Title: Inside A Break
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Words: 1153
Summary: He can’t even breathe and Sawyer’s grip is so hard that it hurts, it really fucking hurts, but he just holds back and doesn’t blink when Sawyer whispers I hate you in his ear.
Spoilers: for the S5 finale. Heavy. I mean it.
Disclaimer: seriously, do I look like Darlton?
A/N: for![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
invisiblelove who wanted zipper for the alphabet meme. This probably isn't what she had imagined, but I swear I'll make it up with the other two. ;) Title stolen very randomly from John Frusciante but I really couldn't come up with one.
Jack opens his eyes as he lies against the ground; there’s earth under his back and jungle in front of him.
It didn’t work, he thinks. Then for a fleeting second he looks down at himself hoping against hope that at least it half-worked and that he’s wearing a suit.
But he’s wearing that blasted Dharma suit.
Fuck. It didn’t work. And he sure as hell never felt so helpless in his whole life. He sits up taking a look at his surroundings, trying to understand where exactly he is; it’s five minutes of just staring at nothing before he realizes that if he’s here as he was before the bomb started, then all the others are, too, and then Sayid must be bleeding to death somewhere.
He stands up, the feeling of deja-vu so strong that he just wants to throw up. Instead, he calls out for all of them, but no one answers. He curses and as soon as he sees a path that isn’t blocked by leaves, he takes it.
--
It’s half an hour before he hears a strangled Doc coming from somewhere near him and that’s when he finds Sawyer and Sayid; the former is applying pressure on the latter’s wound and he’s doing it on automatic. Jack can see plainly that he’s thinking about something else, or someone else. Not hard to realize who.
He bites his lip and forces back tears; it’s not the time. Before, he was on a moving van and couldn’t do much; now he hopes that there’s still something he can do, and is thankful that Dharma janitors were required to keep a small sewing kit in their pockets. Just in case.
--
It takes two hours of working around with dirty bandages and in the end he has to rip the shirts that both he and Sawyer kept under the Dharma jumpsuits and the worst part of it is actually keeping Sayid awake, but in the end the bleeding is under control, the stitches are sewn and that’s everything he can do. Sayid could benefit of a transfusion but they aren’t at the old infirmary and considering what happened last time Jack gave his blood on someone on this island, maybe it isn’t good luck. He lets Sayid sleep it off, after all what could be done is done; they should actually get some too. It’s dark by now; no point in searching for the others. And meanwhile, Sawyer hasn’t said a word. His face is weary and all lines and it looks like he aged ten years; only three, or maybe thirty, Jack thinks before his stomach clenches.
“I lied,” he offers at one point, and Sawyer looks directly at him for the first time since.
“’Bout what?”
“Not exactly. It wasn’t all about Kate. It was… just, because of…”
“Doc, if you say destiny, I’m gonna make an even worse mess of your face than I did before.”
“No, I was saying, it was the right thing.”
“Really. How was it the right thing?”
“Fuck, Sawyer, do you really think we were all supposed to… time travel? And while some good things might have happened to us, what about everyone who died on the impact? What about who died after the impact?”
“Shit, we lived and died together, what ‘bout letting someone live fucking alone?”
He sounds so bitter, and Jack doesn’t have the heart to find an answer. He’s right, after all; they went and screwed it up, and why? For nothing. Nothing at all, in the end.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t dare…”
“Well, you know what, I am,” Jack hisses, trying not to wake Sayid up; he doubts he would, but still. The guy was bleeding to death, dammit.
“You could have helped,” Sawyer spits, and it’s pure venom.
“Yeah, I’d have, pity that a tire iron fell on my head. Do you think I’m glad that I didn’t even see it?”
Sawyer doesn’t argue and Jack shakes his head. Shit. He really feels useless and the blood in his mouth tastes bitter and disgusting and he really, really wants to throw up. Actually, his whole face hurts, thanks so someone sitting right next to him. And Jack can’t be angry at him though; for having once been the closest thing Sawyer had to a friend, Jack really did fuck it up for him royally.
He sighs, wishing that he could cry; except that if Sawyer doesn’t then he really isn’t entitled. Maybe they should search for the hatch. Maybe she survived that fall, as stupid and insane it might be.
“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes again. He doesn’t know what else to say, but suddenly he’s also tired and he doesn’t want to do anything other than apologizing. And it isn’t just about Juliet or coming back; it’s also about a lot of other things and he just hopes that Sawyer realizes it. Not last, never answering when they were in the hatch that time before everything went to hell. He doesn’t know what is the suicidal instinct that prompts him to place his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder (warily, really; he expects a punch for an answer), but the only answer is a tight voice asking why.
There’s no sensible answer coming to him; he doesn’t say anything and squeezes Sawyer’s shoulder instead, not expecting to be suddenly crushed against Sawyer’s chest in the next five second. He can’t even breathe and Sawyer’s grip is so hard that it hurts, it really fucking hurts, but he just holds back and doesn’t blink when Sawyer whispers I hate you in his ear.
“I know,” he answers, and then Sawyer’s hands are at the zipper of his jumpsuit pushing it down and Jack is doing the same and there’s nothing underneath because the shirts went for Sayid’s wound; and Jack can only bite his tongue and let Sawyer grind against him and grip his hips hard enough to leave bruises. He doesn’t do a thing when Sawyer’s teeth close around a piece of skin on his shoulder as Jack’s hand jerks him off quick and fast and without frills; it’s hard enough to draw blood and somehow it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter that he has to get himself off too because then Sawyer’s head falls on his shoulder and he seems too tired to move; suddenly, there’s a kiss pressed where the skin had broken and Jack feels something clenching in his stomach and if there are some dried tears against his neck, he ignores it and just pulls Sawyer close as they fall to the ground.
When they do, Sawyer has his back at him, but he doesn’t move an inch; when Jack just closes his arms around his waist drawing him closer and slowly pushing the zipper back up, the only reaction is a hand clasping over his, but it has to be enough.
End.
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Words: 1153
Summary: He can’t even breathe and Sawyer’s grip is so hard that it hurts, it really fucking hurts, but he just holds back and doesn’t blink when Sawyer whispers I hate you in his ear.
Spoilers: for the S5 finale. Heavy. I mean it.
Disclaimer: seriously, do I look like Darlton?
A/N: for
invisiblelove who wanted zipper for the alphabet meme. This probably isn't what she had imagined, but I swear I'll make it up with the other two. ;) Title stolen very randomly from John Frusciante but I really couldn't come up with one.Jack opens his eyes as he lies against the ground; there’s earth under his back and jungle in front of him.
It didn’t work, he thinks. Then for a fleeting second he looks down at himself hoping against hope that at least it half-worked and that he’s wearing a suit.
But he’s wearing that blasted Dharma suit.
Fuck. It didn’t work. And he sure as hell never felt so helpless in his whole life. He sits up taking a look at his surroundings, trying to understand where exactly he is; it’s five minutes of just staring at nothing before he realizes that if he’s here as he was before the bomb started, then all the others are, too, and then Sayid must be bleeding to death somewhere.
He stands up, the feeling of deja-vu so strong that he just wants to throw up. Instead, he calls out for all of them, but no one answers. He curses and as soon as he sees a path that isn’t blocked by leaves, he takes it.
--
It’s half an hour before he hears a strangled Doc coming from somewhere near him and that’s when he finds Sawyer and Sayid; the former is applying pressure on the latter’s wound and he’s doing it on automatic. Jack can see plainly that he’s thinking about something else, or someone else. Not hard to realize who.
He bites his lip and forces back tears; it’s not the time. Before, he was on a moving van and couldn’t do much; now he hopes that there’s still something he can do, and is thankful that Dharma janitors were required to keep a small sewing kit in their pockets. Just in case.
--
It takes two hours of working around with dirty bandages and in the end he has to rip the shirts that both he and Sawyer kept under the Dharma jumpsuits and the worst part of it is actually keeping Sayid awake, but in the end the bleeding is under control, the stitches are sewn and that’s everything he can do. Sayid could benefit of a transfusion but they aren’t at the old infirmary and considering what happened last time Jack gave his blood on someone on this island, maybe it isn’t good luck. He lets Sayid sleep it off, after all what could be done is done; they should actually get some too. It’s dark by now; no point in searching for the others. And meanwhile, Sawyer hasn’t said a word. His face is weary and all lines and it looks like he aged ten years; only three, or maybe thirty, Jack thinks before his stomach clenches.
“I lied,” he offers at one point, and Sawyer looks directly at him for the first time since.
“’Bout what?”
“Not exactly. It wasn’t all about Kate. It was… just, because of…”
“Doc, if you say destiny, I’m gonna make an even worse mess of your face than I did before.”
“No, I was saying, it was the right thing.”
“Really. How was it the right thing?”
“Fuck, Sawyer, do you really think we were all supposed to… time travel? And while some good things might have happened to us, what about everyone who died on the impact? What about who died after the impact?”
“Shit, we lived and died together, what ‘bout letting someone live fucking alone?”
He sounds so bitter, and Jack doesn’t have the heart to find an answer. He’s right, after all; they went and screwed it up, and why? For nothing. Nothing at all, in the end.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t dare…”
“Well, you know what, I am,” Jack hisses, trying not to wake Sayid up; he doubts he would, but still. The guy was bleeding to death, dammit.
“You could have helped,” Sawyer spits, and it’s pure venom.
“Yeah, I’d have, pity that a tire iron fell on my head. Do you think I’m glad that I didn’t even see it?”
Sawyer doesn’t argue and Jack shakes his head. Shit. He really feels useless and the blood in his mouth tastes bitter and disgusting and he really, really wants to throw up. Actually, his whole face hurts, thanks so someone sitting right next to him. And Jack can’t be angry at him though; for having once been the closest thing Sawyer had to a friend, Jack really did fuck it up for him royally.
He sighs, wishing that he could cry; except that if Sawyer doesn’t then he really isn’t entitled. Maybe they should search for the hatch. Maybe she survived that fall, as stupid and insane it might be.
“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes again. He doesn’t know what else to say, but suddenly he’s also tired and he doesn’t want to do anything other than apologizing. And it isn’t just about Juliet or coming back; it’s also about a lot of other things and he just hopes that Sawyer realizes it. Not last, never answering when they were in the hatch that time before everything went to hell. He doesn’t know what is the suicidal instinct that prompts him to place his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder (warily, really; he expects a punch for an answer), but the only answer is a tight voice asking why.
There’s no sensible answer coming to him; he doesn’t say anything and squeezes Sawyer’s shoulder instead, not expecting to be suddenly crushed against Sawyer’s chest in the next five second. He can’t even breathe and Sawyer’s grip is so hard that it hurts, it really fucking hurts, but he just holds back and doesn’t blink when Sawyer whispers I hate you in his ear.
“I know,” he answers, and then Sawyer’s hands are at the zipper of his jumpsuit pushing it down and Jack is doing the same and there’s nothing underneath because the shirts went for Sayid’s wound; and Jack can only bite his tongue and let Sawyer grind against him and grip his hips hard enough to leave bruises. He doesn’t do a thing when Sawyer’s teeth close around a piece of skin on his shoulder as Jack’s hand jerks him off quick and fast and without frills; it’s hard enough to draw blood and somehow it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter that he has to get himself off too because then Sawyer’s head falls on his shoulder and he seems too tired to move; suddenly, there’s a kiss pressed where the skin had broken and Jack feels something clenching in his stomach and if there are some dried tears against his neck, he ignores it and just pulls Sawyer close as they fall to the ground.
When they do, Sawyer has his back at him, but he doesn’t move an inch; when Jack just closes his arms around his waist drawing him closer and slowly pushing the zipper back up, the only reaction is a hand clasping over his, but it has to be enough.
End.
feeling: 
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blahon rotation: i am mine - pearl jam
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