First of all, I gotta say the original, together with your wonderful reviews, are gone apparently, (I truly apologize, esp to eyeon) but at least the fic's back up! If you need alerts, you'll have to click that option again. I've not yet updated, but I'll try to get one up soon. :)
Chapter 1
"Sawyer."
"Sawyer, wake up!"
"Come on, Sawyer. We gotta get moving!"
The numerous voices sounded far off, as though the owners were speaking through a long tunnel. They echoed around him, calling repeatedly to someone, a man with a strangely familiar name.
"Sawyer!"
It irritated him. It made his head pound. He fought the sudden urge to clamp his hands over his ears as the voices grew closer. Louder.
"Sawyer, come back!"
"Sawyer! Wake up!"
His head was spinning wildly. In the darkness, there were painfully bright flashes of white. Then out of the chaos and deafening noise, he heard a whispered voice, one that somehow managed to silence the rest.
James.
He bolted up straight in bed even before his eyes flew open, gasping desperately for breath. Outside his closed window, he realized the sky was black. Thunder rumbled a warning of an impending storm. The air was still in the room, but cold sweat drenched his back, trickling down his face. He clenched his trembling jaw, balling his hands into tight fists.
Yet, they would not stop their shaking.
The night was beautiful. A handful of twinkling stars were scattered across the vast sky and a sliver of moon lurked behind some clouds. Crickets hid in the bushes, singing as they did every other time they were out. They sat on the porch swing, bathed in soft orange light.
"My angel, beautiful angel, with eyes as blue as the August sky."
He paused mid-song and lightly tugged at the gold strands of the blonde silently giggling beside him. "You're laughing."
Crystal blue eyes flickered upwards with an unspoken accusation.
You peeped.
"Silly. I ain't gotta. I know you well enough." He gave her hair another tug, earning a well-aimed poke in his ribs. "Ow."
Satisfied, she settled back down beside him, resting her head on his chest. He knew she was listening to his heart, something she always loved doing. A smile crept onto his face.
Juliet Burke.
She changed his life by always being there for him. She offered him unconditional love. He pressed a kiss on her head, suddenly overcome with the immense love he felt for her.
"Hm," she murmured. "What was that for?"
"Nothing," he replied huskily. "Ya know you're the best thing that has ever happened to me?" He felt her pull away and met her eyes, not missing the way she returned his tender look. Lifting a hand, he traced the outline of her face. "You ain't ever gonna leave me?"
She reached up and grasped his hand. "No. Will you?"
"Not a chance."
Angel, the sweetest angel, and oh, she lets me call her mine.
He could not eat. He hardly slept. The little sleep that he managed to get these days was fitful, plagued with dreams of long, blond hair and laughing blue eyes. Mostly, he did nothing. He'd find himself often staring into space, barely breathing, the living dead.
Numbed to the core.
He wanted to feel her fingers running through his hair again, how she would cup his face when they kissed, the way she fit just right in his embrace.
Perfect. So damn perfect.
He cried there in the dark loneliness of the room as the first signs of rain were released from the angry skies.
Juliet, come back. Please come back. I miss you.
I really miss you.
He knew if it weren't for Jack, he'd be wandering around the airport once he was off the plane, dazed and devastated over his loss. He was guided through the throng of fellow passengers, pulled along by the arm, as certain faces, faces that he recognized, stood out from the crowd.
Kate. Sayid. Hurley. Sun.
Whenever their gazes collided with his, he would yank his eyes away and plant them elsewhere. It was hard enough that he had lost her. He didn't need to suffer under their looks of pity, didn't need another reminder of what was already gone.
They halted at the baggage area, where he barely heard Jack telling him to stay put. The people milled all around him, grabbing their belongings from the luggage carousels. He wasn't even sure when the doctor left and when he returned.
Staring at the endless number of bags passing by, he was somewhat aware of Jack loading their trolley. It never crossed his mind to help or to even search for his own luggage. He thought about how strange it must be for a rugged Southern man with unkempt hair to be seen with someone like Jack, all neat and seemingly poised with his suit and tie, but even the most expensive clothes could not erase the haunted look about them.
"Alright. Let's go."
"Ain't nowhere for me to go," he muttered.
Only down in that damned hole. Where she is.
His eyes clouded over, the memory etched deeply in his mind. He recalled the desperation and the pain on her face as she clung on to him, the warm stickiness of blood as he gripped her hand, the dread that had frozen him when he realized the sacrifice she was about to make by the heartbreaking look in her eyes.
His stomach twisted and thought he had eaten nothing, there was a vile taste at the back of his throat. Pushing away the people blocking his path, he stumbled off, ignoring Jack's calls to come back.
It was at that point of time when his brain registered the fact that he was being spoken to. He blinked, realizing that he had been clutching the phone to his ear for the past five minutes.
Kate. Kate was on the line.
"So Jack says he wants to meet us. Thursday's all right with you?"
His lips proceeded to form a no as his throat worked hard to make a sound.
"Sawyer?" There was a pause. "He feels bad about…Juliet."
Juliet.
"Are you there, Sawyer?" He heard her breathe deeply. "It's been weeks since we came back. The last time we saw you…you weren't in a good shape. If you could just let us see you—"
"I ain't goin' nowhere, Kate," he bit out the words, each layered thick with bitterness. He knew he was being unreasonable, but at that moment, he could hardly care less. His snappish attitude was probably making her border on the edge of tears. Running his hand across his tired eyes, he said wearily, "Just leave me."
Her reply was so soft that he nearly missed it.
She wouldn't have wanted you to be this way.
His throat tightened.
"Sawyer. Please."
She was begging now. Swallowing hard, he brushed roughly at something wet on his cheek and in a voice hoarse with pain, he said roughly, "But she ain't here anymore, is she?"
He had said all that he wanted to and replaced the receiver back in its cradle with a gentle click.
Conversation over.
Remaining where he was, he allowed his eyes to roam around the room without the slightest interest. It was still raining out. He squinted a little, not being able to see more than a metre through the heavy sheets of rain. A little smile crept onto his face. Juliet liked watching the rain.
He pushed himself off the chair, a little too fast, apparently, because he nearly toppled over. Damn, he thought, and leaned heavily against the table. At that moment, the phone began ringing shrilly, the sound piercing through his head. He was definitely not happy about this. With a grimace, he reached for it and growled, "Hello?"
"LaFleur."
His jaw went slack. Nobody, nobody, called him by that name ever since the flash. Dropping back into the chair, he pressed the phone closer to his ear.
"Is this Jim LaFleur?" The line crackled noisily. This time, he scowled. If this was some kind of joke, it was of very poor taste.
"Jim LaFleur," it repeated, now sounding a tad irritated. "Is this—"
He gripped the phone, hissing out, "Who the hell is this?"
The silence on the other end went on for such a long period of time that he wondered if the other person had hung up, but he could still hear the loud, crackling sound in his ear. It made him uneasy, and that made him mad. "If you're playing some sick game here—"
"Jim LaFleur," it cut in, getting even more distorted and fuzzy. "I have…piece of news."
"What?" He snapped, thoroughly displeased now. "Whoever this is, if you think this is supposed to make me feel better, it ain't workin', ya hear?" But apparently, all that he said was not getting any attention. The bad connection was maddening, and it was tempting him to slam down the phone.
Until he heard that single word. That name. It made him sit, frozen in that spot, as the voice weaved through the distortion again and made its way to him, stealing his very breath.
Juliet…Burke…is alive.