Sawyer took a calming breath and looked around the small white room. It was tiny, making him feel boxed in, but he already had the window open as wide as it would go.

Frankly, he was considering jumping out and running as far and as fast as he could.

He stared out the window, thinking. There was a fairly busy street outside. If he went now, they'd never find him. There was a bus stop just around the corner. He could be at an airport within an hour. He could be half way across the world by the end of the day.

And yet… he didn't want to be. He really didn't want to be. Hardly believing himself, he stepped forwards and closed the window firmly. The breeze flooding the small room vanished.

He turned around as the door opened, and tried not to scowl when Jack entered. The guy looked good – as always. Trust him to show him up. The doc had probably been born in a suit.

Jack was smiling, though, so Sawyer didn't throttle him immediately.

"Are you ready, then?" Jack asked, closing the door quietly behind him. What was Sawyer supposed to say to that?

The acceptable answer would be 'yes, definitely'. Instead… "No. I'm fucking terrified."

Jack nodded, as if that much was obvious. Now, Sawyer found himself resenting that smile on his face. Some sympathy would've been nice. Instead, Jack was acting all smug. Screw that. Sawyer wanted to ban smugness, at least at his own bloody wedding ceremony.

'Bloody'? Christ, he was even turning into Charlie now. At least he hadn't said it out loud.

"You should be," Jack said. He really hadn't got the hang of the 'comforting' or 'calming down' thing yet, had he? Clearly, his wedding-side manner was just as bad as his bedside one. "This is something big."

"Shouldn't you be tryin' to calm me down? Tell me it's okay, I'm ready for this, it'll be the best day of my life? That's what the best man's supposed to do."

Jack shifted almost uncomfortably. "Okay. Sorry. I… You'll be fine. You and Charlie are… Well, you're good. Together. I think you're doing the right thing." He paused, and that seemed to be about as much of a pep talk that he could muster up.

"Forget it, doc. You suck at this."

Jack smiled and ran his hand over his face. "I know. Do I get points for trying?"

"No."

Jack was still smiling, but he moved over to the window now. Sawyer leaned against the dresser and watched him carefully. Jack had been through this once before, hadn't he? With that pretty girl – Zara. Sarah. Something like that.

And, as far as Sawyer remembered, that had apparently ended up looking pretty messy. She'd cheated on him, or he'd cheated on her, or… something. He didn't remember much of anything about the story. Both he and Jack had had a little too much to drink by the time they were comfortable talking about something like that.

Hell, that was also when Sawyer had first confessed that he and Charlie kind of had a 'thing'. When pressed about it, Sawyer had shrugged and said it was just sex, even though they were going to movies and dinners and on actual dates – even though he was pretty sure he'd heard Charlie murmuring 'I love you' as they fell asleep tangled together the night before.

Fuck. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. He almost wished it was, wished that he could disconnect himself from this life because it wasn't him. He wasn't the 'get married and settle down' type. Frankly, he never thought that Charlie would be either.

Yet here they were. He looked in the mirror, seeing himself in that suit, looking like he'd just stepped out of a bridal photo. Just as he was about to truly freak out, Jack moved and startled him out of his thoughts. "It's almost time – you're ready?"

Sawyer took a deep breath, and nodded. "Yeah, guess so. I'll be out in two seconds."

Jack's brow furrowed and he seemed mistrustful, but he nodded. Slowly. But a nod was a nod, so Sawyer was relieved when Jack shuffled out of the room and away. The guy was probably the closest thing he had to a friend, but he could still be fucking annoying some of the time. Most of the time.

Sawyer watched the panelled door shut behind him, then leaned back against the wall. Now that the room was empty again, he allowed himself to close his eyes and take a few shaky breaths. The window was closed, and everyone was waiting for him outside. Charlie's family, his grandmother, everyone from the island…

Actually, he didn't get a damn about 'disappointing' any of them. But if he ran off now, Charlie wouldn't forgive him. The whole point of proposing to him in the first place had really just been to make sure he didn't run off with that girl who had been sniffing around – Lucy. Sawyer really hadn't liked her.

He pushed himself away from the wall and took a few long steps across the room, to the small wooden table crouched in the corner. He could do this. He could and he would and it'd force Charlie to stop moving around the country with his damn band, to stop being so close to Claire, and to make him bring Sawyer breakfast in bed every morning.

Not to mention: the honeymoon. Two weeks on a beach with Charlie, having sex constantly. It'd be like they were back on the island again.

Alright. Okay. Sawyer ran a hand over his face, and nodded. This was gonna be fine. It was gonna be great. Awesome.

All the same, his hand was shaking just noticeably when he reached out for the two letters on the table. Call him traditional, but if he was going to do this thing, he was going to do it right.

Something old…

His old letter, faded and almost unreadable by now. The trip on the raft almost killed it, and the words are so worn that he can only really read it any more by recalling from memory what it had written. Dear mister Sawyer… He wasn't ever gonna forget that. He wouldn't ever let himself lose it either, and it was the oldest thing he owned.

He ran his fingers over the yellowing paper, over the long lost words, before he folded the paper up neatly and placed it in his left pocket. The clock in the corner was counting out the seconds, but he didn't speed up. He still had a little time.

Something new…

On the table, there was one remaining letter still in its envelope. The paper was bright and clean, not grubby and faded like Sawyer's old one. Charlie's writing was scrawled over the front; it had taken Sawyer a lot of training to ever be able to make out the mess of letters that made up Charlie's handwriting. He swore the guy must've never been to a real school.

It was just written in simple blue biro, and the letters were slightly shaky so he was sure that Charlie must've written it when he was drunk. Probably on his stag night, seeing as Claire had delivered it for him this morning. The fact that the words were likely to be soaked in alcohol made Sawyer even more eager to open it, but there were strict instructions not to: 'For Sawyer. + don't open til after, otherwise bad stuff happens. Bad stuff like no sex. I'm not kidding!'

Sawyer imagined that Charlie really was kidding, because he'd never yet managed to hold back if Sawyer really set his mind on something, but seeing that mild threat made him smile to himself. He rolled his eyes at Charlie and folded the envelope, only to slip it into his right pocket.

Something borrowed…

Next, he moved onto the chain sitting on the table. It didn't look like much – just a silver chain with a ring threaded onto it. He'd nicked it from Charlie's bedside when the other was sleeping last night. Charlie was probably going insane looking for it right now, but Sawyer reasoned that he had more of a need for it: something stolen was technically borrowed, wasn't it?

He glanced at the 'DriveSHAFT' ring hanging on the chain. He still didn't understand why Charlie kept the damn thing, but he'd given up trying to work it out. The ring was just something that was so inherently Charlie; he wasn't sure if he was even going to give it back after the wedding. He liked it too much.

He pulled the chain over his head and quickly hid the ring under his shirt. If Charlie saw it, he'd probably yank it from around his neck immediately.

Something blue…

One last good luck charm to check off, then he was done. He glanced at the door one more time, just to ensure that Jack wasn't about to burst in on him again. The door stayed closed firmly, but he wished it had a lock on it.

Not that this was any worse than skinny-dipping in the ocean, but that had been different. That had been on the island, where all the rules were suspended. Besides, he was about to get married.

Still, it had to be done. His hands moved to his trousers and he released the button, pulling down the zipper as quickly as he could. Once that was done, he grinned, able to see navy blue. He'd bought them yesterday even though he generally hated wearing underpants: but he'd thought that blue briefs were the best way of fulfilling that particular part of the tradition.

Smiling again to himself, he nodded. He was ready. He was really ready. He took another weak breath and buttoned his trousers again.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let's go and get married." When the word 'married' didn't make him run for cover, he knew he was going to be okay, and strutted out the doorway.

Sadly, he didn't notice the flash of blue briefs that could be seen through his open fly.