This is another older fic of mine that appeared on another fic archive long ago. Its a multi-chapter fic told from both Kate and Sawyer's POV. Its set in season 2 and follows Sawyer's recovery after being wounded. It picks up a few hours after Kate helped Sawyer out of the Hatch for the first time.
Chapter 1 (Sawyer's POV first, followed by Kate's)
It was the goddamn beeping that woke him. That and the faint swearing that accompanied it from beyond the bunkroom door. Beep, beep, beep! Sawyer grimaced. That goddamn sound cut straight into his head and brought him out in a chill sweat, replete with a collector-set Manson family album of animal fear, pain and fever. He felt every inch of exposed skin become gooseflesh with the sudden flush of memory. Godamn it! He kicked out at the blankets that clung to his legs and hissed as the movement jerked his shoulder.
Fucking beep, beep, fucking beep! What the fucking fuck was whoever was fucking out there fucking doing?
"Freckles-" He said. His voice, roughened with sleep, sounded so loud in the quiet room that he rolled his head toward the door and cracked open one eye. The bedside chair was empty. He felt his chest tighten in alarm, and pushed up to look around the room. Where-
Then he remembered: she was asleep in the bunk bed atop his. The relief he felt remembering that was infuriating. He fell awkwardly back onto the bed. What the hell was the matter with him? What had happened over the last few days that an empty chair had the power to give him a heart attack? Godamnit, he had survived 30 years without anyone holding his hand and -
Fuck that fucking beeping!
That was it! A burst of adrenaline gave him the strength to kick free of the sheets and roll from the bed. He lurched up right, grabbing and hauling until he was on two feet, then pushed free from the bed. His feet slapped against the chill concrete floor as he staggered to the door and wrenched it open. He emerged into the flat hard glare of fluorescent lighting, and Charlie fumbling behind a computer screen, swearing his damned Limey head off. The beeping suddenly stopped.
"What the fuck are you doin'?" Sawyer hissed in the sudden silence. His voice carried clean across the room and the failed muso looked up at him.
"Oh. Oh shit, man." Charlie whispered back, eyebrows climbing his forehead in surprise. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to wake you." He nervously thumbed his chest. "Not so good with computers, me."
"Well, what the hell are you doin' playin' with one? And in the middle of the godammn night?" Sawyer growled, still whispering. But he had obviously lost his menace along with his independence tonight, because now Charlie was suddenly staring at him with a stupid grin plastered across his face. "What?" Sawyer demanded, thrown.
"You're awake."
"Yes." Obviously.
"And you're pissed off." He carried right on grinning, and Sawyer just stared. "Which means you're better. And I never thought I'd ever say this, but it's really good to see you man. We thought you were a goner."
What the fuck? Sawyer found himself suddenly, firmly, on the backfoot. And Charlie continued staring straight at him with a big stupid smile on his face. Sawyer stared. What the hell was going on? A thousand suspicious scenarios flickered through his mind. What the hell was this game? He flailed for an answer but none of his suspicions fit except for insanity (his) or sincerity (Charlie's). Both options made his head spin. He grabbed at the doorframe.
"Oh, shit. Don't fall down!" Charlie scampered, there could be no other word for how he ran across the room, toward him. Sawyer watched him come, still unable to do more than gape. Charlie ducked out of sight and popped up under Sawyer's arm. "I got you. OK?"
"Uh, yeah." Sawyer found himself being dragged back into the bunkroom against his will, but found himself following Charlie's lead like an obedient dog. The Englishman propped him against the top bunk and ducked under it. The soft sounds of cloth being violently rearranged slithered through the air.
Sawyer took the opportunity to glance at Kate. She lay on her side, facing him, one arm curled under her head, the other resting in front of her, an inch from his own fingers. And she was still soundly asleep. He sighed in relief. He didn't think he could take it if she was bearing witness to this. It was one thing to be babied by her, he kinda enjoyed all the pillow fluffing, the mashed up mango and all the sly teasing, but to be fussed over by Charlie – by a man. Shit.
He glanced at her face again. The light from the other room lit up the soft planes and angles of her face. Fuck she was so beauti-
"Here we go." Charlie was back squirming under his arm and pulling him away from the top bunk. The bastard was treating him like he treated Aaron.
"Goddamn it Charlie." Sawyer hissed. "I got it! I got it!"
Charlie did not seem to hear him, but fussed and pushed and carried on so that in the end it was just easier to give in and let himself be tucked in. After a few more indignant moments the englishman was done, and he straightened up to admire his handy work.
"Goodnight. And sorry about the computer. Locke will be here soon to take over, so it won't happen again." He turned way, then back. "You know, its great to see you're feeling better and all that, but could you do me a favour and stay in bed until Jack says you can get up?
There's sort of a pool going you see, and I've got three fat coconuts riding on you staying put."
Sawyer was now sure he had gone completely mad with fever and pretty soon it would break and all would return to normal, so it was ok to say: "only three?"
"Well, I did have four but Claire wanted one to make a bowl for Aaron, so-" He shrugged. "Okay then. Well, see you in a few days." And he disappeared back into the other room, shutting the door behind him.
"What the fuck was that?" Sawyer said to no one.
Above him, Kate smiled.
LOSTLOSTLOST
"What the fuck was that?"
Kate heard the bewildered voice from the bunk below and her smile stretched into a grin. If he was stumped by Charlie then he was going to go into a permanent state of shock when Jack finally released him from the Hatch and let him return to his beach tent. He had no idea what he was in for. She had been (to her own surprise) fielding questions and well wishes from the other survivors for days now, and she had begun to hear rumours of some sort of surprise welcome back party. She held in a laugh. God how he would hate that! And god, how he would hate to know that she had been awake from the moment he had whispered for her.
She had spent so many hours waiting for him to wake, straining for the faintest murmur, that the whisper had sounded as loud as a cry. But such was her exhaustion that it wasn't until Sawyer was already at the bunkroom door that her brain kicked into gear and she fully processed what she had heard, and by that time the patient was having himself a fine time grousing at the neighbours. She never thought she would ever be happy to hear him spouting off.
Rustling came from the bunk below as Sawyer moved around, tugging at the sheets. No doubt he was pulling apart Charlie's re-tucking job and making a huge tangle that he would have to wrestle out of come morning. She heard him mutter to himself. Then everything subsided into quiet again.
Kate rolled onto her back. It was so quiet. But for the first time in days, quiet was ok, quiet was welcome. Silence was no longer for waiting by a sickbed for god knew what end. It just meant sleep, real sleep, for both of them. At last. So she yawned widely in a very unladylike fashion, shut her eyes, and let her heavy limbs melt into the soft hiss of perfect, tranquil, blissful silence.
Then Sawyer started rustling again.
And again.
And then he mumbled something to himself.
Kate frowned. Who would have picked Mr I-can-sleep-through-an electrical-storm would have problems sleeping now. Actually, she would have thought that: it was Sawyer she was considering after all and he was nothing if not unpredictable. She heard more rustling that sounded like the patient was trying to turn over. And then a soft pained grunt that confirmed it. Muttering in short bursts followed.
"Sawyer, what are you doing down there?" She asked, not opening her eyes. He took a long time to reply.
"Can't sleep. This bunk bed is a piece of crap." He finally grumbled.
"The bed is fine." She replied sleepily. "Just lie still and shut your eyes. You'll go back to sleep if you just lie still."
He did not respond and she was just drifting off to sleep again when he started whispering again:
"Fuck it! I'm going for a walk."
"No you're not." Kate sighed and opened her eyes. "Is your shoulder keeping you awake? What time is it? It's probably ok to have another painkiller."
Mumble.
"What?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
"Yeah, well I am fine." He snapped. Kate sat up in the bunk bed, suddenly awake. Ok, something was happening here.
"What's going on?"
"Nothin'. 'Cept this bunk bed ought to be chopped into firewood. An' I need some air!" The sounds of rustling bed sheets followed precipitously.
"Sawyer you heard what Jack-"
"Fuck Jack!"
"OK. That's it." Kate threw back the covers, slid to the edge of the bunk and dropped over the side. She hit the chilly concrete with a soft thud just in time to catch the recalcitrant patient before he could put his own feet onto the floor. "What's going on? Is it your shoulder? Are you feeling sick?" She tried to feel his forehead but he pulled away and tried to get up. She pushed him back down to sit on the bed. He glared. "Stop it and tell me what the hell is going on with you!" She demanded loudly, but her only answer was another glare. So she glared back. What had brought this on? He tried to get up again. She stopped him.
"There ain't nothin' goin' on!" Sawyer suddenly conceded her the high ground and resorted to fighting her with words. "Don't need you hoverin' over me like some damned mosquito-"
Suddenly the bunkroom door opened and with it came a bright fluoro starburst that momentarily whited out the bunk room, making both of them blink and squint. Kate turned, raising a hand to her eyes.
"Hi guys?" It was Charlie. "Everything all right in here? Thought I heard voices."
"So you'd thought you'd just bust on in?" Sawyer demanded angrily. His voice was now coming from above her head and she turned to find that he was on his feet, good arm braced against the top bunk.
"I thought I heard 'raised' voices." Charlie retorted defensively.
"Oh, and that makes all the difference. They do things differently back in Limeyland then, peewee? Bustin' in on-"
"Sawyer, stop it!" Kate demanded, but it was like pinging pebbles off cast iron, he was completely unmoved. In fact he was ignoring her completely now and staring intently at Charlie with come-take-a-swing eyes. She turned to the Englishman. "Everything is OK, Charlie. It's fine."
"Yeah, well." Charlie said, puzzled but clearing angering. He was a good foot shorter than Sawyer, but that would not stop him taking the larger man on if the situation called for it. He had done it before. "Get him a sedative or something before he hurts himself."
"Oh go fuc- Oof." Sawyer suddenly snapped and Kate, without thinking, planted an elbow in his stomach. The southerner immediately doubled over and dropped, coming to an abrupt stop when his ass hit the bed. He grunted and grabbed at his shoulder. "Ow. Sonnavabitch!"
"Oh my god!" Mortified, Kate followed him down, kneeling in front of him and grabbing hold of his upper arms. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" He was curled in on himself, head bowed, cursing.
"Kate!" Charlie exclaimed, catching her attention again. He was still in the doorway, staring at her in shock, but clearly also as bemused as she was by Sawyer's sudden reversion to the aggressive redneck that had climbed out of the airplane wreckage fists flying… Oh my god. She swivelled back to look anew at the hunched man on the bed.
"It's fine Charlie." She said automatically, staring at the bent head, and still holding onto his arms. She could feel the muscles tightening and relaxing under her grip, and looked down to see his left hand, his free hand, curling into a fist, releasing and clenching again. His right hand was clutching at his shoulder, nails white with the force of the grip.
"O-ok then. I'll just go then shall I?" She heard the musician's boots shuffling on the floor. "Well, uh, just bellow if you need me. I'm only a short scream away." And he was gone, pulling the door shut. The room sank into darkness once more.
"Sawyer." Kate said softly.
"Just lemme alone." He responded without looking up from his slump, but there was no longer any fire in his voice, just a sort of weary routine defiance; the kind of last desperate show of pluck made by an exhausted, hunted animal that just can't run anymore.
She hesitated.
From the moment she had remembered the aftermath of the airplane crash this tantrum had begun to make some sort of painful sense, and his words had just confirmed it: something had frightened him and he was going to make it go away as fast and as completely as he could. This she understood clearly because she lived this as well, even if her reaction was to run rather than to fight.
The urge to run was with her now. He had just given her that option too, and if she took it he would not attack her for it later, rather he would welcome it and things would return to normal like it had been before: he would continue to fight with everyone, and she would continue to run. It was what they were used to, and she could feel the familiar itch to give in to the impulse again. It was almost overwhelming. So she had hesitated, keeping her fingers curled around his arms, feeling his muscles tight and resistant under her grip, knowing that if she let go she would run – and so would he.
But, after being with him for the last few days not knowing if he was going to live or die, for the first time in her life, she did not want to give in to habit. She wanted, no she needed, to break the cycle. She did not want everything to return to 'normal', she wanted better than that. And somewhere inside she was positive, Sawyer would be wanting that too. But it was going to take one of them to make the first move, alone.
"Sit up Sawyer, and let me see your bandages." Kate spoke softly. She slid one hand along his arm and laid it over the back of the hand gripping his shoulder. Every finger was like iron. She was not going to have a hope of moving them without his co-operation.
"Kate-" The growl started again.
"Shut up Sawyer. Now, sit up and let me see your shoulder." She interrupted, keeping her voice calm. He grimaced, lips momentarily tightening and nostrils flaring, before abruptly allowing her to pull his hand away from its death grip and turning away from her to stare at the bedside table. She reached to the side and switched on the lamp, aiming the beam of light at the bandages. Thankfully, they were white. No telltale red that would need her to fetch Jack.
"I'm sorry I hit you." Kate said after she smoothed down a piece of the tape she had found coming loose. She trailed her fingertips deliberately over his skin as she did so, but he didn't even flinch or turn back, so she sat down beside him on the bed, on the far side from the table. "I know what you're doing, Sawyer." She started cautiously. "But yelling at me, at Charlie, or at every person on this planet is not going to solve anything."
"And what the hell would you know about solving anything, Freckles?" Sawyer suddenly spoke, voice like gravel. He turned around to look at her. His eyes were glittering dangerously in the lamplight. She recognised this look too: she had seen it when he had banished her from his tent after Sayid had nearly knifed him to death. It had thrown her then and it upset her now, but she was resolved to stay put this time. No matter what he did. "Hell you an' the road runner got more in common than you an' me, and neither one of you know a damn thing about 'solving' anything. So why don't you run on back to the godammned beach and leave me the hell alone?"
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're behaving like this."
"Oh, behaving like what?" He demanded aggressively. But despite the anger, he was not she noted, taking himself off to get away from her, and neither was he physically removing her from the room (which despite his injuries she did not doubt he was quite capable of doing), so she pushed on:
"Why are you attacking me, Charlie and Jack, when none of us want anything more than for you to get better?" She persisted. She had deliberately moved his space just now, touching him, sitting on the bed, refusing to move away despite every encouragement to do so, and she intended to stay uncomfortably close to him until he cracked. If there was one thing she had learned about Sawyer: if she wanted to get through to him she had to invade his personal space and stay there no matter what he threw at her. After a spell of bucking her, then trying to avoid her and what she was doing, he would usually calm down enough to listen – most of the time. It appeared they were at the avoiding stage: "That's it isn't it?" She went on. "None of us is behaving like we hate you and you can't stand it."
"Oh, and we're back onto that again are we?" Sawyer snarled at her. "Nicely done, Dr Phil-ette. You want me to lie down on the couch now and tell you about my daddy issues?"
"I'm right aren't I?" She persisted. It wasn't really a question. "Do you really hate yourself that much that you'll go that far to try to make us hate you?" She had him pinned now; stare for stare, refusing to back down. He wasn't going to do this, not again. Not after they almost lost him. Not after she-
"You don't know what you're talking about." Sawyer said. He dropped his eyes.
"I think I do." She replied. "You think that no one knows you. You think no one here knows you. Well, you're wrong. I know you."
"Ha!" He spat. "You don't know shit Freckles. You don't know what I've done. You don't know who I am. You don't even know my fucking name! You don't know shit and don't fucking pretend like you do just to win a damned argument!"
"I know some of what you've done. You know some of what I've done. Neither one of us is a saint Sawyer. But I know what I've seen, and that's what counts here in this place. Let me tell you."
"No." He pulled right away from her, not even looking her way now. "Don't start that shit. Kate-"
"Since I've been on this island I've seen more of you than I planned on seeing." She started lightly, teasingly, ignoring the fact that he was now hunched miserable and angry on the bed, so tense she could feel the mattress shaking in tiny sympathetic shivers. If she screwed this up she was never going to get a second chance. So she would go slow, but she wasn't going to stop. "But I can't say that was all bad.
"And I've seen you do some pretty nasty things too, Sawyer, and you have scared the hell out of me. I have seen that."
"Kate-"
"But I have also seen a man who is funny, strong and proud and brave, and not at all ugly, and who never when it mattered, abandoned anyone who asked for his help. And I've seen how you are with Aaron. I've seen you helping Claire and Sun around the camp.
"And yes, I've seen you picking fights with Michael and Jack. I've seen you cross the line, but I've seen you take more punishment than any man I've ever known." She could see his shoulders getting tighter and tighter, she was reaching his limit now and it was time to stop. Before he could explode into something worse than words.
"And I've seen you when you thought no one else was around, you know-" Sawyer jerked as if she'd elbowed him again and whipped around to look at her so fast she was surprised when he didn't snap his neck. She tried not to smile at the open horror on his face. "Actually I haven't seen you like that. I just threw that one in."
His exhalation of relief was almost too comical to bear in the tense atmosphere, but when he looked back up at her, it was like looking at a photograph of a war refugee. Terror, exhaustion, grief all boiling and churning across in his face turning his eyes liquid, and simultaneously taking and adding 10 years to his unshaven face. Kate was horrified. She hadn't intended this! Some discomfort yes, but never this. Reflexive, sympathetic grief suddenly choked her and blurred her vision.
So she did the one thing she could think of. The stupidest thing she could possibly do and what she had just accused Sawyer of doing: namely, anything that would stop what was terrifying her.
She leaned over, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.
End chapter 1
OK, so I am not sure if I should post the rest of this fic. If you want me to please let me know with a review or follow etc so I'll know whether or not to clutter up this archive with more of it! LOL