Title: Silenced
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Jack excuses himself to take a shower, Sawyer falls into his place on the bed. He sits, with his head resting on one hand and lets out a sigh he couldn’t in Jack’s presence. He had enough on his mind without having to worry about what was on Sawyer’s mind too.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. At all. I wish, but alas...
Author's Note: Once again, set in holycitygirl’s Apocalypse 'verse, directly after Apocalypse Now: Part Eight. I hope she was serious when she said I should keep writing these interludes between her chapters. ;) Used for philosophy_20, prompt #2: loss.



When Jack excuses himself to take a shower, Sawyer falls into his place on the bed. He sits, with his head resting on one hand and lets out a sigh he couldn’t in Jack’s presence. He had enough on his mind without having to worry about what was on Sawyer’s mind too.

He was thinking that what happened to Shannon was his fault. He was thinking that Jack was thinking that what happened to Shannon was his fault. He was wondering how he could have done things differently, if he had grabbed Jack a second later or earlier, or if he’d just jumped the woman the second he’d seen her, would Shannon still be alive?

It didn’t matter, and he knows that. He knows that that’s what he could have done differently, and what he did do. He also has enough sense to know that he wasn’t the one that pulled the trigger – knows that she’s all by her lonesome now, set out like a piece of steak for those things. He wonders if there’s enough justice in that to suit him.

Tired of sitting still, Sawyer pulls himself up off of the bed. He hears the hiss of the shower faintly and thinks about opening the door, taking advantage of Jack’s distraction to pull off his clothes and join him. He wonders if this is the right time for that, if Jack won’t just throw him out. He sighs and walks toward the door, realizing he doesn’t care.

Jack can’t hear the door opening over the noise of the shower, doesn’t turn to see Sawyer kicking off his shoes, pulling off his shirt and pants . He doesn’t even know that anyone else is in the room until the door is being pulled open and he’s no longer alone in the shower.

“Sawyer!” Jack objects, just like Sawyer had figured he would. Sawyer just rolls his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Takin’ a shower, what does it look like?” Sawyer replies. Jack glares at him in irritation.

“It looks like you’re taking my shower,” Jack answers. He doesn’t sound quite as testy as he had when Sawyer had barged in on him, and Sawyer thinks it’s with a great effort, like he’s trying not to be irritated with Sawyer – or, at all.

“I think there’s enough room for the both of us, how ‘bout you?” Sawyer says, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck like it isn’t even a question. Jack lets out a sigh, even though his arms go around Sawyer, even though he squeezes the flesh of Sawyer’s back underneath his hands and lays his head gently against Sawyer’s.

“Sawyer...” Jack says, like he doesn’t want to finish the sentence, like he’s about to ask Sawyer to leave but can’t make himself actually do it. Sawyer pulls back a bit, keeps his arms around Jack.

“What?” he asks. Jack’s eyes soften a bit and he looks away.

“We shouldn’t?” he replies. Words like ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’ have always annoyed Sawyer, but especially when they come out of Jack. Words like ‘should’ are always followed by something else that Jack needs to be doing, someone else that needs his attention. Words like ‘shouldn’t’ always cut their time together short, have Jack pulling away, pushing Sawyer away.

At one time that would have been fine, because Sawyer knew that this thing between him and Jack wasn’t built to last. But that was before. Before he came back, before he had Jack back. Being without him at taught Sawyer a lot of things, but nothing more than the fact that that was the last thing on earth that he wanted.

“And why not?” Sawyer shoots back, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

“Because...” Jack takes a long, deep breath. The hands on Sawyer’s back clench and unclench. “Shannon just died. And Ana...It doesn’t feel right.”

Sawyer shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle. “You got things all backwards, doc,” he tells Jack, who looks up sharply, confused. “Those ain’t the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this, they’re the reasons we should. ‘Cause we don’t know when those thing’s are gonna come after us, and we don’t know when the people we let in here are gonna start takin’ shots at each other. You know better than anyone, we’re always two steps away from chaos, and you still can’t take a minute for yourself.”

“Sawyer, I...” Jack tries to put some distance between them only to be crushed back against Sawyer’s body, held tightly without any sign of being let go soon. He releases another sigh and lets himself go all but limp, resting against Sawyer’s body, head on his shoulder, and closes his eyes.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a mess, doc, and we both know it,” Sawyer says against the top of Jack’s head. “But it ain’t tomorrow yet.”

Jack nods a few times, apprehensively at first, like he doesn't believe Sawyer, like he doesn't want to let himself believe Sawyer, but eventually he lifts his head and nods, looking directly into Sawyer's eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. Sawyer nods back and braces one arm against the wall, fits the other snugly around Jack's waist, and kisses him. When Jack kisses him back, without hesitation, Sawyer knows he's gotten through.

This day has been fraught with loss and defeat, with guilt and pain, but as Sawyer kisses Jack, as they both stumble, naked, back into their bed, as Jack's body covers him, never stops kissing him all the way, he thinks that it's nice to go out on some kind of a win.