you're knocking us off of our feet, you're knocking us down

[confidenceman]

Over two months on Tabula Rasa, and it's quickly growing evident that ain't coping well with the change. The two islands may be well and similar enough on the surface, but there ain't any pretending 'bout where the two of us are meant to be. Whatever amount of good we can do here, it ain't the same as what we did back home, keeping people safe, keeping them alive, bringing them home. I know Tabula Rasa gets up to all manner of crap, but thing is, you live here long enough, you start to see that nothing changes around here. Nothing but who's walking on the island, I guess.

People ain't dying. People ain't suffering. It's just a freaking train stop along the way. And the doc's never done well with being caged.

I know he's drinking, and I know it's starting to become a problem. I haven't been drunk off my ass for a while now, probably not since Kate left, but I'm sure hanging out at bars often enough that people might think otherwise. Most of the time, it's the Hub, less family-friendly and more like your usual dive. But sometimes, he heads to the Winchester too.

Like today.

I'm sittin' a couple tables away, keeping an eye on Jack while he drinks. More 'cause I know how well the good doc's capable of practically blowing up in front of others, and I ain't sure who all even knows how to start calming the guy down.

Although truth be told, I could use a little calm myself right now.

Comments

[little_moons]

"God, what the fuck do you want me to do?" I shout, voice too loud even over the noise in the dining room. I freeze for a moment, jaw clinched and twitching angrily, then I walk around the table toward him, catching him by the arm and dragging him toward the door.

"You're getting pissed off? Are you fucking serious?"

[confidenceman]

"If you wanna get angry, get angry. Don't be such a priss just glarin' at me like you think you can kill through a look alone, 'cause newsflash: ya can't," I yell in return, though I don't make any effort to tug myself completely away.

"If you don't wanna sit, then don't sit, don't do it 'cause you think you gotta be some perfect friggin' host for the Winchester."

[little_moons]

I shove him out onto the porch, the doors clanging shut behind us.

I don't get it. I don't get why he's doing this, after all that she said before. I don't get why he doesn't understand why this isn't easy for me. I guess he really is just that big of an asshole.

I shove him again, harder, and when I take a swing, I'm aiming for his jaw. I'm not a fighter, but I'm no fucking priss, either.

"I would've sat down no matter where the fuck we were, you dumb fuck. What the fuck don't you fuckin' understand?"

[confidenceman]

I let the punch land, full impact. Not about to swing back, but it feels... well, it feels. And that's not something that I can say happens too often anymore. Kinda like a spark in the middle of all that endless fog.

After staggering, I glance back over. "That all you got?" I ask, wiping at the corner of my mouth with the back of a hand.

[little_moons]

I take another swing, just to shut him up, but before he can stagger away, I grab him by the front of the shirt. On some kind of fucked up impulse, I press my lips to his, half expecting to get bitten or punched in the fucking face for my troubles.

"Depends on what you want," I sneer when I pull back, "You keep fuckin' with me, you're not gonna like what you get."

[confidenceman]

I don't get it at first, what Neil's doing. Like it takes a couple seconds too long to process, I guess, or somethin' like that, but soon's I notice that's going on, I pull myself the hell away and take a few steps back, because that's just messed. The guy knows that I'm not one for kissing other dudes, so I don't have the faintest idea what the hell he's trying to pull, but I don't like it.

"The hell?" I ask him, before rubbing my mouth with the back of a hand and half-turning 'cause I just don't have the faintest idea what's going on.

[little_moons]

It worked.

I think it, before I even realize what it is I was doing. That look of confusion, of veiled disgust... It's been a long time since I've fought this hard to fuck with someone, to push them away or get a rise out of them that's edging toward violence, but I don't know why else to do. Strip everything away, and what I do is fuck people or fuck with people. It was always easier than actually dealing with shit, and those were the only weapons I ever had.

I'd rather have him confused and angry with me than remembering that I was actually hurt.

"Get the fuck out of here, Sawyer. Just go," I croak, my voice more hoarse than it should be.

[confidenceman]

Great. So he was fucking with me. That's what I'm reading from the way he's reacting now, anyway. It ain't that he's forgotten who I am, and it ain't like he's somehow pining his little heart away, so he's just plain trying to screw with me. I don't know why that pisses me off half as much as it does, god only knows I've screwed enough other people that I deserve to get hit a few times in return, but not from him. Not like this. I ain't ever tried to mess with him, see. Not really.

Tried to push him away, sure, but you can call that selfish, you can call that practical. I don't know what this is.

"Fine," I growl instead, just turning on my heel and starting home. Whatever. Enough doctors on this island to make sure the one I'm worried about doesn't dive all the way into alcohol poisoning, anyway.