Outlaws: Chapter Two
A/N: I changed the conversation in Sawyer's flashback to match the show, because later on I go on with the show's version anyway.
Disclaimer: The line "like the world just caught you in bed with its wife" comes from an episode of Cheers, but I don't remember which one. Just another Normism.
Soft ground crunched below the shoes on Sayid's feet, the shoes that weren't even really his. When he had asked random beach goers where Shannon was, they weren't sure, so Sayid took it up to himself to wonder around the island. He was growing near what looked like a small clearing, when he heard a noise. A click. Inquisitive, Sayid stepped forward slowly, and moving a branch out of the way so he could see. He never expected to see who he did.
"Shannon?"
Shannon jumped at the sound of his voice, her hand flying up to her forehead, but Sayid had already seen what she was trying to hide: a fading bruise. Then Sayid under stood. Shannon had been in the process of covering it up, with makeup.
"I'm sorry," he said, suddenly embarrassed.
"It's okay," she said, equally embarrassed.
She began to hastily throw items, various make-up brushes into a bag, hiding her face from Sayid's view.
"Are you okay?" He asked slowly, completely forgetting why he was there.
"Yeah," Shannon said quickly, "I'm fine."
Sayid studied her, not believing her.
"That's not from the crash," he observed.
"What?" Shannon said, still not looking at him, trying to play dumb.
"That bruise," Sayid explained, "it's not from the crash. The plane hit fast and hard. No crash could make a cut like that."
"Yeah, well what do you care?" Shannon snapped.
"Are you okay?" Sayid asked again, surprised to find himself immediately thinking of the best way to revenge Boone.
"I'm fine," Shannon sighed, then turned to him, "look, it's just that, I haven't made the best decisions in life, all right?"
"In love?" Sayid guessed.
Shannon looked him in the eye.
"It doesn't matter now," she said, then shook her head, going back to her packing. "What did you want, anyway?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I was going to ask Sawyer to lead me to Black Rock," he explained.
"Black Rock?" She asked, confused.
"Where the found Claire and Kate," Sayid said, "the French ship."
"What for a battle of revenge?" Shannon said, amused.
"Yes, and no," Sayid said. "There may be no way to find a way inside that place, now that they know we know where it is. It's hidden well with camouflage, and even once inside, we don't know who or what's in there, or how many of them."
"Then why's bother going?" Shannon inquired, not seeing the point.
"Because the source of the French transmission still has to be on the island somewhere," said Sayid in a hurry, "if we can find where it's coming from, that may be our ticket off the island."
Shannon looked at him, and Sayid wasn't able to tell if she had understood that, or was even listening.
"Why did you tell me?"
The question struck Sayid like bricks when he realized he didn't have an answer. Why tell Shannon? Someone else could've told her, and she wasn't essential to the plan. Why go to the trouble of finding Shannon?
"I was wondering if you could keep an eye on the French notes," Sayid lied quickly.
And he knew that Shannon could tell, but she played along anyway.
"Sure," she shrugged, "why not, I've got nothing better to do."
"Thanks," Sayid said.
There was an awkward pause before Shannon broke it up, not being able to stand it.
"Well, good luck," she said finally.
"Trust me I think I'll need more luck with Sawyer than I will with the journey alone," Sayid joked, though it was really true.
Once again, came an acquired silence that Shannon couldn't stand.
"Well, I guess you should be going," she said.
"I should," he nodded, and then left, without another word.
"Why are you down here?" Kate asked Sawyer.
She was beginning to get annoyed by his constant presence.
"Salt water doesn't do much for one's thirst," Sawyer said, "or maybe you've forgotten."
Kate didn't answer him, though she knew where he was getting at.
"Why have you been spending so much time down here anyway?" Sawyer said, smiling to himself as he knew he was annoying her. "What is it about this place that makes you lose your head?"
"I just like it down here," Kate said, telling half the truth as she usually did, "and the waters down here and everything."
"Never stopped you before," Sawyer said, ignoring the looks he was getting from the other castaways.
He knew he wasn't very liked down here. Of course, he never showed his face long enough for someone to like him. But that didn't bother Sawyer at all. As Sawyer was thinking this, Locke and Boone had entered the caves, coming back from wherever it was they went. Locke had someone's suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, and Boone was holding something in his hand.
"What's this?" Kate asked as Locke and Boone approached.
They took no notice of Sawyer.
"Someone's jacket," Locke said, taking it off his shoulder, "we found it on the other side of the beach, hanging on a tree. The back of it's covered with dry blood."
"Do you know whose it is?" Kate asked, looking at it, an odd sense of familiarity surrounding it.
"Yeah," Boone said, "we found an id."
When Boone showed her what appeared to be a medical id from a hospital in L.A, she immediately realized why the jacket had looked so familiar. On the id was a picture of a man in his mid to upper thirties. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't entirely look like that was the worst place in the world he could be. On the lower part of the id, under the picture, was a name: Jack Sheppard. Locke saw Kate's eyes light up in recognition.
"Guess he really is a doctor after all," Locke joked lightly as Kate stared at the picture.
But she wasn't the only one staring at it. Sawyer also recognized not only the picture, but the name in the picture. The last name.
He had gotten to the bar to meet Kilo around eleven thirty A.M. Sitting by himself at the left end of the bar, Sawyer sipped what he knew would be his last drink of his life. And he had drunk it too fast. Checking his watch, Sawyer saw that he still had fifteen minutes to live, so he called the bartender over and threw two bucks onto the counter.
"Keep the change," Sawyer muttered as the bartender poured him the glass.
Eyeing him curiously, the bartender handed Sawyer the glass, but just as Sawyer reached for it, another hand came down and took it. Sawyer turned as a man in his fifties at least sat down next to him. The man looked like hell, depressed, exhausted. His hair was a mess and as he spoke, his breath smelled. The man took a sip of the beer and turned to Sawyer.
"Mind?" He asked, pointing to the glass.
Sawyer shook his head, and called the bartender over again, still over-tipping him. What good did money do in death? The bartender took the money gratefully and handed the glass to Sawyer, who begun to drink it. The man beside him watched him as he did, knowing something wasn't right with him.
"You look like the world just caught you in bed with its wife," the man said.
When Sawyer didn't answer, the man held out his hand.
"Christian Shepard," he said, offering a handshake.
Sawyer didn't take it.
"Trust me, you're not the only one who has it hard," Christian said.
Sawyer looked at him.
"What do you know?" He challenged.
"I've been around long enough to know that people don't just come to this bar to sit and drink," Christian said, "they have problems. And I've only been here a few days."
"So what's your problem?" Sawyer asked, wanting to take the conversation off him.
"What?"
"You said everyone here has problems," Sawyer said, "so what's yours?"
Christian tapped his fingers against his glass as he thought.
"I have this son," he finally said, "Jack. Real bright, but a real idiot. I used to be head of this area in a hospital in L.A. He worked for me."
"Used to be?"
"Until he lost me my job," Christian sighed, "now he's in charge of the place."
"And you're here?" Sawyer inquired, quizzical.
"Yep," Christian nodded, staring down at his drink, "and I'm here."
Sawyer felt immediat hatred towards the man. Though his son lost him his job, Sawyer knew only too well what it was like growing up without a father figure there- even as an adult. And it sucked.
"So I've been sitting here," Christian went on, "wondering if I should call him."
Sawyer looked at him, surprised.
"Call him?"
Now Sawyer didn't know what to think. Did this man still care about his son? If so, that said a lot.
"He's alone over there," Christian paused, then snorted, "I'm not really sure if he can make it. Like I said, he's bright. But he's an idiot."
Sawyer stared down at his glass, wondered if he dared to ask the question he was curious about. Did this man still love his son? Somehow, Sawyer felt like he needed to know. Like it wasn't only reassurance for the man's son, but for him as well. If his parents were alive, would they still love him? Swallowing hard, Sawyer forced himself to ask the question.
"Do you still love him?"
A long moment passed before Christian respsonded, and Sawyer began to worry that he was in for a serious let down.
"Yeah," Christian said at last with a nod, "I do."
Sawyer looked at him, almost grateful for the reply, but then someone cleared their throat, and looking over, he noticed Kilo waiting for him by the door to the pool room. He looked impatient. Without saying anything to Christian, Sawyer stood up and walked over to Kilo, who shoved Sawyer into the room.
Sawyer was jerked away from his thoughts as he feel someone slam into him, sending him to the ground. Clearing his vision, Sawyer saw Jack on top of him.
"What the-"
But Sawyer was cut off with a punch to the jaw, and then another, and another. Sawyer could hear Kate scream "Jack!" but it didn't help anything as he felt the cool sensation of blood trickle down his nose and lip. Jack didn't stop until he was pulled off by someone, who Sawyer would soon see as Locke, who had a strong grip on Jack. Kate rushed to help Sawyer up. He wiped the blood off his face- though he knew it would do no good, he was bleeding drastically- and stared at Jack. Walt, who had been turned from the fight by a protective Michael, fought his father's grip to get a look at the two men.
"What the hell do you want?" Sawyer asked as he gasped for breath.
"What did you do?" Jack demanded, breathing hard himself trying to restrain from Locke's grip. His knuckles were scarred red.
"With what?"
Jack finally fought off Locke, who was pushed back by a shove to his ribs. Grabbing Sawyer's shirt, Jack began to shake him hard, which made Sawyer's head begin to spin. The caves had grown dead silent as nearly everyone watched the scene in amazement.
"What the hell did you do?" Jack shouted.
"Jack-" Kate started, trying to get Jack off Sawyer.
But Jack just knocked her hand away.
"What in God's name are you talking about?" Sawyer asked with what breath he had left.
"What did you do to my father?"