Every muscle in his body ached, except for those parts that were beyond pain--only frighteningly numb. He left a trail of blood behind him that he was fortunate no sharks had caught onto. The soft flesh of his right side, where the bullet had grazed his ribs, had stopped bleeding the night before, but not for long. One good twist of his arm as he swam--hoping to find shore--was enough to rip the wound back open and start the bleeding up all over again.
It was nearly a miracle that he had survived this long. Nothing but sheer determination had kept him going. The first night he had thought of Michael's comment about him having a death wish, and had laughed at the bitter irony of that. Given how hard he pressed on to stay alive now. There was probably a good heaping of anger involved, as well. All he could think of was the BEEP that had shot him, and that they had taken the damned kid.
Finally, now, he saw the waves start to crest and the light tones of the sandy beach ahead of him. He pushed on harder, with a zeal he didn't know he still possessed. He had made it, after all of this--he had made it back to the beach! Finally, he got to the point where he couldn't swim any longer. His legs wouldn't work for him, so he had to push using his arms until he was fully on land. Once he got there, he splayed out, squinting his eyes against the hot sun, and began to laugh like a madman.
"Well I'll be damned," Sawyer said, his voice hardly coming out at first. Then louder, "I made it! I made it!" He yelled then, a good ol' cowboy yee-haw, so loud he would have woken the dead. He continued to laugh then, until the feeling started to return to his limbs and the laughter caused a ripple of pain in his injured side. He laid his head back on the sand, just staring up at the sky. He didn't see anyone around, and wasn't too sure if anyone was going to show up--but in the meantime he didn't care. He was just glad he had made it.
The next few hours were almost harder then being in the biting cold of the water. Although he could tell by his surroundings that he wasn't more then a few yards from the site of the original crash--there was nobody around. He had figured that somebody would have come around by then, but no such luck. At that point, he woulda even been happy to see the Doc, especially considering the pain in his side was getting worse instead of better.
He coughed a little bit, but the sound was dry in his throat. He hadn't had anything to drink in days, and was getting a bit beyond dehydrated at this point. As the hours passed, he couldn't stay awake for more then twenty minutes at a time. But every time he slept he was jerked back to a waking state by frightening dreams. Things were not lookin up for Sawyer--but after gettin shot and swimmin all that ways he was damned if he was gonna die on that beach.
"I been through harder than this," he said aloud, his voice barely a whisper, as he faded back into sleep...
flashback
"I shoulda known you weren't workin, ya whelp." A voice, barely recognizable between its thick Southern accent and the speaker's almost complete lack of teeth, bellowed out from above him. A thickly gnarled cane swiped across his line of vision, knocking the battered copy of Lord of the Flies clear out of his hands and into the blanket of dirt covering the ground.
James Ford, barely a week over the age of sixteen, glared at the man with hatred burning in his deep set eyes. Leaping to his feet, he spat thick onto the ground. He was already tall, and well muscled after all the time he had spent working with his hands, doing hard labor to make a quick buck--taller then the old man that stood before him. He balled his bronze tanned hands into fists, flipping hair the colour of summer straw out of his eyes. As much as he wanted to strike the man down, as much as he knew that it was a task that would be easy and more then satisfying--he knew that he couldn't. The last thing he wanted was to spend more time in a holding cell. Last time the small town sheriff that the old man was whiskey buddies with took away his clothes and didn't feed him for three days.
The man stuck the cane in front of his face, emphasizing his words by shaking it dangerously close to the tip of James' nose. "You and your readin, you ain't foolin anybody, you little deelinkint. All the damned dime novels in the world ain't gonna prove you to be smart."
"You come in here just to bust my balls, pops?" He asked, the baritone more revealing the experience of a life hard lived then the years behind it.
"Wipe that grin off yer face, makes ya ugly." The man snarled. "I ain't here just to check to see if ya were workin, cause I knew ya weren't. I'm here ta tell ya I know what ya been doin, playin your lil money games with my boys." He smiled viciously when James' own grin faded. He had caught the boy, and now James stood like a deer in headlights. "You been connin them outta their money, thinkin yer so darn clever, but I caught ya just the same."
The old man left out the part in how exactly he had learned of what James was up to. It had nothing to do with the man's cleverness-which, in itself wasn't much more then that of a school child taller then their father's knee. It had much more to do with his beating his 18 year old daughter until she confessed the secret James had shared with her.
"Don't know what your talkin about." He said, clearing his face of any guilt.
"Oh, ayah ya do. Ayah ya do. You been sellin bad moonshine, but ya didn't wanna get caught. So ya had ma boys do it fer ya. Half the town would lynch em if they learned, if you hadn' been known enough to give them the first few drinks fer free so they were proper liquored up when they bought it. Have ma boys do all yer dirty work while ya get all the scratch from it. I ain't havin it no more! Yer outta here, on yer ass...and you'll be taken back to lock up...sure as shite."
He unclenched his fist and then balled it again. "I ain't goin anywhere." He said evenly through clenched teeth.
The man nodded. "Oh yes ya are. I ain't gonna have ya corruptin ma childrens no more!" He waved the cane even closer, hissing through his two remaining blackened teeth.
He had had enough. It was clear to him that his time there had more then run out. There was no way of avoiding his fate, short of getting the hell out of dodge. He snatched the cane up in one hand and pushed it backwards--sending the old man flying across the room. The man landed unceremoniously into a tall batch of hay, frazzled and angered both at the same time. James strode over to him, towering so that the man could see he was clearly the younger and stronger specimen between the two of them.
"I'm corruptin whatever the hell I want to. And while we're on the subject, I've been corruptin your daughter nightly for the past few months. Wasn't real hard, either...from what I heard she woulda popped out a few colored puppies if it weren't for some back street help, old man. I'm leavin now, and if you think to follow me you aren't gonna be walking outta this here barn with your heart beatin--you catch me?" The man didn't respond. As dim as he was, he knew when the tables were turned.
James strode over to his book, lifting it off the floor. Before he put it away, he reached into his jeans and pulled out the tattered letter there, shoving it in as a makeshift bookmark. He crammed the book into his back pocket and started to walk out. He knew that the second his feet hit the end of the property, he would have to start running for his damned life. With a hike of his blue jeans, he sighed. It wasn't the first time James Ford had had to run, and he figured it sure as hell wasn't gonna be the last.
"After all, I am a master fisherman-ya know."
"Yea, right, dude. You're a master fisherman and I'm a pretty princess."
Charlie looked over at Hurley with mock indignance, then grinned widely and held up his makeshift spear triumphantly. "Eh, I didn't see you catchin yourself a mammoth fish like I did!" He announced loudly, reminding Hurley of their first fishing expedition as they walked down the nearly empty beachfront.
Most of the people who had been staying on the beach had remained at the caves after the hatch had been opened. Since setting up a system of people to keep an eye for planes and keep the signal fires burning--there were usually less then ten people on the beach at a time early morning or late night. So most of the shores were open for Charlie and Hurley to go out on their fishing expedition. Which they had spent planning out the night before.
"Dude, remember-I was there. You didn't so much catch it as you-"Hurley stopped short, his face a perfect mask of astonishment. Charlie was still looking over at him and hadn't caught what he saw. Hurley tapped his arm twice, his gaze not leaving the sight before him.
Charlie turned to see what he was looking at, and his mouth dropped. "Is that-?" He asked softly, pointing forward.
Hurley nodded and both men began to rush over to the figure laid out on the beach before them. Charlie leaned down on one knee, the spear dropped onto the sands and forgotten immediately. He looked down at Sawyer's figure, not sure what to do to help the man. He studied him, noticing almost instantly the gaping bullet hole in Sawyer's side.
"Bloody hell, what happened to him?" He wondered. The man was in sad shape, pale as a sheet with deep circles below his closed eyes. There was an odd shade of bluish-white over his lips, and the skin there was cracked and dry.
"I don't think he's alive…" Hurley's voice was barely above a whisper. He had also dropped to his knees, but wouldn't go near Sawyer's body. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was end up touching a dead guy.
The shorter of the men shook his head, disagreeing with Hurley. It was barely noticeable, but he was pretty sure he had seen Sawyer move. He reached out his hand, prepared to shake Sawyer and see how he reacted. He held back for a moment, afraid to find out that Hurley was correct.
Then he swallowed hard, and shook the man gently with his taped up hand. When he saw that Sawyer didn't react in the slightest, he pushed harder on him, being cautious to avoid the bloody wound. Still getting nothing, he looked back to Hurley.
"He ain't movin, mate." Charlie stared at his friend with a sickened look.
"Dude…dude, I told you dude." Hurley seemed like he was close to being sick. He and Sawyer weren't exactly the best of friends, but he didn't want to see the guy dead. He didn't want to see anybody dead. That moment he decided that if he ever got off that island, he would never see a dead body again.
Charlie was staring down at the man's body again. Then he got an idea. He wasn't exactly keen on doing it, but wasn't ready to give up on Sawyer quite yet. Leaning down, he put an ear to the man's mouth and listened closely. He hurriedly put his head back up and was grinning like a fool.
"I felt it…I heard it, he's breathin! He's alive." He slapped Hurley hard on the arm. "He's alive!" His grin faded as a look of realization replaced it. "We gotta get Jack. Quick."
Hurley nodded and began to fumble back to his feet. Jack wasn't far off, just outside the caves cutting materials for the ladder they were making to go into the hatch. This, he could handle. Hurley was much more equipped for finding help then he was for dealing with a possibly dead body.
"Alright, I'm on it. Just…stay here with him, and I'll get Jack." He knew he didn't have to say it, but he wasn't totally thinking clearly. He bumbled off to find the Doctor, a million thoughts racing through his head.
While Hurley was leaving, Charlie reached into the sack on his side and grabbed some water out of it. He doubted that Sawyer would even be able to drink, especially when he wasn't much moving--but he had to try something. Even if it was just pouring some of the water on the poor guy's lips.
Charlie looked down at him, his expression pensive. If Sawyer was washed up on the beach, barely alive--that didn't bode well for the other three on the raft. Charlie looked down at the laceration, studying the wound closer yet. He wasn't a doctor himself or anything--but the shape of it was making it out to look like it was a bullet hole.
He whispered softly to Sawyer's passed out form, "What the hell happened ta ya out there, man?"
Meanwhile, Sawyer was trapped in his nightmares, flashes of a past better forgotten intermingling with macabre images of creatures that imagination should be admonished for concocting. He felt below the water now, as if treading through a thick haze with no exit in sight. As he slipped further into his own subconscious, he could faintly hear echoes of voices, but they just imbedded themselves into his dreamscape--trapped and contorted there. This was a hell he would not easily escape.
Tuesday, June 28th
Sawyer opened his eyes slowly, then immediately shut them again when the blinding light of full day around him hit them. His head was fuzzy, and the pain in his eyes wasn't helping him figure out where the hell he was or what was going on. Then he felt a bit of cool relief, someone was dropping water over them and then putting some to his lips. He let his head be lifted up slightly, and took a quick drink but was still hesitant to reopen his lids.
When the pain there finally subsided enough, he looked up to see her looking down at him, brows neatly creased and pretty greens a slightly darker shade with worry. She leaned back a little bit when he looked back at her, as wide as his eyes allowed him to. He tried to attempt a grin, but it only came halfway since his lips were so parched.
"Well, whadda ya know, I ended up in heaven after all." He chuckled a little bit but the sound was dry in his throat. He coughed slightly, moving a hand to the wound on his side--which was now covered in gauze. He winced. "Although I gotta say they musta decided I needed to be punished a bit first." He tried to lean upwards.
When Kate actually managed to roll her eyes and smirk with one side of her mouth, he knew his comments hadn't been lost on her, even though he was almost shocked she could hear him. He felt like he had been through hell and back. His skin was finally tight and hot from the prolonged sunburn. Even against the soft towels someone had managed to find that he laid against, he hurt from head to toe from the contact. The repercussions of being out there so long without water were starting to take full effect. Not to mention the screaming pain he was getting from the bullet wound in his side. He remembered why he had gotten there, and his gaze turned momentarily cold.
She didn't say anything for a while, just stared at him. She was sitting at his side, eyes deep with concern fixed on him. She looked as if she had been there for a while. It would have been deju vu had she been wearing green inside of white, and been reading a certain letter. This time, though, his vision was a bit blurrier, and the pain was a bit more distracting. Her face turned hesitant, she kept seeming like she was about to open her mouth but changed her mind.
Finally, she seemed to settle upon something to say. "You've been out for a while, three days at least. The last time you woke up was while we were taking the bullet out." She closed her eyes a little bit, as if that memory was far too painful for her to recall.
He shook his head a bit, "Man oh man….this Island is taking me apart piece by piece, ain't it?"
"You seem surprised. You don't remember waking up then?" Her shoes suddenly become very interesting as she continued. "You were screaming pretty badly. We didn't have any painkillers or anything at the beach. You were totally passed out and then you just….wok-" She stopped herself then.
"And who's we?"
She turned back to him, "Well, Charlie and Hurley found you washed up on the beach, and they came to get Jack. I was there when they told him so I followed." She grinned a little bit, but it seemed a shadow of her usual smile. "Hurley left before we started, said something about not liking blood. Jack didn't seem to have too much of a problem with that."
"Look at you, Freckles; you're a regular Nurse Nancy now."
Her tone turned more serious. "You almost died…more then once. I thought you were going to die." She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Sawyer, I've been scared for myself more times then I can count. But I've never been so scared for someone else."
Sawyer watched her with fascination, how hard it seemed for Kate to even say the words. To imagine that he would have died. He hadn't expected her to care as much as she did. Especially considering the last times they had seen each other. He had walked away not knowing if they would ever see each other again, figuring she would go on worrying about her own ass. Something in him had refused to believe that she would have given two damns about what happened to good ol Sawyer.
He looked over to the side. "Guess it's a good thing you didn't get that spot on the raft after all." His tone was joking, but he knew that what he said wasn't the best of choices. He didn't look at her after he said it, it was a moment too late to take it back and he didn't want to see the look on her face. He continued on instead. "I ain't gonna apologize. I didn't have any sorta near-death, life affirmation crap or nothing. But I want you to know I ain't holdin anything against you and I hope you-"
"Well, well, looks who's awake." The voice came from behind him, but Sawyer didn't need to see the person speaking to know who it was.
He looked upwards, to see Jack walking over to him, standing near his head. "The good doc saves the villain after all, hey?" Sawyer frowned in mock confusion and held up his arms a bit. "Should we hug or something?"
Jack looked down at him, laughing a little bit. "I don't think you're much up for hugging right now." He checked the bandaging job he had put a few days before, once Sawyer seemed to have stabilized enough to move him to the beach. And once Sayid had made them a makeshift stretcher to carry the man, which ended up being used again after a woman broke her leg on a hike the very next day.
"So do I have an official diagnosis other then royally screwed?"
"Official diagnosis is that you should have died about a million times between setting off on that raft and ending up where you are right now. I used to be convinced you had a death wish. I'm thinking differently now." Jack put his hands on his hips. "You should have died from where that bullet hit you. You should have been dragged down from exhaustion long before you made it to the beach. The dehydration didn't just hit you inside…it fried your skin out too--along with the sun. I can't even believe I managed to get that bullet out with the way it was placed. And I'm still expecting to see at least minor signs of infection on the entry wound and there isn't even any pinkness." Jack narrowed his eyes, as if he expected some sort of explanation from his patient. "You must have a guardian angel or something."
Jack wasn't even aware of how close he had came to the quip Sawyer had made earlier to Kate when he woke up. Sawyer grinning, and this time the smile managed to spread all the way. It only hurt at first, but felt well worth it as he glanced around Jack to show it to Kate. Then he looked up again.
"Nah, I think it's more a story of the good die young." He joked back at the doctor.
Jack smiled again, despite himself. A few weeks earlier, he might have ignored Sawyer's remarks--figuring them all to just exist to be mocking towards anyone Sawyer spoke to. But after the conversation the two of them had had before the raft had gone off, where he had told Jack about meeting his father, Jack had reconsidered a lot about the man before him.
He had asked himself more then once if his father-the late great Surgeon himself, had actually said those words. About being proud of his son, and wanting to tell him that. Or if maybe the story that Sawyer told was twisted in some sort of effort to mend bridges between the two men and let Jack hear what he wanted to. No matter the amount of truth that Sawyer's story held, Jack still saw it for what it was--an olive branch. And while he might have turned away from that before, he knew that wasn't the way to handle things. No matter the two men's past, if Sawyer did recover they would still be living side by side here on the island. And after the events since the hatch had been open, Jack was starting to think that he needed all the people he could on his side.
Kate stood up then, rubbing her hands on the thighs of her jeans. "Is there anything I can do?" She didn't look up at Jack as she asked, just continued to look over at Sawyer. Clearly, for the moment at least, she was going to forget what had happened to them earlier as well. He couldn't help but think that it would come up again, though.
Jack turned back to answer her. "Right now? You can stay with him. Now that he's awake, I know that it'll be safe for him to go to sleep again." He looked down at Sawyer again. "I have some sleeping pills left. They aren't painkillers by any means, but I figure if you take enough of them you can sleep through the tougher part of the next few days."
Sawyer frowned at the thought of this, flashing back to brief clips of the dreams he had been having. There wasn't really much he had remembered of the past few days. He sure as hell didn't remember waking up while they were 'workin on' him, no matter how much he had supposedly screamed. But he did remember snippets of the nightmares he had been having while he was unconscious.
He grinded down on his back teeth, not saying anything at first. No matter what, he wasn't going to admit to being plagued by the nightmares. There were a lot of things he could complain about, but that wasn't one of them that he was going to share. Sunburn was one thing. Reliving some of the worst moments of your past accompanied by hideous visions of monsters was another. That was stayin in the old vault.
"Sawyer, before I go…there's some things I have to ask you." Jack seemed to be waiting for protest, as if he was going to be his stubborn self and not reveal anything without a bit of push and pull first. "We have to know what happened to the others on the raft. Where are Jin, Michael, and Walt?"
Sawyer closed his eyes briefly. He thought back to the poor kid, the confusion that was all around him. The anger that set in the second the bastard on that boat said what he said. There was no way in hell any kid was gonna get ripped away from their parents, not on James Ford's watch. He reached back, but the pain preoccupied him and he hit the water.
"Well, that's the story of the year, isn't it? We set out like you saw, were out there no more then-" Suddenly his throat went dry again. He coughed a bit and Kate was instantly handing him the water again. He took a few small sips, and then tried to speak again. Looking at both of them. "Then we got this signal, something was passin us and it was something big. It didn't take too long to realize it was a boat, and golly--we thought all of our troubles were over. Then they got closer, and-"
Coughing again, this time his body heaved upwards with the force of it. He instantly flopped back onto the makeshift cot he laid on, and both hands went to his side. His face was contorted with pain as he hissed out between his teeth.
"He's bleeding again!" Kate announced hurriedly, dropping the water she had held in her hand.
Jack moved into motion but before Sawyer could feel the doc's hands, he had slipped out again, back out of reality and into the dreams he so hoped to escape.
7/01/2005
"I can't." Her voice was the first thing that he heard when he woke up. The two words were full of regret, but strong and steadfast. Sawyer couldn't tell who Kate was talking to; his head was facing the other way for the moment. He continued to listen, not ready to reveal that he had awakened again.
"But I must know," a soft voice answered her back. It was the Korean woman, Jin's wife. Sawyer could never remember her name, always wanted to call her Venus or Jupiter. Which he was knew he was wrong about, didn't make much sense to go ahead and name a girl Jupiter--even in Korea.
"Sun, I just can't. " Oh, so that was her name. He had gotten it all wrong--was thinking planets when he should have been thinking stars. He chalked it up to her lack of being chatty for the months they had been on the island. Hard to remember someone's name when they sneak around being quiet all the time. "Even if I was willing to try and wake him up, there's no way of knowing it would work." Kate's voice was soft; she didn't much enjoy being the bringer of bad news.
Kate sounded exhausted, and he couldn't help but wonder how long she had been sitting next to him. He once again had no idea if he had been passed out for days or hours. His last waking memory had been of pain, incredible pain. Moving his hand again to his wound, he noticed that the gauze there was thicker still. The Doc must have fixed him up again, with whatever tools he had.
Sawyer finally turned to look over at the women. Kate's gaze moved from Sun's face to his, seeing that he was awake first. She looked surprised and pleased all at once, and instantly went to move to his side. Her mouth had opened, probably to ask him how he was. Sawyer figured giving the circumstances it was a pretty stupid question to be asking.
Before Kate could get to him, though, Sun had spun around. She dropped down to her knees so quickly she looked like a puppet who's strings had been cut. She stared imploringly into his eyes. There were already tears forming in the almond shape of her eyes, her bottom lip quivering.
"Please, Mr. Sawyer, I must know…" she began to say. Sawyer turned away again, his face cold but knowing. He knew damned well what she was going to ask, and it was a question he just wasn't ready to answer. Whatever answer he gave wasn't going to be enough to calm her fears probably would do just the opposite.
When he didn't turn to look at her again, a small-boned hand grabbed at his arm. He looked back over, momentarily distracted by the soft tones and gentle feel of her touch in comparison to the leathery bronze of his own arm. Her nails were painfully digging in there, although he doubted she was aware of that fact. She was far too deep into her grief and loss to be aware of such things.
"I must know. Where is Jin? What happened to my husband?" Her dark eyes were intense as she stared at him. The tone of her voice, the words she said--they were too familiar not to bring him back to a painful night in his past.
flashback
"Don't talk, don't look at them--in fact, just imagine yourself as a damned piece of furniture." Sawyer stared at the heavyset man in the passenger seat of the car with an aggravated look on his face. "This is my thing."
Sawyer wasn't having the best of days so far. Things were running smoothly when he woke up that morning. His money had been sitting with Mr. & Mrs. Happy Home for the past two nights. He had even gotten a call from the little lady the night before saying that hubby had finally decided to give things the ol go ahead. Something about those crisp 100s laid out before him just settled his mind, Sawyer figured.
"Don't worry, Mark is going to be good. " She tried to reassure Sawyer from the back seat of the car, batting her eyelashes in a gesture that would have been far too flirty--had her husband not currently been completely distracted by the matter at hand.
But hubby was a difficult one. Even more difficult then Sawyer had originally anticipated when he met the guy--all bundled up in an old Brooks Brothers suit that was so small his incredible bulge was sticking out in between the buttons and the pants were so high his black socks were fully visible. The windbag with the slicked down comb over had announced that morning, while the cases full of cash were just inches from Sawyer's nose, that he wanted to 'meet the other business associates'.
So now here Sawyer sat, in a rented town car, next to an idiot that had his sweaty little hands all over his money. The wife was sitting behind him, wedged between the seats with worry marring her petite features. She looked more eager then she should have, and for a second he fully expected her to start flapping her jaws and blow the whole deal before they could get out of the car. Sawyer clenched his jaw, hoping that the plan he had conjured up was going to work--but he didn't have much time. And while he sometimes did his best work in a pinch, he also sometimes did his worst as well.
He nodded one final time to the guy, and then stepped out of the car. Slamming the door hard, he went to work adjusting the knot on the red paisley tie he wore around his neck. The man blundered out of the other side, holding the briefcases as if they might have gotten up and ran away from him at any given moment.
"I hate Utah," Sawyer muttered under his breathe. Nothing like Middle America soccer dads to throw a monkey wrench into the works. Guess the guy figured he had to have some sort of adventure before the middle age spread grabbed him and didn't let go. Funny thing was, he didn't realize he was long past that point anyways.
Sawyer knocked on the door before him, and then yanked one of the cases out of the man's hands. The door opened to reveal a small Hispanic man with greedy eyes and barely concealed arms of tattoos. Sawyer nodded to him briefly, and then stepped past--getting a second of enjoyment out of tubby's frightened reaction when the doorman stared him down.
Knowing what was coming before it did; Sawyer held out his hands at his sides and spread his legs slightly. The doorman did a quick frisk of him checking for weapons, and then moved onto tubby. Just like civilians always did, the man thought once of protesting the search then quickly decided against it after a cold glance sent his way.
Moving on again, they reached a small room that was dramatically under lit. Inside a pale Puerto Rican man sat at the table, dressed to the hilt in a fine suit with a dire expression on his face. Both men skipped formalities and Sawyer motioned that the case needed to be dropped on the desk.
The Puerto Rican flipped open the case, staring at the bills inside. He nodded slowly; seemingly happy with what he saw. He didn't ask for the second case, just closed the first up and folded his hands neatly in front of him.
"There has been…a change."
Sawyer frowned instantly, and then gave a low chuckle. "Now, now--I ain't much for changes." He tried to figure out what the hell was going on. This was never part of the plan. They were just supposed to act like they were taking the money off his hands, and then give it back sans ten g's once the happy couple were far enough away.
He didn't seem phased by this, moving one hand under the table and another to softly finger the case before him. "That is wonderful, sir. But you see, I don't care what you are or aren't 'for'." He stared at Sawyer, not even a hint of fear in his eyes.
"Okay, so what is this change you're talkin about?" He was starting to get nervous now. The guy in front of him seemed far too calm. Far too in control. Sawyer wasn't on his own turf here.
"The change is I am going to keep all of your money."
"All of it! That wasn't the deal here, Mister-" Tubby began from behind him, his voice wavering as he stared worriedly at Sawyer
Sawyer spun around, "Shut the hell up!" He said before the guy could finish his thought. He was more then nervous now; he was quickly sailing past on edge and heading straight towards panic. He had agreed to no weapons on this trade off, figuring things would be quick and easy.
That was his mistake, apparently. That and trusting these guys in the first place. He tensed up visibly when the doorman appeared behind them, his eyes going to the Puerto Rican man's hand below the desk.
Sawyer held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I'm just gonna let you be with that money. Ain't that much anyways, I'll just be walking." He turned around but the doorman blocked his exit. Tubby was getting jumpy behind him.
"I'm afraid you can't leave, either." The cold voice said simply, and then Sawyer saw the glint of metal in his hand.
He ducked down, ramming his head into the stomach of the doorman. The man made an oof! noise and doubled over. Sawyer grabbed the gun from the man's hand, and tried to spin around again. The man behind the desk was standing now, an angry expression on his face.
Sawyer heard the gunshot, and his brain figured him for hit before it registered that he wasn't. Instead, tubby was next to him with his hands grasping his chest. A bloom of red appeared and rapidly grew under and around his hand. When he stared at Sawyer, he seemed more shocked then anything in that moment--slipping to the ground rapidly.
Not wasting any time, Sawyer fumbled with the door behind him. He didn't fire back at the man behind the desk--who was now standing. Instead he bolted down the hallway, hoping to high hell he would get out of there without any holes in him. Hearing another shot go over his head, he ducked down and swore under his breathe.
The man was shouting after him, but he paid it no mind. He still had one case firmly gripped in one hand, the gun he had grabbed from the doorman in the other. He got outside, moving with lightening speed, and threw the case into the open window of the passenger seat.
Swinging around to the other side, he dropped into the driver's seat and started up the car. The doorman was just emerging from the building, followed quickly by his cohort picking up the rear. Sawyer jammed the key into the ignition and peeled the hell away.
Glass shattering and a high pitched shout made him wince, ducking down as far as he could go while still seeing. They had shot after him, but luckily had missed both of the car's occupants. The woman continued to scream, over and over again, fully grasping the situation at hand.
They got about seven blocks away when she started to beat on his back. Anger coursing through him, he slammed hard down on the brakes--leaving her to lurch forward into the back of the front seat. She continued on with the pounding until he spun around.
"Knock that shit off!" He screamed at her, his mind racing--adrenaline pumping through him.
"Where is he? Where is he?" She screamed at him over and over again. Clearly she had gone into some sort of hysterics, shock or something.
"Shut up!" He screamed at her but it wasn't making any difference. He had to do something quick; the clock was working against him with the other two still hot on his tail.
Finally he lifted up the gun and shoved it up against her nose. Sawyer didn't exactly feel right about it, but his mind was in a million places at once. Every nerve in his body was on end. And time was running out.
She stopped screaming, just staring at the gun barrel and whimpering softly. She looked at him doe-eyed, tears and emotion turning her pale face into a sickly shade of blotched red. "What happened? What happened to my husband?" She nearly whined.
He didn't have the time to tell her. He didn't want to be the one to tell her. How he had screwed everything up. How he had made the wrong decision. How it was costing her now. He made his expression as cold as he could.
"Get out of the car, lady." He stated simply.
Her eyes went wide. Maybe it was the informal way that the man she thought she had fallen in love with spoke to her. Maybe it was the realization finally slapping her in the face of who James "Sawyer" Ford really was. Maybe it was just fear that guided her. But she looked down at the ground and then opened the door with a shaky hand. She got out of the car, standing on the side of the road and not moving.
Sawyer squealed his tires, leaving a thick coating of rubber on the road where she stood as he peeled off. He looked into his rearview to see that she still stood in the same spot, head down and body motionless.
Swearing at himself over and over again, he beat his hands against the steering wheel. How had things gone so wrong? He rubbed a hand ove his mouth nervously. The poor bastard was dead, and it was all his fault. What had he done?
He finally looked back at Sun, trying his damnest to push past being lost in his thoughts. She was still staring at him wide-eyed waiting for her answers. Just for a moment, he glanced at Kate--almost expecting her to help him out of the situation. But he found nothing there but a mingled expression of curiosity and pity for the position he had been put in.
Finally, he spoke. But when he did, he couldn't face Sun--just stared straight ahead of himself at the blue tarp above him. "I don't know. I passed out in the water when Michael and Jin were still there with me, and when I woke up again I was laid out on a piece of the raft, it was day, and I was alone for as far as I could see."
She let go of his arm, more that the energy she was using seemed to vanish from her body. Her arm dropped to her lap, and now her cries were louder-powerful enough to shake her entire body. Sawyer tried his best not to look at her, the pain there too much. He didn't want to have to deal with it on top of everything else.
Kate moved quickly then, grabbing Sun up and bringing the woman to her feet. She put her arms against the Korean's shoulders, rubbing them softly and whispering some sort of reassurances into her ear. She started to move her further away, then turned back to face Sawyer for a moment.
"I'm going to calm her down; I'll be back with water for you in a second." She announced, even when consoling the other woman--taking the time to reassure him she wasn't leaving his side.
"Take your time, I ain't going anywhere," he said softly in response, still staring blankly ahead.