I wrote this a while back for a friend's birthday (cheaper than an actual gift ;)) I decided to upload it, as some of you might enjoy it. Please R+R and give me your thoughts!

x

Jangsty

While he watched him, he'd eaten a mango.

What surprised him was how completely calm and unaffected he was by all of this. By himself, by his own thoughts. By what he planned to do. It was almost sad, but not quite.

He'd been watching the man for weeks. Watching him strut around the camp wearing that tan leather backpack filled with medical supplies and making 'house calls' like he was actually part of something . Like he was actually needed.

Bullshit.

His completely faked, 'nice guy' persona contrasted with his atrocious bedside manor, and 'sensitive guy' appeal may have left all the women on the island weak at the knees, but however sickeningly sweet, Sawyer saw right through it.

Yet, above all, Sawyer hated the way everyone seemed to depend on him, the way they seemed to need him. They were just playing in to his delusions. As far as Sawyer was concerned, the good doctor wasn't needed around here. And he would have to do something about that.

So he waited until after dark, long after everyone had gone into their tents and were hopefully fast asleep. He waited until the camp went quiet and the only sound was the crackling of the dying embers in the fire pit and the gentle crashing of the waves against the rocks. Then he followed Jack.

The doctor hadn't gone to bed like everyone else, no. But that was to be expected. He guessed sleep deprivation was part of Jack's self flagellation regime. So Sawyer watched him from a distance, guarded only by the night and a line of Banyan trees. Jack was filling water bottles and putting them in that tan leather backpack. At 3 a.m. Sawyer might kill him just for that.

He had a noose. And when he knew Jack was concentrating on screwing a particularly difficult lid back in to place atop a bottle he could hardly see in the moonlight - Sawyer made his move.

He was quick, and the rope was around Jacks neck - strangling him and cutting off air supply - in what seemed like no more than a second.

Sawyer watches as Jack turns around, arms flailing desperately and eyes beginning to shut. But it was like he almost expected it to happen. Wanted this to happen. But not quite.

Jack isn't left to die, no, Sawyer wants him alive for this. He throws water at him, waking Jack up from sweet ignorance when he has him adequately bound and gagged. Dragging him up, Jack's shoved against the wall with his hands bound in front of him where Sawyer can see. But he doesn't move.

His agony was clear, not the physical pain, but pain in a different form. He whimpered, he shook and his legs gave out almost immediately, as he once again fell to the floor. But still he said nothing. Jack lifted his head up slowly, gazing at Sawyer - while he felt the rope pulling tighter and tighter around his neck - and they locked eyes. And so Sawyer stopped for a moment, waiting for Jack to do something. Anything. Try to fight, or threaten him, beg him to stop. Show him he was afraid. Show him he was human, for once. But he didn't. Jack hung his head low, blinking rapidly, not even letting the tears that stung his eyes flow freely. He didn't look confused, he didn't even look shocked. He looked.. expectant.

I am not this weak. That's what Jack told himself. But Sawyer knew he was. All these people were when you got right down to it. They all felt alone, frightened. But not Sawyer. He felt nothing.

Sawyer needed to see his pain and suffering, and Jack really wasn't satisfying enough. He was completely broken and accepting. It was almost like he was playing the sacrificial lamb well before he needed to be. Self-righteous bastard. But he was still broken, and it wasn't Sawyers doing. No, Jack was shattered long before he'd been brought out here, far before he'd crashed on the damn island. But that wasn't going to stop Sawyer. He needed the fix. The surge of power so he could feel alive.

Kneeling down so he was locked eye to eye with Jack once again, Sawyer grasped Jacks jaw with a filthy fist and tightened his grip until he could feel Jacks teeth chattering under the thin skin with his finger tips. Leaning in closer, Sawyer loosened his grip running that same hand through Jack's messy hair and actually making him shiver. Oh, Jack knew what was coming. But incase he didn't, Sawyer would make sure Jack would never forget this moment for however long the he chose to keep him alive.

"I'm gonna hurt you." Sawyer snarled in to Jacks ear, letting his tongue linger at the lobe for a moment before biting down hard. "And then I'm gonna kill you."

Only then did he feel Jack react. His whole body froze and his breath caught. He closed his eyes, involuntarily sobbing as Sawyer continued to suck on his left ear lobe. Hot, wet. Disguising. He felt disguising. But he didn't break. Wouldn't give Sawyer the satisfaction of knowing how afraid, and how sick he was.

Sawyer once again made sure Jacks hands were bound securely, and then taking his right pointer finger, he slowly traced down the centre of Jack's chest, from the neckline of his shirt to his belt buckle. Then he stopped. Wetness.

Jack had obviously released his bladder in fear, and the dark wet patch running across his lap was visible even in the moonlight. He must be terrified. Sawyer smiled, laughed even. And only then did Jack cry.

He didn't sob anymore, he bawled like he hadn't in years. Hot, painful tears streamed down his face and fell down on to his shirt. Mucus and saliva dribbling from his nose to his chin and then tracking down his neck.

Yet still he said nothing.

Sawyer left him for a moment, strolling over to his pack and taking out a loosely wrapped package. He began to unravel the cloth that bound it and as the wrapping thinned, Jack heard the clanging of what could only be a type of metal. When the objects finally dropped heavily in to Sawyers palms, he felt his stomach fall into his boots. Metal knives. He had to speak.

"Please..." Jack begged pathetically, through the now obviously too-loose gang that fell around his mouth. "Sawyer.. you don't have to do this - I can't take it, please..."

But he was ignored. He looked up at Sawyer who stood over him with one of the blades, the silver glistening in the moonlight. The blade, Sawyers grin - haunting him.

Sawyer began to move closer, blade in hand. So Jack began to push himself back against the cave wall the best he could without the use of his hands.

The other man was mocking him, running his finger up and down the blade casually, flashing his dimples and grinning. When he caught up to Jack he stood over him, feet on either side of Jacks thighs and the swinging the knife back and forth loosely between his fingertips.

Sawyer sat down on Jack's lap, he held the knife under Jack's chin to stop him doing anything stupid, then lay his head on the other mans chest. He liked to hear his heart pounding. He wanted to hear him whimper in fear and know he was causing it.

It was the power. Reducing the leader, the strongest man on the island, their savior to a sniffling mess made him feel so, so good. So he sat for a few moments, listening to Jacks rapid heart beat and feeling his hair become wet with Jack's uncontrollable tears.

When Sawyer decided to move, he worked quickly. He could visualize the sun beginning to rise and being caught out. Besides,he wanted to do this in the dark, it made it better somehow. Without giving Jack time to see it coming, Sawyer raised the knife and brought it down against Jacks chest, ripping the fabric of his t-shirt and seeing it turn crimson with blood.

Perhaps he'd dug the blade in a little too deep.

Oh well.

Using the knife, Sawyer cut away the remaining threads of Jack's shirt but stopping when he saw Jack's tattoos up close for the first time, he ran the blunt edge of the knife over the designs.

"Wan' ta tell me where you got these?"

Jaw still chattering, Jack shook his head.

Sawyer responded by bringing the knife down again, this time so it left a tear in the denim, but luckily - for Jack anyway - did not draw blood.

Then Sawyer kneeled down, undoing Jacks shoelaces and pulling his shoes of his feet. Then he started on his jeans, peeling the soaked denim from the other man and throwing them aside. Leaving Jack cowering in the corner dressed only in his vest, blue boxers and white socks.

"Take 'em off" Sawyer demanded, and once again, Jack shook his head.

Taking up the knife again, Sawyer cut both bonds holding Jack to the tree, then once again forcing the knife under Jacks chin, he let it nick the flesh a little. Let it draw some blood, let Jack feel that he was serious.

"Take. Them. Off." He repeated dangerously, and this time Jack did.

Looking at Jack standing before him, Sawyer didn't know what Jack had to be embarrassed about, he let him keep his underwear for fucks sake. He didn't want that kind of show. But Jack still hung his head low, hands by his sides clenched in loose, nervous fists.

"Well sit down." Sawyer said casually, still fingering the knifes. He had two now, and he sat scraping their blades together. Jack watched him carefully with his eyes locked on the knifes, ready to jump away if one of them were to come after him. Too bad he wasn't paying enough attention.

In a flash, Sawyer had Jack forced up against a tree with the blade once again under his chin. "For all you've done here - I have to thank you -" Sawyer started, tearing the blade across Jacks abdomen. Jack tensed and dug his nails into Sawyers shoulders.

"For all you've done for Kate - " He pulled the blade down across Jacks thigh, then it moved quickly across both arms and once again down his chest.

Jacks nails were dug so far into Sawyer's shoulders they were actually drawing blood. Sawyer tears the other man off, and Jack falls to the ground clutching his stomach. He was loosing a lot of blood and looked pale and ill. He knew this was the end, dying in the middle of the jungle at the hands of the island's resident con-artist. Curled up in a ball, shivering and cold, naked and stinking of his own urine.

Death would soon become him. In a last attempt, Jack stared up at Sawyer with glazed eyes and he begged for his life.

"...Please Sawyer, please help me.. help me..."

Sawyer stares at the blade, covered in Jacks blood and then down at the man cowering on the floor. He dropped the blade.

"Get out of here." He said.

"Go!"

So Jack tries to. He manages to stand up on legs of jelly while his entire body wriggles around, but only briefly, as moments later he falls face first on to the muddy jungle floor. Then he screams as the cuts tear even further. Really screams. Sawyer, transfixed on Jack's dying body, has to block his ears.

Jack needs to shut-up. It was early now, and people would soon be waking up, if Jack didn't shut his fucking mouth Sawyer was going to be caught. So Sawyer did what he had to do. He pulled back his foot and kicked Jack once, twice around the head. Jack only cries out louder.

Then Sawyers heart stops for a moment. He see's a figure approaching at high speed, a wave of brunette hair and glowing green eyes. KATE.

She freezes. Watching Sawyer intently, yet confused. Then her eyes travel to Jack and Sawyer feels sick. Her face pales, shaky hands slowly raise to her mouth as she takes in whose body lies beneath the cuts and the bruises, and the blood and the pain. Jack glances up at her, and tries to raise his own hands to her in an attempt to pull her into him. He keeps the other hand firmly planted over his abdomen, the blood gushing through his fingers, running down his legs and collecting on the ground.

"What the hell have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

Kate screams at Sawyer while he stands frozen.

What had he done?

"GO! I SAID GO!"

Sawyer can't move.

Jacks bloodied fist clasps on to Kate's shirt while she holds his freeing, dying body in her arms. He stares up at Sawyer in horror while Kate frantically wipes his face free from the blood, not knowing what else to do. Their eyes meet, Jack and Sawyer's. Jacks eyes are glazed and feverish as Sawyer watches the other man's life drain away.

Dropping the knife, he stumbles back, grasping on to a tree for support. Now he feels sick, he feels disgusting. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Jack wasn't supposed to die. Not like this. He wasn't.

He wasn't.

Kate was still holding him in her arms. Even she, had accepted there was no point calling for help. No point running to get Juliet. It was all too late. Jack was already gone.

Sawyer needed to get away, he needed to escape and wake up from this terrible nightmare.

"What have I done?"

So slowly picking up pace,he began to run. He took the cowards way out and ran away. He could hear Kate's desperate attempts in reviving Jack behind him, her grieving, animalistic sobs. Sawyer didn't what to hear it.

Ducking down behind a fallen tree stump, Sawyer began to whisper to himself.

"I didn't kill, Jack. I helped him..."

And he had.

He helped him leave.

Please R+R, let me know if it's worth uploading the others, thanks :)