James Ford sat in his tent, alone. He stared sadly down at the yellowing piece of paper in his hands. The piece of paper, which described in gut-wrenching detail, every inch of his being.
On the paper was a letter, written in a child's unknowing scrawl. It was written to a man by the name of Frank Sawyer. The man who had ruined James' life.
There was a sudden rush of wind through the doorway into his sanctum, and James jumped. The surprise of her being here was as much a shock to him as it was to her.
"Freckles…" He grumbled, looking the woman before him in the eye. "What's a nice girl like you doin' in a shit-shack like this?"
He smiled as he said it. James liked to amuse himself at every available opportunity. His hair flowed in the light wind, which travelled into the tent, courtesy of her.
She was Kate. Or Freckles, as he called her. She may, or may not have realised it, but it was a nickname he gave her out of affection, something which he lacked almost entirely.
"We need you up at the caves." Kate said, the look on her face unchanged, as though she really didn't want to be here…near him.
James smiled.
"The last time I went anyway near the rape caves was before that pretty little Aussie got kidnapped, and that was…ohhh…three weeks ago? You really expect me to get up, off my arse so I can trudge into the doctor's crappy little kingdom?" He said this as nicely as he could, which meant that coming from him it was just about as nasty as putting a gun to someone's head.
"Sawyer…" Kate whispered.
James froze, but only for a few seconds. Only minutes ago his mind had been the mind of James Ford, orphan, and now he was being reminded of his new identity. The identity he had taken when Frank Sawyer had ruined his life.
"What?" He snarled, his Southern accent making the snarl seem twice as angry.
"We could really use your help. Sayid thinks that the only way to find Claire is to get inside the jungle and…"
James cut her off, his voice suddenly furious.
"Sayid. The same Sayid who tortured me for hours just to get some piece of metal that I didn't even have? The same Sayid who probably blew that plane out of the air? The same Sayid who used to be a god damn member of the Republican Guard? Are you outta your tree, freckles? I wouldn't help that Iraqi son-of-a-bitch, even if Saddam fuckin' Hussein put a gun to head and ordered me to do it. Do you understand?"
"It's not just about Claire. It's about why Locke and Boone haven't been bringing back any boar for us to eat. Why Walt seems to be losing control over his dog. Don't you understand, Sawyer? This place is out to get us."
"So what if we're all in danger, damn it, freckles, I've been in danger since I was eight years old. And you know that. What that orphanage did to me…what my relatives did to me…it don't even come into the goddamn equation. Hell, I don't even know why you're still standing in the doorway of my fucking tent. If you stay there for another minute then you'll have to take your top off to pay this debt of no bothering the Red Neck."
"Fine!" Kate grumbled. She turned and walked out of the tent, and as she headed into the jungle she called behind her. "If you don't come now, we'll send Walt to you instead of Hurley!"
James poked his head out of the tent and called after the angel with black hair.
"Freckles, all I wanted was for you to take your top off! Jesus H. Christ!"
But Kate was gone. James sat back down on his bundle of cushions and sighed. The stress of the moment had made him look like more of a jerk in front of Kate, and he couldn't have that.
James closed his eyes, and took a coupe of deep breaths. And then he was asleep. Or what he now realised was sleep…a bitter hole of memories, which poured, into his mind like gravy onto a chunk of beef.
Then he was little James Ford again, and it was his first day at the orphanage. His first day in Hell.