"But -but why?!" Claire cried. He hated hearing her cry.
"Because I know its the right thing to do. Claire I have to stop- I have to stop running. I have to take responsibility for the sin that I have commited."
Sawyer shifted uneasily in his sleep; the dream continued.
"James Ford, this court finds you guilty on the charges of murder."
Sweat poured down his face. He wanted to wake up. Wanted it all to be over. But he couldn't.
A desert? Why was he in a desert? People . So many people surrounding him. Laughing. Mocking. Scorning. But why? He had to get to where he could see. What was going on? He pushed his way through the large crowd; when he finally came upon an opening he fell to the ground, after being shoved. He looked up when he felt something trickle down his cheek, and when he saw blood fall to the ground he panicked. A man carrying a cross. The scene, scared him. The man was so badly beaten. He did not even look like a man anymore. He fell now to the ground, dropping the cross, and one of the gaurds pulled Sawyer from the crowd. He shouted angrily.
"Carry the cross!"
"but- " He felt the piercing blow of the whip to his back, and heeded the instructions. The wooden cross was heavy. Heavier than anything he had ever lifted. He carried it untill he was told to stop. And then watched in shamed horror as the man was put upon it. Thick nails driven into his hands and feet. Blood pouring. They lifted the cross, and as they did the man looked into his eyes.
"I forgive you." He breathed. "James."
At the sound of his real name, Sawyer fell to his knees and wept.
"I'm sorry..." He cried. "I'm sorry..." The words echoed into the vastness of the desert as the crowd faded and he was alone. But was he?