it's a battle cry; it's a symphony

[confidenceman]

The toilet paper and magazines Sawyer had received last month were finally all stuffed away where they couldn't be harmed by sudden downpours of rain. It had all taken him longer than initially expected, though Sawyer knew that was more his own fault than anyone else's, not having the attention span to cope with the simple action of stuffing rolls of paper around his hut, in places strategic enough not to blow up a cloud of dust and lint whenever he felt frustrated enough to do something stupid. Like bury the toe of his boot in a pallet of tissue.

But with the deed finally done after days of dawdling and focusing instead on classes and patrol, Sawyer finally felt free enough to escape the clutches of his hut at last, a pistol— noticeably, not the one he'd tossed around shortly after Kate's departure— shoved under his belt. He sauntered around the island, taking his damn time, winding around on a more complex patrol than he normally bothered with. When he so happened to wander by Jamie's place, he wondered if it was his subconscious that brought him there, or if clouded thoughts and dumb luck had really just pulled him so far from his own place.

Either way, he'd stopped fighting happenstance a long time ago. Instead of knocking, he lingered about with a cheery whistled tune, curious to see if it was enough to tug the guy out.

Comments

[confidenceman]

"It's a good thing you've already got a girl, boss, 'cause if your best idea for an ice breaker's a dog that sniffs after booze, I don't even wanna know where the conversation'd turn on a first date," Sawyer teased, raising both brows before paying more attention to the dog again, who seemed less intent than before on sticking his nose in every place the sun didn't shine.

With a sudden thought, Sawyer frowned, staring at the hut. "Speakin' of, she ain't here, right?"

[howmanylives]

"Layla?" asked Jamie, casting a glance over his shoulder towards the hut out of instinct, though he already knew the answer to the question. "Nope. She's probably off making friends with someone else I can't stand. It's her favorite hobby. Why?"

[confidenceman]

"Just wonderin' if I had to keep up appearances so she wouldn't start questionin' your taste in friends," replied Sawyer, arching his brow and standing to his feet again, hands sliding casually into his pockets. He'd never really had a clear idea of the lives that people led off the island, and the Oceanic survivors were too few in number and aligned in motivation to form too many enemies in the group. "But speakin' of questionable taste in friends, there a reason why you can't stand the folks she likes? You just jealous, or are they enough like you that you end up sick of yourself?"

[howmanylives]

Jamie snorted, the idea of him being jealous of Layla's friends sounding so refreshingly normal that it struck him as patently absurd. With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head.

"Not quite," he said, bending down to scratch Richards behind the ears when the dog grew tired of sniffing around Sawyer. "Her closest friend is a man who nearly killed me and more or less tried to sell himself as a messiah, once upon a time. Not what I'd call great company."

[confidenceman]

"Nearly killed you," Sawyer repeated, brows raising at once. Even when Kate had been the most straddled between himself and the doc, or when that friction caused more than a few glares shared between the two men, Sawyer couldn't remember anything that Jack had seriously done to jeopardize hid well-being. (Even that short-lived partnership with Sayid had been underwhelming, in its way, painful in the moment but hardly lasting in real consequence.)

"'kay, so you're makin' this person sound like some trigger-happy religious fanatic. S'this someone I know?"

[howmanylives]

"Cable?" said Jamie, expression mirroring Sawyer's. "He's hard to miss -- he's the guy who makes Terminator-era Ahnold looks like a putz."

[confidenceman]

Sawyer snorted. "Seen him around. Didn't know that the world produced steroids enough to make somethin' like that," he confessed. "Perhaps more importantly, didn't realize someone could get to that size and not deflate like a balloon once the source of their inner Cimmerian's power's taken away. 'Cause that ain't natural, no matter how I look at it. Though I try... not to look at 'im too closely. Don't think it takes much to see who'd win in a fight."

[howmanylives]

"I survived," said Jamie, raising his hand as though he were a student in one of his own classes. Then again, given the quality of the fight choreography on Lost for anyone not named Sayid, there was little doubt that Sawyer wouldn't last for long against someone like Cable.

"Which was remarkable, considering I was suicidal at the time."

[confidenceman]

It was a hell of a conversation stopper. And it threw Sawyer completely off-course. If anything, it brought back memories of a pair of boots tapping against the floor, drawing closer, weight pressing down on a squeaky mattress. Suicidal. Sawyer didn't expect that Jamie's reasons were anything within the ballpark, but maybe circumstances weren't really the crux of the issue. But instead, the hopelessness.

He wasn't sure that he'd ever felt anything like that.

"Guess that means you'd do an even better job of survivin' now," he suggested, not wanting the question to be so direct.

[howmanylives]

"I've got a lot more to live for," Jamie agreed, but then he realized that wasn't quite right. The answer was misleading, in its way, which could both serve his purposes and not serve them at all. He frowned, slightly, and moved to seat himself at the foot of the steps, leaning back once he was settled, his elbows propped up behind him.

"But being suicidal was actually what saved me. I don't think it would've been as satisfying for him, killing someone who wanted it... So he just left me there to bleed instead of finishing the job. Some blank slate, right?"

[confidenceman]

Questions were still left unanswered, although Sawyer supposed that there was similar vein between all people who chose to take their own lives, a prevalent sense of hopelessness that didn't need to be elaborated upon or understood. Even if sometimes, he felt as though he did understand, and all too well, sometimes feeling the depth of the gaping hole left in his chest after killing the wrong man. Guilt. It trapped people easily.

"The hell was he tryin' to kill you for in the first place?" he asked instead, the easier question of the two.

[howmanylives]

"We really don't get along," Jamie replied glibly, flashing Sawyer a tight, if knowing smile. That's what it'd boiled down to, fundamentally; a conflict of personalities between two men used to taking that kind of conflict out through alternative means.

"But fortunately, he's the only one of Layla's friends to boast that particular distinction."

[confidenceman]

"Correct me if I'm wrong, boss," Sawyer said in turn, eyes narrowing severely at the mere thought, running down his spine like ice. "But really not gettin' along ain't exactly the best excuse for tryin' to kill a guy. 'Less you're exaggerating, which if you are, you should probably let me know."

Else, he thought to himself, Sawyer was a hell of a lot more likely to keep a close eye on Cable in the future.

[howmanylives]

Jamie considered the query, weighing a few different answers before finally setting on: "I'm not exaggerating half as much as you probably wish I was. How's that?"

[confidenceman]

The shadow under Sawyer's brow deepened, his lips stretching thin. He was long past the point where he felt capable of running after a threat and hunting it down without being provoked, but the latter didn't take very much to ignite these days, and some part of Sawyer was always prepared to run on the offensive.

"S'all I need to know," he replied, filing the information away for a later date.