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Sep. 8th, 2005 07:39 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
1001cranes.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ficinabottleTitle: If Atlas Shrugs
Pairing: Jack, Sawyer
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Slash overtones.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cues Logistics challenge, wherein there must be three scenes, the first line of the fic must be the same as the last, and the last word of each scene must become the first word of the next.
Heroes fall. That’s probably one of the truest things Sawyer knows. From Hercules to Winston Smith, they all get their chance. Every small-town hero, every big-time savior, whether they knock up their girlfriends or get nailed to a cross, it happens.
Sawyer keeps waiting for it to happen, but Jack shows no signs of burning out or losing his stride. He isn’t slowing down. He can’t afford to. A showdown with Locke is on the horizon, sure enough, and God knows what beyond that. Jack’s not the hero on the island because he’s the only candidate for the job. Sawyer knows Locke would give his eyeteeth to be in the leader position. Sayid wouldn’t be completely out of his element either. No, Jack was a hero before the island. A big-time doctor who grew up with an alcoholic daddy. Made him smart. Made him work hard. Made him stubborn. But then something else happened that made Jack feel like he owed the world something. Made him a martyr.
That’s all right too, Sawyer thinks. That’s the way most heroes end.
~
End of the fucking line, that’s what this place is. Each day that goes by makes it seem more and more hopeless. Their flare failed, their raft failed, the plane’s radio is broken, and if they were any more isolated they’d have to be in deep space. Times like these call for heroes.
Too bad Sawyer doesn’t believe in them. If he did, he’d be expecting Jack to be riding in on a white fucking horse right about now, because his shoulder is killing him.
His shoulder hurts like a motherfucker when it rains. Jack says his bone was about shattered when they took out the slug after he tangled with the Others. He can use his arm just fine. Doesn’t look any different, doesn’t even have much of a scar. Just aches when it rains. Wouldn’t normally bother him none either, ‘cept it’s been raining for a straight week now, and its making him clench his teeth so hard his eyes are crossing. It makes him snap at everything and everyone, even the Mamacita and Turniphead. He sees the surprise on her face and he feels bad about it, but Christ in a sidecar, he’s hurting.
He settles back into his bed with Watership Down, hoping that Hazel, Fiver, and Bigwig’s problems can distract him.
He shouldn't be surprised to find Jack walking down the beach a few minutes later. He should have known Claire would run to Jack.
They all do.
~
“Do something,” Sawyer insists petulantly, and is gratified when Jack grimaces.
“What’s wrong?”
“My damn shoulder, that’s what’s wrong. The one you said you fixed. The one that got shot. You know, that one?”
“I did fix it,” Jack snaps, peevish, and Sawyer is also glad to find that Jack isn’t that much of a martyr yet. “Have you been working with it at all?”
Sawyer pulls aside the flap of the tent and lets Jack in. He’s not going away now.
“Can’t. Aches when it rains. Hurts like a motherfucker right now. Sure you set it right?”
“I might not have,” Jack admits. Of course he admits. He’s always willing to take his share of the guilt, and then some.
Sawyer sighs, inwardly, and shrugs. “No way to stop it, right?”
“Painkillers.”
Sawyer’s surprised Jack even offered. His sense of survival is rarely on par with his compassion. “Naw. Save ‘em for something real.”
Jack nods, steps out of the tent and then stops, turns around and pokes his head back in. “You know, you could come up to the caves. I’m sure Sun has something.”
Jack holds out his hand.
Sawyer stares for a minute. Tried to slow his breathing. Tried to remember that he had distanced himself for a reason. He reads a lot, Sawyer does, and he knows he’s standing at a turning point. A plot twist, if you will, and he’s afraid, so fucking afraid of what it would mean to take Jack’s hand and to take Jack’s offer. For Jack to pull him up. For Sawyer to pull him down.
Sawyer doesn’t believe in heroes. Heroes fall.
Pairing: Jack, Sawyer
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Slash overtones.
Notes: Written for
cues Logistics challenge, wherein there must be three scenes, the first line of the fic must be the same as the last, and the last word of each scene must become the first word of the next.Heroes fall. That’s probably one of the truest things Sawyer knows. From Hercules to Winston Smith, they all get their chance. Every small-town hero, every big-time savior, whether they knock up their girlfriends or get nailed to a cross, it happens.
Sawyer keeps waiting for it to happen, but Jack shows no signs of burning out or losing his stride. He isn’t slowing down. He can’t afford to. A showdown with Locke is on the horizon, sure enough, and God knows what beyond that. Jack’s not the hero on the island because he’s the only candidate for the job. Sawyer knows Locke would give his eyeteeth to be in the leader position. Sayid wouldn’t be completely out of his element either. No, Jack was a hero before the island. A big-time doctor who grew up with an alcoholic daddy. Made him smart. Made him work hard. Made him stubborn. But then something else happened that made Jack feel like he owed the world something. Made him a martyr.
That’s all right too, Sawyer thinks. That’s the way most heroes end.
~
End of the fucking line, that’s what this place is. Each day that goes by makes it seem more and more hopeless. Their flare failed, their raft failed, the plane’s radio is broken, and if they were any more isolated they’d have to be in deep space. Times like these call for heroes.
Too bad Sawyer doesn’t believe in them. If he did, he’d be expecting Jack to be riding in on a white fucking horse right about now, because his shoulder is killing him.
His shoulder hurts like a motherfucker when it rains. Jack says his bone was about shattered when they took out the slug after he tangled with the Others. He can use his arm just fine. Doesn’t look any different, doesn’t even have much of a scar. Just aches when it rains. Wouldn’t normally bother him none either, ‘cept it’s been raining for a straight week now, and its making him clench his teeth so hard his eyes are crossing. It makes him snap at everything and everyone, even the Mamacita and Turniphead. He sees the surprise on her face and he feels bad about it, but Christ in a sidecar, he’s hurting.
He settles back into his bed with Watership Down, hoping that Hazel, Fiver, and Bigwig’s problems can distract him.
He shouldn't be surprised to find Jack walking down the beach a few minutes later. He should have known Claire would run to Jack.
They all do.
~
“Do something,” Sawyer insists petulantly, and is gratified when Jack grimaces.
“What’s wrong?”
“My damn shoulder, that’s what’s wrong. The one you said you fixed. The one that got shot. You know, that one?”
“I did fix it,” Jack snaps, peevish, and Sawyer is also glad to find that Jack isn’t that much of a martyr yet. “Have you been working with it at all?”
Sawyer pulls aside the flap of the tent and lets Jack in. He’s not going away now.
“Can’t. Aches when it rains. Hurts like a motherfucker right now. Sure you set it right?”
“I might not have,” Jack admits. Of course he admits. He’s always willing to take his share of the guilt, and then some.
Sawyer sighs, inwardly, and shrugs. “No way to stop it, right?”
“Painkillers.”
Sawyer’s surprised Jack even offered. His sense of survival is rarely on par with his compassion. “Naw. Save ‘em for something real.”
Jack nods, steps out of the tent and then stops, turns around and pokes his head back in. “You know, you could come up to the caves. I’m sure Sun has something.”
Jack holds out his hand.
Sawyer stares for a minute. Tried to slow his breathing. Tried to remember that he had distanced himself for a reason. He reads a lot, Sawyer does, and he knows he’s standing at a turning point. A plot twist, if you will, and he’s afraid, so fucking afraid of what it would mean to take Jack’s hand and to take Jack’s offer. For Jack to pull him up. For Sawyer to pull him down.
Sawyer doesn’t believe in heroes. Heroes fall.
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Date: 2005-09-09 04:35 am (UTC)