you're as cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an eel

[confidenceman]

Christmas was in two weeks. Funny, how Christmas still stood out to Sawyer year after year, even though he didn't care much for the holiday, either in concept or in practice. He'd never been much of a religious kind of guy; the thought that there was someone sentient up in the world who gave all the crap the world went through His stamp of approval just rankled Sawyer. There was, he couldn't help but think, a reason why 'God complex' had a negative connotation, which was that it didn't matter who was in the position of power, to believe that one could completely affect a chain of events, or even that one had a right to try, was dangerous. Even condescending. And maybe a part of him also wanted to think that there was no one up there pulling on puppetstrings, because it was terrifying to think that far from being just another person in the world unable to swim against the current, that there was a force which could render all of his efforts completely useless.

Futility, it stung like a bitch.

From the religious connotations of Christmas to the commercial aspect of it all, Sawyer wasn't a fan of the holiday, but he suspected that he'd recently come into the company of a great number of people who did. So that morning, he was sitting in the kitchen with a few books laid out side by side, mostly do-it-yourself manuals with ideas for gifts he could feasibly make on the island.

Comments

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

The longer it's cold outside, the less Juliet enjoys getting up in the morning to walk to the compound for her clinic shift. She's at least got a decent coat now and shirts without words on them, so that's a start. Walking to the compound is like walking through an explosion of Santa's workshop though, and while the first couple of days she took her time to look, now she could care less. She wonders if it's supposed to put her in the Christmas spirit or something equally cliche, because it doesn't. She hadn't even realized it was officially that time of year until everything changed.

Walking into the kitchen, she notices she doesn't smell coffee yet, so she shrugs off the pink coat and drapes it over a chair before looking to see who's in the room with her. She eyes the books, looks at James, and goes to find a coffee filter.

"I've heard there's a way to make cold storage," she suggests. "For when it's not already thirty degrees outside."

[confidenceman]

The voice is a familiar one, which keeps Sawyer from needing to look up or to feel startled, or even to hide the incredibly mushy (really, how many con men spend their weeks Christmas shopping) activities he's working on. Even if Juliet isn't exactly the woman he remembers from the island, she's got a sound enough mind and doesn't seem to be the type to poke fun at the redneck in the way that a lot of people did on the previous island, justified or otherwise. After making dogears on a few more pages of the book, he tilts his head back, catching a glimpse of her from his flipped vision before he tilts his head back to peer through his book, closing it and placing it on the table softly.

"Right," he drawls, "'cause that's what everyone wants for Christmas. A mini-fridge made from clay pots and dirt. I dunno, Blondie. Think I might go with the standard fare of absolutely impractical, but heartwarmin'. Earns more points."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

"Well, cold storage is practical, but it also says 'I care about the quality of your foods'," she says before quirking him a little grin. "Have you found anything good?" she asks, nodding toward the books before turning to pour water and finally turning the machine to 'on' before sitting down.

There's something familiar that makes her smile in the way he dog-ears the page - she always scrambles for some kind of last minute bookmark. His way is more practical, and she puts her chin in her hand as she glances at the title of one of the books.

[confidenceman]

"There's the Winchester and the bakers in this kitchen who can take care of the quality of anyone's food," Sawyer points out with a wide smile, completely earnest. After all, he's taken advantage of the pies that are often left on the counter of the kitchen more often than not, and the Hub's close enough for any light snacking he might want to do, while the Winchester's well out of the way of the people who linger around the Compound every evening. It's a good set-up, as far as he's concerned. "And if I really wanna show someone I care, I bake 'em a dozen cookies."

He turns back to the book, almost moving to open it again, before he tosses it slightly to the side, where it lands well within Juliet's reach, if she wants to peek. "Got any friends with kids who might want rockin' horses? Seems like woodworkin' is mostly meant for toys, or so this author thinks. Apparently, his kid's never gotten a splinter stuck in her ass."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

"Alright, so you have a point with the quality of food. And now you know that I am the least qualified person on this island to give you gift giving advice," Juliet smirks, flipping through the pages of the book.

She laughs softly when he goes on about the rocking horse. Flipping through the book, she looks up at him. "Don't knock a good rocking horse. Mine even came with my very own bright red cowgirl hat. But you know, if you think you can make your way around a piece of wood, you could potentially make something nice."

[confidenceman]

"I wouldn't say the least qualified," Sawyer argues, voice low and deep as he looks up at her, resting his chin in a hand, idly running his fingers against the roughness there. "Actually, I'd say that your gift ideas are a sight better'n what I'd come up with, but that's precisely how people would know that it ain't from me. They'd be like, Sawyer, when'd you get some sense knocked into ya, when'd you start thinkin' about people's needs? It'd be like a whole damn character change, Blondie, and I ain't sure I'm ready for that."

With that grin still plastered on, he gazes at her more intently.

"Red cowgirl hat's a good choice, whoever made it for you. I get that pink's all popular, but red, red's a strong color." He looks away again with a sigh. "And I can't say I'm especially good at woodworkin', but I do get the feelin' like on this island, it might not take too much to be above the average, at least."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet watches him with a small smirk when he looks away, thinking about his cowgirl hat color choice for her. Flipping idly through the pages, she speaks softly, tucking hair back behind her ears.

"I think, in this place, no matter how average or above average it is, a gift would be very welcome. So I say don't stress out too much about it."

Her fingers land on a page and she stops, tilting her head to the side. "What about this for any ladies?" she asks, turning the book toward him so that he can see the dried flower sachet idea. "Or, you know...a homemade decoupaged plate," she says with a barely contained laugh as she covers her lips with her fingers. "I'd like to watch you decoupage something if you go that route. I'll even help."

[confidenceman]

She seems happier now to Sawyer's eyes as he watches, in the lazy way he usually does most people, taking note of as much as he can without making it too obvious that he looks out for most everyone's welfare, these days. People are important. Keeping the safety of the group, even more, because the worst thing to do is to turn people against one another, and the only way to remain cohesive is trust. Of course, nothing so great is at stake when Sawyer is with Juliet, or at least he doesn't feel it if there is, finding instead an ease and comfort that has him exhaling and looking down at the page she's turned to with a laugh under his breath.

"What makes you think there are ladies involved?" he asks jokingly, despite a real curiosity over whether or not he still seems like the type to go about loving and leaving. At least Lexie hasn't gotten that impression, it seems. "And wait, decoupawha? I ain't ever taken French, Blondie, closest I've gotten is stayin' in Cajun neighborhoods down in Louisiana."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet's finding that to talk to someone who at least knows the kind of things that went on before this island, who knows her in any fashion, is comforting. She feels more at ease, and the easy way James drawls and carries on the conversation keeps her wanting to talk.

"I'm just saying, guys don't usually go all out for one another and put a whole lot of deep thought into gift giving. Do they?" she asks with an arched eyebrow. "I wouldn't really know. And decoupage. It's the lost art of gluing paper on things and making it look shiny."

[confidenceman]

"Well there, you've got a point," Sawyer admits with a side nod of the head. Truth be told, he's had male friends even less than he's had female friends over the years, because if there's one thing he's sure of, it's that the partnerships he usually finds himself in with those of the male persuasion are far from friendships. When the only thing that keeps a pair cohesive is fear of mutually assured destruction, that doesn't say much for the actual sentiment, stripped bare of all else. Opportunity, profit, heists. The island's changed that a little, fortunately. While Sawyer's still not sure how to categorize people like Michael, he's found companions in Hurley, in Jin. Hard to think of a buddy as anything but a friend when he still looked after you with but a handful of English terms in his vocabulary.

"But I think it ain't so much that we don't go all out for each other, and more that guys're just easier to buy for. You bring a twelve-pack of beer on over, complete it even with pretzels and other snacks, it's as good of a present as decoupawhating," he smirks with a raise of his brow. "Just bring more of what the two of you enjoy together all the time. Ladies, in my experience, like receivin' stuff that's just for them. Enjoy makin' a guy try and weave through a woman's mind. It's a scary world there, just sayin'."

Pursing his lips at the craft, he nods his head. "Gluin' paper on things and makin' 'em look shiny. Think I can do that. Is this really what women go for?"

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet looks at him with a smirk, though her eyes crinkle a little as if she's smiling. "Such complicated times we live in. But I wouldn't know about shiny things. I'm a twelve pack kind of girl, personally."

She gives him a grin and goes to the coffee maker, now silent and no longer percolating. "But, I'm going to assume that this particular lady isn't into beer, baseball, or the occasional sojourn to the beach with a bottle of rum. So, I think as long as you make the right kind of thing look shiny, it should work."

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she raises it up. "Want some?"

[confidenceman]

That little remark about the rum on the beach, it hits. He could bring it up. Shed greater light on this ongoing process she's been going through lately, trying to pull her various experiences together, those that conflict and make no sense to his relatively simple mind. He thinks about asking, but something about the notion feels like it'd be too uncouth, too simple and direct for a subtle situation and a gentle woman. With a breath, he rubs his thumb against his forehead.

"You might be surprised," he says quietly, no small amount of fondness on his face. "She's... She's really somethin' and I think you'd like her. Bet she'd appreciate a good shot of rum, though I think she likes pies even more. And yeah, sure, coffee'd be great. So, baseball. Who's your team?"

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet's watching him, watching his body language and the way he talks about this she, whoever she is. Turning away, she pours coffee for both of them and sits down, handing him a mug.

"Well, pies..." she laughs a little. "I would have appreciated a fresh baked pie some days. Come home and everything smells like baked cinnamon and apples." Her face softens and she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Well, I'm from Florida so my heart has to be with the Marlins. But during an official interrogation, I might answer with Boston, too."

[confidenceman]

Turning the mug round and round by pushing around the handle, Sawyer glimpses over just in time to catch Juliet's gaze, holding it for just a few seconds before it's somehow too much for reasons he can't even quite explain, enough to make him turn around and take a sip of the scalding coffee to buy himself time. It's always a bit like this with people from the island. He finds himself longing for that place sometimes in the strangest ways.

"Fresh apple pie a la mode, ain't too many things better. Think I've had pie a few too many times since gettin' here, though, since there's that damned pie maker whose pies taste even better than my gran's," Sawyer remarked, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. "Red Sox are always a safe bet, though. Whole lot safer than the Marlins. Makes you wish we could get a couple of teams started up on the island."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet opens and closes her mouth, something tugging at her memory, of summers and motor pool versus security, but she blinks a little and shakes it off. "We should," she says, catching his eyes. "Start some teams, I mean. Once the snow melts and we can have a few games. I'm sure there has to be some kind of equipment here."

She's grinning a little, then takes a sip of her coffee and looks over at him again. "C'mon, it'll be fun. Instead of wishing for something to happen around here, let's do it."

[confidenceman]

"They say that the snow only lasts about a month or so, and all that I've got goin' on with The Mousetrap ends soon enough," Sawyer considers with a slight nod to himself. The prospect of having to find enough people who like him, and who like the sport on top of it, is a little daunting in ways he's sure he'll get annoyed with in the long run, but still. "Maybe we could, come the new year. Though I gotta admit, I haven't..."

His brow furrows and he looks up at her, something about her smile infectious.

"I haven't gotten to know all that many people here, least of all people who seem like they'd be keen on baseball. But hey, no harm tryin', and I'm sure you're loads more popular already."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet feels like he's expecting her to have made friends with half the island, and she looks down a little, a very small smile on her lips as she makes patterns on the surface with one of her fingers. "I know five people well. It used to be seven, but two of them disappeared. And one of the five is you."

She's never been one for throwing herself out there, and she gives a little shrug. "Making an island softball team would be fun, help us both get to know people. I'm more of a 'curl up with a good book' kind of person myself, but books only cure loneliness for so long."

There's silence for too long; she realizes she gave too much, and she sips at her coffee. "Maybe between us there's enough people to toss a ball around with."

[confidenceman]

He could just toss everything else aside and focus on the easier topic of the two, easier than talking about how many friendships have been made, how many people either of them know now on the island. He could. It should be an easy thing to do, all things considered. But the longer he looks at her, the more curious he gets, his gut telling him that something is off and something has changed, for him to go from a face that's supposed to be familiar to one that she knows well.

She's too smart of a girl to misuse words like that.

"So, Blondie," he starts, feeling a bit apprehensive at what she might have to tell him, but at least wanting it all to come out into the open. "What's changed?"

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

There's a lot she could tell him. A lot she wants to tell him; a feeling of trust that's hard to suppress. She looks right at him, unwavering, blue on green before finally opening her mouth.

"I remember the other island. The cages, shooting Danny on the beach, the freighter explosion..." She looks down at the table top, shaking her head a little. "The night on the beach with the flaming arrows, all of the flashes. Having your back, and then it goes in and out again. I remember moments, random things. On Halloween, I...I remembered a lot about the three years I was on that island."

Juliet finally looks at him again and for once that protective, passive mask is gone. "We were stuck in 1974 together."

[confidenceman]

When he hears his suspicions confirmed, that's more than enough to draw a tired sigh out of his lips, resigned. More tired than he's been in quite some time, with so much new on this island and all these people encouraging him to try new things, inadvertently pulling him away from that person he used to be, in ways that he can only ever be grateful for. Now, though, he suddenly feels like Sawyer on that mysterious island again. Earning people's ire. Only able to accomplish anything through threats.

"Goddamn," he swears, shaking his head, gesturing with one quick wave of his hand, though he isn't sure what he's pointing to, if anything at all. Maybe his frustration. Presenting it, invisible though the sentiment is. "You shouldn't have, Juliet. There ain't anythin' good to come out of rememberin' all that went on on that island, not with the way things went. I'm tellin' ya. Start fresh."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet hangs her head, closing her eyes for a second before running her hand through her hair.

"I didn't remember this much of it through any kind of therapy, James," she says quietly. "Halloween was...something happened," she says with a little frown. "There was some kind of..." She clears her throat.

"Anyway, I woke up and remembered after. And I'm starting over, I am. But it's one thing to know and try to move on from your past. There was a three year gap missing and I was blank."

Reaching out, her hand rests on his arm. "Maybe that doesn't make sense to you, maybe I'm just crazy. But I couldn't start fresh until I knew what I was leaving behind."

[confidenceman]

He tenses at the mention of Halloween, at the rings of gunshots which pass through his memory, the faces of his parents newly etched there. It's a funny thing, memory. Even now, he's not entirely sure if everything that he saw came from years past, or if he's now starting to make up little details to fit into the crevices. Memory lies. It's one of the only things that lies so readily still to Sawyer that he can't tell the truth from it.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, surveying her from behind a knit brow. "Don't think Halloween was much good for anyone, but still, ain't glad to hear that you had..."

Nightmares? Well, she never really specified, Sawyer figures, so he quiets down and rubs at his forehead, trying to process the rest of what she says, a worn boot heel tapping against the ground, not loud enough to be heard so much as felt. Maybe the problem, the reason for the disconnect, Sawyer figures, is because he's never had very many chances at starting over. Something always gets in the goddamn way.

"It doesn't entirely make sense, but I ain't gonna dispute it," he decides at last with a gentle smile.

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

When he trails off, Juliet drops her hand and averts her eyes again, looking up at him. She doesn't know what she's supposed to tell him, she doesn't know if it will make him less or more inclined to talk to her. She likes this friendship, likes talking to him, so she decides to keep it to herself, just for now. Not to be calculated and secretive, but to keep from ruining the easy banter between them.

She puts her chin in her hand and sighs softly. "Well. It's not wholly inspiring. I was pretty boring there, and and I'm pretty boring here," she says with an eyebrow arch. "Not much has changed other that I'm not time hopping, I guess that's a plus," she says with a quirky smile, her one dimple showing.

[confidenceman]

"Boring," Sawyer repeats incredulously with raised brows, practically laughing under his breath as he recalls all the things he's seen in Juliet. The ability to shoot an enemy without flinching, without doubt (a fact that's almost scary, if not for the fact that she's never pulled those triggers without purpose). The compassion and the fear in her eyes where pregnancy is concerned. Understated, maybe Juliet can pull that off, but boring, she's never been, to the point where he's pretty sure she's just tugging his leg now.

He shakes his head, hand wrapping more fully around his mug. "You're a whole lotta things, Blondie, but borin' is something you couldn't pull off in a million years, and if someone as thick as me can see that? It shows."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet laughs softly, her smile full of mirth as she looks over at him. It not something she does a lot, laugh and smile, and she takes a sip of her coffee.

"Well, maybe I only feel boring then. I guess I do have a full day. Read, walk on the beach, work two days a week. Hang out here or The Winchester. Read some more. It's a full life. I think I'm going to try my hand at cooking. It can't be that hard, right? I learned medicine, I can figure out a kitchen," she muses. "Those sandwiches I used to bring you were pretty good, right?"

Juliet looks at him again, joking, but she's not sure if it's too soon for jokes about bringing him food while he was locked up.

[confidenceman]

No matter how much Sawyer tries to grow accustomed to the near suburban life that they all lead on Tabula Rasa, there's no fooling himself over how it's idle to the point of near boredom, sometimes. Getting involved in The Mousetrap has been a good first move, and Sawyer has already put in a few inquiries elsewhere for once production's finished, but there's no comparing it to the life of a con man, nor even the life of an islander doing his best to run away from sentient smoke.

"You'd probably make a great cook," Sawyer considers with a casual nod and a half-shrug. "Plenty of cookbooks on the bookshelf for those who ask nicely. I even managed a lasagna kinda thing, though... not sure how I'm supposed t'feel 'bout relyin' on Paula Deen. That woman scares me."

Looking away, he laughs under his breath, shaking his head.

"But yeah, those sandwiches were somethin'."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

Juliet gives a little huff of a laugh, the quiet lingering on because she wants to tell him what she came from and what actually is. The three years on the other island happened, James remembers her and not just him, Kate too. So if that version of her life is real and true, then the life with Jack and David can't be. She doesn't know what's holding her back but there's something; something about telling him that she was married to Jack makes her hesitate.

"Well," she finally says, trying for a casual smile to shake herself out of her thoughts. "If you're ever brave enough to try whatever I attempt to make, I could use a food critic. I'm actually a little surprised I made the coffee alright and not 'heart attack inducing' strong."

[confidenceman]

Sawyer knows he could start analyzing. Could start trying to read and decipher Juliet's every last move, because there's always enough that she gives to read, peruse through. But he doesn't. Right now, he's making the active effort to stop being that man who looks for every hole and possible bump along the way to take advantage of. Almost trying to become a civilian, imagine that. His instincts see that smile and that hesitation, and his hand grows a little more tense on his cup for it, for the active effort that he's making to stop.

"I'd be delighted to. Stomach of steel, ate mangoes for months back on the other island without much in between? Think I could handle just about anythin' now," Sawyer grins, shaking his head. "And ain't nothin' better in the world than strong coffee."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

She laughs again, then pushes her hair behind her ear as she studies him, wondering if he's thought about what happens when he disappears from this island and goes back to 1974.

"I hope you don't live to regret that decision. I'll start easy," she promises, finishing the last of the coffee in her mug before speaking again. "You asked me to stay, you know."

It's the very last thing she remembers. "Back on the other island. I was going to leave on the sub, and you asked me to stay. So I did," she says with a one shouldered shrug, getting up to rinse out her mug and the coffee pot.

[confidenceman]

Dammit.

She's further ahead than he is, now, and that only drives a deeper sense of unease into his stomach. What made her forget? More importantly, what the hell did she think of that moment of weakness (because what else could his asking her to stay have been other than trying to find a way to avoid the deep, ringing loneliness he so often felt)? Sawyer feels his hand gripping the mug a little more tightly than he should, and that's when knows that it's about time to go. It's just about time.

"That so," he says with the slightest shade of a grin, one not quite full of mirth. "Well. I'm glad you did."

At least he's able to remain honest.

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

"I am too. It's the last thing I remember, saying yes."

She's watching him, taking in his body language, her eyes flicking to his coffee mug. Letting out a soft breath, she scratches at her forehead and looks up at him again, then gestures to the books. "I hope you find something in there." One day she'll tell him about the nightmare from Halloween. One day she'll tell him that she's been living this life that can't be real.

Others 101 was good for something, at least, and she gives him another small smile, ready to leave him alone. "I'm at the beach a lot. It's a place that I guess I should be sick of but it makes me feel better, somehow. If you're ever out that way and see me, feel free to stop."

Juliet has no idea why she's offering, it's not like they've ever made a regular date of meeting up on the beach, but talking to him today is the least alone she's felt in days. At least since Joshua disappeared. "And you know, if you're ever in need of immediate medical attention, come see me," she says and gives a bigger grin than normal.

[confidenceman]

This is the most difficult part of knowing the people Sawyer knows. On the island, so many intents and desires swirl around, enough to confuse anyone living there, let alone anyone trying to understand one another. Whatever part of Juliet's act is an act (and Sawyer suspects that something is), he doesn't know, not right then, not even as he looks in spite of the fact that he's told himself he shouldn't. So he only lets his gaze linger for a bit before he smirks and looks away again, as he always does, down at his book.

"I'm at the beach a lot too, go figure," he says warmly, less prickly than usual, and certainly less guarded. Ironic. She's an Other, after all. "And possibly startin' up a radio show soon. If you ever wanna stop by the booth, feel welcome."

With one last wink, he pushes aside his empty mug and opens his book once more. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, though. My guess is that there'll still come a day when I get shot on this island. Some things don't change."

[blondieburke.livejournal.com]

A flash of a smile crosses her features. "A radio show? I didn't even know there was a radio station here. I'll be sure to listen for you."

As Juliet turns to go, she catches his last comment, and she turns in the doorway to look at him. "Well. I've still got your back. That hasn't changed either." She smiles one more time before going, disappearing down the hallway.

[confidenceman]

She seems like a radio kind of person, he thinks to himself. Like she'd enjoy turning the dial and never knowing where the static will clear, but being sure that somewhere it must, that there are people who want to talk as much as there are people who want to listen. She's the latter type when she has the luxury.

All Sawyer can do is watch as she retreats from the corner of his eye, before he looks down at the pages of his book again, the smile gone from his face, even if the expression is still a soft one.

"Still got yours too, Blondie."