I haven't wrote a LOST fanfic for ages! But i went to see Titanic at the cinema recently and was inspired. Enjoy :)
Title: With Me.
Author: ParisAmy
Characters/Pairings: Kate/Sawyer
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with LOST.
Warnings: Future fic.
With me.
They should have known better than to think they could have been together. It's not a fairytale or a movie; by the time the credits role they won't be living happily-ever-after with a child, a dog and a white picket fence. Life isn't like that. She signs and thinks; if she'd known (if she'd known…) she would have made him promise not to forget her, because if she thought he would, she'd never have left.
But it's too late for regrets, she's old and ill and dying, and dead is dead. She doesn't believe in afterlife or karma (she doesn't think this is because she lied and cheated and never told him he should have called someone else mother…) She certainly doesn't believe in fate or destiny, because maybe destiny is something we invented because we can't stand the fact that everything that happens is accidental.
Thinking back, she can't even remember if they said 'goodbye'. Somehow, even if it wasn't said, maybe it always lingered between them; something neither of them dared to say because if you said it, maybe that meant you cared, and back then, between them, it definitely was everyman for himself. They always thought they could look after themselves.
They were wrong.
She returns her gaze to the window, the blinds are partially open; it's night, the stars are out, but a storm is brewing, raindrops are getting ready to fall down on the city below. She wishes she could hear his voice one more time; hear the long and drawn out 'Hey Freckles'. She wishes she was young and on an island in the middle of nowhere standing with her feet in the sand and the wind in her hair….
Something bumps outside of her room and she can see Aaron through the glass window in the door; forcing a smile to Jack; she knows without seeing their eyes that theirs tears behind them.
That they don't know what to say to her.
That Jack knows this time he can't fix her.
She wonders what has become of Sawyer. Of James. She hopes he hasn't….she hopes he isn't gone. But if he is maybe they'll meet…. She forces herself to believe for a few, brief moments in afterlife and reincarnation and heaven and hell. Maybe she'll meet him in hell. She doubts she'll go to heaven after all the lies and deaths. But maybe….
The machine beside her: the one that is constantly beeping; telling her that she is still in the land of the living is beginning to annoy her. The incessant, low level sound is ringing in her ears and despite what Jack told her, she really hasn't gotten used to it. It still isn't just background noise to her world. She wants James, she wants to hear some jokes and sarcasm and nicknames because she can't stand the look on people's faces when they're talking to her. The look of pity and remorse that she won't see them again. Sometimes, when they run out of things to say or simply don't know what to say, because well, it would be useless to plan a meal out next weekend or say 'see you soon', she wishes they just never came. It sounds ungrateful and bitter but the truth is she's dying and the thought of not being able to hear her own voice or laugh again is starting to scare her. She wants to talk and laugh until that is ringing in her ears not the sound of the machine beside her.
Her eyes begin to feel quite heavy and when she thinks back, breathing has been a little difficult, but the machine is still saying she's alive and well, she trusts science. Aaron and Jack quietly enter and she forces a smile; she hurts and she wants to go to sleep and dream about a place far away with-
Jack is running towards her, she can faintly see this, but now her eyes are heavy and closing and she wonders whether this is the end. It seems untimely and unfair though. Her eyes close and she desperately tries to believe that this isn't the end; it's not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
She opens her eyes and smiles. She made it.
She can feel the presence of someone beside her. She can smell musky cologne; sand is beneath her feet and only then she realizes she's standing. That's strange, because she hasn't been able to do that for a while. She turns her head and stood beside her is him.
Sawyer.
He's grinning at her in a way she likes and remembers but doesn't understand. She was in hospital, he wasn't there; she remembers that.
"So did you see a bright light?" The southern voice is the same as she has always imagined it: thick and layered with sarcasm. The sea breeze is blowing his hair in front of his face and he keeps running a hand through it to remove it from his eyes, and again, only then does she realize her own hair is tangled in front of her face. Her hair isn't how she remembers it though. It's long and the chocolate curled brown locks aren't grey and lifeless. Her hands touch her face and she can no longer feel the deep wrinkles that showed signs of life and laughter; her skin is soft and flawless.
He only smiles at her dawning realization.
"I was wonderin' where your happiest place was. I was kinda' hopin' it was here."
(With me.)