Its All Fantasy
Now people do recognise her in the street. Silent glances and whispers to one another as she walks by people. A few even come up to her asking the obvious question; Why lie? How could they leave them behind?
But to Kate the big question was; Why hadn't he called? Got in contact? Knocked on her door at three in the morning just to antagonise her? Stood outside her apartment? Followed her about her daily life? Why?
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He'd read about it in the paper, all the anger and hatred disappeared. Now he felt pity. Pity for the man that was so strong and level-headed. People looked up to him and he did this. Of all the things he'd been through and he did this. But who was he to judge? Since he got back all he'd done was drink. At first he thought he just missed the taste, the buzz, but it became something more and after reading what Jack had done to himself, how could he go see Kate? He wasn't worthy of her, just like Ben had said. Why hadn't she got in contact with him anyway? After all his moping, she never even missed him.
They've all been offered counselling, especially after what happened to Jack. He looks at the card he was given, rubbing his finger against the sharp edges, wondering if anyone actually goes. Well he certainly isn't going, he takes the card and throws it in the bin, grabbing his jacket he slips out the door and heads for the nearest bar.
The nights air is cold and harsh against his hands so he stuffs them in his jean pockets, shoulders hunched together, head down, eyes ahead, as he saunters down the vacant street.
His surroundings become more open and he can see the ocean, feel the waves crashing into the rocks, he stops and looks out. Remembering only days ago he was sat on a tropical island, he'd thought when he left he'd feel better, he'd have something, someone. But its only worse. He only goes to another bar every night and tries to find his life at the bottom of a glass. He never does. He never will.
He takes one last look at the beach, the sand, the ocean, the lone figure sitting near the waters edge, then heads into the bar.
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She's sat on the beach. Her body slumped into itself, her arms cradle her small waist as she shivers once more. She looks out across the water, the stars twinkling in the nights sky attract her attention, she remembers her mother telling her that when she saw the brightest star in the sky, she could make a wish. She wonders if she ever believed wishing on a star? She doesn't think she does, or did, it was the random plucking of petals that always fascinated her. How your fortune could change with a different daisy and how you had to make sure you started with the right words. It was always the hardest choice for her to make. Start with 'he loves me not' or 'he loves me'? She thought she'd figure it out as she got older. She hasn't.
She can hear the bars music, its louder than usual, although maybe before she was just too lost in her thoughts to hear it. You could've come over to my side, you could've let me know, you could've tried to see the distance between us, but it seemed too far for you to go. Do you remember...?
Phil Collins. Mix Tape. Sawyer.
She remembers; she remembers 'I never' and cologne, haircuts and Texas hold 'em, strawberries and fish biscuits.
but then…
She cant believe she thought he'd still remember her, care about her. She gets up from the sand, wiping her hands against her thighs she saunters up the steps, one, two, three, four, she looks back and she knows, this will be the very last time she ever comes here again, five, six, seven, eight. She slowly crosses the road, the bar across the street seems rowdier than usual, the flashing tacky neon light above the door attracts her attention; Daisy's. How ironic?
She walks in, the stairs leading down to the bar are steep and she grabs the hand rail to keep herself balanced. A guy smirks her way, I am not drunk, she scoffs to herself.
She takes her seat in a secluded part, a small TV showing the news is perched above her, she glances up and watches for a few seconds. She doesn't know why, it just seems better than having to think about her life right now, because when she does think about it; what does she have? All she ever had was him, and now he clearly doesn't want anything to do with her, he hasn't even called.
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He saw her come in, how she practically fell down the stairs made him smirk. He's glad she didn't see him. He watches her go over to the bar, she just sits and looks at the TV showing nothing but the news. Maybe she was watching for news on the rescue, on his rescue? Maybe she was watching for him? But if she was really that bothered she would have called or something. Wouldn't she?
No she didn't care about him, it was always Jack, maybe she was watching for news on him? On his death. He takes the last sip of his drink and rises from the secluded corner he's in. His minds telling him to go home, see her when your less….drunk. But his legs wont let him, left, right, left, right, he's stood in front of her, she hasn't turned. Not yet.
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She feels the presence of someone walking over, her head jerks sideways; Sawyer? He smirks, slowly drawls a 'Hey Freckles' She just stares at him; dumbfounded. Its not a drawl, it's a slur. He's drunk. She doesn't know what to say, she's waited for this for so long.
"Long time no see, sweetcheeks" He once again drawls before signalling to the barman another drink. She cant tell whether he's mad or not. "So….how's Jack?" He knows what's happened, he read about it, yet he wants to hurt her, like she hurt him, leaving him on the frikkin island, leaving him for Jack, not coming to the airport. She stutters, her eyes filling with tears, it's a small, croaky whisper; "He's dead" She wonders if he knows, she wonders if he just wanted her to say it. So that's all she says, she waits for him to speak, its his move.
He seems to realise that it was a step to far, he shouldn't have said it. He shouldn't have made her say it. The tears in her eyes make him even more sure that there future wasn't meant off of the island, because he's a spiteful man, asking about a dead person that cared for them all; even him. It was wrong and if he was an apologising man, he would say sorry. But he's not. And he wont. "Why didn't you come…to the airport. I didn't see you s'all" His voice is quiet and sincere, much different from the man a few minutes ago. But that's him, he's used to playing different people.
"I came…to the airport…I just…I couldn't see you…"
"Why?"
"….I thought…I thought you'd be mad at me…y'know….for leaving" She looks deep into his eyes, but she doesn't see anything. Nothing. No emotion or….something for her to build on. His eyes are empty and she wonders if he's hiding these things from her.
He looks away. He cant have her eyes burning through him anymore, they want someone that he was, someone he cant be anymore. Because this is the real world and he cant be the person she saw on the island. Its just to complicated.
"Why won't you let me in?" She whispers, shaky breath, trembling fingers. What if she gets the answer she doesn't want to hear? But its too late to turn back, she's already spoken.
He looks her in the eye, and he himself speaks without thinking. "Because you'll eventually want to be let back out." She looks at him, mouth slightly open, she didn't want to hear that, she was right. And from his face she can tell he wasn't pretending, that was him, that was Sawyer. It wasn't James. He'll never be him no more. He cant. This evil and vindictive man has controlled him for too long and he cant turn back. Its too hard and he's too scared to show her him.
She pushes the bar stool from beneath her, taking small tentative steps towards the door. She holds on the rail and practically pulls herself up the stairs. She gets out of the smoky bar and the cool nights airs hits her, taking her back a bit. Then she does something she hasn't done in a long time. She runs.
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She's sat in her apartment, daisy petals cover the floor, tears stain her cheeks as her hand automatically pulls away another petal. She's plucked more daisy's today than she ever has done in her life. Well, she's tells herself that. She got 'he loves me' twenty three times and 'he loves me not' eight times. Yet deep down, she knows, she knew they'd never work in the real world. And deep down she knows, she'll never, ever, chant this chant again. Because its just like fairy rings and the man that collects your teeth, it doesn't exist; it's all fantasy.
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Ok so that's it! This was the last chapter. I was very very unsure of this chap, so let me know what you thought. Thanks for all the people that have reviewed. I really appreciate it. Thanks for reading :D
