Love Story
A/N: Oh boy. This has been a labor of love. Haha! Written (late) for the Lost Summer Challenge; thanks to ariz0na for the prompt! (...and for sparknotes, for the rest!) :P If you know, you know.
This is mega-AU, even though it's clearly set on the island. It takes place around season three but does not follow a specific timeline in the show, nor does it follow a specific, correct geography from what you may remember. (Example: no Hydra Island.) HUGE thanks to finneganhart for beta-ing this, and dealing with me on a daily basis. Love you!
Hope you enjoy!
—-
We were both young when I first saw you
I close my eyes and the flashback starts
I'm standin' there, on a balcony in summer air
Love Story, Taylor Swift
—-
Sawyer didn't know what the hell happened to Kate and Jack while they were away. He only knew that they were back now, and all eyes no longer looked to him for guidance. He was no longer the leader of this group, now that Sir Jack the Perfect was back.
He didn't fucking care. The less he had to deal with, the better.
He didn't know why he bothered with these people. Why, deep down, he wanted to feel included. But he did. He wanted to belong, and they didn't make it easy. He didn't make it easy, either, but that wasn't the point. He'd never find his place here. Not while Jack was in charge. (Who the hell made him king of their group, anyway?)
In comparison, Sawyer knew he never stood a chance.
He was destined to live alone. He'd known this for a long time. But just because he'd accepted his fate, didn't mean he was happy about it.
A yawning chasm of loneliness enveloped him as he sat against his airplane seat by the ocean. The others were off celebrating in the distance, but Sawyer couldn't force himself to go join them. He was mildly curious as to how Jack and Kate got away from the Others, their captors and tormentors, but it wasn't strong enough to force him to go ask. Hurley would tell him later, anyway.
So, he sighed and focused his attention back on the horizon line. He'd leave this fucking place someday, somehow. And then none of this - Others, survivor politics - none of it would matter anymore.
And when he was finally gone from this hellhole, he was certain he'd never look back.
—-
Juliet only bothered leaving her house because it was stiflingly hot inside. Her AC was on the fritz, and she wasn't sure when someone would be able to fix it. She hated eating in public, where anyone could be watching her, but she wasn't left with much of a choice. So she ate her grilled cheese sandwich at the picnic table closest to her house, focusing on the feeling of the island breeze on her warm cheeks. It ruffled through her hairline, damp from sweat, and she sighed.
She missed cold weather. Sweaters, roaring fireplaces, and snow. She knew it was unlikely that she'd ever see it again. She'd never smell that sweet, light smell that signaled it was coming, or feel the way the frost would kiss her eyelashes as the feathery light flakes would fall from the sky. (It didn't help that her book took place in the dead of winter, but it was the escape she needed right now.)
When she'd lived in Miami, she could travel anywhere in the world. It struck her now, how much she'd taken that for granted. How little she'd traveled, when Rachel's illness had rooted her to her bedside. She hadn't missed the cold then.
But now? She missed everything this place wasn't. Wanted anything this island didn't have.
She wanted out of this prison cell. In more ways than a good book could provide.
Danny and Ryan trudged into view; she noticed them in her periphery. Wherever they went, nothing good followed. Juliet pulled her book closer to her face, but stopped reading. Her ears perked up, honing in her attention on what they were saying. She couldn't hear much yet, only the words "escaped," and "bitch." Danny sported a black eye. One of the Oceanic prisoners must have gotten away, Juliet figured.
If they hadn't had cameras on the cages, she would have snuck over there and let them out herself. It was barbaric, what Ben was doing. But she was afraid, and fear kept her in her place: obedient and uninvolved, just as Ben intended.
"Then the bitch let her boyfriend out of the fucking cage, too! Where's Ben? Why wasn't anyone watching the damn cameras?" Danny seethed, and Juliet saw Ryan frown. She tried not to stare, but she was desperate to know what happened.
"It was Alex's shift," he replied, low and for Danny's ears only. She only inferred what he was saying because she could read his lips. That, and the harsh way he'd said Alex's name carried further than the rest of his sentence had.
Juliet smiled back down into her book, perhaps for the first time that day. At least someone got back their freedom, she figured. God knew she never would.
If there was one thing Juliet knew for sure, it was this: she would die alone, here on this island. There was no one to rescue her, no one to save her. Everyone here was on Ben's side, except Alex and Karl, but they were kids. There was nothing they could do. They were trapped, same as she was.
Time was against her. All Juliet wanted was for it to claim her, but she was still young, and she didn't have it in her to end it all herself. What other option did that leave her then? She had no way home, and Ben would certainly never allow it. She'd tried, dozens and dozens of times, and he'd assured her that she'd grow to love it there, in time.
Just as she'd grow to someday love him, too.
Fat fucking chance.
She could only do one thing: wait, and try to make the best of it. Wait, until she was old and grey, or, if she was lucky, for Ben to die and someone else to take over. Maybe they'd be more benevolent and take pity on her. Maybe without Ben lording over her like she was his property, she'd stand a chance.
Because it would be then and only then that she'd finally be free from this hellhole. Death would be her knight in shining armor, one way or another.
She just had to be patient.
—-
"You have to stop!" Richard warned, tempted to grab Ben by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. "This war has gone on long enough!"
"You don't know what you're talking about, Richard," Ben practically hissed. He placed his palms on the desk and rose to his full height. He wasn't taller than the immortal man, but his energy made Richard back up a step, all the same.
"I do, Ben. I do know what I'm talking about."
"They are invaders," Ben said slowly, enunciating every syllable. He was treating Richard like a petulant child. Like someone who couldn't possibly understand the lengths that Ben would go through to protect this place. What lengths he's already gone through to protect it.
"They haven't done anything to us. They crashed here. They don't want to be here."
"But they are here, Richard. And their presence threatens everything."
Richard scoffed and crossed his arms. "And holding them in cages is going to fix that?"
Ben forced a smile onto his face. "It will teach them who's in charge."
Richard's jaw hardened. "And you think that's you?"
Seconds ticked by before Ben calmly answered. "In a way, yes. But you know who we both serve."
Richard shook his head, moving to leave. He was done with this conversation. "You aren't doing what Jacob wants, Ben."
"Jacob doesn't know these people like I do."
"Having files on them is not the same as knowing them!" Richard shouted, anger lighting his skin up hotter than the air outside Ben's house. "Jacob is the only one who truly knows them, and he wants you to stop! Shift your focus elsewhere!"
Ben froze, mouth falling partly open in disbelief. He couldn't decide if Richard was telling the truth or not. Jacob never spoke to him directly, but he still served him without question nonetheless. It would be treason to question Jacob's word.
Richard pointed angrily at Ben. "There will be consequences if you pull another stunt like that again. No more kidnapping. No more torturing. Leave them be. They're suffering enough as it is."
Ben was quiet. He pursed his lips in a frustrated frown and removed his hands from the desk. They hung limply at his sides. "Fine," he relented, anger throbbing in his gut, souring the soup he'd had for lunch.
He'd wanted to go to war. This was his island. They didn't belong here.
"Thank you," Richard bit out, and swept out of Ben's office with his usual grace. It only irritated Ben more.
When he was gone, Ben maneuvered around his desk. He opened the front door and peered out, the sight of his happy, well-adjusted compound the only thing that calmed him down when he got like this.
Well, one of the only things.
Amidst the laughter and light chatter, the residents walking or riding their bikes in the sunshine, sat Juliet in the center of the compound. Her golden hair caught the sunlight like a lit beacon, signaling him to look her way. He could only see the side of her face, but her intense stare down into the contents of her book struck a chord inside his chest.
Perhaps Richard was right. Perhaps Ben did need to shift his focus. And he knew just what that shift could be.
—-
"Dude, you're gonna burn a hole in her back if you stare any harder," Hurley teased, and plopped down into the sand next to Sawyer.
Sawyer's focus snapped like a rubber band, and he eyed the banana being shoved his way - a peace offering of sorts, he supposed. Or a bribe. He hadn't even sensed the big man's approach. "I wasn't starin' at no one," Sawyer growled, and snatched the banana out of Hurley's hand. "Mind your own fuckin' business."
Hurley smiled, unaffected by Sawyer's hostility. Everyone in the camp knew about his unrequited love. Maybe everyone but Sawyer himself.
"Ya know, you don't have to act like that around me," he offered, and followed Sawyer's gaze to the group of survivors milling around in the kitchen. Kate, in the center of it all, was being fawned over like a missing princess, finally returned to her court.
"For god's sake, Jumbotron, I ain't actin' like nothin'! You're the one who stomped on over here, botherin' me with your yappin'. I didn't need your company."
(A lie. He liked the big guy, and for some reason, the big guy seemed to like him.)
"I'm just sayin'..." Sawyer tried again, before Hurley got upset and left him alone. His tone softened, and he exhaled loudly. "I ain't botherin' no one. It don't matter who I'm lookin' at."
Hurley swiped at the sand between his knees, methodically flattening it. "You like her, don't you?" he asked softly. He wanted Sawyer to know he was his friend, that he could talk to him if he wanted to. He'd seen him isolate himself all day, sitting alone here by his tent while everyone else welcomed Jack and Kate back with open arms. It looked like he was waiting for something, but Hurley didn't quite know what.
Sawyer sighed. There didn't seem to be a point in lying about it. He'd been caught red-handed. "It don't matter, Slim. She loves the doc."
Hurley frowned. He couldn't argue with that, but it was strange, seeing his not-really-friend act this way. Instead of the teasing arrogance, Hurley saw pain and longing. He didn't quite know what to do with that.
"Maybe so, but like… you're still one of us, dude. You should come say something."
Sawyer shook his head. "Nah. They don't need me harshin' their mellow. It ain't none of my business what kinda trouble they got themselves into over there."
A long stretch of quiet grew between them. Hurley played with the sand, not knowing what to say. Sawyer, for the first time in a while, tore his gaze away from Kate and her adoring fans. He didn't want to feel this way about her. He just… did. And he hated himself for it.
"You'll find someone else, I'm sure of it," Hurley offered, and Sawyer scoffed in reply. He clenched his jaw so hard he felt it in his neck, twisting down and tugging on his tendons.
"Last I checked, we were all stranded on a goddamn deserted island, dumbass." Like hell he was going to meet someone here. None of the other survivors were his type, and he was pretty sure they all hated him, anyway.
"You never know, dude." Hurley stood and brushed the sand from his hands. "I've seen stranger things happen." He left Sawyer with his tumultuous, burning thoughts.
Sawyer was unconvinced. Thoroughly. He even scoffed and shook his head, staring down into his lap as he mulled over the ridiculousness Hurley had left him with. Sure, I'll just sign up for the latest dating site or put a personal ad out in the paper, he thought bitterly. Or better yet - why don't I head on over to the tiki bar downtown; surely there'll be ladies there.
The burning in his chest from earlier returned.
He needed to get out of here. He needed to take a walk, find somewhere to stew where he didn't have to look at everyone having a grand old time. No one else had bothered to talk to him yet today. No one but Hurley.
He didn't want to be here any longer. He fucking hated this place.
No one noticed Sawyer packing a bag full of supplies. No one seemed to care either, when he stomped off into the jungle. In fact, Sawyer was certain that no one would even wonder where he'd gone off to, and whether he'd ever return. Maybe he shouldn't.
—-
Juliet knew Ben was watching her. She could feel it, like a fire ant burning and biting at the skin beneath her shirt. She twisted uncomfortably in her seat, knowing she should go inside.
Better to die from heat exhaustion than to give him something to look at for one more second.
"Juliet!" Amelia called, and waved before slowly making her way to where Juliet sat. She cringed. She'd been avoiding Amelia as of late. Ever since Ethan.
She knew she shouldn't. This woman was her friend, and she'd lost her son. But her grief was too much for Juliet to carry, on top of everything else already strapped to her back, cutting off her circulation with its thick, fibrous rope.
"Hi," Juliet found herself saying, her chest caving in on itself. She gave a tight smile, and shaded her eyes from the sunlight as she looked up at Amelia's frail form. "Long time no see."
"It's been a while," Amelia said wearily, and sat down across from Juliet. "I'm sorry I haven't felt up to being out and about."
Juliet shook her head. "No, don't apologize. What you've gone through…" she trailed off. She didn't need to say more. Amelia knew.
Amelia pursed her lips and looked down at her clasped hands on the table. "Well. He passed in service of the island. I can't be too upset by that."
Juliet felt sick. Of course she should be upset. There was no reason Ethan had to die. Ben had all but sent him to his death, and Amelia seemed unperturbed by that fact.
"It was tragic," Juliet murmured, and cast her eyes out towards a cluster of yellow houses. For all intents and purposes, it sure looked like a suburban utopia here. But she would never see it that way. To her, these yellow houses were the bars of her prison cell. It didn't matter how much sunlight and ocean breezes she felt - she felt chained to this place, shackled in the dark.
Amelia waved her hand in the air, as if swatting a bug. She swiped under one eye and forced a smile to her face. "I'm not here to talk about my son, Juliet. I'm here to talk about you."
"Me?"
Amelia chuckled, a ragged but earnest sound. "Yes, you."
Juliet pulled her hands into her lap. She started picking at her nails - a nervous habit. "What about me?"
The older woman cocked her head to the side, peering over at Juliet as if she were an oddity to be studied. "Surely you're tired of living here all alone, Julie."
Juliet's blood felt like ice under her skin. "I don't know what you mean."
"You know how Ben feels about you."
She clenched her jaw. "It doesn't matter how he feels."
"He's a good man. He's single, and not too much older than you."
Juliet cringed, feeling the burning of bile rising in her throat. Amelia dragged her eyes past Juliet's forlorn face, over to where Ben stood against his door frame, watching them. She waved, and Juliet's face burned so hot, she thought she might melt into a puddle under the picnic table.
Never. That will never happen.
"I'm okay, Amelia, really. I appreciate the thought, but –"
"Just consider it, Julie. I see how miserable you are here. Everyone does. If you're going to make it work, you need to broaden your horizons. Live a little. Open your mind, and maybe… open your heart. There aren't too many single men left, you know." She licked her lips, hands shaking as they reached up to wipe another stray tear. It was like they were slipping out of her without her knowledge, sneaking past her ironclad defenses. Juliet had never seen her like this before she lost Ethan. And it hurt, seeing her only true friend on this island in pain.
She nodded, if only to end this agonizing conversation. "I'll consider it," she agreed through gritted teeth, and swallowed down the vomit threatening to choke her at those words. She moved to stand, grabbing her trash in one hand and her book in the other.
Amelia followed suit. "I just want you to be happy, honey," she said quietly, and gave Juliet a genuine smile. It meant so much, coming from her. Amelia never said anything she didn't mean, and Juliet felt her sincerity deep in her bones.
"I'll come check on you tomorrow, okay?" Juliet called over her shoulder as she walked back to her house, her stomach in her throat. Amelia waved and turned to walk towards her own home, just across the compound. If she was at all upset at Juliet's absence over the last few weeks, she didn't show it. And for that, Juliet was grateful.
Once inside her house, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She was nauseated, just thinking about how Ben looked at her. How, even through the walls of her home, she could still feel his eyes on her.
She put a hand on her mouth to stifle her sob. She couldn't take this anymore.
She needed air. She needed to get away from here.
But she could only run so far. And besides, he'd find her eventually. He always did.
Her feet were moving before her brain could process what she was doing. She stuffed odds and ends into a backpack - water, a flashlight, a blanket, a book, sunscreen, bug spray - and slung it over her shoulder. She put her hiking boots on and, after a moment, tossed her last two apples into her bag just in case she got hungry later.
She stopped at the threshold of the front door. She needed to be careful. She needed to think.
How could she get across the compound without Ben seeing her leave? Her door faced his house.
Turning around, Juliet felt a surge of adrenaline as she formulated her plan. She opened her bedroom window, climbing out to the back of the house. If she arched to the right far enough, she'd be able to sneak behind all of the houses that faced the center of the compound. There were no cameras back there, and she could find the treeline before following that around to where her destination was, past the sonic fence.
It just might work.
For just a little while, she just might get to be totally alone, unaccounted for.
It was exhilarating.
She followed through with her plan, walking slowly and with careful footsteps. She got all the way to the sonic fence with, as far as she knew, no alarm being raised.
She laughed, fully and heartily, and tucked her hand into the box that controlled the fence. She withdrew a pair of earplugs, pushed them into her ears, and slipped easily through the fence unharmed. She couldn't turn it off - then someone would know - and it was imperative she remained undetected.
After a moment, she put the earplugs into her pocket and kept walking. She'd only been to the waterfall once before, but it had been peaceful and serene, and that was what she needed right now. To be alone, truly alone, with no peering eyes or judgmental stares; no one checking her out or making her skin crawl. And she could get that at the waterfall. Peace. Serenity. If only for a little while.
—-
Sawyer hacked and swatted at the branches in his path, angrily swiping left and right, taking out his frustration on the island flora. He lost track of time, walking until the sun was tucked behind the treetops behind him. Sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He was so consumed with his annoyance and hurt that he didn't even realize he was in unfamiliar territory until he reached the giant metal pylons that surrounded the Others' compound.
He froze, mouth falling open slightly. He'd fucked up, he knew. He'd gone too far.
Had he been walking for hours? It didn't feel like it. His feet weren't even sore.
But he had to have been. Their compound was hours from his camp, he'd heard. He had yet to see it himself though - until now.
According to the doc, there were houses just past that hill in the distance. Curious, he adjusted his trajectory and aimed towards the base of the hill. He climbed it, panting and heaving as it got steeper and steeper, until finally, he crested the top and was able to look out over the valley below. More pylons, circling to the right, surrounded exactly what Jack had described: a fucking community of yellow houses, clustered together like some kind of suburban oasis.
God damn, he thought bitterly, and surveyed the buildings, sidewalks, and people milling around the central lawn. "Son of a bitch - they have fucking bikes!" he swore under his breath, and reached up to swipe at the sweat dripping into his eyes.
These fuckers lived in luxury compared to his people. He knew they had food, and he'd bet they had showers and air conditioning, too.
Rage flooded his system, making his hands shake.
The fucking assholes. His people were hungry, and these jerks had their own houses. They had amenities.
His mouth tasted metallic. He'd bit his lip in unbridled fury.
Then, something caught his eye in the distance. Something yellow, something glowing. Wait, no - it wasn't glowing, but it caught his eye nonetheless.
A blonde. She was quickly sneaking across the grounds, looking over her shoulder at regular intervals.
One of them, he thought. He squinted, and saw she had a backpack on. She was going somewhere in a hurry, and Sawyer was determined to find out why.
He rushed down the hill, trying to match her trajectory. He'd seen her going east, he was sure of it, so he looked up at the sky and headed that way too. He tripped three times, catching himself on nearby trees. He knew he must sound like a bull in a china shop careening through the jungle, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed to catch up to her. He needed to make her talk, maybe hold her hostage if he had to.
This might be his chance. He could trade her safety for peace; make some kind of agreement that allowed him to bring his people here.
Maybe if he did this, he'd stop feeling so useless. Maybe they'd look to him again, and he'd feel needed, wanted.
This could work. He just needed to find her.
He slowed down when he heard noises up ahead. Shuffling, and some kind of low moan. Then - there - some kind of high-pitched whine. What was that?
He saw a clearing up ahead. Tiptoeing towards it, he tensed his body, preparing for action. She was just on the other side; he could see flashes of blue between the deep green of the foliage.
Sawyer was not prepared for what he saw when he finally stuck his head around a thick tree trunk. He gripped it to steady himself, as his brain raced to catch up.
The woman was sitting on a blanket next to a giant pool of water. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her forehead pressed against them, and her arms were wrapped around her legs. She was shaking.
Despite the distant roar of a waterfall feeding the clear pond, he could hear her gut-wrenching sobs, cracking and breaking out of her like fireworks. She'd swallow, trying to force them back down, but then - pop - they'd burst free, strangling her in the process.
He felt his nerve endings go numb. He didn't know what to do. The entire plan he'd built in his head slithered out of his ears, and he felt empty, purposeless, in its absence. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find out here, but her crying her eyes out wasn't on that list.
He stepped forward, and there it was - the crack of a twig beneath his shoe. Her head snapped up, red cheeks wet and glittering in the afternoon sun.
Sawyer almost fell to his knees at the sight.
Despite her state, and the fear evident in her face, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She lowered her knees, now on high alert, eyes wide in fear, like a deer caught in his headlights. Time stood still around them, him mid-stride, and her sitting prone on the ground.
Sawyer felt something shift deep in his belly, at a cellular level. There was something about her, something he couldn't describe or even begin to understand, that pulled him into her orbit.
"Don't come any closer!" she commanded with a shaky voice, wiping her face with trembling fingers. "I have a gun!"
Sawyer could tell she was lying, but he didn't care. He played along, holding his hands up in surrender. "I ain't here to hurt ya," he said, even though he was lying now, too. Hadn't he meant to find her? Hadn't he wanted to kidnap her, threaten to kill her if she didn't bring him back to her village?
But he didn't want to, now. She looked harmless; just a distraught woman crying all alone in the jungle. She didn't look like one of them at all. (Though he wasn't sure what that even meant. Not really.)
"I have people nearby. I can call for help, and they'll come," she warned, her voice low and wobbly. She was struggling to regain her composure.
Sawyer shook his head. He'd seen her come out here alone. He took another step forward, hands still up above his shoulders. "I told ya, I ain't gonna hurt ya. Now just - stop. Last I checked ya didn't need a permit to come here. Public property, or whatever…" He lowered his hands slowly, her eyes following his every movement, until they hung limply at his sides.
She said nothing as he approached her, one foot in front of the other. Slow, purposeful movements. Once he was ten feet away, she scrambled to her feet. He stopped, not wanting to spook her further.
"You're one of the Oceanic survivors," she said, less of a question and more of a statement. She raised her chin, tears gone and an icy facade slipped into place. She stood tall, shoulders back, poised for a fight. He almost laughed.
"Yeah, well. You're one 'a them," he bit out, and jerked his head towards the direction of her village.
It was as if his comment had struck her across the face. She flinched, eyes narrowing in pain. "No. I'm not," she replied, and he believed her, if only because of the hitch in her voice. The way she wavered, the corners of her eyes turned down on either side of her face.
"The hell's that supposed to mean?" he asked gruffly, cocking his head to the side. "Last I checked, there was just us, and you."
Her lips pursed and she nodded, not disagreeing with him. "What's your name?" she asked, after a beat. She seemed to be feeling more brave. Her shoulders relaxed a little, and she shifted her weight to one foot.
"What's yours?" he asked back, his voice dripping with sweetness and charm, dimples on full display.
She frowned, worrying her lip between her teeth. Deciding. "Juliet," she responded after a moment. She crossed her arms across her chest. He forced his eyes to remain glued to her face. "You going to tell me yours now?"
It was a hell of a question, wasn't it? He'd gone by many names in his lifetime. He opened his mouth, primed to say 'Sawyer,' but that didn't really feel like the case anymore, did it? Being here on the island, all this time… it had done something to him. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to hear his real name come out of someone's mouth. He wanted to hear her soft voice, murmur the name he'd been born with.
He felt himself shiver in anticipation. "James," he said, and it felt like he had peanut butter in his mouth. It felt strange, saying it for the first time in maybe fifteen years.
She nodded, and he yearned to hear her say it back to him.
Her voice was like music. He wanted to hear her say anything at all. (It had been so long since he'd heard music.)
She pointed to his hand and took a small step forward. She inhaled deeply, and on the exhale she said, "Your hand. It's hurt."
Confused, Sawyer lifted his hand to inspect it. She was right; he was bleeding from several small scrapes on his palm, probably from when he'd caught himself on the trees on his way here. "I'm alright," he said, shaking his head dismissively.
Juliet closed the gap between them. "You're not going to kill me, are you?"
Sawyer chuckled. The question caught him off-guard. "No. I ain't gonna kill ya."
A tiny smile graced her lips, and something broke open in Sawyer's chest at the sight. His heart felt like it was on fire. He wanted to see it again. "Good. Let me see." She held out her own hand, looking up at him expectantly. He hesitated only for a moment, questioning what she was doing, before placing his hand out for her inspection.
She peered down into his palm. Using her fingernails, she gently extracted a couple splinters before holding his hand up more into the fading afternoon light.
Sawyer was fairly confident that he'd stopped breathing the moment their skin touched.
"Come on. We need to clean this out."
"We?" he coughed, brain not functioning and heart slamming inside his body. What the hell was he doing?
"Yes. I'm a doctor, and we need to clean out the wound. You don't want to get an infection, do you?" She arched an eyebrow, and Sawyer's soul left his body. He felt like putty in her hands, and he had no fucking clue why.
"Fine," he heard himself grumble, and he followed her over to where her blanket sat beside the pond. They sat down, and she pulled out a canteen of water out of her bag.
"Hold your hand out over here," she instructed, and he did as she said, holding it over the dirt. The still-cold water felt so fucking good on his hot skin, but it stung as she poured it over his cuts. "Okay, now let me see it again."
He flicked the excess water away and pushed his hand back over to her. She pulled out a flashlight from her bag and clicked it on, looking down into the scrapes.
"I don't see any more splinters. Did you fall into a tree?"
"How'd ya guess?"
She grinned again, still examining his hand. She clicked off the flashlight and stowed it back in her bag. "It's not deep. You don't need stitches. But I think the water washed away most of the dirt." Then she reached up under her blue shirt, and Sawyer was startled by a strange ripping sound. When she pulled her hand back out, she carried a long strip of white cloth. Torn from her tank top. Fabric that was, until just now, touching her bare skin.
Sawyer shivered, his breath hitching slightly. Juliet seemed unphased. "Here," she said, and signaled for him to put his hand out again. He obliged, transfixed, as she gently tied the fabric around his hand. The white immediately speckled with red as pinpricks of blood soaked through. (He was half-tempted to lift the fabric to his face and inhale, but that'd be asinine, he knew.
"Good as new," she grinned, and raised her eyebrows after a moment of Sawyer holding his hand out stupidly in midair. She was finished.
"Thanks," he said, and he meant it. It felt… nice, being cared for like that. He was a complete stranger to her, and yet, she'd made sure he was alright. She'd been sobbing her guts out, and yet that hadn't mattered. She'd shown him kindness, even though he'd been so close to hurting her.
After a moment of awkward silence, Sawyer tested the waters between them, dipping a toe in to see if she'd be up for small talk. He was still enthralled by the sound of her voice, and wanted to hear more of it. "So… Juliet…"
"Yeah?" she answered, quietly, but still encouragingly. He could continue.
"Ya said… earlier… Ya said you weren't one of them."
She nodded, eyes leaving his face to look out over the pool of water beside them. The sunlight cast a glow upon her hair that made it look like it was made of glitter. He wanted to touch it, but he didn't. "If you can believe it, I'm just as much their captive as your friends were," she answered.
Sawyer felt himself flinch. "They're not my friends," he growled, suddenly thinking of Kate, who only used him to make the doc jealous; of Jack, who only saw him as a nuisance, someone who got in his way. His anger flared, but her soft gaze tamped down on it like a sheet of soft snow. "I mean… they're my people I guess, but they ain't my friends."
Juliet nodded. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
Her mouth twitched to the side. "I'm sorry they were taken."
He grunted. "Were you the one who took 'em?" She shook her head no. "Then ya ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."
A small huff of a laugh from her lips.
Joy. Empowerment. Greed, sang through Sawyer's chest.
He wanted to hear it again.
"That why you're out here all alone, sunshine? Runnin' away from prison like Andy Dufresne?"
She blinked, eyes settling back on his face. She grinned. "Something like that."
"Wanna talk about it?"
She shook her head. "Not really."
"Oh come on, I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he teased, and another tiny, soft giggle bubbled out of her.
"Okay fine. You go first."
He didn't know what to say without saying too much. He didn't want to risk laying himself bare before her - not while this spell she wove over him suffocated him, holding him tethered to her. But he wanted to hear her story, so he needed to give her something.
"Crashed here a while back. I'm sure you remember." She nodded, face solemn. "We've all just been… tryin' to survive ever since. Seems your people don't wanna share their toys."
"Not my people," she reminded him softly, and Sawyer nodded.
"Right. Well, my people had to steal and scavenge to make it work out there on the beach. I'm guessin' ya know somethin' about that, too?"
She nodded. "Our leader, Ben… Your people made a mistake, holding him hostage. He'll never forget that. He'll never let you go."
"Yeah, well… the hell were we supposed to do? He sent that creep after Claire, and if he'da just left us alone…" Sawyer trailed off. His heart was racing at the memory. When Ethan had been uncovered by Hurley, and how fear had spread through the camp like a virus, killing all hope anyone had of ever being rescued.
Juliet swallowed. "I know. In his mind though, you all started it."
"Well, we didn't," Sawyer snapped.
"I know…" She sniffed and wiped at her nose. "That's why I'm here."
"What is?"
She sighed. "Pregnant women… they don't last long on this island. I thought I'd be saving them by coming here, but… but I can't." Her voice broke and she sniffed again, shaking her head in misery. "Ben… he's obsessed with me. He'll never let me leave. Even if I find a cure for whatever is ailing these women. It doesn't matter what I do, or who I save… I'll be stuck here, for as long as Ben is alive."
Sawyer clenched his jaw, jealousy rippling under his skin. She said she was a doctor. She must be some kind of lady doctor, he figured. And that guy, Ben… he couldn't blame him for loving her. She was gorgeous, and kind, and clearly smart… Sawyer ached, not knowing what to say. He wanted to make it better, but he couldn't. He knew that.
He didn't know why he said it. He shouldn't have, probably, but it came out anyway; the words jumping out of his mouth like they were trying to escape. "Used to be a conman." Her eyes flicked up to meet his, but her face remained impassive. It was the only thing that gave him the strength to continue. "I crashed here cuz I was bein' deported, from Australia. I… I ain't a good guy, Juliet. I done some bad things." He winced, as if the words were causing him physical pain. "All those folks I'm livin' with… they're good people. They don't deserve whatever crusade your admirer's leadin' against 'em."
She sighed through her nose, digesting everything he'd said. Sawyer waited, with bated breath, as she considered her next words. "You're right. They don't." He gave her a quizzical look, like he was trying to read between the lines of what she wasn't saying. Her face fell in shame. "He has files on every one of you."
Sawyer's heart skipped a beat, and nausea flipped his stomach upside down. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"
She shook her head. "I haven't seen them all. I swear. But I know he has them. It's… mainly the women's, that I've seen. I think Ben wants to know if any of them are pregnant."
Bright, indignant anger flared to life inside Sawyer's chest, and he clenched his non-injured fist. "Why the fuck would he wanna know that?"
Juliet's mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the words. "I've asked myself the very same question, over and over again. Why does he want to know? Why did he bring me here? What does he stand to gain, seeking out these women? Ben doesn't do anything out of the goodness of his own heart…" She paused, thinking. "I don't know his reasons. But it's his obsession. That I do know. I think… I think that's why he never lets me out of his sight."
Sawyer tensed his shoulders. It all came crashing back down around him: where they were, why they were here. She'd been running away. From Ben, it would seem.
A long moment passed, interrupted only by Juliet rooting around in her bag. She pulled out two bright, shiny green apples. She tossed him one unexpectedly, and he caught it deftly with his non-injured hand.
"I don't want to talk about Ben anymore," she murmured, and bit into her apple. He raised it, in a sort of 'cheers' fashion, and took the largest bite he could.
It had been so fucking long since he'd had a green apple. He moaned as the sour juice coated his tongue, and he licked his lips before digging in again, just as hungrily.
Juliet giggled. "Good, huh?" she said, mouth full, the juice making her lips shiny.
Sawyer paused, swallowed, and glanced down at them. Full, red, and delicious looking. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. They were wide, frozen, and her mouth parted in anticipation after she swallowed her bite.
He needed no other invitation.
He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. The tip of his tongue flicked out, licking the sweet juice of the apple, sending a tingle down his spine. She was delicious.
She visibly shivered as he pulled away, meeting her eyes once more to check in with her. Her lids were heavy, and her eyes were so, so blue. Being this close to her… he felt like he could drown in them, if he wanted to. (He did.)
They heard rustling in the jungle. A crashing sound, followed by muffled voices.
They heard Juliet's name being called.
Sawyer leapt to his feet, heart thundering in his ears. She stood too, shoving hard at his chest.
"Go," she urged, but he wouldn't move. The apple fell from his hand as he reached out to grip her shoulder.
"What about you?" he hissed, but she only pushed him harder.
"I'll be okay. Just - just go. They can't find you here. They'll kill you," she warned, her voice coming out fast and increasingly high-pitched. She was afraid. "Go back to your camp, James."
His name. She'd said his name.
God, it sounded so fucking right.
"Juliet?" They heard it again, this time closer.
"You ain't gonna turn me in, Blondie?" he asked, needing to be sure. He suddenly felt raw, splayed in front of her like he was naked and under a microscope.
She'd said his name.
Juliet shook her head. "I don't owe them anything," she assured him, and he believed her.
With one final squeeze to her shoulder, James turned and ran back the way he came, tree branches and leaves scuffing his cheeks and snagging his shirt.
But he felt none of it. The only thing he felt was the rope she'd tied around his heart grow increasingly taut, the further away from her he got.
He was ensnared. And he was afraid.
He ran like hell.
—-
"Who were you talking to, Juliet?" Danny demanded, looking around the clearing where her blanket was askew, her backpack turned over.
Juliet arched an eyebrow, praying to god her face didn't know the way her heart raced, or that her voice betrayed her fear. "No one, Danny."
"I heard voices," he said, and peered at her through heavy brows.
She rolled her eyes for emphasis. "I was talking to myself. Or I guess, to be more specific, to my sister."
Danny scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your sister?"
The word stung, coming from him. But Juliet powered through. "Yes, my sister. I haven't seen her in three years, Danny. I… talk to her, from time to time. It helps."
She wasn't lying. She wrote her sister frequently, when she missed her more than she could bear. It seemed to convince him, because after a moment, Danny nodded. "Fine. Well, we've been looking all over for you. Ben wants to see you."
"Of course he does," she muttered under her breath, and reached down to collect her things. She saw the apple James had dropped, just beside Danny's foot. She coughed into her shoulder, making him step away, angling his body from hers, and she dropped her own apple into the bushes beside her. When he turned back to look at her, she nodded to the apple. "You scared me. Made me drop my snack."
Danny turned around and picked up the apple. He rubbed the dirt off one unbitten side, stared into her eyes, and took a large bite. Then he tossed the apple aside, and chewed slowly. "You don't need it."
It stung, but he seemed like he truly hadn't noticed anyone else had been here. She felt better, even though the adrenaline still coursed through her.
He led her back to the barracks, not in handcuffs (though it certainly felt that way; a prisoner being led back to her cell) to where Ben was waiting at the picnic table she'd vacated. He smiled upon her return, and it made her feel sick inside.
"Where were you, Juliet?" he asked brightly, as if he was asking her about what she'd done last weekend. Control coated in curiosity, dipped in false patience. She couldn't tell, but she assumed he was livid that she'd wandered off.
"I just wanted to take a walk. I thought free will still existed on this island." She knew she was being bold. She knew he didn't like that. So she smiled, trying to placate the situation. She couldn't show fear. Not anymore. Not around him.
"Hmm. Yes, well. Next time just let someone know where you're going, okay?" Ben replied, and smiled sweetly at her. She wanted to gag at the sight.
"Is that really necessary?"
Ben made a small hmph sound. "No. You're right. Free will does exist on my island. Just… how about this. Don't wander too far, okay?"
Juliet nodded. This conversation was over.
Ben stood to head home, and she walked slowly over to her own house. He watched her as she entered, and she gave a petulant little wave before closing the door behind her. Once the door fully closed, she let out a loud, shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
James.
God, what a gorgeous fucking man. She couldn't believe she'd been caught like that - crying her eyes out, half-tempted to drown herself in the pond just to be free from this hellhole.
And he'd made her laugh! She couldn't believe it, but he'd actually pushed right through every painstaking barrier she'd erected, and he'd gotten her to laugh, to open up. What kind of sorcery was that?!
She decided to shower. She was coated in a thick sheen of sweat from head to toe, and she felt gross. The air in her house felt marginally cooler, though, which helped. Someone must have fixed her AC while she'd been gone.
She kicked off her shoes and walked to her bathroom. She closed the door before pulling off each article of clothing, one by one.
Then she saw it. Her tank top, where she'd ripped it. Her heart leapt into her throat. Had Ben seen it? Had Danny? If so, neither had said a word. She tried to remember if her blue overshirt had been tugged down or not. She couldn't remember, and the panic that ensued made her feel lightheaded and dizzy.
It didn't matter, she told herself. She'd probably never see him again anyway. Ben would keep his eyes on her, she was almost certain.
It was too risky. She couldn't go out there again. And if she didn't, he'd certainly never find her here. He'd be caught and killed, just for trying.
Her heart broke, as the final piece of clothing dropped to the floor. She hugged her arms around her body, feeling somehow worse than she'd felt earlier today. She turned the shower on and stepped in, not bothering to wait for it to heat up.
She trembled, and told herself it was from the cold.
Even as the water warmed, she still trembled.
She must still just be cold.
