Hurley sighed and flopped back on his bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling. The mental hospital wasn't so bad. There were worse things—at least he wasn't running through the jungle being chased by a monster. Not that he wanted to stay here for the rest of his life. He was getting used to seeing Charlie and even Libby every now and then. He was starting to think that maybe it wasn't such a big deal after all. Maybe he could get over it and leave the hospital soon.
Over the last three years he'd been in and out of Santa Rosa, never fully convinced that he was not crazy, even when the doctors told him that he wasn't. There'd be weeks, sometimes even months, when he wouldn't see anyone who was supposed to be dead, and they'd release him, and he'd live his life normally with his parents, doing all the things he was supposed to do, trying to forget the bad memories from the island. And then Bam. Just like that, there'd be Charlie, sitting on the edge of his bed and grinning at him, saying things like 'You've gotta' get back to the island, mate.' Or even more cryptic, 'Tell Jack he's not s'posed to raise him, mate.'
Which was what he was telling him today.
"I'm tellin' you, Hurley, Jack's not supposed to raise him."
"Dude, I know, all right? Chill."
"No I will not chill, Hurley," phantom Charlie got up and paced across the room to stand beside Hurley's head, "it's an emergency. Don't you understand that?"
Hurley looked up at him, wondering why phantom Charlie always had his sunglasses on, even when he was inside. "I get it, Dude. But, seriously, man, what am I supposed to do? I'm in here—I haven't seen Jack in like a couple years."
Charlie grinned again, "Your right, Mate—it's been so long, that can only mean you're gonna' see 'im again soon, and then you can deliver my message to the sod."
"How do you know I'm going to see him again? What if you're wrong? And even if I do see him again soon, how can I tell him he's not supposed to raise Aaron? How can I explain why or even how I know?
Phantom Charlie shrugged, "I'm sure you'll think of somethin'."
"No, Dude," Hurley sat up, shouting a little, "you know I suck at lying! Why is it my job anyway? Look where I am—he's never going to believe me!"
"But it's worth a shot, eh?"
"Why don't you tell him yourself?" Frustrated, Hurley tossed the pillow at Phantom Charlie, but only managed to knock over his cup of water that was sitting on the bedside table.
Charlie gave him a quirky, offended look, "Alright, alright, ease up there, mate. It's no reason to get all violent. Look, I'd tell Jack myself, Hurley, you know that. But I can't."
Hurley couldn't help glaring at Charlie. Somewhere inside his mind he knew he was insane for listening to ghosty Charlie, and even more so for responding, but Charlie seemed so real, and his messages were so persistent, he couldn't help but believe it all. "If I get the chance to tell him, I will," he sighed, "but I can't make any promises."
Grinning again, Charlie nodded, "Great! I knew I could count on you, Hurley."
Hurley tried to keep scowling, but it was almost impossible Charlie standing there smiling that rock star smile at him, and soon he found himself smiling back and even laughing a little. Then they were both laughing, joking with each other and making allusions to things that had happened when Charlie was alive.
"Dude, I miss you." Hurley said quietly, when the teasing had died down.
Charlie sat down next to him, "Don't go gettin' all soggy on me, you sap."
"Seriously. Things haven't been the same since you…you know…left. And I-"
"Sh."
Hurley looked at him, surprised, "Dude. Did you just shush me? I'm telling you something-"
"Hurley," Phantom Charlie gave him an irritated look, "be quiet. Somebody's coming."
"Coming? Man, it's probably just the nurse or my doctor or something. No big deal."
Even as he was talking, Charlie got up and stalked over to the other side of the room to hide, almost like he thought someone else could see him, and in another second he had vanished.
"Charlie?"
On edge, Hurley got up. It wasn't like Charlie to disappear like that just because someone was coming, and he was afraid of what it meant.
The door opened and there was a nurse and a doctor standing there, both smiling. "Good evening, Hugo." The doctor said.
"Hey." Hurley glanced around, just to make sure Charlie was really gone.
"Well, I have good news," the man entered the room, and Hurley noticed the nurse was holding a pile of clothes, "you're being released."
Shocked, Hurley looked up at him, "Released? But I just got here."
"Your case has been reviewed and it's been determined that you're healthy enough to leave the hospital—er, provided you keep on with your medications."
"So I can just leave? Like right now?"
"That's right, Hugo. There's a friend waiting for you downstairs, so you get dressed and I'll escort you myself."
The nurse handed him the clothes with a smile, and then they both left.
Hurley stood in a haze of confusion for several minutes, trying to figure out what had just happened. To be released like that, without so much as a warning, was odd, and it made him feel nervous. As he was getting out of his robe and putting on the clothes they'd given him, he kept his eyes opened for Charlie, but he didn't come back.
When he opened the door, the doctor was just standing there, but the nurse was gone. He smiled at Hurley, "Shall we?"
And they began to walk down the hall way.
"So, uh, you said a friend's here to pick me up? What about my Mom and Dad?"
The doctor's smile didn't fade, "I didn't see either of them. Maybe they're waiting in the car."
"That's a little odd, don't you think, mate?"
Hurley was surprised to find Charlie walking right beside him again, but he knew better than to look surprised.
"I mean, your mum's the one that had you committed, right? Besides," he smiled, "if you're still seein' me you're not all better then, are you?"
Hurley desperately wanted to answer him, but that was out of the question. Charlie had a good point—his mother had committed him, so she should have been there to pick him up. And he was still seeing Charlie, but he was beginning to think that didn't mean anything in the first place, since even taking his heavy doses of medication didn't make the ghosts of his dead friends go away.
"The real question," Charlie went on, "is what friend is here to see you off."
"Uh, so," Hurley walked a little faster to step up beside the doctor, "did my friend give a name?"
There was no way he was going somewhere with someone he didn't know.
"Yes, I believe he said his name was…" the doctor consulted some paperwork he was carrying with him on a clipboard, "Mr. Ford. James Ford."
"James Ford." That name sounded really familiar, but Hurley couldn't place where he'd heard it before.
"It's Sawyer, you feeble-minded yank." Charlie said with a laugh. "Remember the press conference after you and the others got back from the island? They called him James Ford."
Hurley couldn't help squawking out loud, "Sawyer?"
The doctor looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Is something wrong, Hugo?"
"No. No, Dude, it's fine I just…haven't seen James in a long time."
"What do you suppose that con's doin' here, Hurley?" Charlie kept right on smiling. "Even I don't know."
It was weird for Charlie to not know something. This strange, un-dead Charlie, whether he was a product of Hurley's distraught imagination or not, seemed to have answers to a lot of questions Hurley had never even considered asking.
And Hurley had no idea what he meant by calling Sawyer a con.
The doctor led the way to the elevator, and he and Hurley-along with phantom Charlie-made their way to the first floor, down another hall, and into the front lobby, where, sure enough, Sawyer was waiting.
He was taller than Hurley remembered, or maybe it just seemed that way because he was wearing a clean-cut, classy business suit with a tie. His hair was clean and well-kept, face shaved. His cold, blue eyes homed in on Hurley the moment he was through the door, but he didn't smile like Hurley expected him to. He was just standing there, perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back.
"Cleans up nice, don't he?" Charlie murmured. "The man looks like a sodding FBI agent."
Hurley barely kept from laughing out loud. Sawyer, an FBI agent. Right.
He followed the doctor, who was approaching Sawyer with a smile, "Here he is, Mr. Ford. I hope I was timely enough."
Sawyer ignored him and nodded at Hurley. He smiled, but it was a ghost of the impudent, devil-may-care smile Hurley remembered. "Hugo."
"Hey, Dude. What are you doing here?"
This time Sawyer ignored Hurley and turned to the doctor, "I gotta' sign somethin' or what?"
"Oh yes, of course." The doctor handed him the clipboard and a pen. Sawyer took his own pen out of his pocket and scratched some initials on a few different forms, then handed it all back to the man.
"That should do it." The doctor smiled, but his expression betrayed some annoyance and uncertainty. He glanced at Hurley, saw him looking, "Well, Hugo, that's that. You're free. And I'd rather not see you back here, okay?" He pumped Hurley's hand and patted him on the shoulder.
"Right Dude. See you later. I mean. I won't see you later. Bye."
With that, the doctor nodded to Sawyer, then turned away, gave Hurley one last look, like he was expecting him to do something, and then walked away, sighing a little.
Charlie watched him go, a bemused look on his face, "If I didn't know any better, Hugo, I'd say he's worried about you. I wonder why though—could it be he doesn't trust our good friend James?"
Hurley pondered that as he turned back to Sawyer, "So, Dude, what are you doing here?"
"Ain't got time ta' explain, Hugo. We gotta' get movin' pronto."
"Yeah, but Dude, I mean, I haven't seen you in years. How did you even know I was here? How did you get them to let me out? Have you been talking to my mom or something?"
"I ain't never even met your mama', Hugo, now step it up. We're rollin' out."
Saying nothing further, Sawyer turned and led the way out of the hospital, and Hurley, reluctantly, followed, Charlie whispering to him as they went, "Watch it, mate. This is weird."
The sun was setting, making the city look like it was on fire, and directly overhead the clouds were dark. Hurley was relieved to feel the refreshing breath of the wind breezing through his hair and across his skin. He followed Sawyer out to the parking lot, silently.
Sawyer was heading for a small, black car. Hurley went around to the passenger side.
"You're not seriously getting in, are you?" Charlie demanded.
"Why not, man? I trust Sawyer."
"You say somethin'?" Sawyer turned to look back at him.
"No. Nothin' Dude."
Charlie insisted, "Trust him or not, you ought to at least ask him where he's taking you."
That at least seemed like sound advice, and Hurley hesitated by the door.
Sawyer raised an eyebrow at him, "What's your problem? Get in."
"Dude, can't you like, tell me where we're going first?"
Sawyer snorted, "What, don't ya' trust me, Hugo?"
"No, yeah, I do. But, I just wanna' know, you know? Where we're going. How you got me out. And like, why are you all dressed up? Where've you been for five years? Last I heard, no one's really seen or heard from you since we got back."
"Look, Hugo," Sawyer sighed, "As much as I'd like ta' siddown and have an ice cream social with ya', we ain't got time."
"But-"
"I'll explain later."
He sounded sincere. Hurley couldn't think of any real reasons not to believe him. Not to trust him. Sawyer had been a leader when they were on the island—not quite the way Jack was, but he was charismatic and intelligent and Hurley had trusted him and even looked up to him in some ways. Maybe he wasn't always honest, but at least he was dependable.
Hurley studied Sawyer's face, noticing for the first time how banged up and run down he looked. From a distance he appeared smooth as cream, the same cool devil he'd been on the island, but up close Hurley saw that both his eye sockets were bruised and his lip was fat like he'd been punched. Besides that, there was a strange, uneasy look in his eyes.
"Looks like he's had a rough go of it." Charlie commented, toying with his sunglasses.
Hurley glanced at him, then back at Sawyer.
"What the hell you starin' at?" Sawyer demanded.
"Dude, what happened to your face?"
"What the hell happened ta' yours? Get in the damn car."
With a shrug, Hurley reached for the handle. He was just going to have to trust that Sawyer knew what he was doing and that he wasn't going to take him anywhere he didn't want to go.
He was about to get in when a voice choked with a thick accent spoke up from a shadow behind him, "I highly advise that you do not get in the car, Hurley."
"Sayid?" Hurley
spun around, smiling, "Dude, you're here too?"
"Well,
well," Charlie murmured, "didn't see that one comin'. You?"
Sayid stepped out of the shadows, wearing a black leather jacket that was zipped up all the way to his neck, in spite of the climate, and a pair of black jeans. He didn't look happy. Not even a little. "Hello Hurley. It's been a long time."
"Dude, too long!"
"Sayid." Sawyer said. Something about his voice was strange. He sounded angry.
But Sayid just nodded to him demurely. "Sawyer."
"What're you doin' here?"
"I came to see Hurley, of course. And yourself?"
"Came ta' get him the hell outta' this bird cage."
"And of course, you intend to take him back to his superior. Correct?"
"Mate, be careful." Phantom Charlie whispered, leaning in so close Hurley could have swore he felt warm breath on his ear, "Somethin' about this ain't right."
Hurley could feel the tension himself, and as he looked between Sawyer and Sayid, he realized that they were staring each other down warily. Sawyer reached around to his back pocket, and Sayid's hand slipped into his jacket. The look in both of their eyes was hard and cold.
"So what if I am?" Sawyer challenged.
"I'm sorry, Sawyer, but I cannot allow you to take him."
"That so? Why not?"
"Because, as we both know, your superior cannot be trusted."
Sawyer got sort of a funny look on his face, but his voice stayed harsh, "Oh, and yours can? Just who are you workin' for, Ali Baba?"
"Who I'm working for, and indeed if I'm working for anyone, is none of your concern. I suggest you get in your car and leave Hurley to me."
"How the hell do I know I can trust you with him?"
"Dudes," Hurley spoke up for the first time, "What's going on? What's all this 'my superior, your superior' stuff?"
They both looked at him like they were just remembering that he was there.
"Never mind, just get in the car." Sawyer ordered. "Sayid, you mind your own damn business."
Sawyer started to get into the car, and Hurley did the same.
"Don't move, Hurley."
Hurley looked up to see that Sayid was aiming a small handgun at Sawyer.
"Dude, what are you doing?" He yelled.
Sawyer glared at him, eyebrows settling close to his eyes, that dark, angry look Hurley knew all to well. For some reason, he was suddenly remembering in perfect clarity how vehemently these two had fought when they'd first crashed on the island. He'd thought that was long since over.
"That settles it," Charlie decided, sliding his sunglasses back onto his face, "You shouldn't go with either of them."
"You pointin' a gun at me, Sayid?" Sawyer demanded, his voice harsh and black.
"I'm sorry, Sawyer, but I cannot allow Hurley to go with you—I believe it is in his best interest to come with me."
"Well I don't. I don't even know who you're workin' with. It could be Widmore himself."
"I assure you it is not—because the one working for Widmore is you."
"The hell I am!" Sawyer slammed his car door and started to come around the hood toward Sayid.
"Stay back!" Sayid shouted, pointing the gun with all the more determination and cocking it.
"Sayid!" Hurley shouted. "Put the gun down!"
"Ya' wanna' shoot me, Sayid?" Sawyer spread his arms, "Do it!"
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Sayid said coldly. "Because you're a traitor."
"Hey! Didn't you hear me, Sayid? Put the gun away—I'm not going with either of you!"
"Nonsense. You're coming with me." Sayid began to back away, keeping both eyes on Sawyer. "Come on."
"You're makin' a big mistake, Sayid." Sawyer said.
"Is that a threat?"
"Maybe."
Sayid smiled for the first time. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon, and you'll have your chance to fulfill that threat. Until then." He nodded to Hurley, and continued to recede.
Hurley stood there, not sure what to do. It seemed he had no choice but to go with Sayid. If he tried to leave Sayid might shoot Sawyer—in any case, he couldn't go with Sawyer, and unless he wanted to hitchhike home or to a phone to call a cab, he had to go with the Iraqi. He looked helplessly at Sawyer, who was just standing there with his hands in his pockets.
"Never mind. I'll catch ya' later, Hugo."
Nodding slightly, Hurley turned to go after Sayid.
Before he even knew it, he was in Sayid's car and they were pulling out of the hospital parking lot, and Sawyer was just a distant figure standing under a street light, not moving. Hurley looked at him through the back window as they drove away, and Phantom Charlie sat in the back seat, air guitaring a little, even though there wasn't any music.
"So, Dude," Hurley looked at Sayid once they were out on the main street, "what's going on? Why'd you pull a gun on him?"
"I'm sorry you had to see that, Hurley, however it was unavoidable. You see, as much as I regret it, I'm afraid Sawyer cannot be trusted."
"Seriously? Why not?"
"It's difficult to explain, and I'm unable to answer all of your questions, but what I can tell you for the time being is that Sawyer is currently working for the CIA."
"What?" Hurley looked back at Charlie, wondering how he'd known. "Seriously, Dude? Sawyer's a secret agent?"
"Something like that."
"So then…why can't we trust him? What was all that stuff about Charles Widmore?"
"I have reason to believe that Sawyer's superior is working for Widmore himself."
Hurley was quiet a second. He, admittedly, didn't know everything about Charles Widmore, other than he was the father of Desmond's lover, Penny, and he was trying to find the island for some reason. He had sent troops of trained soldiers to the island in order to kill Benjamin Linus; the operation had failed, but in the process, countless others had died, including Hurley's friend Jin. He said softly, "Sawyer doesn't know, does he? There's no way he knows."
"I'm not sure yet if Sawyer realizes it. Obviously he still trusts his superior and believes that he wants to help the Oceanic Seven, but then, there's no guarantee it would make a difference."
"What do you mean?" Hurley blurted. "Of course it makes a difference! Sawyer would never be working for Widmore—he'd never sell us out!"
"I'd like to believe that's true, Hurley, but unfortunately I've had to confront some rather distressing realities concerning Sawyer." Keeping both eyes on the road, he reached into the storage hump between the seats and took out a bright red folder that said classified. "Read this."
"What is it?"
"You'll understand if you read it."
Hurley opened the folder and started to look it over. Charlie sat forward and leaned over his shoulder to read along.
"It's a bloody criminal record." Charlie observed.
For a few minutes, Hurley perused the records, looking over the details of the crimes James Ford had committed—conning people, stealing and whatnot. Then he closed it and looked at Sayid.
"Don't shut it." Charlie protested. "I was readin' that!"
"How do I know this is real? What if you're makin' it all up?"
"Why would I make it up?"
"Sawyer thinks you're working for Widmore. How do I know you're not?"
Sayid took his eyes off the road just long enough to make eye-contact with Hurley, "Believe me, I hate Charles Widmore with all of my heart. There's no way I would ever work for him."
"Even if Sawyer is a con artist, that doesn't mean we can't trust him."
"Yes it does. The proof is right there in your hand—he's a practiced liar who cares nothing for the feelings of others. Just the kind of man Widmore would try to employ."
"Dude, I don't believe it. You can't make me believe it."
"Hurley," Sayid sighed, "I'm not saying with any certainty that Sawyer cannot be trusted. For all I know he can. However, until I can be sure, it is my duty to keep you, and all of our other friends away from him. If I can."
"See how much simpler things were on the island?" Charlie said, sitting back again. "None of this, CIA-FBI-Widmore-vs-Linus malarkey."
Hurley turned the folder over in his hands, looking for sign that it was a fake, but everything about it seemed official. "Where did you get this?"
Sayid glanced at him, seemingly nervous, "You'll see soon enough."
"Does Sawyer know you have it?"
"No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous."
"He'd be mad if he knew, huh?"
"Possibly."
"I still can't imagine him working for Widmore. Sawyer's a good guy-a little shady-but still a good guy."
"A little shady, Hurley?" Charlie laughed. "The man's a bloody con artist. You're the last to know, as usual, mate."
Hurley continued, "I mean, how do you know he's not in trouble?"
Sayid pulled up to a red light and frowned at Hurley, "What do you mean by that?"
"Uh, I don't know, Dude. Did you see the bruises on his face? He's one of the Oceanic Seven too, you know. What if he's bein'…I dunno, manipulated or something."
"I supposed the possibility shouldn't be overlooked." Sayid said cooling, rolling forward.
"That's it?"
"What do you want me to say? There's nothing I can do."
"Since when?" Hurley demanded. "On the island you were always all 'let's do it', and 'if I rig it this way it'll blow everything sky-high', so there's gotta' be something you can do."
"Hurley-"
"Sawyer's our friend, Sayid, and if Widmore's after the Oceanic Seven then he's after Sawyer too."
Sayid was quiet a few minutes, then he sighed, "You're right. I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do for Sawyer I'll make sure it's done, but before then my priority is to take you somewhere safe."
Hurley nodded. Sayid's words seemed shallow, so he doubted he was really going to try to help Sawyer, although, he couldn't think of any reason why he wouldn't, but at any rate, there was no way to force him to, so he had to go with that for now.
There was a little more silence, and Charlie leaned forward again to hiss, "And who do you suppose Sayid is workin' for?"
Only one way to find out.
Sawyer took his time going into the house, popping a breath mint in his mouth as he went to disguise the smell of alcohol on his breath. It was late at night, and Jack's house across the street was dark. With any luck, Loveless was asleep, and Christian was gone. That way he could avoid any unwelcome questioning. At least for the night.
It had been hours since he'd lost Hurley to Sayid, and he'd been sitting in a bar down the street for a while, trying to decide how to handle the situation, how to break the news to Christian. At first he'd been afraid that this would mean another punishment from the top, but he'd gradually convinced himself that it didn't really matter.
Regardless of who Sayid was working for-Widmore or anyone else-he knew that Sayid wasn't going to hurt Hurley personally, and he'd probably take ever precaution possible to make sure Hurley was safe. That meant Hugo was in good hands for now. At least until he could get him back. Or until he could verify that Christian was trustworthy, whatever came first.
He wanted to trust Christian, but ever since his conversation with Ben earlier he'd found his mind speckled with doubts. How did he know Shephard wasn't the enemy? What if he was the one working for Widmore? Of course, Sawyer knew that was practically impossible, but there was still that tiny chance. And until he was positive that it really was impossible, he couldn't put anymore of his friends in danger. Hurley was in Sayid's hands now, and maybe that was for the best. Maybe that was what was safest anyway.
Sawyer sidled toward the kitchen, thinking of grabbing one last beer before heading to bed. It was dark, and he slid his hands along the unfamiliar surface of the wall as he groped his way to the kitchen.
He was half way there when a light came on in the living room.
"James. Come here, please."
Sawyer froze, not responding, holding his breath a little. What the hell am I hidin' for?
"James? I know you're there."
With a sigh, Sawyer turned back and headed toward the living room. It had been pushing his luck to think that Christian wasn't waiting for him to bring Hurley back. He turned the corner to go into the living room, stopped short, staring.
Christian was sitting on the couch, holding a glass of scotch, looking slightly Hudson was standing behind the couch, arms folded, face darker than usual.
Sawyer's heart started to race, his breath short. Automatically, he clenched a fist at his side, the other hand absently touching his blackened left eye.
With a grin, Hudson said, "Welcome home, Ford."
Hiding his nervousness, Sawyer looked at Christian, "What's he doin' here?"
"Have a seat, James." Christian gestured toward the chair across from him.
Sawyer didn't move. Did they know about Sayid? Or was it something else? Was this strike three? Did this mean he was going to prison?
God no.
"What's he doin' here, Christian?" He demanded, a little more firmly.
"Agent Hudson just came by to see how our investigation is going. Wasn't that nice of him?" Christian was smiling, but his eyes were wary.
"Right thoughtful of him." Sawyer said under his breath.
Hudson smiled too, but it was the kind of smile that made Sawyer want to crawl away and die. "Nobody's gonna' hurt you, kid. Siddown."
Reluctantly, Sawyer walked over and sat down on the arm of the chair, "'S a little late ta' be havin' a chat like this, don't ya' think?"
"Well, we-"
Hudson cut Christian off effectively, "You're the one coming home late, Ford. It's your own damn fault."
"This won't take long." Christian added. "We were just discussing the case. You see, Agent Hudson was just sharing his third party theory with me."
"Third party?" Sawyer glanced from one agent to the other, trying not to stare at Hudson's scar for too long.
"That's right. He believes that, apart from our investigation and the corrupted agents, there's also another group of people who are trying to locate the Oceanic Seven."
"But I have no idea why." Hudson admitted.
"Well, what makes ya' think that, Boss?"
Hudson's face darkened slightly, "You'd know better than I would, Ford."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"Of course you don't. What do you know?"
"If there's a third party I don't know nothin' about it."
Hudson scoffed, "Who learned ya' your grammar? I swear to God you talk that way just to make me angry."
Sawyer couldn't help shooting him an insolent look, opened his mouth to say 'I'd never spend that much attention on you', but Christian interrupted.
"It's 'anything', James." He stirred his glass a little. "And are you sure you don't know anything about it? Have you noticed anything suspicious during your observation of Shephard's household?"
"Not a thing." Best to keep Sayid a secret as long as Hudson was around. As long as he wasn't sure he could trust Christian.
"I see."
"I heard you almost lost Shephard earlier." Hudson sneered. "That's terribly careless of you, Ford."
Sawyer looked at him, speaking carefully. "Now just how did ya' come ta' find out somethin' like that?"
Hudson looked like he'd been caught in a lie, then he just shrugged indifferently, "News travels quickly."
"That it does. 'Cept the only problem is that the only ones who know about that are me, Lovie, and Scotch. And of course the guys who took Shephard."
"James." Christian warned.
A look of anger filled Hudson's face, and he took a step from behind the couch, "Just what are you trying to say, James."
"Nothin'. You got somethin' ta' deny, Benedict Arnold?"
"Who the hell do you
think you are, you goddamn hick?" Hudson shouted, coming a little
closer. "Do you even know who Benedict Arnold was?"
"Naw.
I just kick around terms like that."
"How dare you of all people accuse me? You're the criminal, not me!"
Sawyer stared back at him steadily, ready to move out of the way if he had to.
"Calm down, Thomas." Christian said coolly, sipping from his scotch, "Have a drink."
"This punk's trying to make a fool of us!"
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. Now then, James, just keep your eyes open for anyone suspicious. If there is another force at work here we need to confirm it. By the way, where's Reyez?"
He knew they'd get around to that eventually. Now the only trouble was thinking up a good answer without mentioning Sayid. "I went ta' get him, like ya' said, but he was gone already."
Both agents stared at him. "Gone?"
"That's right. I went in askin' for him an' they told me he was released earlier today. Tough break, I guess."
"Did they say who got him out?"
"I asked, but they said it was confidential."
Hudson ground his teeth together, "Don't give us that shit, you idiot! You really expect us to believe he just wasn't there? Where is he really?"
"Just told ya', Tommy Boy; I dunno' where he went or who took him."
With a snarl, Hudson lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Sawyer's shirt, "What did I tell you about nicknames? I'm your superior, Ford—you address me as such."
Sawyer tried to suppress the wild hammering of his heart as he stared into those cold eyes, but he was sure everyone could hear it, "Right. Sorry. I forgot."
"I'm sure you did. And furthermore, I don't believe your story about Reyez not being there—you think you can double-cross us and get away with it? Where is he?"
"Thomas, calm down." Christian repeated. "He says he doesn't know."
"That's what he says, but I don't believe him. Do you?"
"I'm afraid I have no choice. I don't think James would endanger his freedom so recklessly."
"That's right, your freedom, James. On your freedom, where is Hugo Reyez."
"For the last time, I got no idea." Sawyer pulled at Hudson's wrist a little, trying half-hearted to dislodge it. "What're ya' so worried for? If it's got ya' that upset why don't ya' go out and look for him yourself? Hell, maybe you already know where he is."
Enraged, Hudson swung Sawyer around and slammed him against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
"I've had it with your treasonous allusions, Ford. You'd better watch your step."
Sawyer was so angry at being treated like a ragdoll, he completely lost control of himself for a second, shoved Hudson back roughly, "Get the hell offa' me, ya' fat slob!"
Immediately, he knew it was the wrong move to make. Fire flashed in Hudson's eyes, and the next thing Sawyer knew, the man's giant fist had met with his face, and he was on the floor, on his back, head feeling like it was split open down the side, and Hudson was standing over him, shouting, "You asked for it, Ford! Don't you realize I could put you away for the rest of your life?"
Then it took every bit of Sawyer's will power to stay on the floor, not jump up and hit Hudson back. It didn't matter anyway, because Christian had set down his glass and was at Hudson's side, pushing him away a little, "Thomas, just leave, please. Let me handle this."
Hudson jabbed a finger at Christian, "You! You're always protect him! When are you going to face it—he deserves to get his ass busted!"
"I'll take care of it, sir. You just go home and get some rest."
Hudson glared down meaningfully at Sawyer, muttered, "You keep rubbing me the wrong way, you hick bastard. Just wait and see what happens when I lose my temper." With that, he turned away, snagging his coat from the closet as he went, "I expect Reyez to be recovered as soon as possible, and then I expect to be informed about where he was and whether or not a third party was responsible for his disappearance. Is that clear? If he cannot be found, I'll take it out of your hide, Ford." He slammed the door so hard a picture fell off te wall and broke.
Christian watched him go, then sighed, and helped Sawyer up, "Just can't help playing with fire, can you?"
Sawyer rubbed his face and realized he was bleeding from somewhere. He vaguely remembered the large ring on Hudson's right hand. And now that the man was gone, his face hurt like hell.
"I have to admit, James, that was honorable of you, but it was foolish as well. Don't do anything like that ever again."
"Honorable, Hutch?" Sawyer spat some blood out and wiped his lips with his sleeve.
"Well, obviously you know where Reyez is and just didn't want to tell Hudson. But honestly, you didn't have to goad him like that."
"I dunno' where Reyez is." Sawyer muttered. "I was tellin' the truth."
Christian stared at him, seemingly shocked. "You mean he really was gone when you arrived?"
Sawyer nodded.
"And that's the truth?"
"Why would I lie ta' ya'?"
"I don't know."
Still rubbing his face and neck, Sawyer walked over to the mirror and grimaced at his reflection. The whole left side of his face looked like it was going to swell, and there was a clean gash in his cheek that was dribbling blood down to his chin. He wiped it away absently with the back of his sleeve.
"Let me take a look at that. You might need stitches."
Sawyer stepped away before Christian could touch him, "Never mind. It's fine."
Christian seemed startled. He stared at him for a second before asking, "What were you thinking? You know Husdon's not supposed to realize we suspect him for a traitor. You might as well have just come out and told him."
"Been drinkin' a little." Sawyer shrugged. To Christian's skeptical face he added, "Look, I'll figure out what to do about Reyez first thing in the mornin'. Just don't worry about it." Then he turned to head upstairs to where his room was.
"Sawyer, wait a minute," Christian grabbed his shoulder.
Reluctantly, Sawyer
looked at him. "What?"
"I have to tell you something. I
can't help but feel like it's my duty to warn you."
"Warn me 'bout what?"
"Hudson. You need to be careful—he's a dangerous man. I've known him a long time, so I know just how dangerous he can be."
"How dangerous?"
"I didn't want to tell you this…but he's the reason I had to pretend to die. He was the man following me."
Sawyer stared at him, not sure if he should believe that. "Why?"
"Why isn't important right now, what matters is that if he'd gotten the chance he would have killed me. He's a killer right down to his rotten core."
"But…if he tried ta' kill ya' before, why ain't he tryin' it now?"
"He had the right opportunity then, but he's not in any position to try it now."
"Ya' hide it pretty well."
"He's not supposed to know that I know it was him. But I do." Christian sighed and looked away, "Listen, this isn't about me, James. This is about you—Hudson says that if you don't cooperate he'll have you thrown in prison, but honestly, I don't think that's the truth. For whatever reason, Hudson hates you, passionately, and if he's really working for the other side like I believe he is, then he's going to kill you the first chance he gets. He'll use you to locate the other six members of the Oceanic Seven, and then he'll likely dispose of you, without remorse."
Sawyer looked back at Christian, trying to look like the idea didn't scare him, "Thanks for the warnin', Chief, but what the hell can I do about it?"
"Just make sure he doesn't win. We have to find all the Oceanic Seven and get them some place safe. That's our only option at this point."
Sawyer was quiet. That was what Ben had warned him against—Christian trying to get all the Oceanic Seven together, in one place.
"If you really don't know where Reyez is, you'd better hope and pray that Hudson doesn't either."
"I don't think he
does. Otherwise why would he've been so determined to make me tell
'im?"
Christian shrugged. "I'm not sure of anything right
now. Just be careful." He looked seriously at Sawyer, "I'll do
anything in my power to keep him from killing you, James, but I can't
guarantee that I can protect you."
Sawyer stared at him.
There's no way Christian's the one workin' for Widmore. I
can't believe that. It was impossible to think that Hudson was
the good guy when Christian was so clearly the only one who he could
trust.
But Ben's words were still heavy in his mind, and he wasn't positive, so he had to keep watching, just in case. Just in case he was somehow totally wrong.
Christian clapped a hand on Sawyer's shoulder, "Go clean up and get some rest, kiddo. It's another big day tomorrow."
