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Jul. 9th, 2006 03:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dollsomeTitle: A World Apart
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Kate & Sawyer
Prompt: 029. Truth
Word Count: 364
Rating: PG
Summary: "They seem a world apart from everyone else, muted and cast aside as punishment; a couple of prisoners who will run and hide regardless until it kills them both."
Author's Notes: Set during the end of Confidence Man, with references to events revealed in What Kate Did.
Kate puts the pieces together. Finds the truth (she murmurs the words to herself, over and over, with the frenzy and the faith of someone at prayer). Dear Mr. Sawyer.
It strikes her all at once.
Oh, she thinks, suddenly, a mediocre response to such an epiphany, but there is nothing else to think. Her heart breaks for this man, quick and clean as picking a dandelion.
He shifts slightly in his sleep. The white bandage on his arm is turned brilliant by the sun. For a minute, she is struck by the strange urge to fix him (lips against his forehead, light; soft healer’s hands to his mask of a face) – and it’s absurd because it’s her. She is already in pieces, and has no right.
He breathes evenly, in and out in and out, and she watches. It occurs to her that he is not as skilled an actor as he likes to believe; he has played Mr. Sawyer well – his biting words and greedy tongue – but there are certain things even he can’t hide. She remembers his face (the little boy sadness, desperately imploring for absolution) before she’d kissed him.
And now his hair is in his eyes; the earthy gold of straw, the way hers was in childhood before she grew up and turned dark. Her right hand nearly darts forward on its own to brush it away, but the letter’s still in her left and it weighs her down.
Her eyes drift to its words instead, again and again, and she is silent with sorrow just as he is with sleep. They seem a world apart from everyone else, muted and cast aside as punishment; a couple of prisoners who will run and hide regardless until it kills them both. A perfect pair, in some respects - him possessed by the man who broke him and her with monsters’ blood coursing through her veins, and the dreadful darkness in her (or is it the abandoned child?) is thankful that she’s not alone in this. For the two of them, there is only the discontentment of the ocean, the insidious breeze. She waits for him to wake up.
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Kate & Sawyer
Prompt: 029. Truth
Word Count: 364
Rating: PG
Summary: "They seem a world apart from everyone else, muted and cast aside as punishment; a couple of prisoners who will run and hide regardless until it kills them both."
Author's Notes: Set during the end of Confidence Man, with references to events revealed in What Kate Did.
Kate puts the pieces together. Finds the truth (she murmurs the words to herself, over and over, with the frenzy and the faith of someone at prayer). Dear Mr. Sawyer.
It strikes her all at once.
Oh, she thinks, suddenly, a mediocre response to such an epiphany, but there is nothing else to think. Her heart breaks for this man, quick and clean as picking a dandelion.
He shifts slightly in his sleep. The white bandage on his arm is turned brilliant by the sun. For a minute, she is struck by the strange urge to fix him (lips against his forehead, light; soft healer’s hands to his mask of a face) – and it’s absurd because it’s her. She is already in pieces, and has no right.
He breathes evenly, in and out in and out, and she watches. It occurs to her that he is not as skilled an actor as he likes to believe; he has played Mr. Sawyer well – his biting words and greedy tongue – but there are certain things even he can’t hide. She remembers his face (the little boy sadness, desperately imploring for absolution) before she’d kissed him.
And now his hair is in his eyes; the earthy gold of straw, the way hers was in childhood before she grew up and turned dark. Her right hand nearly darts forward on its own to brush it away, but the letter’s still in her left and it weighs her down.
Her eyes drift to its words instead, again and again, and she is silent with sorrow just as he is with sleep. They seem a world apart from everyone else, muted and cast aside as punishment; a couple of prisoners who will run and hide regardless until it kills them both. A perfect pair, in some respects - him possessed by the man who broke him and her with monsters’ blood coursing through her veins, and the dreadful darkness in her (or is it the abandoned child?) is thankful that she’s not alone in this. For the two of them, there is only the discontentment of the ocean, the insidious breeze. She waits for him to wake up.
