Title: Conversations with Your Answering Machine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: With a sigh and a shake of his head, Jack thought it probably didn’t matter who’s fault it was anymore. They were here, weren’t they; Sawyer, having a conversation with his answering machine, Jack listening four days too late.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost. At all. I wish but alas...
Author's Note: For eponine119. Happy Birthday, hun!



“You have five new messages.”

Jack sighed at the robotic, monotone announcement. He contemplated whether or not to press 'play'. He knew who the messages were from, and he didn’t have the strength to listen to them.

He slid off his jacket, pulled at his tie and threw it down on the table. The number '5' blinked up at him and Jack stared back at it. With another heavy, and this time preparatory, sigh, he sat down and hit the 'play' button – much harder than was necessary.

March 25th, 7:05 PM

Silence, for about five seconds. “Jack, I…no. You know what, fuck you.”

Jack sighed. Good start.

March 25th, 7:10 PM

“Sorry. That, uh, wasn’t what I called to say. I don’t know what the fuck I called to say, but…that wasn’t it. I was an asshole to say what I said and it ain’t really fair of me to blame you. Just…call me, alright?”

March 25th. That was four days ago. Jack had been avoiding this for four days. Because that’s how Jack dealt with things. Still. He knew avoiding the problem, avoiding Sawyer, wasn’t the right way to deal with things, but Jack had become practiced at putting off things he found unpleasant. It was a hard habit to break.

But he was here now, listening to Sawyer ramble on his answering machine without really saying anything.

March 26th, 12:23 PM

“Hey. I’m at the bookstore all day. Just in case you’re not still pissed and try to call the apartment.” A sigh. “Come on, Jack, just call me.”

Jack shook his head and wondered how it was that Sawyer always managed to make him feel like the asshole, even when he’d done nothing wrong. Yes, ignoring Sawyer’s messages for this long was stupid, Jack admitted that. It wasn’t fair to Sawyer, to their relationship. But he hadn’t started the fight. Sawyer had.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Jack thought it probably didn’t matter who’s fault it was anymore. They were here, weren’t they; Sawyer, having a conversation with his answering machine, Jack listening four days too late.

March 27th, 2:10 AM

“I’m bein’ a girl, you realize you turned me into a fuckin’ girl, don’t you, doc? Four messages, three days without you, and not one damn call. I may be the bad guy here, according to you, but that’s fucked up and you know it. All because I didn’t say what you wanted to hear. Well, fine, doc. If you wanna play it this way, we’ll play it this way. I take back what I said earlier. Fuck you.”

Jack was glad he had been in surgery most of that night. As much as he missed Sawyer, he didn’t miss his drunken rants. He hadn’t heard one in a while, but they were pretty much the same as he remembered them; with that strange juxtaposition of broken-hearted kid and angry adult.

There was only one message left, and Jack wondered if Sawyer had been true to his word and had begun to ignore Jack as he was being ignored. He wondered if the last message wasn’t just from a colleague from work, or his mother calling to guilt him into coming to see her,

He pressed 'play'.

March 28th, 4:45 PM

“Look. I’m gettin’ too tired and too old to keep doin’ this shit. Yeah, I picked the fight, but you ain’t blameless in this thing either. You’re pushin’ me, Jack, too far, too fast. I told you I needed to go slow. But that’s just how you are, and I get that. But you have to get this: This is how I am. I’m gonna fuck up and you can’t stop talkin’ to me everything it happens. Otherwise, we might as well just call it quits right now.” A sigh. “Look, Jack, I’m done talking to this answering machine, so, if you wanna have a real conversation, you know where to find me. ‘Cause one thing’s for damn sure, doc, if you ever do end up hearin’ those words come outta my mouth, it ain’t gonna be over the phone.” A pause. “I’ll be waitin’, Jack.”

Jack stared at his keys on the table. Sawyer was right. He had asked Jack to take things slower. And Jack had pushed him. But was it really so bad to want your boyfriend to tell you he loved you?

Jack shook his head. That wasn’t the point. The point was that they were both to blame, that they both missed each other, and that not going to Sawyer out of stubbornness would be very much like cutting off his nose to spite his face.

Checking his watch, Jack saw that it was just about six. Sawyer had left that message from the bookstore. He was still working the evening shift now, and would be until the store closed at nine.

One quick change of clothes later (the way Jack figured it, a tee shirt and jeans was a better, more practical idea than rushing out in his suit), Jack was back out the door. He didn’t know quite what he was going to say to Sawyer, or what else Sawyer had to say to him, but it was more than time for them to have an actual conversation, without an answering machine (and almost a whole city) between them.