"Is it safe to be a
man, when you're tired and lonely?
Only the confident know
where to stand."
Our Lady Peace
Chapter Thirteen
Nighttime comes over the island, and Sawyer has barely moved from his spot, only rising to get Jack when he thought Heather may have been breathing funny, or to get more water (mostly for Heather, patting her skin with a damp cloth). He does not accept any food, and though the fight was valiant, is finally loosing the battle against sleep. Jack tries to convince him on two occasions to take sleeping pills and relax, because Heather will need him, and he could make himself sick if he doesn't take care of himself. Sawyer responds with something along the likes of calling Jack a hypocrite, but in a considerably more hostile manner.
Jack does not tell Sawyer what Walt told him: that she'll need protection. That certain things on the island might be able to see her, and he imagines a beacon lit in darkness, drawing all sorts of nightmares to it. Though he knows that Sawyer would be upset (an understatement) to know that this was hidden from him, Jack doesn't want to worry the man—and for that matter, he's halfway trying to chalk up whatever Walt said as nothing but an overactive imagination. Which he supposes might be pointless after what Heather did anyway.
However though, there is a point where sleep washes over him, claims him completely. Head to his chest, Sawyer's arms are crossed, and next to him lies Heather.
She stirs, and in darkness, her eyes blink open. Her first thought is not that it is nighttime, but that perhaps she is caught in the space between worlds; a terrifying moment of horror strikes her, but passes when she hears Sawyer breathing close by. As her eyes adjust to the dim lighting, she understands that she is in the caves.
Within the same instant, her spirit cries out for Walt, its adopted child.
The connection was severed without much warning, that much is clear to her. Heather is briefly infuriated at this, but that passes—being angry takes too much energy, and to find Sawyer posted like a guard by her side tramples out that anger. Besides, there is a deep, aching pain throughout her body, particularly in her gut and along her spine. Feels like the goddamn flu, She thinks, and knows that she'll have a fever sometime soon, that her body has only been delaying the reaction as long as it could, with more of a hope for her survival that way.
Sitting up, she has to worm her way out from under a decent number of blankets, and though she knows that it is likely in the ballpark of 95 degrees (not to mention the humidity) during the day, she is cold, shivers. Heather stands, looking down at Sawyer with a pang of something that is both guilt and gratuity and possibly love.
What did Walt ask? Why we can't just love each other?
Thinking of Walt, and being on her feet, clears her head a bit. She wobbles for the first couple of steps, and understands that the ache and burn throughout her body is going to get worse before it gets any better. However, this is only more of an incentive to use the time she has.
Stumbling (though luckily she never falls completely, as she isn't sure of her capability for getting back up) Heather makes her way through the cave in search of Walt. Despite the low light, and that most of the sleeping persons look the same (like dark bundles of clothes), she has an inward guidance pulling her along, something she thinks may not fade—especially since the bond between them had not been properly closed.
He wakes before she even really spots him, probably drawn by that same force, comes to her with a blanket he had been using as a pillow. Before saying a word, Walt hands this to her, and she imagines that were he tall enough, he'd help wrap her in it. Hand in hand they walk out of the caves, and each takes a seat with their backs against a rock outcropping, with the embers of the night's fire smoldering not far off.
"How are you?" Heather asks. Her mouth and throat are dry, making it painful to speak. Walt takes her hand again, and answers. He uses the touch though, and doesn't have to speak aloud. The words he sends her are accompanied by an emotion of gratitude.
Good, and thank you. I never got to thank you right.
Don't mention it, kiddo.
That's what Sawyer called me. Kiddo.
Must have heard it from him while I was sleeping.
How are you? I… I could see part of your dreams, and they were- A flush of images and words at once: darkness, rain, fright, coldness. Then: Who's James?
I'll be all right, long as there aren't any more heroics. Then, thinking over her memories (and Walt is not right there with her like he was during when she healed him, but he can still see bits and pieces flash by), she replies: James? I don't know.
Maybe you got that from him too, Walt whispers, but of course there is no way to whisper in someone's mind, and she hears it clearly. A sort of collage comes with it, made of various pictures of Sawyer from Walt's memory. Heather, sensing that those are deep waters and that she is in no condition at the moment for swimming, does not question him further.
They communicate in this way for quite some time, to where the dawn of another day begins to show rose-like in the sky. At some point they drop words all together, and communicate only by shared memories, emotions, images.
A few minutes after the sun has risen fully, there is a cry from within the caves—and the trance between the two is broken, and losing touch of each other, their heads turn and watch.
"Jack, Heather's gone!" She can hear panic in Sawyer's voice, and wonders why it would be so surprising. In the background there is the sound of Michael calling for his son as well. Before she can respond to them, Sawyer is running out of the caves, Jack jogging behind. Shouting something at Jack over his shoulder, he manages to run almost past Walt and Heather without noticing.
"Hey cowboy, where's the fire?" Heather calls as loud as her voice will also, which is still only a dry rasp. Sawyer spins on the heels of his shoes, turning to her. There seems to be a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but then he goes to her, drops to his knees and pulls her to him. Why? Heather thinks, immediately suspicious. To seal something he started? To prove something to Jack? To prove something to himself?
"I'm sorry," He murmurs into her ear, and she forgets the analysis. The scratch of his cheek against hers, his strong arms around her, and the powerful beat of his heart are enough she needs for the moment. She lets this be enough to fill her, for the moment. Sawyer has a rough, but very real energy to him (unlike Locke's, whose is hidden, or Jack's, whose is intense but much more introverted), and her body craves that for itself, wants to bask in the light of it. Jack gives them a moment before hunching down himself.
"I'm going to have a fever, if I don't already," Heather says to him as he checks her pulse and her breathing. "My entire body is sore. Almost like…" She thinks for a moment, and Jack goes about his business quietly. "Like I gave way too much blood. But it wasn't blood. But you know that."
"What you need to do is rest," He replies, and then feeling her forehead with the back of his hand, winces. "I wouldn't try any mercury-based thermometer on you even if I had one because it's too dangerous after the crash, but you're burning up. I'm going to start you on an antibiotic-"
"No. Just Tylenol, if it does you."
"Heather, you could have a serious-" She reaches out, takes his hand. His watches her wearily, thinking of how she forced her past into his head the last time she touched him, and Sawyer bristles, though trying not to show it.
"And trust me, no amount of antibiotics will save me if it is serious. I'll only end up using them in place of someone who might need them in the future. A couple of Tylenol will break the fever just fine."
"You sure?" Sawyer eyes her sideways, but says nothing.
"Yeah." With this, Jack nods, backs away, and Sawyer walks her back to their small section of the cave. Those that are awake in the early morning stare at them unabashedly, making no effort to mask their blatant stares.
"Do you need anything?" Sawyer asks her as she lies down for the second time: she's exhausted just by the morning excursion.
"Not unless you're hiding away a rescue boat."
Sawyer smiles, "You don't think I'd share?"
"I think you'd probably trade it for a pack of batteries, a flashlight, and…" Heather gives him a mock measuring glance, and winks. "A steak." At this he manages a low, quiet laugh behind the smile, shakes the hair out of his eyes.
"Rare and with some potatoes? You wouldn't have to worry about no flashlights." He stays with her as she falls asleep, and though she does look feverish and has chills from time to time, Sawyer is contented for the moment. It is perhaps not the best he has felt (it's not the rush after sealing a particularly lucrative deal) but it's an easy feeling, and he hasn't felt truly easy in…
A damn long time, He answers himself, settling into his regular spot by her. However, he stops his thoughts from drifting further into the past, as he thinks that it might somehow upset her.
After taking a light cat-nap (which, due to exhaustion and stress, was perhaps a little more than a cat-nap), Sawyer wakes to the feeling of being watched. It is dim in the caves, but he can tell that it's around midday outside, and the boy Walt is sitting down not far away, watching them both. Sawyer finds this eerie, but tries to play it off as annoyance. "What you doin' kid?"
Walt looks up, and offers a small smile.
"I wanted to help," He explains, and goes back to watching on his own, seemingly carefree.
"Help with what?" Sawyer tone is more irritated now, not necessarily out of actual anger but more habit.
"Keeping her safe." This time when Walt's eyes meet Sawyer's, Sawyer sees him for a bit of what he truly is: not just a boy, but something deeper. It's the same thing he saw in Heather at times, especially when they shared their silence, but Walt's is different—closer to his surface.
"That's what I'm here for kid," Sawyer's voice is gruff, but the bite has gone out of it. Now that the initial surprise of finding himself being watched (while he was asleep and completely unaware for it) had worn of, he was feeling that exhaustion, particularly weighing on his eyes. Hearing this, Walt shrugs, is drawing something in the dirt, but without any real enthusiasm. "Besides, it's the middle of the day, and we're in the caves—Jack says they're the safest place on the island." That we know of, anyway, he adds to himself. Walt casts a more meaningful glance at Heather's sleeping figure, and then after a moment, shrugs again.
"God dammit kid, can you stop doing that?"
"Sure." To his credit, Walt does not shrug an answer, though Sawyer has the distinct impression that he is sorely tempted to, and sees a brief flicker of a smile on the boy's lips, as if considering it. They sit in silence for a while longer, and Sawyer, though his body calls out for sleep, aching from the sitting in the same position, can not give in to it with that kid sitting around watching them. Is there something he doesn't know? Maybe the kid thinks something, someone, is actually going to try something in the middle of the day, around all these people?
That kind of thinking didn't make for sweet dreams.
Finally, compelled by curiosity, boredom, and the need to stay awake, he nods to Walt, who looks over. "Say boy, can you do that trick again?" When he doesn't reply, Sawyer continues. "Where you tell me what she's dreaming."
The boy's jaw immediately clenches, and he scolds Sawyer with a sharp look. Sawyer, though he knows it's stupid to feel chastised by a kid, finds himself stumbling to try to justify it.
"I'm just saying, what if-"
"You wouldn't like it if I did it to you," Walt cuts him off, unnaturally coldly—he must feel that he crossed a definite line with his last attempt. Again, there is a deepness to him, something that Sawyer can't place. For one frantic moment he wonders if Walt somehow knows about him, but that passes. It's kids logic, ain't it? That's what they say when you step on a spider. But altogether, the remark did hold its own: no, most certainly not, would Sawyer like it if someone peeked into his thoughts when he wasn't looking.
However, the smart-ass part of him can't let the matter be, feels the need to defend himself. "Well you know, it ain't like this is a normal situation, is it? She's damn near burning up, and it'd be nice to know if I had to go get the Doc or somethin'." Giving Walt a hard glare, he sees the boy's resolution waver. After all, Walt is still just a kid, and kids always have such a hard time not listening to adults.
"Okay," Walt cedes, standing and brushing the dirt from his pants. He goes over to Heather, and giving Sawyer a look that makes the man feel like he's looking into a (young, black) mirror, lowers his head as if to listen to the woman's thoughts. He concentrates hard, and Sawyer feigns (not very successfully) a cool, mild interest.
"She's dreaming about you-" And then Walt's face goes blank, and his jaw hangs open—Sawyer immediately sits forward, tense. SHE KNOWS! His mind screams, over and over. However, before Sawyer has time to realize that he has interpreted the sudden pause for something that it certainly isn't, the boy flushes, and stands up straight. "Sorry, he told me to!" He breathes quickly, and then sprints off away from the two of them. Sawyer, now less frightened than perplexed, looks down to Heather, trying to figure out what has just happened.
"Dreams are private things, mister." Heather opens one eye, and even though her face is beaded with a feverish dampness, he can see her smiling at him in a jaunty, cocky way. "Had him checking up on me, huh?" Her tone is relaxed, amused even and-
And suddenly Sawyer feels incredibly stupid.
"Oh," He says. Which doesn't exactly make him feel any smarter. Feeling sheepish, and even more awkward because of that, Sawyer runs a hand through his hair.
"That a blush, cowboy?" Her voice is low, hoarse, but definitely good-natured. "Didn't know you had it in you."
"Go back to sleep," He manages thickly, with a bit of a crooked smile. She laughs, but he sees that it hurts her to do so, and she closes her eyes again, sleep quickly reclaiming her.
"My God, you're a dumbass," Sawyer whispers to himself, and chuckles. Soon enough he has moved from being propped up against the cave wall, to laying nearby Heather, stretched out with his hands behind his head. In spite of himself, he can't wipe the stupid, cheesy smile from his face.
This time his sleep is without interruptions.