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ficinabottleTitle: Either Way, I'll Break Your Heart Some Day
Characters: Claire/Sawyer
Rating: T
Word Count: 1640
Summary: She's just trying to fix him.
Disclaimer: So back in April 2008, Augustana released a CD titled, Can't Love Can't Hurt. I loved the CD so much that I decided to write a Claire/Sawyer centric story for each song on the CD. This is the seventh story, and three remain. Enjoy!
all I have about the way things go,
I don’t know, I just don’t know,
make up some simple lies,
and compromise how I live
‘cause either way, I’ll break your heart someday
- - -
Things are different.
It’s taken Claire three years and forty-one days to get back to the beach camp and oh things are different. On the first journey back, she was carrying Aaron. His infant body had been nestled in her arms, swathed in blue. Sarcastic Miles had been there for whatever reason and now, as she had learned, was dead. Sawyer, who had taken her hand and had tried so very hard to protect her and Aaron, was now called James or Jim. And although she hadn’t heard the full story, she knew his stone-like demeanor and ever growing beard had something to do with Juliet’s death. Everyone stayed away from him and his section of the beach, save for Jack and Kate. Jack and Kate were the ones who had led her back to the beach. She starts with Sawyer’s hand and she finishes with theirs. They seem to be the alpha leaders of the diminished group now.
As it is, Kate doesn’t go into all that much detail about the other survivors. She does, however, go into much detail about Aaron, maybe a little too much detail for the newly returned Aussie. Of course she doesn’t say this blatantly, but Claire is now aware that if her son were to see her on the street, he’d pass her by without a second glance. He doesn’t know her and she doesn’t know him. Simple. Straightforward. So there is that. Never mind the fact that Jack is suddenly her half brother and that her mother is alive and well, not even close to the comatose state Claire left her in.
But it doesn’t matter. Nothing about back home matters because none of them are ever going back there again. Ever. Kate is going on about turning some wheel when Claire stops her and has to walk away.
It’s just too much to take in. Later. She could worry about all those things later. They have time, don’t they?
Instead of thinking about those things, she wanders. Picks up a rock or two on the beach and throws it into the mocking ocean. Kicks some sand. Thinks about which tent will suit her best. Doesn’t really think at all.
Accidentally, but perhaps not, she happens upon an abandoned six-pack of Dharma beer. There is no hesitation in her decision to drink all six as fast as possible. After spending three years getting to know her dear, ol’ lovely dad, she knows he’d never want her to give up an opportunity like this. And when she finds an empty tent with an empty bed, she doesn’t hesitate then either. Who cares if this tent happens to be on Sawyer’s section of the beach? No one is using it and that’s a good enough reason for Claire. It helps her stop thinking at least. For the moment.
- - -
At first, when Sawyer discovers Claire has chosen the tent closest to his, he’s mad.
Tells her not to talk to him or look at him or nothing, because it’s a waste and he doesn’t want anyone near him ever.
He kind of looks scary, what with his shaggy beard and long hair and red eyes, but she doesn’t care. She smirks at him, finds him amusing.
“Do you really think I have anything to lose anymore, Sawyer?” She won’t call him James or Jim; it’s bullshit to even think of him in that way. Nothing is different. They don’t know each other. They aren’t friends.
She is not scared.
- - -
The first time they kiss, both of their mouths taste of alcohol.
It burns Claire’s lips. It burns Sawyer’s throat. It makes both of them feel good.
In seconds he’s straddling her on the floor of his tent, cursing when the small of her back hits an empty beer can and she hisses into his mouth. Their teeth accidentally crash together and they pull away quickly. Each mutter a sorry in unison while Sawyer stands, hands through his hair and a scowl on his burning lips. Sorry for what? They don’t know.
She stands next and swiftly buttons her jeans. Her feet are crooked and unsteady as she walks past him and parts the door of his tent. Turning, she studies him for a moment before smirking tipsily.
“You should shave.”
She vomits into the sand later and has one hell of a hangover in the morning. He pretends not to notice.
He shaves his beard in the silence of the next evening, before dinner.
- - -
Eventually, between the nights of drinking till they can’t see straight, they get around to talking about things. It’s in her tent, which might as well be his considering how close in proximity the two tents are.
She tells him that she doesn’t want to damage his heart any further. She knows she’ll never replace Juliet and the child he lost, but it’s not what she’s trying to do. He doesn’t like to talk about these things, but she presses anyway. There’s nothing to lose here.
She wants to fix him. Wants to make him genuinely smile and laugh without a sour note always mixed in. In the process, maybe she’ll be fixed too.
He nods, still doesn’t say much. Strokes her blonde locks and thinks of a different woman. She doesn’t have to know this, but he tells her anyway. When she backs away, hurt in her wide blue eyes, he doesn’t tell her he’s sorry. He says that it’ll always be like that. He’s going to break her heart some day. There ain’t no stopping that.
She hugs him again and silently vows to try.
Tries to fix him. To fix herself. To fix everything… everyone.
She’s failing before she even begins.
- - -
They run out of places to fuck.
There’s once in his tent, where he still cries for Juliet when he thinks Claire isn’t listening. But she can always hear.
There’s twice in the ocean. The first time she calls him Charlie when she comes, but the second time, Sawyer makes sure Charlie is the last thing on her mind. The ocean spray washes away her guilty expression, but he knows she thinks of Charlie the rest of that day.
They do it three times on the swings in the middle of the abandoned houses of the Others. The rusty chains provide amusement for a while until he catches her singing Aaron’s lullaby and she catches him gazing at an abandoned house with a forlorn expression. Both waiting for something that will never get here.
Four times in the cabin. She’s the only one who can find it now; Hurley and Locke lost that privilege a long time ago. These moments prove to be a bit risky. One can never be too sure of when Jacob and Christian will pop back in for a chat. That one time in the rocking chair is well worth the risk, or so Sawyer says anyway. They’re never caught. Sometimes Claire isn’t so sure it doesn’t happen purposely though. They know. They always know. She shudders at this thought their last time there and never suggests going back again.
There are those five times in the Staff. A simple reason too: because there are beds there.
Jack calls this their grief. He stands with Kate and their daughter on the sands of the shore, watching as Claire and Sawyer head into the jungle for the umpteenth time. Kate tells him it’s none of their business and chases their brown haired baby down the beach with a tight smile on her face instead of finishing the conversation.
- - -
They get to know each other. There are some stories shared. More laughs. Friends, if it weren’t for the other part.
When she gets him really drunk, he touches her more than he does while sober. She thinks she likes that.
There’s a game she plays in her head. If he touches her a certain way and doesn’t just fuck her, he’s falling too. He’s forgetting the other blonde on his mind. Claire pretends that fixing Sawyer is not the only thing that occupies her mind. She pretends there aren’t butterflies flying around in her stomach day and night. She’s always plotting on what to do next and thinking about what his actions might mean.
She thinks it might be working.
- - -
He gets mad. His moods swing.
She doesn’t make the first move any more. She can never tell what he’s feeling about anything.
The hope that she might fix him is fading every day he touches her, looks for her, listens to her less less less. Always less now.
She finds some more beer. She drinks it.
- - -
She is muted. She is numb. She can’t feel anything at all.
He hears her crying, but he doesn’t do a thing about it.
- - -
“James”. The first time she calls him this, things are over. She has failed. He was a stranger for years and through one twist of fate, she saw him. Wanted him. Touched him.
Now both could go back to the strange oblivion they had known of one another before all this had happened. She would pretend she didn’t know what his laughter sounded like or what he tasted like or what it felt like when he was inside of her.
She could only admit defeat. She hadn’t fixed him. He hadn’t fixed her.
And sometimes things just end that way. Sometimes things are too broken and can’t be put back together. We’re just fools enough to try.
end.
Characters: Claire/Sawyer
Rating: T
Word Count: 1640
Summary: She's just trying to fix him.
Disclaimer: So back in April 2008, Augustana released a CD titled, Can't Love Can't Hurt. I loved the CD so much that I decided to write a Claire/Sawyer centric story for each song on the CD. This is the seventh story, and three remain. Enjoy!
I don’t know, I just don’t know,
make up some simple lies,
and compromise how I live
‘cause either way, I’ll break your heart someday
- - -
Things are different.
It’s taken Claire three years and forty-one days to get back to the beach camp and oh things are different. On the first journey back, she was carrying Aaron. His infant body had been nestled in her arms, swathed in blue. Sarcastic Miles had been there for whatever reason and now, as she had learned, was dead. Sawyer, who had taken her hand and had tried so very hard to protect her and Aaron, was now called James or Jim. And although she hadn’t heard the full story, she knew his stone-like demeanor and ever growing beard had something to do with Juliet’s death. Everyone stayed away from him and his section of the beach, save for Jack and Kate. Jack and Kate were the ones who had led her back to the beach. She starts with Sawyer’s hand and she finishes with theirs. They seem to be the alpha leaders of the diminished group now.
As it is, Kate doesn’t go into all that much detail about the other survivors. She does, however, go into much detail about Aaron, maybe a little too much detail for the newly returned Aussie. Of course she doesn’t say this blatantly, but Claire is now aware that if her son were to see her on the street, he’d pass her by without a second glance. He doesn’t know her and she doesn’t know him. Simple. Straightforward. So there is that. Never mind the fact that Jack is suddenly her half brother and that her mother is alive and well, not even close to the comatose state Claire left her in.
But it doesn’t matter. Nothing about back home matters because none of them are ever going back there again. Ever. Kate is going on about turning some wheel when Claire stops her and has to walk away.
It’s just too much to take in. Later. She could worry about all those things later. They have time, don’t they?
Instead of thinking about those things, she wanders. Picks up a rock or two on the beach and throws it into the mocking ocean. Kicks some sand. Thinks about which tent will suit her best. Doesn’t really think at all.
Accidentally, but perhaps not, she happens upon an abandoned six-pack of Dharma beer. There is no hesitation in her decision to drink all six as fast as possible. After spending three years getting to know her dear, ol’ lovely dad, she knows he’d never want her to give up an opportunity like this. And when she finds an empty tent with an empty bed, she doesn’t hesitate then either. Who cares if this tent happens to be on Sawyer’s section of the beach? No one is using it and that’s a good enough reason for Claire. It helps her stop thinking at least. For the moment.
- - -
At first, when Sawyer discovers Claire has chosen the tent closest to his, he’s mad.
Tells her not to talk to him or look at him or nothing, because it’s a waste and he doesn’t want anyone near him ever.
He kind of looks scary, what with his shaggy beard and long hair and red eyes, but she doesn’t care. She smirks at him, finds him amusing.
“Do you really think I have anything to lose anymore, Sawyer?” She won’t call him James or Jim; it’s bullshit to even think of him in that way. Nothing is different. They don’t know each other. They aren’t friends.
She is not scared.
- - -
The first time they kiss, both of their mouths taste of alcohol.
It burns Claire’s lips. It burns Sawyer’s throat. It makes both of them feel good.
In seconds he’s straddling her on the floor of his tent, cursing when the small of her back hits an empty beer can and she hisses into his mouth. Their teeth accidentally crash together and they pull away quickly. Each mutter a sorry in unison while Sawyer stands, hands through his hair and a scowl on his burning lips. Sorry for what? They don’t know.
She stands next and swiftly buttons her jeans. Her feet are crooked and unsteady as she walks past him and parts the door of his tent. Turning, she studies him for a moment before smirking tipsily.
“You should shave.”
She vomits into the sand later and has one hell of a hangover in the morning. He pretends not to notice.
He shaves his beard in the silence of the next evening, before dinner.
- - -
Eventually, between the nights of drinking till they can’t see straight, they get around to talking about things. It’s in her tent, which might as well be his considering how close in proximity the two tents are.
She tells him that she doesn’t want to damage his heart any further. She knows she’ll never replace Juliet and the child he lost, but it’s not what she’s trying to do. He doesn’t like to talk about these things, but she presses anyway. There’s nothing to lose here.
She wants to fix him. Wants to make him genuinely smile and laugh without a sour note always mixed in. In the process, maybe she’ll be fixed too.
He nods, still doesn’t say much. Strokes her blonde locks and thinks of a different woman. She doesn’t have to know this, but he tells her anyway. When she backs away, hurt in her wide blue eyes, he doesn’t tell her he’s sorry. He says that it’ll always be like that. He’s going to break her heart some day. There ain’t no stopping that.
She hugs him again and silently vows to try.
Tries to fix him. To fix herself. To fix everything… everyone.
She’s failing before she even begins.
- - -
They run out of places to fuck.
There’s once in his tent, where he still cries for Juliet when he thinks Claire isn’t listening. But she can always hear.
There’s twice in the ocean. The first time she calls him Charlie when she comes, but the second time, Sawyer makes sure Charlie is the last thing on her mind. The ocean spray washes away her guilty expression, but he knows she thinks of Charlie the rest of that day.
They do it three times on the swings in the middle of the abandoned houses of the Others. The rusty chains provide amusement for a while until he catches her singing Aaron’s lullaby and she catches him gazing at an abandoned house with a forlorn expression. Both waiting for something that will never get here.
Four times in the cabin. She’s the only one who can find it now; Hurley and Locke lost that privilege a long time ago. These moments prove to be a bit risky. One can never be too sure of when Jacob and Christian will pop back in for a chat. That one time in the rocking chair is well worth the risk, or so Sawyer says anyway. They’re never caught. Sometimes Claire isn’t so sure it doesn’t happen purposely though. They know. They always know. She shudders at this thought their last time there and never suggests going back again.
There are those five times in the Staff. A simple reason too: because there are beds there.
Jack calls this their grief. He stands with Kate and their daughter on the sands of the shore, watching as Claire and Sawyer head into the jungle for the umpteenth time. Kate tells him it’s none of their business and chases their brown haired baby down the beach with a tight smile on her face instead of finishing the conversation.
- - -
They get to know each other. There are some stories shared. More laughs. Friends, if it weren’t for the other part.
When she gets him really drunk, he touches her more than he does while sober. She thinks she likes that.
There’s a game she plays in her head. If he touches her a certain way and doesn’t just fuck her, he’s falling too. He’s forgetting the other blonde on his mind. Claire pretends that fixing Sawyer is not the only thing that occupies her mind. She pretends there aren’t butterflies flying around in her stomach day and night. She’s always plotting on what to do next and thinking about what his actions might mean.
She thinks it might be working.
- - -
He gets mad. His moods swing.
She doesn’t make the first move any more. She can never tell what he’s feeling about anything.
The hope that she might fix him is fading every day he touches her, looks for her, listens to her less less less. Always less now.
She finds some more beer. She drinks it.
- - -
She is muted. She is numb. She can’t feel anything at all.
He hears her crying, but he doesn’t do a thing about it.
- - -
“James”. The first time she calls him this, things are over. She has failed. He was a stranger for years and through one twist of fate, she saw him. Wanted him. Touched him.
Now both could go back to the strange oblivion they had known of one another before all this had happened. She would pretend she didn’t know what his laughter sounded like or what he tasted like or what it felt like when he was inside of her.
She could only admit defeat. She hadn’t fixed him. He hadn’t fixed her.
And sometimes things just end that way. Sometimes things are too broken and can’t be put back together. We’re just fools enough to try.
end.
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