Title: Light Comma Sticks

Setting: Post-'Born To Run' and 'Exodus I/II' but it's slightly AU. Here, Kate did get the spot on the raft.

Disclaimer: I wish I had thought of Lost first so I'd own Sawyer and be filthy rich. But I didn't so, instead, I'm here writing this in WordPad because my laptop's Word program expired and I'm too cheap to buy the full program :)

Author's usual stuff (this, of course, can be skipped over. It's mostly how/why I came to write this story and such.): All right. As a detour from Skate goodness, this fic is odd territory for me. Inspiration came one weekend while watching my season 1 DVDs. Sawyer's "light comma sticks" line got stuck in my head for a good few days before I figured it'd be sinful not to use it as a fic title. Thus being the case, this title really has nothing to do with the fic, other then the fact thatit ties Sawyer to, gasp, Shannon. Now, Shannon is far from a character I love or even like (I don't dislike/hate her, I'm just indifferent to her existence.) but it didn't seem right to write a fic with such a title and not have her opposite Sawyer. So that was settled.

The next challenge I faced was that I had to figure out a way to write these two unlikely characters interacting in a plausible situation. The idea that formed in my head required Sawyer to be on the main camp at a time when Shannon had recently acquired custody of Vincent. Why did it have to be this way? No clue, but an alternative focus was hard to come by once this plot started forming in my head. Of course, now we were met with a storyline dilemma. Even if I had set it in a near future time when the raft people were back at the beach, logically Vincent would have gone back to his rightful owner (that is, if I wrote it with Walt returning as well, which would in itself require a long explanation. Even without him, Michael would have likely taken the dog back. Or maybe not but the main point is that scenario would have turned this more into a chapter story then a one shot. Plus, for the following scenes to work, I really wanted Shannon to have only recently gotten Vincent. We'll see why.)

The only course of action I could see working was putting Kate on the raft and leaving Sawyer behind. So here we still have lots of Sawyer (what's a Lost story without Sawyer?) and some subtle, implied Skate, so hopefully it all floats okay. This turned out to be the longest 'one shot' I've written, so I'm proud either way. (That just rhymed.) And again I state that both a) if Shannon seems out of character, forgive me. I never planned to write her so I have never focused on her character to pin her voice and all. And b) as mentioned in the disclaimer, I started writing this in Word (as I do all writings) but then the version expired (I'm in college on the laptop I got over the summer) so I had to spell check in an AOL e-mail window. If there's any grammar mistakes and such... Yeah. My fault.

I went on long enough. I'll close with stating that there's 5 days until a new Lost episode! (And what an episode it's gonna be!) Finally.

---

"You're off the raft." He'd heard the words loud and clear, but asking Michael to repeat himself had almost been a plea for him to take them back.

"Come again?" His Southern drawl was masked in a challenging tone. Say it to my face, Mike, I dare you.

"You're off the raft." This time, each syllable was pronounced with extra stress. Definitively. His mind was made up.

"We had a deal..." Even in his own head, Sawyer had realized how pathetic he sounded. His temper boiled underneath the surface, threatening to engulf everyone in the premises.

"Well..." Michael struggled to a sitting position and stared him dead on. "The deal ended the minute you decided to poison me."

Okay. Sawyer had been subconsciously expecting at least one of the castaways to directly blame him for the incident that had occurred earlier that day, but hearing Michael pin the blame on him so undoubtedly caught him blindly.

"I did what now?" Sawyer had just about had enough.

"I'm done with you." So this was how it was going to be? He'd throw the accusations and not stand behind them? Not so fast.

"You ain't done with me by a damn sight." Sawyer swallowed, hard. His forehead was crumbled in fury. "You said you needed 4." Maybe some logic would snap Michael out of this insanity.

"I've got 4." How the hell did he find a replacement so fast, Sawyer shouted within his head, blocking out everything the other man was rambling about. "You've been stealing stuff off of dead bodies, keeping it for yourself, using it to buy favors. You're a liar and a criminal, and I'm not letting you near my boy."

Everything except that one word. Criminal? It seemed to echo loudly in the air, but Sawyer knew it was really just rotating in his own mind. "Oh, I'm a criminal, huh?" He couldn't go about this calmly anymore. He took a pounding step forward. "I poisoned you because I'm a criminal."

Another heavy step. He felt like punching that judgmental look right off Michael's face, but Jin took the occasion to play the referee of the match.Sawyer settled for shoving him instead. "Get your hands off me, boy."

He'd whirled around, inhaling sharply in a desperate attempt to cling on to control. Instinct told him to keep yelling and trashing about, but a small part of his brain countered that approach. In truth, there was nothing he could say or do that would prove he wasn't at fault for the happenings of the day. Any action he took would only promote his guilt.

Then he'd seen her. I'm the criminal? The evidence, his proof of innocence, was standing by the raft, attempting to pass an air of indifference. Sawyer knew she was eavesdropping on the interaction between Michael and himself, but that wasn't what made him fume inwardly. Kate had already known what would happen.

"I want your spot, I'll get your spot."

"I've got 4."

Sawyer was about to storm over, grab her arm, drag her into the spotlight and set the whole thing straight when their eyes momentarily locked. Beneath the deep-set determination and hardness, he was stunned to spot the undeniable look of fear. Raw, desperate, life-or-death fear. A fear he'd seen in his own eyes, as reflected off his mother's, that not so special day in his bedroom when he was just a kid and his life was ruined. A fear he'd probably only felt again when he realized he'd been a pawn in another con artist's game; a game which had led him to murder a man not at fault for the wrongdoing Sawyer thought he was.

Just then, Sawyer had realized he had a chance to ease some of Kate's fear. And it would go about in a much simpler way than if he had to set things right for himself. Surprising Michael, Kate, and, most of all, himself, he gave in to that revelation.

"You know what? Forget it." He was speaking to Michael, but his gaze had never left Kate. She squirmed under his cold blue eyes and looked down, but not before he'd seen a look of both relief and regret overshadow the fear that still peered underneath.

"Hope your damn raft gets swallowed by Moby Dick."

Turning, Sawyer had headed up the beach before he could change his mind.

---

She'd sought him out later that evening; cornering him in his tent like a pack animal cornered prey. Her intentions weren't so hostile this time.

She had likely come to cast her hurt puppy-dog eyes at him, spill out some sob story in attempt to make sense of her earlier behavior, and then apologize for something she would have, if given the chance, done all over again in a heartbeat.

He hadn't allowed her the chance to do any of that. He'd refused to so much as spare her a glance, keeping his eyes firmly set on the book he wasn't reading. Instead, in a calm and collected manner, he had told her to leave.

"Get out of here, Kate."

Her name had sounded foreign coming from his mouth. Up until now, he'd uttered it only when situations had been important enough to deem it. Now, she stood frozen, looking much as if Sawyer had slapped her across the face.

She'd stayed there, silently staring at him for he wasn't sure how long. Finally, she turned around and left, not another word spoken.

The next day, Sawyer had refused to go see the raft launching. While everyone was saying good-bye, he stood at the door of his tent, trying to remain impassible but unable to resist observing Kate from a distance.

She had looked up at one point and caught him staring; their eyes caught in a storm of reserved emotions. He'd quickly cast his gaze downward; Kate had forced a smile as Jack gathered her in his arms, whispering something in her ear to which she replied with a nod.

Not long after, the raft had drifted out of his view.

A few moments later, Sawyer had come to the morbid realization that he would never see Kate again. And this time, it was his fault.

---

It was an exceptionally sunny day, Sawyer noted with annoyance. And since he had his "reading glasses" on, he couldn't throw on some sunglasses. Cursing under his breath, he tried to block the light by capping his hands over his eyes. The pages of the book on his lap cunningly reflected the sun at him from underneath; the words tauntingly illegible.

Out of nowhere, a long shadow fell over him. Fighting an almost amusing sense of deja-vu, Sawyer took off his glasses and looked up at the lean blonde, his eyebrows raising in question as he squinted at her.

"What can I do ya for, sugar?"

Shannon seemed like she would smile, but the annoyed expression that was usually planted on her face (especially during the few instances she'd interacted with Sawyer before) refused to leave.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Sawyer pressed on, but again it was futile. She ignored his question a second time.

"Can I sit down?" She threw an inquiry of her own, gesturing to the empty airline seat beside Sawyer. He shrugged.

"Well, I really can't say." He looked her body up and down with a sneer. "I've heard eatin' disorders do all sorts o' weird stuff to the body. But you ain't lookin' too run down yet, so I reckon ya can still bend them legs in all the right ways." Sawyer's grin grew. "Hey, there's a fine visual."

Shannon rolled her eyes, taking his long rave as good an invitation as she'd get and dropping into the empty seat.

"You're disgusting. And I've dated some pretty messed up guys, so it really says a lot when someone makes an impression on me."

Sawyer let his grin fade to a smile.

"Well then, to what occasion are ya gracin' me with your lovely presence?" He asked, almost too sweetly.

She didn't reply right away. Instead, she absently played with the leash she held in her hand. Only then did Sawyer notice the dog tied to its other end. Mikey's kid's lab. Vinny? Winston? What was his name again?

"I thought you might want to take Vincent for a while." Shannon finally said, not looking up. (Vincent! He'd been close.) "I mean, Walt gave him to me and all but if you want..."

She ran off, bringing a manicured nail to her mouth and chewing on it. Sawyer's smile had totally disappeared and now his mouth was shaped into a gap of mixed confusion and disbelief.

"What?"

It was the only thing he managed to utter, still unsure of exactly what Shannon was getting at.

Shannon herself was starting to wonder the same thing.

In truth, Sawyer was the last person on the island anyone in their right mind would have entrusted with the dog. Shannon wasn't sure why she was doing this. A few minutes ago, part of her had argued that because she knew Sawyer wouldn't take the dog to begin with, it was safe to try. Then she could have told herself that she had no choice but to keep him.

Now, though, she felt like an idiot. What would happen if Sawyer did take Vincent? Would he forget him tied up somewhere with no food or water for days, or purposely let him loose into the jungle, or find some other way to get the dog lost or killed?

And what about when Walt returned and went to Shannon, who he'd entrusted with the safekeeping of his dog, and found that she had carelessly passed him on to Sawyer just because she was too insecure to allow herself the responsibility of caring for another living being.

Swallowing, she finally looked up.

"I'm sorry. This was a stupid idea. Forget it." She started getting up to leave, but he was too fast. His hand reached up and grabbed her arm, keeping her seated.

"Oh no ya don't. You got me all curious now." Shannon should have figured he wouldn't let her off so easily. She'd dug herself into a hole. "What made you think I'd want the damn dog?"

She busied herself with Vincent's leash again. The dog sat carelessly before the two adults, watching them with a keen indifference only an animal could muster. While she had initially tried to pass Vincent off because of her own insecurities, she'd also chosen Sawyer for a reason. The same reason Walt had chosen her.

"I know you didn't poison Michael." She surprised him with the blunt answer so much that he didn't have an instant retort. Shannon looked up suddenly. "Well, I don't know, but I don't think you did. It doesn't really make sense. You had your spot on the raft set and you're not dumb enough to have risked screwing that up."

Sawyer continued to stare at her, wondering if the heat of the sun was making him see things. He almost gave in to the urge to poke Shannon, but he recalled the fact that merely a minute ago he had grabbed her by the arm and stopped himself before further looking like a fool. The validation didn't make the situation easier to comprehend.

"Well, anyway," Shannon continued, noting he was struck speechless. Once he found his voice, she knew this train of conversation would be shut down immediately. "I thought it was nice of you taking the blame so Kate could get on the raft. She must have had a really good reason to have done whatever she did. If she did anything, that is." She added knowingly.

Finally, Sawyer's mind caught up with his mouth. He cleared his throat. "I still don't see what all this got to do with Fido."

It wasn't exactly as snappy, rude or sarcastic a comment as Sawyer had hoped to make given light of the things Shannon was saying, but at least it was something.

She finally smiled, if briefly. "Until everyone else on the island figures out you're not some big bad wolf," she paused for a moment, frowning at the metaphor she just made. Sawyer felt his jaw clench. Big bad wolf? "Um, look." Shannon chose to start the sentence over. "I just thought the dog could like, you know, keep you company or something. Since no other human might want to. For a while at least."

Sawyer stared at her as if she'd grown another head. Then he glanced at the dog, an expression of distaste forming slowly. Finally, he turned back to Shannon. Before he could give a reply (he wasn't sure what kind, either. He felt like either laughing or screaming. Perhaps a combination of the two...), she cut him off.

"It was a retarded idea, okay? Let's just forget it." She said, in a rushed voice. For a few seconds, she held her breath. She hoped that Sawyer wasn't really considering taking Vincent, because now that she'd laid out her spur-of-the-moment idea, she wouldn't be able to take it back. She scowled mentally at herself and the fact that she had come to her senses a bit too late. Giving the dog up was no longer an option.

Luckily, he didn't argue.

"Right. This never happened." And it was over, just like that.

Sawyer gave her a final, curious look, then reached for the reading lenses he'd left on the armrest and continued to stare mindlessly at the Watership Down pages in his lap. A minute passed until he finally acknowledged, with growing aggravation, that Shannon was still perched beside him.

"Uh, hate to play the big bad wolf an' all, cupcake, but can ya leave now?" He cast her an annoyed, sideway look, but his voice was almost playful. "Wouldn't want Aladdin to wander out of the jungle and see me chattin' up his princess."

She peered at him carefully, as if she'd been contemplating his character for a while now, then smiled again.

"Yeah. I guess not."

Standing, she shot a last look at the Southerner. "Hey..."

He met her gaze coolly, intercepting the setence with nothing more then a look. She licked her lips, wisely choosing not to conclude her thought, and turned away. Vincent stood and obediently bounded after her.

A second later, Sawyer got to his feet as well; the sun now unbearably radiant. His forgotten book tumbled downward and landed in front of him with a dull thud. Resisting a sigh, Sawyer reached down to pick it up, only to be met with a fresh coating of warm slime instead of the smooth paper he was expecting.

"Son of a bitch." He flicked the book, covered in sandy dog drool, onto the seat he'd previously occupied, and looked up at the retreating figures of Shannon and Vincent. For a long moment, he stood and glared at their backs accusingly, then he turned and started up towards his tent.

"Damn dog."

---

End.