lost again

(jack/sawyer)

pg. inspired by episode 11 and rather pwp.

:::

1 sawyer.

Jack's shoulder grazed his chest as he brushed past him. He tried to catch the doctor's gaze but he kept his eyes averted, even as he spoke to him. It wasn't until Sawyer turned away and went to collect a gun of his own, that Jack favoured him with a glance, eyes ablaze with warning, but at least he looked at him.

Sawyer wanted to believe there was a genuine concern mingled with the disapproval in those dark green irises, but it was too early in the day for that kind of self-delusion and besides, he was happy to receive anything other than indifferent from the doctor.

It wasn't until they began their hike that Sawyer realized how foolish he'd been to initiate the whole charade of feigned heroism, dismissing his own weakness to impress the other man, when the façade would obviously crumble anyway as soon as he got tired.

On he went all the same, trying not to stumble over his own feet or swoon, which would be even more obvious. It wasn't like he tried to attract the manly hero inside the doctor by acting the poor little victim, if anything, he wanted Jack to be impressed by him for all the qualities on the other end of the scale. But at the rate which Jack himself set up for him, that didn't seem to come anywhere near a possibility.

Jack's expression was crazed, almost manic, and Sawyer couldn't help but to wonder at the man's reasons for doing what he did. No doubt he had his own, but he couldn't figure out what had made the Doc take off like a madman into the jungle of doom.

He even told Freckles to fuck off back to the beach, Sawyer thought.

He asked him about it, about her, but he wasn't really jealous, not anymore. What he really wanted to ask about was about Michael. Because the way Sawyer saw it, there could only be so many reasons for heading off for almost certain disaster in a spontaneously formed rescue party of three men; and those were essentially founded upon two emotions; hatred or love.

Sawyer wanted revenge, and that came from a boiling hot rage and blindingly white hate which he'd felt for The Others ever since the incident on the raft, and even if that didn't come just from getting shot in the arm and almost dying, but also from seeing those creeps leave off with Walt, and then Michael's grief over losing him, what he felt was hatred all the same.

But what about Jack? Did Jack hate someone or was he incapable of that feeling?

Sawyer had to believe that wasn't the case, because if it were, that only left love and he didn't think he could handle that. Not now.

Hell, not ever, he corrected himself.

If Jack loved Michael he could just as well go back to being Sawyer and hate the world again, because then the tiny flicker of hope would be certainly and utterly lost. Just as he would be again. Lost.

2 jack.

He saw the look in Sawyer's eyes as the other man stared at him, he saw the questions and the disappointment, but he couldn't face it, not with Michael off by himself in the jungle where he would most likely meet his doom. He also saw the lingering looks which passed between the two of them, Sawyer and Kate, and he knew. Deep down he knew that he would have to come to terms with it sooner or later, but as of this moment in time, later seemed such an appealing idea.

But of course Sawyer wouldn't leave it alone. Sawyer never left things alone.

Jack had to bite his lip and pick up his pace to escape his own slip of the tongue when he snapped at him. He hadn't meant to bring it up, he really hadn't, at least not yet. Preferably never, but definitely not at this time and in this place. He walked on. Sawyer's confused reply hit him in the back but he ignored it and kept walking.

Why the confusion, he thought desperately. Why must the man make it so damn hard on me?

Of course Sawyer would be confused, if he did love her it wasn't something that he went around and told people on a regular basis, he probably hadn't even told her, so of course he'd be confused to hear Jack say it.

That's all, he told himself, that's all there is to it, it's got nothing to do with not knowing what I'm talking about and 'Oh no, he's got it all wrong', he's just bewildered that I know his secret.

And still the doubtful and hopeful thoughts started whirling inside his head again. Jack hoped to make them go away by moving faster, walking longer, but then Sawyer put a stop to that as well, requesting a minute's rest.

At first, Jack thought he might be able to pretend he hadn't heard him, but then Locke decided to make his voice heard as well, and besides, Jack wasn't about to deny his patient -- patient, he reminded himself -- a moment's rest when he was still weak from the fever and eating antibiotics.

"It's a good thing I'm travelling with my doctor then"

Jack groaned inwardly at the flash back and spent the reminder of the interlude to pointedly avoid looking at Sawyer and definitely not talking to him. He was being childish, he realized that, but he wasn't in any state of mind to be fending off forbidden desires and overwhelming thoughts.

Think about Michael, he told himself. Keep focused, concentrate.

Sawyer's arm seemed to be bothering him and he looked slightly disorientated. Jack's fingers itched to get over to the man and examine him. Thoroughly. Every centimetre of him.

Stop, he ordered himself sternly.

"Hey, Doc." the southerner's voice drawled from behind him.

Shit, Jack thought to himself. Then he squared his shoulders slightly and took a deep breath, before turning around.

"Yes, Sawyer?"

"The hell was tha' all about earlier?"

Jack swallowed a sigh and looked away again, "I told you, nothing."

"Not that." Sawyer corrected with a hint of annoyance in his voice, whilst cautiously getting to his feet again.

Jack un-self-consciously bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from rushing over to help him. That examination was becoming a most irresistible idea. He forced himself to look away again.

"What then?" he muttered, not wanting an answer.

"What ya said." Sawyer clarified harshly, "Ya said something about me just then' I like to know wha' it was."

"Not now, Sawyer." Jack warned him, silently adding a pretty please.

"Hell yeah now. I'd like to know what'a fuck you're on about. Ya can't just blurt something like that out and then not explain yourself."

"Isn't it true?" Jack countered hotly, really not wanting an answer.

"Well, tha's none of yer goddamn business!-"

Fuck.

"-But no!" Sawyer continued, scowling at him. Jack was reminded of an angered bull in a Spanish arena.

"What?" he asked flatly, dumbfounded.

"Now ya answer my question, what'a hell made ya think that?"

"You were talking in your sleep!" Jack exclaimed, and realized he was acting as though defending himself, but he didn't really care anymore.

"I was talking in my sleep." Sawyer repeated, his angered having washed off him again, although the scowl was still in place, hiding those lovely dimples from view.

"Yes. In the hatch, when I was dressing your wound, you talked in your sleep and you asked for Kate and then you said 'I love her'. Okay?"

Sawyer was staring at him as though he'd transformed into a polar bear, but Jack didn't honestly care about that either. They just stood there for a moment, staring at each other in silence, their chests heaving and their eyes crackling with emotion.

"Ehh, guys…?" Locke broke the silence, but his words went unnoticed by his trekking companions.

"So lemme get this straight…" Sawyer drawled and Jack saw another dose of sarcasm coming, "I was lying on what coulda been my death bed, unconscious from an infected bullet wound, and then I came to for a second and expressed my undying love for Freckles through my haze of fever, that it?"

Jack clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes, he even put his hands on his hips, but the blush crept onto his face all the same.

"And ya don't see anything wrong with this picture, Doctor Quinn?" Sawyer added.

"Yeah well, I don't really care either way, so…"

"Fine then," Sawyer muttered in a much smaller voice and hoisted his pack onto his back again and then he started walking, past them both without another word. Jack remained in place for another moment, feeling more confused than he'd done in a very long time and there was also a slight flicker of regret in there somewhere, but he chose not to acknowledge that.

"Jack…?" Locke said carefully. Jack glanced at him as though he'd forgot he was there, the blush flashed by his face again but he nodded, and they set after Sawyer.

End?