Every Man for Himself + Kate
AN: I don't know why I wrote this. I was just playing cards, writing something else when these words started appearing. So, I kept going and guess what? A ten minute one-shot emerged. Sawyer's POV during the beating in episode 3X04. Skate, absolutely. Rated T for violence.
Disclaimer: One day I'm going to write a 'claimer' here instead.
When the punches started coming, Sawyer wasn't even thinking about his heart blowing up. He was worried about Kate. He could see all sorts of threats going towards her, and then more than threats. All he could do was fall backwards and take it, and hope that whatever god was watching him would be appeased by his blood, and wouldn't require hers.
It wasn't so much a conscious decision – it wasn't a "Get hurt to save Kate" process. It was just a concept, that ran deeper than worded thoughts. He just knew that whatever happened, he couldn't fight back. And if someone, Jackass for instance, asked what was going through his mind, he certainly would have blamed it on the pacemaker or whatever those bastards had put into him.
He felt another blow on his face. It wasn't an unfamiliar pain. He'd been punched on several hundred occasions before. Had the crap beaten out of him on three. But this was beyond that. This was the a man's pain converted into rage and expressed through hate.
Something, he guessed a foot, connected with his ribs, and he fell backwards. He couldn't see – there was blood leaking from somewhere, and covering his eyes. He tripped over a rock or a root or his own feet, and hit something extremely hard. Bars.
At first he thought he must have been turned around, that he'd been thrown back into his cage. He wondered if that meant the punishment was scheduled to end. But then he felt two things – a fist collide with the delicate cartilage in his nose, and for a moment he wondered if it was broken. He stopped caring when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him.
He connected the two. He was pressed against the bars of Kate's cage, and just the image of Kate locked up in a cage like an animal was enough to block out the pain and for an instant, he could just feel her warmth, her breath against the back of his head.
Then another blow caused the pain and the bleeding to come roaring back, and he nearly passed out. He could hear Pickett screaming, over and over again, Do you love him?
He could feel Kate's grip tighten slightly with each successive punch, and hear her pleas for the torture to end. Sawyer knew what it would take to end it, what she needed to say, and he felt a slight disappointment. However much she disliked him, however much she said he disgusted her, she wasn't even able to say a few meaningless words – that he knew would be meaningless, because he had long ago given up believing she would ever really care – to make it end.
The watch was beeping, and for a moment he wanted his heart to just stop. A way to end this. Because he doubted Kate would ever...
Everything faded. He wondered how long this had been going on. Couldn't be too. Long. Not too long. No. But. Everywhere hurt. There was blood on his : his shoulder hurt because : Kate's arms were so soft, for a moment : one eye was swelling and he : shit I hope I'm not gonna end up blind from this : Yes, yes I love him!
There was a sudden cessation. He waited almost resignedly for the next blow to land, but when it didn't, he forced one eye to open. He could hear Kate's words – it couldn't be an admission, just couldn't be – echoing softly. She was sobbing, her arms the only thing stopping him from keeling over.
"Love... I... love him..."
Her fractured gasps seemed somehow in tune with his battered body. The only time there would ever be any emotional closeness between them, he was too bruised to move and she was crying. Ironic. Fitting, maybe.
He heard Pickett call for someone to 'lock him up'. Why? They thought he'd be up and running if he stayed here for another minute? His body – especially the lower half – was struggling to rise, incensed by the feel of Kate's arms holding him and her ragged breaths causing heat to rush through him. The struggle ended, futile.
Hands gripped his arms, and pulled him away. He heard Kate calling, somehow she was the only voice, only being outside of him right now. Her fingers scrabbled one last time on his shoulder as she tried to keep holding him but there were too many opposing forces at play, and she wasn't on the winning side.
"If you really love me, then run," he said harshly. He knew she didn't. She couldn't. But that wasn't the point. He needed her gone, away from here before they could hurt her, him, any more. He knew that if she was free, then he was immune from anything they could do.
"I only said that so he'd stop hitting you," she replied. Her chin jutted out stubbornly, and he sighed inwardly. The perfect response was dancing on the tip of his tongue.
In that case, there's nothing for you to stay here for.
But he didn't. It would hurt her too much. Because in that simple denial she'd admitted lot to him. If she didn't love him she would leave. But she was refusing to take a single step.
And if she'd only said it to stop the beating, she would have said it immediately. She needn't have waited until the feeling was real, until she was crying and he felt like the world was going to explode.
It was complicated and messy and he wished he wasn't in this situation. But he knew he'd give his life to feel her hands on his neck once more, feel her heart thudding peacefully next to his, and he was starting to realise she wouldn't resist as much as he had initially thought she would.