A/N: Hi, guys! First of all, thank you for read my fic! It's really important to me... And if you have time and liked or hated or have an opinion about my fic, please review! I'll be truly happy!And second, this is my first fic in english, so I'm really scared! LOL and if you find any kind of mistake in there, please let me know...and be gentle to me, because I'm brazilian and english in not my first language.
I would like to say thanks to my great brazilian friend Prii (iloveyou, you're my girl!) who helped to translate my fic to english (ohh, guys you don't have idea how fuuny is two brazilians with barely the knowledge of portuguese discussing english!) And if there's anyone who read this and would like to help us, that's GREAT! Just send me a PM!And for last, but not the least, the title is from a very cute and romantic music named ''Lucky'' by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat. It's a great song...
Disclaimer:I own nothing. (because if they belonged to me they would have three blonde babies and another to come..)
Well, this's getting too big! hehehe Thank you again and ENJOY!
Lucky to be coming home again.
Juliet made a decision. No, she didn't had sure if it was the right decision; or if it was the worst thing that she had ever made in her entire life. But she didn't care; which was weird by it self. She was making her decision based in her heart, in a hunt. She wasn't going to Portland. Wasn't going to work to Mitellos Bioscience. She was staying. She would take care of her sister, she would see her nephew born.
When Dr. Alpert asks her, tomorrow, about the proposal she already had ready the answer: No. Say No never seems righter. And safer.
*****
Sawyer liked Los Angeles. He felt good in a city in which be good looking is the best and most important feature somebody could have. A city in which the women are insecure (and beatiful, of course) enough to sleep with him. And their husbands, rich (and kind dumb, of course) enough to con and steal them. Yeah, he loves that damn city!
When the Oceanic flight 815 landed there, coming from Australia, without any problems or turbulences, Sawyer felt relieved and guilt. Two feelings very strange for him, almost like they were feeling for somebody else. But they were real. Very real.
He looked around, while the people were getting up to leave the plane; he saw the blonde girl with her huge belly; the blond boy who ran to the bathroom, taking with him, the flight attends, screaming at him; the woman that, he could notice, was in handcuffs (damn, she's cute!); the japonese or chinese or whatever couple; the fat guy who get on the plane in last; the guy who looks like a terrorist; the bald man, who was still sit; the man in a dark suit and who looks like a doctor. Sawyer looked around and searched for somebody else. Somebody was missing in there. And he didn't know who the hell was.
He got up, then, and left the plane. The LA's sun hit him directly in the eyes. The almost tropical light was weird. It's not like the light he remembered... in the airport, he already began to look around, in search for his next victim. He didn't remembered how beatiful the women were there.
He lets himself stay in LA for a couple of months. Sleeping with a new woman every night. Conning some, stealing others. Some nights he dreamed. Dreamed about a woman, whose face he cannot see straight. But he can remember her eyes; how blue they were. Every time he woke up, he hoped find her by his side. But it was never the owner of those eyes.
And then he left to Miami, in the sunny Florida. He was searching for that light, the sunlight the way he remembered. He didn't find. The sunlight in that town was brighther and lighter than in LA. Anyhow, it wasn't the one that he was looking for. And the women, they didn't had those eyes, either. He doesn't knew, butaway, why he was looking so much for those eyes. Maybe they were just a part of that dream of his. Maybe, just imagination. That didn't stopped him for sleeping with even prettier, richer and dumber women. He made a lot of money in that town.
Sawyer was with a strange habit. He woke up very early, when the sun was just getting up, and walked, without destine or direction. Just walked. Sometimes, his feet took him to the beach. He hated the beach. It is the tipical place for happy families and in love couples. Fool's place. And yet, he was there, observing the sea. Pathetic.
*****
Juliet had always loved the beach. The sound of the waves, the little dancing of the ocean... Everything make her feels small and like she didn't matter. This, in a bizarre way, made her felt better. Her problems became less 'problems'. Walking trought the smooth and rough sand, feel the cold and salt wind, this things brought her a little peace.
She sat down there and stared at the ocean. That sensation that she had lost something, was still there. she didn't knew what it was, but the feeling of emptiness didn't let her forget that, yes, she had lost something important. She learned how to deal with that sensation; it has been three years that she didn't feel herself whole or completly happy. She felt herself cold and distante sometimes, like that only sensation didn't let her to live. She needed to find what she had lost. Even she didn't know what it was.
*****
And then he saw a figure, sat by herself in the beach. Her long blond hair, fall over her back, making a watterfall of goldenlocks. She got up and made her way, very slowly, to him. He came down and walked to her. Without a reason, just because something inside of him, told him to.
The figure walked with her head down and he stopped in a resonable distante, so she could notice him. She looked up. She didn't had anything that, normally, makes him to be interested in a woman. She didn't have a straight hair, her skin wasn't artificially tanned, didn't wear huge cleaveages with high heels. Didn't seem insecure; at all. But she had the eyes. Those eyes. Those eyes which he was looking for. Big blue eyes. The sky would be embarassed if it saw her eyes. And how blue they were. How much of feelings, truth and love were inside of them. Sawyer had a feeling that he could spend his life looking into those, without getting tired or wanting to look into someone else's eyes.
And, making a good effort, he looked to her as one piece. She seems to him just like one those women in the pasts century who became immortal in a painting. She had a pale skin, almost porcelain; slight pink were just her cheeks and the small and fully mouth. Herr hands were clear and light. She apparentely had her own halo, almost as if she emaneted light. And she was floating on top of delicate feet. And those eyes... yes, those god damn eyes.
*****
Her heart speed up in the moment she saw him. and she didn't know why. He wasn't her type of men... He seems to be the bad boy, who makes all the girls fall in love and then this girls ended up with broken hearts. But she never fell for the bad boy. And she was no longer a girl, to fall in love for such kind of men, with his easy and conning smile and his oh freakin' dimples. But Juliet didn't have control by her heart, which insisted in accelerate with the look of that men. Her mind tells her something; her heart wanted another.
His hand touches hers. she didn't say a word against it, altough her mind was shouting. He passed his rough fingers in her palm. He stared, with intensity, into the bottle of her eyes. Almost as he was looking for something inside of them. She didn't knew him but, apparentely, her heart does. It speed up even more. She felt like, any time now, it would explode; and she notices that the emptiness was long gone. Weird enough, she felt complete again with this men whose name she didn't knew.
*****
- What it's ya name?
When the words left his throat, his was surprised. His voice was slow and calm. As the woman in front of him was fragile or she would ran off, in any sight of dangerous. His hands were, yet, in hers. He noticed that, just like his hand, hers were sweatting. He looked at her again. He wanted to smell her scent... And, as somebody up there heared his wishes, a wind blow up and brought to him just what he wishes. Her scent was almost too familiar: blueberries, sandalwood and sea's water.
He asked to himself how was her voice. He imaginad hers voice very soft, almost a whispering, barely audible. Just to match to her look and angelic way.
*****
-Juliet
When she notices, she already had spoke. Her mind was in prostest. It was sreaciming that this men was a stranger, for God's Sake! But somewhere, distant and dark she knew him. And, for sure, her heart knew him. And that was enogh, for now. She stared into his eyes. Those eyes that she could loose herself in, without mind. She still didn't knew his name, but her voice disappeared. But she didn't care.
*****
-Well, Juliet, it's nice to meet you. My name is James.
No, his name is Sawyer. For all the women he is Sawyer. But she didn't seems to be any woman. She wasn't any other woman and he didn't want her to be. Oh, Juliet! Even her name seems familiar. And not because the heroine who died of love. Because it was her. She was the owner of those eyes... Those absurdly blue eyes...
*****
And so, Juliet knew the name of this men. Makes sense. It fits him. With his smiles and those freakin' dimples. His rough, stong voice with that southern accent, was so known, that even scared her. And makes her feels so good... It was, even, giving her goosebumps trough the spine. What would be weird if it wasn't so wonderful...
*****
James didn't knew how to go on with the conversation. So, he holded her hands stronger in his. To didn't let her go. He didn't wanted her to go. He wanted to spend just a few more minutes, just a few more hours, a few more days, looking at her. Recording and memorazing every detail, every curve, every gesture and move of Juliet.
*****
Inside of her, was occuring a epic battle. Her reason against her emotion. She knew that wasn't right to be there, holding hands with a completly (?) stranger; her brain was telling this to her every three seconds. But it was so good; feel whole again. Was so good to look at him and know that, in some way, she knew him. But, finally, when her reason ended up winning that battle, her feet walked by themselves in a opposite direction. And she was leaving without say a single word.
*****
- Where do ya think, you're going Blondie?
Before she completly left, he holded her by the rist, stonger than he meant to. But he couldn't see her leave. He felt her accelerate heart. And felt his own beat stonger in his chest. What hell was that he was feeling?! For a woman that he met just a few minutes ago?! Two words: pathetic and odd. In this few minutes she managed to broke apart his image of Don Juan and of a men who never fall in love. Without even realize or want. He was even more enchated by her. Odd and very pathetic.
*****
The sensation was weird. Everything was familiar: The rough hand holding her strongely, his voice and words. It was almost dejá-vú. But she stopped anyway. She didn't wanted to leave. But she had to. She didn't wanted to went by a stranger. A charming strange, yes, but a stranger anyhow.
- I'm sorry, James. I gotta go.
*****
This wasn't happening. The feeling in let her just leave was barely bearbable. It was mading in him a hole and left him empty in the chest. It was painful and weird. He just didn't knew that woman, who mixed up so badly with is head and feelings. She enchated him so easily, with those eyes extremaly blue of hers; with those eyes, he knew her. Those eyes that, now he was sure, he knew from somewhere else, some place remote and far away.
*****
Juliet couldn't fool herself. She just couldn't believe in what her foolish and speed up heart was insiting in tells her. No, she could'nt believe that the men she just met was known by her before. That, maybe, she loved him. No, love just didn't exist. Not in the real world, at least. Truly love was stuff of fairy tales, told to little and inocent girls, to convice them that someday a charming prince would come in a white horse to take them away. The love in real world was strange and distorted. Like her own mother told her: Just because two people love each other, that doesn't mean they're suppose to be together. Juliet didn't believe love in a long time. And wouldn't be that men, with that voice and that hot southern accent that was going to change this.
*****
He watched her leave. He looked the way her hair made waves in her back, whileshe walked. He wanted to stop her, but he didn't knew if he had the right or a reason to do it. They didn't know each other, but oddly enough, he remembered of her so well... He wished her to be around him, but someway, knew that this wasn't possible. But this didn't meant that he couldn't try...
*****
- Hey, Juliet! Please, wait!- he walked slowly until rearched her.
- What is it? - she didn't looked at him, but stopped.
- Just... How about a coffee? Just a coffee, that's all that I'm askin', a coffee.
He just said, watching her. Juliet had the same feeling of dejá-vú from before. So, she closed her eyes a little and finally looked at him. It was hard to resisted when he was looking at her in such intensy way...
- Alright, one coffee.
He smiled and they comeback to walk in the sideof the beach. He liked that sensation of just share the same space and time with her. Juliet smiled at him, with wrinkles in her nose and the almost closed eyes. He was the luckiest guy on earth. And he felt in a way that didn't felt in a long time: home, again.
The End!
A/N: Reviews, anyone? Thanks!