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26 January 2008 @ 06:22 pm
Fic, Lost: With Every Wish (There Comes a Curse), Jack/Sawyer, Nc17, for lostfichallenge  
Title: With Every Wish (There Comes a Curse)
Rating: there's sex, though nothing graphic at all. I'd say R to be sure, but it's nothing that would scar underage children.
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Word counting: 6300. Go me!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Come on, if they were I'd be much richer than I am.
Spoilers: For everything up to the S3 finale with uttermost speculation.
Summary: He hears a preacher in some street shouting that you should never wish for something, because with every wish there comes a curse. But Sawyer was never one to listen to preachers.
Thanks: to elise_509 who was the most awesome beta reader for this and whose tips really helped me with it. Thank you so much again!
A/N: Written for lostfichallenge #64, 'Inspired by..'. The song was With Every Wish by Bruce Springsteen (as everyone who knows me wouldn't have suspected...), to be found here if anyone wants to hear it.

The first time Sawyer wishes for something, his name is still James Ford and he is almost eight years old.

He doesn’t do it with some deep purpose or a reason, or anything. It was just another night in which his father and his mother were having a row, again. It is just another night, yet another fight.

He never has wished for anything really; he’d never had the need to. But right then he just thinks: “I wish they’d stop fighting.”

Two months later, they stop, indeed.

But he never remembers laying awake in bed one night wishing for it. Truth to be told, he already forgot when he woke up the next day.


A few years after, he hears a preacher in some street shouting that you should never wish for something, because with every wish there comes a curse.

But he was never one to listen to preachers.


The second time he wishes for something, an officer has just told him that the fault lies with someone named Sawyer.

That wish, he remembers.

And he writes that letter so he won’t forget about it, ever.


The third time, he’s nineteen and and he’s had enough shit luck to find himself in fuckin’ debt to someone . Drinking whiskey in some low rate bar in Savannah, he thinks: Damn, I wish I could find some easy money.

A minute later, this middle-aged woman who can barely conceal the fact that she’s been crying sits down next to him. She starts drinking and it quickly becomes clear that she can’t hold her liquor worth a damn. Her name is Gwen, and he presents himself as Sawyer without even thinking about it.

She is his first con and he should find disturbing how easy it is for him to smile at her, a dimple barely showing, knowing what he’s about to do.

The day after, he has his money all right, but he wonders whether that bargain he made, is worth it. He resolves that honor, or whatever he should call it, isn’t that worthy in the end.

After his second con, he doesn’t even wonder anymore.


The fourth time he wishes for something, Cass is sleeping in his arms. It’s been a good life, those six months. Good, but make-believe under almost every aspect. Because, hell, he loves her, but nothing else is true and that one fact still isn’t enough to stop him. In a week everything will be gone, just like some flower just blossomed tore out from the ground with its roots and left to die on the side of the road.

He looks anywhere but at her, because every time his gaze finds her, his force of will weakens. He tells himself he really has got no choice and that he has to do it.

He thinks: I wish she knew the guy she’s really with. I wish she’d just leave before it’s too late.

The last part of the wish doesn’t come true, but the first part does.

That’s when he finds himself dressed in light blue. He’s just a number, in rare cases a surname and nothing more. And that’s fine by him. He spends time reeading books he already knows by heart and punching cons whose crimes are probably far worse than his ever were. He doesn’t care at all.

The thing that bothers him most is that there isn’t a single one who’s got enough talent to hit him, and hard. Because truth is that deep down, even if he doesn’t admit it to himself, Sawyer thinks he deserves all of it.


The fifth time he wishes for something, a gun is smoking in his hand, and he’s killed a man.

But not the right man.

He tastes salt on his lips first, then he’s on his knees on the side of the road and he’s feeling sick like he never has. He thinks I wish I could pay him back for this because he knows that this time it’s only his fault. Sure, he could blame Hibbs, but that’s not the point. He should have made sure the guy really was the one who he was searching for, he just should’ve made sure and he didn’t.


Three days later, Flight 815 crashes on the wonder known as Craphole Island and if this isn’t a way to make him pay for what he did, Sawyer doesn’t know what it is.

But after a mere six hours, he wishes to see how this Kate really is like.

Ten days after, he’s tied to a tree, bamboo sticks under his nails, and he’s never really felt such pain in his whole life. His whole body seems torn, pain shooting through his hands, his fingers; he screams, but he doesn’t say he doesn’t have the inhalers. Why?

Because for once that a fucked up wish of his comes true, he wants to see it through to the end. Because he really doesn’t have anything – or anyone – else to care for.

Then it becomes too painful, even if Sawyer thinks he deserves it, and he thinks I wish this was fucking over already.

Then of course the doc has to repent. Sure, he wouldn’t last a minute doing something which isn’t white knight in shining armor, but he can’t help feeling somewhat relieved when he stops Sayid.

Before it’s really over, he gets that kiss he’d been wishing for. Even though Kate slaps him afterwards, he doesn’t really care.

Then the genuine Iraqui loses it again and he feels a sharp pain in his shoulder and some cold blade tearing through his skin. He can only thank whatever not-so-high power exists for ending it already, except that the doc is really too much of a white knight without the shiny armor.

Fuck it is the last thing he thinks when Jack says he isn’t letting go. He really means it when he says he’d watch him die. But he doesn’t even have the strength to wish for it.


The eighth time he wishes for something, Jack and Hurley are lowering a corpse into a damn grave. He can’t look straight at it because all he can think of is Boone’s bloody face, how Boone looked when he beat him up weeks before. He knows there’s no way to take it back.

Jack’s shoulders are still after they are done. Even too still for his liking, like he’s keeping back tension. While Sayid speaks, Sawyer feels something twisting inside him. I just hope we’re going to find out he died for some fuckin’ purpose. And that we can make it worth something.

Less than a minute later, he and Charlie are stopping Jack from killing Locke on the spot and Jack collapses in his arms.


The ninth, his shoulder hurts and he’s doing CPR - or what he once was told it was CPR - on Michael.

I hope this fuckin’ works.

It works, indeed, but when Michael actually speaks, Sawyer is tempted to regret it.


The tenth, Ana Lucia is bringing them through the jungle, his shoulder hurts like a bitch, his legs tremble and she doesn’t show a sign of slowing down. I wish that bitch would get some damned payback.

He remembers that wish while her body is underneath his and they’re fucking on the jungle floor. It doesn’t feel right at all, but at least he’s getting some, and taking it from her.

It doesn’t seem a sweet revenge anymore, when he finds out what she wanted to do with that gun and what happened because of it.


The eleventh, he’s watching Kate from his cage and he’s giving up.

He likes her and that’s the truth. Genuinely likes her. And for once in his life, he feels so lost that he can’t keep up the mask anymore, not with himself at least.

I wish she told me she loved me, he thinks without too much hope.

And she tells him all right, except that when she does, he feels blood in his mouth and in every place of his body in which he could feel blood. He thinks that he’s seriously going to die and he can’t even feel her arms around him.

She says it, all right, but it really wasn’t how he wanted for it to happen.


The twelfth, he knows it’s over for them, even if she doesn’t. He thinks, I wish she was my girl at least this once and that we could both just stop.

When she’s kissing him and he’s threading his fingers in her hair, when she tastes sweet and he can’t get enough of her, when her body feels right underneath his fingers, when he holds her next, he thinks that for once it came true.

Then she says that thing about wiping the state clean and his castle of cards crumbles as quickly as he was slow in building it.

When they’re back and she comes to him the second time, his heart beats more quickly than Sawyer likes and he can only think I hope this lasts.

When she comes the third time, he doesn’t wish for anything. He knows it’s not him she wants and he tries to believe it’s fine.


The fourteenth time, he wishes he never wished to have the blood of the man who ruined his life on his hands.


When he’s back on camp and meets her, Kate goes away without showing any sign that noticed how horrible he was feeling.

Well, never in centuries he would have predicted that Sayid was going to be the first person to notice it.

There’s a first time for everything, he reasons. It takes Kate one day and a half to realize that he isn’t alright, not at all.

He doesn’t even try to explain it to her and before she can ask more questions he’s walking with Juliet through the jungle, knowing he’s probably going to die or get someone killed in the process and he doesn’t wish for anything. Hell, when you’re digging your own grave what could you possibly wish for?


The evening, it’s all even more messed up.

Claire cries and of course Kate is with her. Rose and Bernard too. Sun and Jin stick together; Desmond is staring at the ocean and Sawyer guesses it’s his way of brooding. Hurley keeps an eye on him sitting a few paces away. Juliet tends wounds around the group and Sawyer leaves all together, going for a free piece of shore and looking at the sky. It’s his last day here - or maybe they still have a couple – then the real world.

He really doesn’t think he’s ready to face it yet. While he stares at the sky, a falling star crosses it and he doesn’t have control over what he thinks.

I wish someone could understand this.

“Sawyer?” He hears from behind him. He turns and sees Jack, standing there a few paces away, evidently unsure of what he should do.

“Can I...?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jack sits and tries to smile weakly. He doesn’t succeed.

“Are you all right?”

Sawyer wants to lie and say yes because he really doesn’t want to deal with anyone right now.

“Fuck, no. Far from it.”

Jack nods and falls deep in thought, trying to find something to say.

“Does it show?” Sawyer asks without a hint of sarcasm.

“Yeah. You’re not doing a very good job of hiding it.”

“Figured it.”

“Where’s Kate?” Jack asks and doesn’t look at him while he does it. Sawyer shrugs and looks in front of him. Thanks for trying, he thinks, but no. The masochistic idiot would probably send him in her direction, if he could.

“She don’t want me, Jackass.”


Sawyer has to turn at Jack’s startled tone; the doc looks positively surprised alright.

“She always wanted you. Even when she came to me last time, she did it only ‘cause she saw you with Juliet.”

“But, when we were...”

“Hell, there? It was ‘cause she figured I was a dead man. It was ‘bout me, alright, probably, but sure not for the right reasons.”

Sawyer tries not to sound bitter. He tries to keep it it plain and flat. He doesn’t count on his voice slightly breaking on the last words, but he keeps his face stoic. No way he’s going to have a late night hormonal rush in front of Jack, of all people.

Except that Jack’s hand is on his shoulder and he can feel Jack come nearer. He raises his head and meets Jack’s eyes, which seem to hold no grudge at all. When Jack’s hand brushes his cheek, he realizes he’s been holding his breath.

“Doc...?” He asks completely puzzled.

“You wished it was.”


“You wish it had been about loving you, right?”

“Can’t say I didn’t.” He answers, giving up on pretending. He isn’t in a good enough shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, and he looks damn sincere. Sawyer doesn’t doubt that he is sincere.

“Got nothin’ to be sorry for. Sure was her doin’, not yours.”

Jack nods and before Sawyer can place it, Jack’s lips are hovering over his own. Not kissing, but not still.

And Sawyer sure as hell doesn’t need someone else fucking around with his head.

“Doc, if this is about...”

“No. It’s about you.”

Sawyer feels like he was punched in the gut. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around actually believing it.

“What? Doc, ain’t the time to fool around with me. You kissed Juliet ‘fore, it’s...”

She kissed me. And she knows. She’s known all along.”

“What does she know?”

“That I appreciate what she’s done for me and that I know she likes me, but I can’t give her more than what I already have. And that it was never about Kate.”

Sawyer is damn speechless and maybe another time, he might have punched Jack and told him to fuck off, except he can’t, not now.

“Can…can I?” Jack asks softly.

“Yes.” Sawyer murmurs in a voice he doesn’t recognize and then Jack is kissing him slowly, just lips against lips, no force put behind it or anything, but Sawyer feels his whole frame shaking while Jack’s hands are smooth over his tight shoulders. Too good to be true, he thinks, and then doesn’t care anymore.

He opens his lips, giving Jack all the access he wants, and for the next half hour or so he forgets about Cooper, Kate, and everything else. Jack’s hands are rough and gentle on his skin; his body is warm and steady, his hair feels soft under Sawyer’s fingers. His mouth is hot and welcoming and Sawyer can only moan between kisses.

The memory of Jack’s teeth lightly biting his shoulder is not going to fade away anytime soon; like the mark he leaves behind, it is going to stay for some time. He really can’t think anything when pleasure spasms through him and he almost crushes Jack’s body even closer to his, searching his mouth, coming while kissing him and, in that second of consciousness before every possible thought leaves his head, I wish I realized this sooner.


Three days after, those freighter people take Jack, Ben, Kate, Sun, Sayid, Hurley and Aaron away and there’s nothing anyone can do to change the situation.

Desmond is black with rage because hey, he had told them that they needed to fucking hide. The only thing Charlie’s death could have been of some use for was that, and then he breaks down crying. Claire actually goes and holds him to her, crying too, and Sawyer feels sick.

It takes a few weeks for him to realize something’s really missing, and it ain’t Kate. He can’t stop dreaming about how good Jack’s touch felt on his body, how sweet that night had been, how whole it made him feel.

He guesses it’s no more than three months later when, looking at the sea again, he feels salt on his lips and says I fuckin’ loved him to a handful of graves. He almost can feel them near, the dead ones.

I wish I was with him, he thinks, knowing it was never going to come true.


Three years and a half pass and Sawyer admits they’ve all stepped into a damn routine. They don’t even count the days, knowing that they’re not ever getting back, so why worry? He notices that none of them have aged in the slightest and this scares him shitless, but he never speaks of it with anyone and he sure doesn’t intend to.

Desmond has thankfully stopped brooding in daylight and he gets along with Claire just fine; Sawyer wouldn’t have guessed it, but hey, better for him. They rarely see Locke these days, but whenever he comes he looks as happy as ever. ‘Course he is.

Jin has managed to learn a fair amount of the English language, good enough to have actual conversations, and Sawyer is damn thankful for it. More often than not, he ends up exchanging books with Juliet. Even if their conversations are never deeper than cursing Stephen King for killing people without regret, he finds out that it’s at least an odd way to keep him sane. He had been startled to find out she liked him calling her Hot Lips because MASH is seemingly her favorite movie, but hey, it’s a first.

And at least they can both brood about Jack and isn’t that marvelous?

Then one day, when they actually see a ship on the horizon line, no one actually cares because they think it’s an hallucination. Then the ships actually docks and time freezes. He lets his book fall, Juliet’s eyes become even wider. Danielle and Alex, passing by, watch the ship with a suspicious look. Claire starts to tremble and Desmond and Jin, guns in hand, look ready to shoot whoever comes out.

Except that the ship is not that big - isn’t a freighter for sure. It could hold all of them but there wouldn’t be too much space. Then the door of the cabin opens and a blonde woman steps out.

Sawyer can barely hear Desmond screaming Penny before he realizes that Desmond’s running toward the ship. She runs down too, throwing herself at him, crushing him to her chest and then they start kissing.

Sawyer can’t refrain from thinking: How I hope for it to end like this, closely echoed by the thought that has haunted him even more lately. I wish I could see him again.

Locke stays behind, as he decided he would long before. Danielle and Alex do too. Sawyer, Jin, Juliet and Claire end up in a cabin big enough for two where they oddly have to share beds until they arrive at the Fijis.

Desmond gets to share the bed with the mistress of the boat but hell, Sawyer guesses, settling on the bed with his face against the wall and Jin’s back pressing on his, if it wasn’t for him, they would still be stuck on that damn island. Desmond’s allowed some privileges.


When they land, Sawyer thinks he needs to kiss the ground, but he doesn’t do it. There is no press, of course; he guesses the 815 survivors have already had their fifteen minutes of fame. Penny gets them all a room in a four star hotel and spends a few hours making calls. Then she comes to Sawyer with the phone in her hands, motioning for him to talk.

“Who’s there?”

“I would have never thought I would be so glad to hear your voice again.”

“What the fuck, Al Jazeera?” exclaims Sawyer, feeling like bursting. “Well, sure as hell I’d have never thought it either. But...”

“I have been helping Penny all along. Anyway, there are some things I wish to tell you about, but I suppose they can wait until tomorrow, in person.”

“Are you comin’?”

“Not just me.”


The next day, Penny brings them all to a room and Sawyer starts to feel dizzy. In front of him, stands Sayid, who looks exactly the same except for some gray in his beard, Hurley, with young blond boy at his side and Sun with another three year old in her arms.

First thing he’s aware of is Hurley glomping him like that time in the woods, so long ago now, and he barely registers Desmond and Sayid shaking hands, Sun and Jin holding each other and Claire crushing her son to her chest. Next thing he knows he’s embracing Sayid and he feels like he’s going to faint.

He doesn’t look at anyone in particular when he asks where the Doc and Freckles are.

Sayid takes a breath and motions for all of them to sit. He and Hurley tell the whole story, trying to make it short, and Sawyer learns that the freighter people actually left them free. When he asks why the hell did they take only them, Sayid shakes his head and says he doesn’t have the slightest idea.

Sun brought Aaron with her to Los Angeles, where she gave birth to her own child; they all stayed with Hurley. No one knew where the hell Ben was and no one cared anyway. Sayid had gone to Europe first, wanting to avoid all the press noise, and then managed to get in contact with Penny and had helped her figuring out where to search for them. But when they arrive at the Jack and Kate issue, Sayid takes out a folder and hands it to Sawyer.

He knows he won’t like whatever is in it.

When he closes it, he feels himself burning with rage. He clenches his hands into fists and bites his lip.



“I need to be in LA. And I need both of their addresses.”

Sayid just nods and writes something on a piece of paper, but Penny tells him they’re all going to Los Angeles anyway and they’re leaving in just a few days. It’d be better if they stuck together since no one of the survivors has documents or money in his name. Sawyer finds himself agreeing.

That night Juliet asks him for the file. He invites her in his room, takes a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and puts it on the table between them.

When she finishes it, she asks if she can have some.

“Sure thing, Hot Lips,” he answers, and for that night they go on ahead drowning their sorrows and so be it.

I hope he hasn’t forgotten it, Sawyer thinks when he’s really too drunk to stop himself.


The first thing he does after Penny checks him in at their hotel (and hell, wasn’t Doc Hamilton a good name as any?) isn’t going to Jack’s. It’s going to Kate’s.

Sayid told him that Kate’s husband, Kevin, came back and he’s still a cop. Sawyer takes a taxi and finds himself in front of a twenty-story palace. It’s a kind of building to which he was accustomed, since most of the women he conned lived in places just like it.

As soon as he steps out of the taxi, a police car leaves the driveway.

He guesses hubby’s got the night shift. The door is open and soon as a pretty woman comes out of the lift, he walks up to her and flashes his dimples.

“Miss, I’m sorry, d’you mind if I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure,” She says smiling, and Sawyer is glad to see that three years on that island hasn’t damaged his charming ways.

“I’m searchin’ for an old friend of mine, a brunette, married to a policeman...”

“Oh, you mean Monica?”

“Yeah, Monica. I know she lives here and since we haven’t met for some time I wanted to, you know, surprise her.. so..”

“They live at apartment 815, last floor.”

“Oh, thanks...”


“Thanks, Amy, you’re a sweetheart.”

She blushes and he hurries up the stairs, finds apartment 815 and knocks on the door. It opens and she doesn’t even ask who is it.

“How many times have I told you not to forget... Sawyer?” Kate exclaims startled. Sawyer takes her moment of shock to observe her better. She’s much more clean than he ever remembered her to be, dressed in a creamy white robe, her dark hair falling in rich curves and curling over her shoulders, such a lovely contrast. Freckles still visible, red and perfect lips, tough expression and definitely three months pregnant.

“That’d be me.”

“What do you want?” She demands in the defensive tone.

Of course.

“Nothin’ you have to be afraid for.”

“When... how...”

“Braveheart’s girlfriend and Al Jazeera. Guess you didn’t help much, did you?”

He means for it to be a punch to the gut, but her expression only hardens more.

“It was nonsense. No one...”

“I know the drill, Freckles. That ain’t the point. I wanna know ‘bout this.”, he says passing her the open folder. There’s the article which told the whole story of Jack saving the woman from the incident, that pic of him, so wrong, in a size too big.

“What there is to say?”

“I’ve already told you. I wanna know why. ‘Cause I’m sure as hell you weren’t with Mr. Drayton when you got here.”

“We never were together in that way, Sawyer.”

“Don’t mean you weren’t with him, Freckles.”

“He just... was stuck on going back there. And well, sorry, but I wanted to move on. Isn’t that right for you?”

“Is that right for him to be like that? Or was it for us to be stuck there?”

“I don’t think we have anything else to say.” She tells him, then shuts the door. Sawyer looks again at his folder and hurries down the stairs.

I hope he’s still there.


Jack’s still there, alright, but when Sawyer knocks on the door no one answers. It isn’t even locked.

He comes in and he finds Jack passed out on a mattress in the bedroom. Everything is filthy and smells of alcohol and trash, and the beard is even worse than on the newspaper picture. Sawyer crouches down on his knees and puts his hands over his eyes; he doesn’t know what he should do.

After almost four years on that godforsaken rock, he guesses he’s paid for his sins, and he just wishes for once for everything to be over, to settle.

He knows he doesn’t have enough strength to leave and start it all over again. He doesn’t want it.

Can I pick up the pieces? He asks himself.

Might as well try.

He stands up and opens all the windows, letting some fresh air into the room. Then he goes to the sink, takes a dirty glass, fills it with cold water, and throws it in Jack’s face.

It doesn’t work, but at least he stirs.

Stubborn son of a bitch.

Sawyer fills the glass again and does the same another time. Jack wakes up and blinks a few times, then looks up at him like he’s some magical apparition.

Sawyer feels something ache inside him when Jack tries to move away like he’s going to burn if Sawyer touches him, but he guesses he’s allowed. Hell, he’d think the same in his place.

“I’ve got to go back, fuck, to go back..”, he starts muttering.

Sawyer understands what Jack is thinking. Even too much.

He crouches down and clenches his shoulders in his hands.

“You don’t. We got rescued.”

Jack still looks at him like he’s a ghost.

“You can’t be real.” His voice is slightly more than a whisper.

“Well, happens I am.”

“How... no, I’m getting...”

“No, you ain’t crazy. Desmond’s girl, she found us. And I think ya could stand leavin’ this place.”

He brings Jack’s arm over his shoulder and guesses that Jack is too out of it to actually get what he’s doing. Sawyer closes the door, stops a taxi and gets them to his hotel. The room, thankfully, is a double and he carefully settles Jack onto his own bed.

He guesses he can’t do anything except wait for the morning to arrive; hope Jack’s more coherent than this.

He’s careful not to wish for anything this time.


When Jack wakes up the morning after, he looks at his sorroundings like he can’t recognize how the hell he ended up in there. Well, no doubt he doesn’t. When he actually sees Sawyer, he just gasps.

“Doc?” Sawyer asks, not moving from the bed.

“What... are you for real?” Jack manages to ask, not daring to move.

Sawyer stands up and moves to sit on Jack’s bed. He doesn’t even notice that Jack kind of smells of alcohol and sadly not only that.

“For your disgrace, I am.”


“Already told ya. Desmond’s girl. Everyone else is in this same motel.”

“So you were rescued?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we were.”

Sawyer puts one hand resting lightly on Jack’s cheek, shaking his head.

“Doc, you really need a shave.”

Jack takes his hand with a damn strong grip, keeping it there, and even if it hurts for a few seconds Sawyer doesn’t move an inch.

“So you aren’t an hallu-”

Now Sawyer is getting tired.

“The fuck I am. And I’m sure as hell showin’ you right now.”

He forces Jack to stand and leads him into the bathroom. He had already put out an electric razor and some shaving cream that morning, since he couldn’t sleep for shit.

Jack blinks a few times and Sawyer shrugs.

“If I were you, I’d have a shower. And I’d shave myself. If you don’t think you can manage shavin’ call me and I’ll give ya a hand. You can manage showerin’?”

Jack nods, then looks at him again.

“And what I should wear?”

“Ain’t your problem. Leave your clothes on the floor, I’ll collect ‘em when you’re inside.”

Jack nods again and Sawyer walks out of the room. When he hears the water streaming, he comes back and takes Jack’s clothes, with a disgusted expression on his face. They’re beyond filthy, indeed.

He takes a trash sack and throws them in, then opens the closet and starts going through the clothes he bought for himself in Fiji. He smiles at the pink shirt Penny got him because no one from the island was in actual state to buy clothes or step out of a room; he considers giving Jack that one, but he dismisses it and chooses a light blue flannel which he wore half a day and was definitely comfortable and a pair of plain jeans - he has another pair anyway. He also takes a pair of briefs and stops just outside the door.

“Doc, I’m comin’ in! I’m leavin’ the clothes inside, alright?”

Silence is yes, isn’t it? When he comes in, Jack is still showering and he’s glad for it; he puts the clothes on the first flat surface he sees and then leaves the room. He’s probably going to need help shaving, he thinks, but hell, Sawyer can only hope this works. He should call someone else from the island, maybe Juliet, but he isn’t so sure he wants all the others crowding the room now. He guesses Jack isn’t going to believe it fully until he sees them, though.

The water turns off but five minutes pass and Jack isn’t out yet. Sawyer doesn’t mind it too much. He’s taking his time, he guesses.

Fifteen minutes later, he still isn’t out. Maybe it’s too much time. He knocks on the door and hears a muffled come in.

He opens the door and he suddenly wants to cry, so instead he laughs and for once he feels like laughing and not like smirking.

Jack is wearing his jeans that are slung low on his hips - he has lost some weight - and is wearing his shirt open. He has shaved though, and badly, because he still has some remains of stubble after he dried his face, but Sawyer guesses that with a trembling hand he couldn’t do much better. His cheeks are slightly hollow, more than he remembered, but he’s looking at Sawyer exactly like he looked at him like he used to on the island, whenever he was pissed at him for something or other. For once Sawyer feels things coming in place.

It won’t last, he knows it, but as Jack sets the razor on the sink, Sawyer puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

“Doc? You know what?”

“What...?” asks Jack, clearly confused.

“Well, you look good in my shirt,” Sawyer states, smiling without being able to stop, and their lips are close, so damn close and Jack has also had the presence of washing his teeth. A cold shower makes miracles, he thinks before leaning just a little bit forward.

“You remember it..?” Jack asks against his lips.

“Ain’t nothin’ else I’ve been thinkin’ about all this time,” he answers, and while they kiss, with Jack’s whole frame shaking, Sawyer crushes him in an embrace which is so going to prove Jack that he’s alive and in the flesh and has got the presence of mind not to wish for anything else.


It isn’t a long way down, no sir. Everyone decided to stay in Los Angeles in the end and Sawyer makes sure to search for a place near Desmond and Penny. Not because of him, but because of her, since she looks to him like the sanest person of the whole bunch, and that’s a compliment.

He finds a part time job correcting drafts for a small LA publisher, which is good because he works at home. It takes a while for Jack to get off the damn Oxycodone and more than a while for the world to make sense again to both of them.

After all he passed four years stranded there, it’s not like he hasn’t got a problem with being back in civilization. He finds out he doesn’t like closed spaces and so he gets a place with very big windows. He can’t sleep an entire night because every small noise is likely to wake him up and besides, having Jack whimpering next to him is a pretty good reason not to sleep altogether.

The first time he eats ice cream he feels sick and throws up for half the day. He eventually gives up on heavy food because it seems that his stomach isn’t going to hold it for a long time. He has to wear glasses permanently because using that only pair which didn’t even have a prescription has fucked up something with his eyes, but he doesn’t mind them that much. Desmond told him he looked like someone who wanted to be intellectual and couldn’t fool anyone, but Sawyer has long decided that fooling people isn’t the road he wants to take anymore.

If Sawyer believed in some God, he would have thought that the month it took Jack to get off those damn drugs was a sure discount of at least a century in Purgatorium. But Sawyer now only believes in some kind of sick force ruling the world that just likes to fuck around with people’s heads, and he guesses his reward is going to be on Earth. Or at least he hopes it is, because he isn’t planning on biting it, thanks, and doesn’t want to wait until he actually does die to get it.

Then again, having Jack waking him up one morning with some kind of crushing kiss and an unmistakable desire to go further than kissing is more than enough for him and for the first time in his life he thinks that this can turn out fine.

The day he wakes up and the other side of the bed is empty, he smiles when he reads the note on the pillow next to his. He leaves the bed and can see Jack walking out of the building, in direction of some used car Sawyer bought six months before for a thousand bucks. But since some crazy guy decided Jack was fit to have his licence back, Sawyer is sure not going to complain.

On the island, he would have never imagined Jack finding a job in a fuckin’ alternative rock record store owned by two married crazy old ex-Nirvana fans who actually went to Nirvana concerts when they still existed. They had stumbled there one day because Sawyer was searching for some records, and tried to bring Jack out with him whenever he could. When he was finished, he found Jack and the wife mourning Kurt Cobain; when he found out that Jack actually loved Nirvana, he decided that it couldn’t get crazier than that. He’d been wrong.

The husband, a guy dressed in flannel and with too much unruly hair for his age, came into the conversation. When he started complaining about the last assistant running away because he actually preferred calmer stuff, what a depraved generation, his wife remembered Jack telling her at the beginning that he was searching for a not so heavy job, and here they were.

Sawyer is so going there to tease him about the Nirvana shirt he was sure he would be wearing, after he has a proper breakfast.

He runs a hand through his hair, puts his glasses on. He fills the coffee machine and opens the publisher’s laptop they gave him to work with, and starts to have a look at what the day holds in store for him. Desmond sent him an e-mail with an advertisment for some big bookshop closing, selling everything out, and Sawyer replies saying he’ll go down that afternoon.

When the coffee’s ready, he takes a sip and settles in to work, thinking of how crazy and normal and beautiful it is to actually have the kind of routine he had always dreaded.

He doesn’t wish for anything more because now, he has everything he needs.


feeling: nervousnervous
on rotation: random rossini
elliotsmelliot: jack sawyerelliotsmelliot on January 27th, 2008 01:06 am (UTC)
This is like three stories in one! Bruce has served you well.

The poignant reflections of Sawyer's pre-island life. It was so childlike to have Sawyer forgetting his first wish almost immediately and then irony of carrying his next wish around for almost forever. I thought it was really telling that on island the wishing took over his life, every day a new wish, each of them reflective of his different personas. I really liked the ones with Ana and Michael. You do a great job fitting in the entire ensemble.

Then there was the relationship stuff. You had me completely believing the same guy could fall for Cass, Kate and Jack. (You really nailed Kate's coldness.) The "I wish I realized it sooner" moment was just guh and the kiss you described was so sweet and hot. I find it very realistic that it would be Jack to fall apart in civilization while Sawyer left in the wild, keeps it together. I loved Jack and Sawyer's new jobs and the details about the glasses and Sawyer going book shopping with Des. Can I move to their neighbourhood?

Then there was the whole island rescue/return element that I found so compelling. The seemingly randomness of who they took and who they kept. Then it's Penny to the rescue and my favourite part was Sawyer acknowledging she was sanest of a pretty looney bunch. I loved the reunions between Sun and Jin and Aaron and Claire and Sayid and Hurley with everyone and hints of difficult adjustments.

Really great! I'm sorry that I didn't comment until now. With all the stuff at Squee, this originally slipped by me.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost j/s kate separates themjanie_tangerine on January 27th, 2008 08:05 am (UTC)
Don't feel sorry, I had this posted yesterday and I haven't still re-posted it anywhere so that's okay ;)

Bruce is an inspiration indeed. Apart from the fact that I always steal his titles he has some songs which are so good and so begging to have a fic made out of them, for the challenge I thought about at least three other songs of his but then went with this one which was the one with the best concept.

Great to know that I got Sawyer's love interests plausible, I was a bit worried with the transition Kate -> Jack because I didn't want to make it too easy. Glad you also liked the new jobs, I'll admit that Nirvana fan Jack was the thing I liked best out of the FF and guessed I could use the particular for happier purposes. And I'd definitely rent an apartment in the neighborhood. Not stalking, of course.

Penny probably is one of the sanest characters on that show and for this I kind of admire her ;)

Ops, I rambled. Anyway, thank you so really much for reading, I'm really happy you liked this one!
alemyrddin: Jack Sawyer hugalemyrddin on January 29th, 2008 01:22 pm (UTC)
oh wow. WOW!
Stupenda. Adoro come hai usato la ripetizione dei desideri di Sawyer, sottolineando come ogni volta ne siano nate delle disgrazie....
Il momento in cui Jack si siede di fianco a lui sulla spiaggia e gli dice "NO, it's about you"... awww. Scalda il cuore, davvero.

Temevo finisse con loro ancora sull'isola, invece Penny è riuscita a trovarli! Grande Penny! E Sayid!
Questo significa che Jack può smettere di tormentarsi... (non so se l'hai preso da uno spoiler, ma l'idea che alcuni siano tornati e altri rimasti sull'isola è perfetta per giustificare il senso di colpa di Jack).
E poi, il lieto fine, non senza che Sawyer gliene dica quattro a quella stronza di Kate...
Veramente bellissimo, mi ci sono proprio immersa stravolentieri.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost jack/sawyerjanie_tangerine on January 29th, 2008 03:47 pm (UTC)
Wow grazie mille, sono davvero contenta che sia piaciuta così tanto! Mi è capitato di sentire quella canzone, è partita l'idea ed era così alla Sawyer che mi ci dovevo buttare. E considerando che è stato il primo pairing di Lost che ho letto e che volevo provarli da un po' ormai ho colto l'occasione ;) poi sinceramente non avevo il cuore di lasciarli sull'isola e beh, se Penny ancora li sta cercando chi sono io per non indirizzarla dalla parte giusta?

Che non vengano salvati tutti era quello che pensavo dalla fine della terza stagione, poi il trailer lì me l'ha confermato. Più che altro era l'unico motivo con cui mi spiegavo Jack in quelle condizioni era che avessero lasciato indietro qualcuno. Mi è sempre sembrato un personaggio molto razionale e non mi suonava giusto che fosse così ossessionato dal tornare indietro se non ci fosse stato nessuno lì. Sawyer da Kate è stato liberatorio. Ogni tanto devo fargliene dire qualcuna, mi sta lì da metà prima stagione e suppongo ci resterà. Non che me ne faccia problemi ;) seriamente, grazie mille per il feedback meraviglioso ♥

E io amo Sayid! Se non c'è non sono contenta ;)
_izu_ on January 29th, 2008 11:29 pm (UTC)
...ovviamente non capisco nulla pure magari comprendendo le parole in se ma...la tua icon?! °_° allora è proprio puro slash quel coso °_° spiegami °_° come accadde?
lover all alone: Jawyerinvisiblelove on March 31st, 2008 06:41 pm (UTC)
Oh wow, I can't believe I let this sit in my "To read" list for so long! I'm sorry I didn't get to it sooner! Beautiful job. Very interesting look into Sawyer's psyche. I love that he and Jack got to be relatively happy and NORMAL at the end. They certainly deserve that much :) Awesome job! *saves to memories*
the female ghost of tom joad: lost jack/sawyer ♥janie_tangerine on March 31st, 2008 07:05 pm (UTC)
Well and I surely didn't expect to get any feedback on this one by now so I'm really glad you liked it! Sawyer's head is kind of one of my favorite places. And I needed to give them some peace of mind at the end *sighs* thank you so much indeed! ♥