Concrete Angel

"No, James, you're doing it all wrong. I thought I told you to fluff the eggs, not whisk them."

Sawyer glared at her, leaning against her kitchen counter casually. "It don't make no difference, Sunshine. It's all going to the same place anyway."

"What a crude way of thinking."

Today marked the sixth session of their cooking lessons, and in the context of those four sessions, Sawyer had managed to find some way to cosmically screw up each of his meals. Juliet was determined to make a difference this time, even if it robbed her of all the patience she had left.

"If it didn't make any difference what it tasted like," she said through lightly masked irritation, "you wouldn't have asked me to teach you how to cook, James."

She didn't know what it was about him today that was grating on her nerves. Usually his antics didn't bother her. On the contrary, they often provided her with some much needed entertainment. Maybe because today was—no the day had long since lost any significance in her mind.

Her eyes returned to his bowl as she sighed and poured its remnants down the sink. "Do it again, but this time, only use the egg whites and be a little gentler when you whisk them, ok?"

He grumbled something under his breath and turned to begin whisking the eggs as he was told. It wasn't until Juliet turned away to grab something out of the refrigerator that she realized what he had said.

If his goal is to make me angry, she thought, he's doing a damn fine job of it.

"Would you care to repeat that statement, James?"

He looked up at her, unblinkingly. "I said that if you're this bossy all the time, it's no secret why the others abandoned you." Upon noticing the cold anger in her eyes, he backtracked, "It's just a joke, lighten up."

It's not his fault, she realized, he doesn't know.

She felt her anger ebb away slowly as she faced him." Sorry, James. Today's just one of those days."

It was then that Sawyer noticed there was something off about Juliet. It had been a while since he had seen it, that veiled desperation. Not since that day at the shore when her eyes had somehow persuaded him to sit beside her.

"Yeah? What kind of day is it?"

She shook her head, "Forget I ever said anything, James. Just pass me the chocolate."

He remained silent and did as he was told, watching her carefully. There was no doubt that he was curious at to what was causing her so much pain. He too knew the impact a single day could have on one's life.

"Could you pass me the whisk?" she asked, hand held out expectantly.

The day he had killed that innocent man in Australia still plagued him. The look in her eyes seemed to mirror the pain he recognized in his own every time he happened to look in the mirror.

Juliet sighed, suddenly agitated. "James, if you're here to learn, you should be paying attention, not zoning out."

Sawyer shook himself out of his stupor. He was probably misinterpreting the look in her eyes for pain, he thought. The look she was giving him now showed anything but. It must have been a trick of the light. His fingers curled slowly around the handle of the whisk and he held it out to her.

As she reached for it, he moved it quickly out of her reach and instead held it above his head.

"James," she said in exasperation, "stop acting so immature and please give it back to me."

"Hm. I'm not so sure I want to do that."

"Well, I'm not sure you want to do what you're doing right now."

"Why?"

"Because I know how to break your arm in seven different places."

Sawyer flinched, but his resolve remained. "But I'm sure you don't want to do that either. Because then you would have to explain to the hippie why you inflicted pain upon you're innocent captain.

She shrugged. "I could easily come up with some explanation. I am a doc—"

She stopped.

"Whatever, James, I'll just use a fork if you insist on being difficult."

Her hand reached for the golden knob, but his body blocked her passage to the silverware drawer.

"Really, what do you think you're doing?" she asked. "I don't really understand what you're trying to prove."

He shrugged. "If you want it, you're gonna have to go through me to get it."

"I'm not going to—just give it to me, James!" she said, as she jumped and swiped at the metal instrument in his hand.

"Good effort. But not good enough, Julie," he said as he shook his head. "And you call yourself an Other?"

Her lips turned upward for a moment, but she covered this with a cough. "Just understand, James, that once you've waged war against me, you can't go back. You've forfeited today's cooking privileges."

"And what the hell are you going to do to me—"

It couldn't have been more than a split second before she had done it, and Sawyer had almost no time at all to react. One moment she had been staring at him in defiance, and the next her hand darted behind him in a fluid motion. Her hand grabbed for the bowl, lifted it above him and poured the entirety of its contents on his head.

Juliet stared at him, face covered in melted chocolate, sputtering and yelling obscenities. The slight upturn of her lips transformed at once into a full-fledged smile, then to loud peals of laughter.

Sawyer used his hand to wipe the chocolate out of his eyes before saying, "That was a bitch move."

Inching slowly away from him, she shook her head smiling. "No, I believe that was a Carrie move."

He leapt forward and grabbed her suddenly around the waist as she yelped in protest. "Same thing."

Sawyer used one of his hands to wipe a glob of chocolate from his forehead and spread it slowly down her arm, over the crown of her head, and smeared it all over her face.

"Now I think we're even. Only I think I've—"

He was interrupted by a handful of sifted flour she threw in his face. "You called Carrie a bitch. I don't think we'll ever be even."

She had been able to free herself from his grasp and was now contemplating what she could now use for a weapon. Her hand grabbed two small eggs and she quickly walked backwards, throwing them at his chest. They both landed and splattered upon contact. She tried to run away, but this time, Sawyer grabbed the back of her shirt and poured syrup down the curve of her back, causing her to shriek.

She turned around to face him, laughing. "That's a violation of the rules, James."

He pulled her closer to him using the back of her shirt so that his mouth was close to her ear before whispering, "Haven't you ever played this game, sweetheart? There are no rules."

And so, the epic battle ensued. Anyone looking through the kitchen window would have been astounded at the sheer amount of food being thrown from one side of the room to the other, at the two figures fiercely attacking each other, but laughing all the while. To them it would have looked like sheer insanity. But to those involved, it was a way to escape, to enjoy themselves with a kindred spirit, and, of course to have fun.

They lay laughing, staring at the ceiling, which, like the rest of the kitchen, had not escaped the battle unscathed.

"So what's the count on your end?" Sawyer asked, turning towards her.

"20 eggs, a carton of milk, two bags of flour, 3 bags of sugar, 1 box of ice cream, half a bottle of syrup, a carton of orange juice—"

"All right, I get it! You—"

"I what? A little louder, James. I do believe the flour is blocking my ears."

"You beat me, alright. Sheesh. It's no big deal."

She smirked. "Sounds like a case of the fox and the grapes to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "You okay now?"

"What are you—"

"Don't pretend that you were all fine and dandy. Something was up with you, and if you don't tell me—"

"Today is the first day I ever killed a woman." She said simply. "She was pregnant and I couldn't save her life."

Sawyer's eyes widened. That hadn't been at all what he'd expected hearing.

"Ben kept me on this island to save the lives of the pregnant women that keep dying on the island. But I couldn't save one. Not a damned one. I failed."

Sawyer couldn't help himself. He laughed.

Juliet stared at him, wide-eyed before standing up, all traces of vulnerability wiped from her face.

"How dare you," was all she said before running into the bathroom and shutting the door.

He stopped laughing and pulled himself up, following her. Somehow, he thought bitterly, he always had a wonderful capacity for ruining the moment.

As he reached the bathroom door, his knuckles hovered next to the door when he heard the sound of running water, before pounding on the door. "Open the door, Juliet."

"Go away, James."

His fingers wrapped around the knob and twisted it. She had left the door open.

"Juliet—"

He stopped.

She stood, bent over, her fingers hooked under the fold of her shirt in an attempt to lift it over her head. Her eyes met his as she turned around and hastily pulled her shirt down to cover her back again. But it was too late. He had already seen it.

Sawyer walked into the room, his eyes flashing with anger. She noticed his approach, but she did nothing to stop him as he grabbed her shirt and lifted it gently to look at her marred skin.

She did nothing as his warm hands gently traced the outline of the mark. Her mind drifted to the moment when she had shown Jack her scar. She remembered how his practiced surgeon fingers had caressed her skin. It was nothing like this. Sawyer was no surgeon, of that she knew for certain, but his fingers…they felt. They didn't examine, they weren't detached. She didn't even have to look at him to know what he was feeling, the touch of his fingers were all she needed.

"I used to think you were just as cold-hearted as the rest of them, Juliet." He said, his voice soft, but determined. "Then I thought you were just like me. I thought you had done something horrible to someone and so you felt horrible for that."

His fingers traced the outline around her scar and she felt a pronounced chill down her spine. "But then…then I realized I couldn't be farther from the truth. You've been through hell, but you didn't deserve it. That's why I laughed. How the hell did I ever think you were like me? You, who were baking a damn cake for someone she'd tried to save, when it wasn't even your fault that she died," he said, shaking his head. "You're a goddamned angel, Juliet.

"I'm not going to ask you how you got this scar. I guess I'll just wait for you to tell me. Maybe you'll never tell me." He stopped. "I always know how to screw things up, but never figured out how to pick up the pieces."

If the word sorry had come out of his mouth, Juliet wouldn't have been able to forgive him as easily as she did.

"I'm not an angel, James," she said suddenly. "I killed a man to get this scar. I've done horrible things since I've gotten to this island. Things I'm not proud of."

"I guess that makes you a fallen angel then. Better than me, anyway, and you told me I could have a clean slate. So you've got to stop sleeping with the past."

She raised an eyebrow. "I've got to stop what now?"

"Shut it, " he said, smirking. "I'm trying to let go, Juliet. Now it's your turn."

She nodded slowly, a smile returning to her face. "Can I take a shower now, James?"

"Can I join you?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "You're incorrigible."

He shrugged. "Can't blame me for trying."

She smiled as he turned around and closed the door behind him. But as soon as the door snapped shut, her smile melted from her face. Her eyes watched the running water wistfully as she thought of the lie she had just told.

Sure, the water could wash away the food that was sticking disgustingly to her hair, skin and clothes, but it sure as hell couldn't wash away what she'd done.

Miki-hime here, and as promised, here's a new chapter. I'm working on scholarships and stuff, so I'll be brief. This chapter is inspired by "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride, but its mostly the title that inspired me rather than the actual content of the song. Next chapter will finally be about young Ben, and it will be inspired by "Ben" by Michael Jackson, which is one of his early works! Please tell me what you think! See you next week, or perhaps even sooner!

Miki-hime