Hallelujah
"Wow. I must have hit my head pretty hard, James," Phil said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Don't call me that," Sawyer said quickly. "I hate it when people call me that. It's Jim."
Phil didn't seem startled by Sawyer's sudden outburst. He only smirked and said, "You let Juliet call you that."
Sawyer shrugged, "Yeah, well, that's different. I've known her longer. Since you and I aren't so well acquainted, why don't you shut it and mind your own damn business?"
So much for being nice, Sawyer thought.
Phil seemed to get the message and turned back to the screen, "Speaking of Juliet, where did she go? Wasn't she here with you this morning?"
"She went to go get some ice for your head," Sawyer said quickly, hoping he would be gullible to believe his story. "She was the doctor on our ship and she's very good at taking care of minor injuries."
Phil nodded, appearing to believe his story. "That was very nice of her. There aren't many nice girls like that here. Most of them are annoying, ugly, and clingy. Some are a combination of the three."
Sawyer, who was not about to have this conversation with Phil, simply nodded and remained silent.
"Hey, if you don't make your move man, someone else might do it first. I hear Leroy's really interested and he always gets the girl—"
"Why don't you just shut up and do your job, Phil?" Sawyer growled angrily, "And for the record, she's not that kind of girl. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking about her like some object."
Phil held his hands up in defense, "No need to get angry, man. I guess you're just being the protective friend. I didn't mean to offend her in any way. I'm just saying that she's the type of girl this place is lacking. If you really don't like her, then you have nothing to worry about."
"You're damn right I don—"
He stopped talking as he looked up at the screen. A Dharma van that was on its way back to the residential center suddenly swerved to avoid hitting someone. Sawyer felt his heart stop as the van crashed into a nearby tree. He watched as the glass shattered and the car remained immobile. He didn't want to believe or even think it was possible…
Sawyer got up suddenly, fully prepared to run out of the station as fast as his feet would carry him. Phil grabbed his sleeve and looked up at him, alarmed. "Was that who I think it was?"
Sawyer yanked his arm out of Phil's grip, "We're wasting time here!" he yelled. "Whoever it is needs our help! Where are the keys to the other vans kept?"
Phil reached into his pocket and pulled out another key before saying, "You had better let me drive. This is mostly my fault anyways. And I don't think you're in any condition to—"
Sawyer quickly grabbed the keys from him angrily. "Are you a security guard, or aren't you?" he yelled. Phil nodded, fear flickering in his eyes. Sawyers shoved him back into his chair before saying, "Then do your damn job. I need to take care of this."
"But Horace will kill me if I let you out of my—"
Sawyer grabbed Phil's collar and lifted him a few inches off the chair. "Listen, boy. You had better let me leave or, so help me, I'm going to hurt you so bad you'll wish you were dead."
Phil fell back into his seat with a loud thump. His heart was beating incredibly fast and he knew he had never been so scared of anyone in his life. But he knew that Jim was right. He had no business leaving the station unattended.
As Sawyer walked away, he suddenly found his voice again and said, "I hope she's okay man."
Sawyer simply nodded in response and walked away, feeling both incredibly numb and empty.
The boy looked at the car in front of him in shock, his feet rooted to the ground. The entire front end of the vehicle had smashed head on into the tree and smoke was exuding from the hood. Whoever was in the car must be dead, he thought. There was no way someone would be able to survive the impact.
He watched as the driver's arm hung limp out of the car, blood dripping slowly down its creamy skin. It was a highly disturbing scene, one akin to something he would see in an Alfred Hitchcock film. And though he loved Hitchcock, such scenes were not so thrilling to see in real life.
Suddenly, he regained the feelings in his legs and began to run toward the car. He reached inside the open window of the van and opened the car door. A woman sat in the front seat, her bloody forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Her hair was in complete disarray and her eyes were closed. He stared at her for a moment before placing his hands under her arms and dragging her out of the car. It was quite difficult to carry the woman, as he was ten and she was much older, but somehow, he managed to drag her slowly out of the car.
He dropped her gently on the grass and lay beside her, completely exhausted. A sudden dread washed over him as he realized what he had done. It was his carelessness that had caused this woman to hit the tree. If he had only been watching where he had been going…
Sitting up, he decided to ignore his fears and check for any signs of life. First, he checked her pulse through her wrist. He wasn't sure how, but he had seen doctors do it plenty of times on television, so it couldn't be that hard. He felt a faint pulse in her wrist and decided to check if he could feel it through her neck.
He moved her hair out of her face. His fingers hovered above her neck as he looked at her face. It was bloody and riddled with cuts and a single large bruise; however, it was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. He stared at her a little longer before pressing his fingers against her neck. Her neck was as soft as he had expected, so soft in fact that he almost forgot what he was trying to do. Once he had shaken himself out of his stupor, he recognized the same faint pulse in her neck. It was so feeble that he was afraid it would die out.
Suddenly her lips parted and her mouth began to whisper words he was unable to hear. He leaned his ear close to her lips to figure out what she was trying to say.
"James…" she whispered.
The boy was puzzled. His name was certainly not James. Regardless, he said, "Yes?"
"My name is not Blondie."
Puzzled, the boy answered, "I know, why would I ever call you that?"
He had to keep her talking. If she didn't she would lose consciousness, and he somehow knew that would only make her condition worse.
She remained silent and he felt his heart jump in panic. He continued talking quickly, saying anything that came out of his head. He didn't know why the words came out of his mouth so easily when he was speaking to her. She was a stranger to him, and he was usually to shy to speak in front of strangers. He decided there was some quality about her, something that reminded him of the photos he had seen of his dead mother.
He talked about his mother, mostly. How he wished she was in his life and wished he hadn't killed her. He told her how it was all his fault that his family had fallen apart in the manner that it had.
The woman reached out her hand and grabbed his sleeve, causing him to stop talking.
"Not your fault," she whispered.
He opened his mouth to respond, but his words were stopped short as her fingers grew lax and her arm fell limp on the ground. Her head lolled to the side as she slipped out of consciousness once more.
Just as he began to think he had run out of options and that this woman was surely a goner, he looked up to see another Dharma vehicle drive up next to the still smoking vehicle. A rather imposing figure of a man stepped out of the vehicle and headed toward him. The boy's heart filled with hope. Perhaps the woman wouldn't die after all.
The man looked at him angrily, "What are you doin' just sitting here! If you'd had any sense at all, you would have—"
He shook his head and knelt down next to the woman, pushing her hair out of her face with a rather pained expression on his face. He pressed his fingers against her neck as the boy had done earlier.
The boy decided that he didn't like this man at all. Who was he to tell him he had been wrong. How did he expect him to drag her all the way back to the residential area? The way he was looking at the woman made him a little angry as well.
The man hooked his arms under the backs of the woman's knees, lifted her off the ground, and began to walk brusquely towards the car. The boy got up and followed him silently, berating himself for being so selfish. The only thing that mattered at this moment was the woman's health. And this annoyingly patronizing man seemed to be the only one out of the two of them who could actually save her.
"Get in the van," the man said, his voice oddly clipped.
Ben just stared at him, wondering what he should do. His father had always told him he shouldn't talk to strangers. Getting in a van with one was definitely out of the question.
"I ain't gonna ask you again," he said, his voice dangerously low. "If you don't want her to die—"
The kid nodded and opened the door to the back seat. After he had secured his seat belt, the man lifted the injured woman into the backseat, placing her head on the young boy's lap.
"I'm trusting you with her, so you had better make sure you don't let her fall," the man said before turning away to sit in the front seat.
"What's your name?" the boy asked, his arms wrapped around the woman's stomach to keep her from falling.
For a moment, he thought he wouldn't answer. Then the man said, "Jim Lafleur," and then continued to turn on the car.
"I'm Benjamin Linus," the boy said.
Sawyer's hand halted in midair as he whispered, "Well I'll be damned."
He then proceeded to grip the steering wheel tightly and press his foot hard on the gas pedal. Sure it had been one hell of a shock to meet the man who would later torture them, but right now, he had much more pressing matters on his mind. He would deal with Ben later.
When Sawyer arrived in the residential area, he immediately lifted Juliet out of the backseat and ran as fast as he could towards Horace's door. Since his arms were full of Juliet, Sawyer yelled as loud as he could at the door.
"HORACE!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly, "HORACE! HORA—"
He stopped as he heard a voice mumble in frustration that grew louder as it reached the door. The door opened slightly, revealing a very grumpy Horace. He looked at Sawyer's face in angry confusion as he said, "Jim, I don't know what the hell you want at 6:00 in the morning, but I'm sure it can wai—"
Sawyer kicked the edge of the door with his foot, revealing the bloody, battered Juliet. "I don't think this can wait," he said, his voice low. "Just tell me where the damn doctor is!"
He didn't care about courtesy or respect. Hell, at this point, he didn't care if he got himself kicked of the damn island. All that mattered to him in that moment was getting Juliet to safety. He didn't even want to think about what would happen after that.
Horace looked alarmed, and suddenly wide awake. "Well, what are you doing standing out there for? Bring her inside. I'll contact the doctor."
He moved aside to let Sawyer step through the threshold, into his home. He set her down gently on the couch and collapsed on the floor beside her, suddenly feeling drained. He knew, deep down, that he wanted to stop her from leaving. Instinct, he knew, was a very powerful thing. It wasn't often that he chose to ignore it. Had he let his guard down so much around Juliet that he wasn't able to even listen to himself anymore?
No, he thought, that wasn't it at all. He had decided, in that moment to put faith in her, regardless of what she was doing. The look in her eyes had showed him how much importance she placed on whatever she had to do. If he had stopped her, he knew she wouldn't forgive him.
However, as he looked at her now, body riddled with blood, bruises, and cuts, he thought he had made the wrong decision. If he had stopped her, she would be safe, albeit angry. He realized her safety should have been the top priority, and for the first time in a long while, Sawyer actually felt guilty.
It was odd, this feeling in his chest. He imagined it was akin to a deflated balloon. No energy, just empty and forlorn. He should have listened to his gut feeling; he should have stopped her, warned her, ANYTHING. But he didn't. He had let the tide of fate flow whichever way it damn well pleased.
He turned his head to look at her face once again. She was incredibly pale, except for the scratches and bruises that littered her faces. However, oddly enough, she didn't look defeated. She looked like a goddess that had fought in some epic battle. It reassured him; it meant that she was still fighting to hold onto life.
He hesitantly reached out his hand and moved her hair out of her face. His fingers moved from the crown of her head down the smooth curve of her face. She remained immobile, skin pale as death. His fingers stopped suddenly, and he felt something within him break. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pressed his face against the crook of her neck.
"Why the hell don't you let anyone take care of you? You're only human, Juliet. You're damned extraordinary, but still human." She remained still, so he continued talking, "You know, if I told the me I was three months ago that I'd be here with you, that I'd even give a damn that you got hurt, I'd just laugh. I…I guess I've grown since then. But then again, you weren't no angel back the neither," he said, chuckling. "You shocked me, remember? And hell if I didn't want you to suffer for it.
"But now," he whispered in her ear, fingers tightening on her hair, "now you're putting me through hell, Juliet. So if you ever gave a damn about me, you'd open your eyes, nod, laugh, hit me… just respond, goddammit!"
Suddenly, her arm gently wrapped around his neck, bringing him a little closer to her neck. "I think it's obvious that I give a little more than a damn about you, James," Juliet said, her voice like sandpaper. She paused before saying, "And you still hold it against me for shocking you back then?"
He turned slightly and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. "Don't you ever do something like that again."
"If you mean ramming a van into a tree, then I can assure you it'll never happen again."
"You'll be lucky if I ever let you drive one of those vans again. Damn women and their reckless driving…" he mumbled.
"You know, statistics show that men tend to be more reckless on the road than women—"
"Screw the statistics, I got proof right here," he said shaking his head. "Of all the things you could have rammed into…"
Juliet rolled her eyes. "Would you have rather I rammed into that little boy?"
Damn right I would, he thought.
"Well I guess you got me there," he lied as he finally relinquished his hold on her shoulders. His eyes narrowed as he noticed her slight wince at the sudden movement. "Now you better shut your mouth and close your eyes. You hurt yourself pretty badly out there."
Juliet closed her eyes. "Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. Your bedside manner leaves much to be desired."
"I ain't no doctor, but right now I'm the best you've got," Sawyer said, standing up. He gently lifted her head off the couch and positioned it on his lap as he leaned back against the soft couch, his fingers running through her hair. "So shut your mouth."
She smiled and said, "Alright Dr. Ford," before drifting off to sleep once more.
When she had finally fallen asleep, Sawyer let out the breath he had been holding, and let the relief flood through his body. The thought of loosing her had been too much for him to bear. It was strange how easily she had become part of his existence, a little piece of his soul that was slowly beginning to consume him. He knew it was too late to stop it now; he had already become accustomed to that warmth, that security he felt while he was with her.
Heaven help him, he was in some real trouble now.
Sorry it took so long! I'm really swamped, so forgive me :) . This chapter was inspired by Jeff Buckley's version of "Hallelujah". If you haven't heard it, I highly recommend it. It's a wonderful, emotional song.
What trouble is Sawyer in? Well, I'll leave that to interpretation. Just remember that I'm taking it really slow. And just as a side note, Ben was supposed to seem pretty creepy, even for a ten year old child (I think he's ten in 1974...) This story probably will be finished by the time Lost season 6 rolls around to hold me over until then. The good thing about this story is that it happens between those three years where nothing has been established, so what happens after the finale (or during for that matter), has only a minimal effect on the story telling. 100 chapters is what I'm aiming for, which means 89 more chapters to go! I honestly don't know which song I'm doing next, since I often switch… I may do "Red, Red, Wine" by UB40, "She will be Loved" by Maroon 5, "Where I Stood" by Missy Higgins (Kate-Centric), "Vanishing" by Mariah Carey, or "You Don't Mess Around with Jim" by Jim Croce. We'll see. Since this was slightly fluffy, I'm going to be mean and make the next chapter less fluffy. Tee hee. Oh, and don't forget to let me know what you think!
Miki-Hime