Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of the characters.
Notes: Takes place during season 1.
Alike
She stood on the beach still feeling his lips on her hand, watching him walk away into unknown danger. She didn't want him to go, but hadn't been able to come up with anything to stop him from leaving.
He was the only person she had truly trusted. Maybe it was because he seemed to be running away from his past, never telling anybody anything remotely personal. She had been so careful not to reveal any substantial amount of personal information that she had never realised that she was not the only one who was doing this. Most of the other castaways knew a lot about each other. Some were even very happy to talk about themselves and what they would do once they were rescued. Or maybe it was because he had never questioned her, even though he cared about her safety. She remembered how he had been against her idea of going to look for water alone. He had never cared about Locke going though, nor had he been very concerned when it had seemed that the man had died in the jungle.
She wasn't sure how things had escalated so quickly today. Sawyer could be a jerk, but she had not believed that he was withholding the medicine until she saw that Sayid was torturing him and that Jack was not only allowing it from afar, but actually being there asking questions. Although she knew what desperation could do to a person, she had not expected to see it so soon. Not affecting Jack and certainly not affecting Sayid. Both men had appeared to be in control of the situation so far, especially the latter. Sayid had organised many work groups to look for food and wood and he had been the one to start the fire, in case any ships sailed nearby and saw it.
How his hands, so gentle when saying goodbye to her, could have tortured another person a few hours before was something she did not want to think about. She had known that he had probably killed people before and it had not bothered her. After all, she had killed someone too. Torture, however, was something else entirely. Although maybe it wasn't. The way in which she had killed her father would have been quite horrible if he had not died quickly. She was still not scared of Sayid and had even tried to dissuade him from leaving their camp.
How much did they really know about each other anyway? How many of "their people" were not as nice as they seemed to be? How many of them were hiding secrets as dark as theirs?
When she couldn't see him anymore a thought hit her. She would miss him and the easy companionship that they had shared. They were more alike than they would like to believe. Both of them were running away. Him, from his past. Her, from anything that tied her down to a place. Or a person. Maybe that was why she had stood there watching him leave instead of stopping him or running after him to join him.