened as all the muscles in his body went limp, and the radio slipped into the sand.
"Did you guys just hear what I…." Jack asked quietly, barely moving his mouth. Sayid and Sawyer nodded, equally shocked. How quickly their lives had just changed. In less time than it had taken for the plane to crash.
Sawyers mind was blank. He looked at the other two, and saw sparks, happy little fires emerge behind their eyes; a restrained ecstasy that eluded him, replaced with a dark and empty hole deep inside which left him cold and stiff. He bit his lip, and glanced back into the trees.
"We have to tell everyone!" Jack exclaimed, a smile finally breeching his normally stoic face.
"Of course!" Sayid agreed. And so each of them rushed off in separate directions. Sawyer headed into the jungle, picking up pace as he left the beach, and ran until the queasiness in his stomach forced him to stop. He fell to his knees and puked.
"What the hell is your problem?" he muttered to himself with contempt.
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It was a hot Texas summer night. The dessert heat from the day was still only beginning to dissipate, and all the boys were down at Jessie's out on old route 11 on the outskirts of town celebrating the end of their high school careers. The older guys in town, as per the school tradition, had lent them their IDs, and James and his buddies were taking full advantage. Of course old Jessie was on to their game, but he played along, just like he did on this day every year. Boys will be boys, right?
James' adrenaline was running high. A gang of bikers had stopped in for some drinks, and to play a little poker, and after a few shots of liquid courage, he was up for a little fun, and a little hustling. His high school career was over, and his real career was about to begin.
"You lettin' anyone in on that game, gentlemen?" James hollered at them from the bar, taking one last shot of Jack Daniels.
"Don't fuck with them kid..." Jessie warned in a deep whisper.
"Anyone with balls, cash and half a brain boy." The group of large, potbellied, leather-clad and bearded men glanced at James, at each other and chuckled.
"Deal me in."
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"Sawyer?"
He jumped to his feet at the sound of Kate's voice. "Hey Freckles. Just, you know, tracking some piggies."
"Without a weapon? Sawyer, are you okay? I saw you, um, you know" she explained hesitantly, gesturing with her finger towards the ground where he had been sick.
"I just ate the wrong colour fishy." Sawyer laughed a little, but Kate frowned, and approached him.
"Maybe Jack should take a look at you. You're pretty pale." She reached for his shoulder, but Sawyer swatted her hand away.
"I'm fine! Nothing some water and mangoes won't fix."
"How about pizza and beer?" Kate said with a grin.
"What?"
"You are not gonna believe it, but in about 4 hours"—
"I know, I know. We're being rescued."
"You know? You don't seem too excited about it."
"I'm excited okay? I'm ecstatic for Christ's sake! I'll finally be off this island and away from all you pathetic, nosey bastards. Excuse me if a touch of food poisoning has impaired me from doin' the goddamn dance of joy up and down the place!"
"Jesus Sawyer. What is wrong with you? Just when I think I have you figured out, you pull something like this. You really know how to drive a person nuts. Just be straight with me!" Kate crossed her arms and attempted to stare him down, in the hopes that he might crumble under her intense scrutiny. And in fact, she did see results, for in the end, he couldn't keep up the asshole act for long. Not with Kate. Not anymore. He bowed his head, and turned slightly away from her.
"Look I'm sorry, okay," he mumbled. "I'm just havin' a hard time believing it is all."
"I get it. But Jack heard the transmission. He said they knew our flight number, that they triangulated our position."
"Yeah, I know. I was there. I heard it too."
"Jeez, you really are sceptical. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true, Sawyer. Come on. We're all going to wait down on the beach." Kate held out her hand for him to take, but Sawyer shook his head.
"You go on ahead. I'm going to get some firewood. I just need a few minutes…" he explained. Kate looked at him and understood. He needed to be alone. She felt that way sometimes too. And it was moments such as this that always reassured and comforted her, knowing that they understood each other so well, without words. Kate slipped into the jungle, leaving Sawyer alone once again in the clearing. As he turned his back from Kate's disappearing form, a figure stepped through the foliage in front of him.
"Hello James." It was a woman, in her twenties, with light brown hair pulled into a French braid. She was wearing a cute little white and pink nurse's uniform, and she smiled at Sawyer with kind and gentle eyes. Sawyer sighed, as if he weren't too surprised to see her.
"Huh. Abbey."
"Yep. How's the arm?"
"Good… No. Stop it. All I need is a god damn hallucination right now! Just piss off, would ya? You can't help me."
"I did once before."
"Bullshit! I never needed you!"
"James, who are you trying to kid here?"
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James dashed up to the gang of bikers in the dusty parking lot outside Jessie's. The 4 of them were congregating around their bikes, swigging back Budweisers, and smoking a joint.
"Hey, boys, leavn' so soon?" Sawyer asked suavely.
"No. We just thought you might want to finish the game out here," the fatter one snarled.
"Yeah, seein' as you been so lucky, we thought a change up in the rules might even the score a little," added another.
James gulped, and took a step backwards, only to be shoved forward again. He was surrounded.
"There's been some kind of misunderstandin'…"
"Yeah, there has. See, we thought a scrawny 18 year old would never be stupid enough to try and hustle us. Guess we misunderstood." This one grabbed James by the collar. He was shaking, the fear taking hold of his entire nervous system.
"Look. Look. Take it back, take it all back. My money too. Take all of it."
"Oh, we will. When we're done with ya."
As the first blow to his stomach hit, James squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and tried to curl into a ball. But they grabbed his arms and pulled at him. His right arm was being twisted and as he began to scream out someone shoved a bandana in his mouth. At the same moment he heard the bone snap. Then the heavy black boots hit him everywhere. His stomach, his chest, his back. He kept his eyes closed, and prayed that each blow would be the last.
The last thing he remembered before he passed out was the taste of sweat and sand from the bandana suddenly tasting a lot more like blood.
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He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't find the strength. He felt dizzy. And the pain. Oh, fuck the pain. He hurt everywhere. And he felt like he was about to choke on something. There was some kind of tube or something down his throat. He tried to move, but it hurt too much. What had happened? Where was he? What was wrong with him? Was he dying? He started to panic. He was helpless. Alone. Immobile. And in pain, so much pain. He tried to listen for voices, anything that might tell him what happened, anything that might put his mind at ease.
He heard a slow, steady beeping noise, and another steady noise that sounded like air being pushed through some kind of machine. It was exactly in time with his breathing, which scared him even more, as he realised what that meant. He was definitely in the hospital. And apparently, he was pretty fucked up.
He heard a door open and two people walk in. He smelled perfume. Girls. Nurses.
"James Ford. 18. Got jumped by a gang of bikers outside a bar late last night. He's unconscious, stable. Had some internal bleeding when they brought him in. Lungs collapsed during surgery. Some broken ribs, the arm there's in bad shape. It's all in the chart," one of them said.
"Did ya get in touch with his family?" The other asked. "Sharlene?"
"Nah. Talked to the bartender. He knows the kid. Says he's an orphan. Lived with foster families mostly. Was emancipated by the state coupla years ago. Must be a pretty tough kid."
"Doesn't look so tough…"
"I guess not."
"So he's got no family? Nothin'?
"Nope. A friend of his from school called to see how he was doin'"
"What'd you say?"
"Oh, the usual. It's serious, but he was very lucky, and that he should call back in a few days when we know more."
"God, I can't imagine. He's such a mess, so young, and no family? No one to take care of him?"
"Alley… watch it sweetie. Sometimes I think that heart of yours is too big for your own damn good."
James tried to process all that he had just heard. Bikers? It sounded familiar, like a half-remembered dream. And his lungs… collapsed? He didn't even know they could do that. So that's why he had that damn uncomfortable tube shoved down his throat.
"Oh, git! Go home and cook your man some dinner!"
"After a day like today, he's cookin' me dinner!"
Footsteps, and then a door opening and closing again. More footsteps moving closer to him. And that scent, that perfume that reminded him of home. Or something that felt warm and safe. A memory… of a feeling that he thought he had lost.
A soft hand landed on his forehead, and his eyes flickered. He tried desperately to pull himself out of this half-conscious state. He let out a short moan.
"Hey… you awake? It's okay. You're gonna be okay." The girl took his good hand in hers.
Finally, James managed to open his eyes slightly, and saw the girl who sat next to him. She looked young for a nurse, in her early twenties maybe, and she had brown hair, pulled back. Everything was kind of hazy, and James strained his eyes to make out more details, with little success.
"Hi James. I'm Alley. I'm a nurse here, and I'm gonna take care of you okay?"
He nodded slightly, which caused the tube down his throat to move, and James tried to cough, and gagged. Tears ran down his face, partly from the pain, and mostly, James thought shamefully, from the fear he felt as the horrible state he was in made itself known. He couldn't stop this urge to cough and gag, cough and gag. And he could feel the tube scratching him on the inside. He looked at Alley, his eyes wide with fear. Her face was still blurry.
"Hold on James." She dashed out of the room, and a moment later returned with a doctor. A middle aged man swiftly came to James's side and coaxed him to breath evenly, explaining that they could then pull the tube out. And on a count of three, he let out a deep breath and the doctor pulled it out. James coughed harshly. His throat felt dry as the dessert. The doctor rubbed his back.
"Good! Good. Now don't try to speak right away, ya hear, James. You got to drink some water."
Alley sat back down next to him, and held his head up to suck some water out of a glass with a bendy straw. He took a few sips, coughed a little.
"Hey, take your time there kiddo," Alley whispered. She nodded at the Doctor, who nodded back at her.
"Alley's gonna take care of ya, and I'll be back in bit, okay?" James looked up at the girl, who seemed to be genuinely concerned, and nodded. Who was she? James could barely understand what was happening. He had never seen such kindness. Why did these people give a damn about him? They didn't even know him. He felt confused, but safe at the same time. He took a few more sips of water, and looked at Abbey.
"Thanks" he whispered.
"He speaks." She smiled, placed the glass of water down on the table next to the bed, and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of his face.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice hoarse and broken.
"It's my job." She stated plainly as she eased his head back onto the pillow, and gently smoothed the sheets over his chest.
"No, I mean…" he glanced down at her hands as they gently glided across his body.
"Because, you're a good kid, and you been through a lot. You shouldn't have to be alone."
"You're wrong. I'm not a good kid. I deserved this."
"God! James, don't say that. All a person needs to do is look in your eyes to see that ain't true. You've had it rough sure. But I don't see evil in those eyes. Pain, loneliness, yeah. But not evil. I'm never wrong about these things you know…"
He fought back so hard, but he couldn't stop the tears from escaping as they pooled up in his eyes.
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Sawyer knew why she was there, and it made him sick. Disgusted with himself, that he could need someone, anyone so badly.
"You only made it worse, you know," he growled, staring at her with contempt.
"You were just a kid, James. You needed to feel safe. Everyone needs that sometimes. God knows you probably needed it more than most people."
"And so you were there."
"And so I was."
"But you left me. You left."
Sawyer leaned up against a tree and squeezed his eyes shut. His breath became forced, laboured and he felt his throat choke up. He had never felt this way before. He was so angry at himself. Angry that he ever let them effect him like this, like she had. Let him feel anything for them, feel… anything. And now it was over. The only family he had ever known since he was 8 years old, and it was going to be taken away from him. Again. Jack, Michael, Kate, Jin, Sun, even Hurley and Sayid had come to feel like home. As dysfunctional as it was, it was the only family he had. And in a little over 3 hours, it would be ripped apart.
"Hey."
Shit. It was Jack.
"Sawyer, what happened? Are you hurt?" Jack steadied the shaking man by the shoulders, and looked him up and down for injuries. Sawyer turned his head away bashfully.
"I ain't hurt."
"Well something's obviously wrong. I've never see you this upset."
"I… I can't tell you."
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Alley gently cradled James' head in her arms as he cried silently.
"You're gonna be okay James. It's okay. Don't be scared, okay?" He shuttered and shook, unable to control the emotions that he so carefully hid away most of the time.
"When I woke up I thought… I thought… It just hurts so much… I thought I was gonna… " He couldn't say it. Couldn't say he thought he was dying. Somehow it would make it more real.
"Shh. I know. But you aren't gonna. You'll get better. I promise."
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"Sawyer, please tell me. I'm just trying to help here, man," Jack pleaded, trying to look Sawyer in the eyes, as Sawyer avoided just that.
"Stop it god damn it! You're just making it worse!" Sawyer yelled, wiping the tears fiercely from his face.
"Stop what? Being concerned?" Jack scoffed.
"Yes!"
"Sawyer, what the hell? We are about to be rescued, and this is the moment you pick to have a breakdown?" At these words, Sawyer squeezed his head in his hands. Jack sighed. Every single thing he said seemed to be wrong.
"Okay. Just. Calm. Down. You need to breath."
"Stop. Just stop. Please. I don't want to care." As Sawyer spoke all the nervous energy seemed to drain out of him. He sank to the ground, and leaned his head against the tree, starring into the bright pacific sky.
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"Good morning."
James awoke to Abbeys voice. She hovered over his hospital bed, checking tubes and copying down numbers from the machine that he was hooked up to.
"You came back."
"Of course I came back James. Now let's check on those bandages." Abbey folded down the sheets and revealed his battered chest. Where there weren't bandages there were bruises, dark and vicious-looking. There were little red spots on the bandages where the blood was beginning to seep through, and Abbey gently removed one at a time, replacing each with a clean one. The only thing that made the pain bearable was the moments of contact when her soft hands touched his raw throbbing skin.
"Do you want to try some real food today? Or at least, as real as hospital food gets, anyway."
"Only if you feed me…." James replied with a smirk.
"Why you sly dog! Good to see a sense of humour coming back. You must be feeling better." She smiled, and drew the sheets back up over his chest, careful not to shake his broken arm, which had been put in a cast and elevated with some kind of pulley. "Well okay, but only because you're so damn cute."
Again, James grew distracted by the pain. He stared at his arm and winced. "It really hurts."
"Yeah, I know. It's in pretty bad shape. The doctor's looking at the x-rays. He should be done soon."
"Will you stay?"
"Of course I will… Don't worry. We'll fix you up." Abbey touched James's cheek and smiled, as the doctor came into the room.
"How you feelin' today James?"
"Better," James replied, rather unconvincingly. The doctor gingerly pulled the sheet down a little, and placed his cold stethoscope gently on his chest.
"Do you know where you are?" the doctor asked as he shone a tiny flashlight in his eyes.
"A god damn hospital," James grumbled.
"Yes. Good. Can you tell me who's president?"
"Ronald Regan." James answered, with a flash of confusion. Why was the doctor only asking him this junk now, when he'd been awake since the day before?
"Good. You're doin' better today. Hmmm. Any trouble breathing?"
"Nope."
"He's still in a deal of pain, doctor." James glared at the arm that hung pathetically at his side, as if it had personally done him some horrible wrong.
"Your arm?" James nodded.
"And those ribs are surely hurtin' too I suppose." He nodded again, and gulped down on the pain which had his full attention now.
"Well I took a gander at those x-rays we took, and it looks like that ol' arm is in pretty bad shape. Nothin' we can't fix, mind you. But we're gonna need to get in there and patch up a couple of things."
"Surgery?" James, as much as it scared him, wanted it straight.
"Yeah. Surgery." The doctor went on to explain the procedure in vivid detail, as well as the slow recovery process. James clenched his teeth as his throat hitched.
"Oh." He looked at his arm and let out a shaky breath. No wonder it hurt so damn bad.
"Hey. It's okay James. It's not as bad as it sounds. And I'll be in surgery with you, and right here when you get out, okay?"
"When?"
"This afternoon, James. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, I guess."
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"You don't want to care? What does that mean Sawyer?"
"I let my guard down."
"Jesus, you mean, with us?"
"Now it's too late. And everyone is gonna take off, go back to their real families. And I'll never… I'll never..."
"Man, I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. I didn't think. When you said I was the closest thing you had to a friend, you didn't just mean on the island, did you?" Jack sat down slowly next to Sawyer, and reached his hand out to touch his hunched back. At contact Sawyer made a face as if mere human contact burned him to the core. And yet at the same time, as if it were something he desperately needed.
"I lost my family once already. I can't, not again." Jack suddenly remembered Kate's hushed tale of an 8 year old boy bearing witness to the deaths of his own parents. How could he have forgotten? And now, Sawyer thought he was about to loose the only other family he had known.
"It's okay. I get it. We're all connected to each other. We have been since the moment the plane crashed. That won't just disappear when we go home."
"I am home."
"Sawyer," Jack didn't know what to say. Sawyer was clearly hurting, but there was noting wrong with him physically. Jack hesitated and reluctantly wrapped his arm firmly around Sawyer's shoulders. "I won't abandon you."
"Don't… You'll never… It won't be the same."
"No it won't. But I promise you, If you ever need me, I'll be there, okay? I'll always be there."
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Through a fog of drugs and pain and mild nausea, James started to regain consciousness. He was back in his hospital room, and in fact, barely remembered ever leaving. As his eyes began to adjust to the light, he scanned the room for Abbey. Instead, the doctor was at his side adjusting some kind of metal contraption that was fitted around his arm holding a dozen or so medieval looking screws in place that jutted into his skin.
Seeing the device for the first time, and grasping all to well the reasoning behind it, James let out a controlled, but clearly tortured moan.
"Lay still, James. It's very important you lay still, alright?" The doctor commanded. James nodded slightly. "We're gonna give you some more medicine for the pain soon. Just hold on," he assured him, although he didn't seem like he was in much of a rush.
"Where's Abbey?" James sighed.
"Is that a friend of yours?"
"No, the nurse. Abbey. She said she would be here," James whimpered, his breath becoming forced.
"Sorry, kid. There's no nurse here named Abbey. You know, you've been in and out of consciousness since they brought you in here, and on some pretty potent pain-killers. You probably just imagined her."
"No! No, she was here! With you! Please, I need her…" James pleaded, practically hyperventilating. "You have to… find… her… you…"
"Calm down. Breathe! You have to calm down. Your lungs are still weak…"
But it was too late. James could feel himself choking for lack of air, struggling to pull in enough breath, and at the same time, reeling in disbelief that Abbey, wonderful, gentle, caring Abbey, was simply a hallucination. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the doctor and other hospital workers rushed around him, injected him with something that made his entire body go limp, and shoved the tube back down his throat.
As the commotion dissipated, James starred at the ceiling, listening to the hypnotic sound of the ventilator. He felt numb, as if he wasn't even real. He imagined his emotions were part of the breathing machine, perfectly controlled, artificial and mechanical. It was days before they pulled it out of him this time, and as he lay there, barely able to move, alone and silent, he began to understand how to fight, how to survive, like he never had before. Sure, he was tough. But clearly there were weak spots, kinks in that armour he'd worn since he was 8 years old. As he lay in bed, waiting for his body to mend, he worked on that armour, and swore to himself that no one would ever break through it, and that he'd never take it off again.
fin