Lost Fic: "Protect and Guide" (Sayid/Sawyer, PG-13)
OMG, y'all. Last fic of the Lost Luau prompts!! *collapses*
Title: Protect and Guide
Pairing: Sayid/Sawyer
Rating: PG-13 for tone, some language, implied death
Spoilers: "There's No Place Like Home"
Length: 1,585 words
Notes: zelda_zee asked for happy endings, angsty O6 Sayid, wing!fic, and Sayid/Sawyer. This attempts to be a bit of all that. (Also, it was apparantly her birthday yesterday, so go me with my convenient timing! Happy belated birthday, Z.)
Summary: "I might not be here in one sense...but that don't mean I'm not here."
It was late when Sayid returned to his hotel room. He hung up his coat and loosened his collar, wearily.
Then he went to wash off his hands. In the mirror he glanced distractedly at the flecks of blood that had stained his shirt.
“Now there’s a spot that never comes out. Isn’t that right?”
Sayid jerked, going alert instantly. He spun around the bathroom door towards the kitchenette where the voice came from, already looking for something to use as weaponry.
Sawyer leaned with his back against the refrigerator, arms folded. He was wearing a leather jacket, dark jeans and sunglasses.
“Howdy.” He flashed him a dimpled smirk.
Sayid relaxed. He turned his back on Sawyer with a half-sigh, his face cool and blank as he filled a glass at the sink.
There was a pause just distinct enough to make it clear Sawyer had been waiting before he spoke again.
“Uh, what? You’re not gonna say something?” he asked in bemusement. Sayid took a long drink of water before responding.
“There’s no point.” He looked impassively over his shoulder. “You’re obviously not really here.” He turned away again, walking to the couch.
Sawyer’s expression fell. He rolled his eyes slightly.
“Alright, yeah, maybe.” He raised his arms. “But I’d expect most people would get at least a little excited first.”
“You cannot actually be here. Therefore, you must be some sort of hallucination. There is no point in reacting to you, since it would not make much difference either way. Clearly the best course of action is to ignore you and wait for you to leave.” Sayid sat down, sinking into the cushions as he finished his glass of water.
“I’m not the first among us to experience such things, anyway,” he added more lowly.
Both of them knew who he meant by “us”. He didn’t have to say it.
Sawyer frowned seriously. He walked towards him, standing in front of the TV even though Sayid hadn’t turned it on.
“Look, Sayid,” he said, and the absence of any form of nickname caused the other man’s brow to rise a little: “I might not really be here, in one sense, but that don’t mean I’m not here.”
“Oh?” Sayid’s voice was flat. Sawyer’s frown deepened into a self-defensive scowl.
“Maybe I’m here in one sense, but not another. You know?”
“A spiritual sense,” Sayid suggested, blandly. He set his empty water glass on the table in front of him.
“Well, yeah.” Sawyer made an impatient gesture with one hand, moving his head. “Yeah, exactly. Let’s go with that.”
Sayid let out a deep sigh. He shook his head.
“This is a waste of my time.”
“Oh,” Sawyer interjected, pointedly, “and working for that two-timing rattlesnake, that’s a better use of it?”
Sayid lifted his head to gaze at him unblinkingly with half-lidded eyes.
“I do what I have to do, for a cause that has very little to do with myself. And I do not have to explain myself to you.”
“Never said you gotta.” The look on Sawyer’s face was unusual, his deep blue eyes earnest, almost…pained. “But, can you explain it to yourself when you look in the mirror?”
Sayid’s response was automatic. “Yes.”
But hallucination or not, he didn’t quite look at Sawyer as he said it.
“He’s killing you, one job at a time.” Sawyer’s voice was even, cold and matter-of-fact. “One little piece of you, carved up and served on a silver platter to Benjamin Linus with every dirty deed he’s got you doing for him. Now that really seem fair, after all the hell that ankle-biter put us through, to keep giving him even more?”
Sayid did look at Sawyer then, really look at him. He considered him very carefully.
“It’s not like you to care so much about my well-being,” he said at length.
Sawyer fidgeted at that. “Well, things have changed,” he muttered. “Maybe now I’m supposed to.” His tone shifted meaningfully. “Assigned to you by a…higher authority, guess you could say.”
Sayid’s face darkened. He slid down, leaning further back against the couch.
“Did you survive the water? Did you make it back to the island?” he asked tiredly.
“Sure I did. I made it alright.” Sawyer’s expression was almost apologetic. “But, uh…a lot of bad stuff happened after that.” His mouth twitched upward into a thin humorless smile. “Things got pretty rough.”
Sayid nodded. “And so now you are here to haunt me.” His mouth felt dry; he reached for his glass, remembering too late it was already empty. “Or what else? Look after me?”
“I ain’t a ghost, Aladdin,” Sawyer said, finally sounding more like himself. “I’m something else.”
Sayid considered him. “Then what are you?”
Sawyer hunched his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Aw, don’t make me say it,” he grumbled, embarrassed. “It’s just…it sounds dumb.”
Sayid got to his feet. He thought he might be verging on hysteria, because in spite of himself he felt like laughing.
“You are saying that you are supposed to be my…guardian angel?”
“Yeah. Yeah, there.” Sawyer pointed at him with his hand. “It’s been said. You happy now?”
Sayid turned away. “I am going to get some much-needed sleep.”
“Sayid, wait! You can’t just…” Sawyer muttered something that sounded like a curse and then followed him. “We gotta talk.”
“Why are you here?” Sayid didn’t look back at him as he spoke.
“To help you, dammit. Face it Sayid, you’re in a rough spot.” Sawyer swallowed audibly. “I’m supposed to help you get back on track. Get you out of his pocket. Get you doing the right thing again.”
“The right thing,” Sayid repeated. He stopped walking but still did not turn. “And what is the right thing, Sawyer? What, in this situation, is the right thing for me to do?”
“Just…live.”
The emotion in Sawyer’s voice caused Sayid to finally, slowly, turn to look at him. He saw the solemnity of Sawyer’s face.
“Live like it matters,” he continued. “Live like you want to.”
Sayid closed his eyes. His body sagged: his shoulders hunched in on himself and he ran a hand across his face.
“I feel so tired,” he sighed, dejectedly. He dropped his hand and looked back up at Sawyer. “Just leave me alone. Please.”
The other man was right in front of him now, not quite a full foot away. He lifted a hand like he was going to touch Sayid and then dropped it, frowning in uncertainty.
Sayid sighed again, this time in impatience. He reached for Sawyer himself.
His hand found solidity: the fabric of leather and cotton t-shirt, the feel of a frame beneath it. Sayid’s breath caught in his throat, startled.
“Still think I’m not really here?” Sawyer asked quietly, smirking a little.
“I am beginning to suspect I may be in worse trouble than before,” Sayid quipped offhandedly. He gripped Sawyer’s shoulder tighter.
Sawyer’s body felt warm, but not as much as it should. There was an ethereal sense to him. He didn’t feel quite real.
“You are really my guardian angel?” Sayid said to him, letting go at length. “Prove it.”
Sawyer looked genuinely puzzled. “Now how am I supposed to do that? Miracle something up for you?” He chuckled. “Turn a glass of water into wine?”
“You do not look like a guardian angel,” Sayid said pointedly. “Do you not have wings?” Sawyer scowled.
“I have ‘em. It’s just…it’s too corny,” he grumbled. “Make me feel like an idiot.”
“Show me.”
“Aw, really?” He looked pained. “Do I have to?”
“Show me,” Sayid demanded.
Sawyer let out a heavy sigh that was mixed with a grunt of exasperation.
Then his wings appeared, fully-formed and snowy white on either side of his shoulders.
Sayid breathed an oath in Arabic, his eyes gone wide.
“Aw, gee. You’re making me blush.”
Sayid reached a tentative hand to brush the pale feathers. Sawyer’s wings were unbelievably soft beneath his touch, softer than anything of the world should be.
“So?” Sawyer demanded, eyeing him nervously as Sayid stroked along his pinfeathers. “You believe me now or what?”
“I believe you,” Sayid murmured. “Yes, I believe you.” He pulled back slightly, meeting Sawyer in the eyes.
Then he wrapped both arms around him tight, pressing against him in a kiss.
Sawyer’s breath was sweet, his lips soft, his mouth just as strangely lukewarm as the rest of him. But there was strength to the muscles of the arms that slid around Sayid’s back, and he felt stubble on the cheek when he brushed against it.
Sayid broke away, resting his face against him. He felt Sawyer’s chest rise and fall steadily, but there was no pulse beneath.
“Well,” Sawyer said conversationally. “That was unexpected.”
Sayid clenched his eyes shut tight, digging fingers into him a little harder.
“What do I do now?” he asked.
His voice was completely even. Only someone who knew him very well could possibly understand that it was a plea.
“Easy,” Sawyer soothed. “I’ll take care of you.” One arm wrapped around Sayid with hand pressed to his back just under his shoulder blades. The other was fisted in Sayid’s hair.
Sawyer moved so his chin rested atop Sayid’s head, chuckling softly to himself. “Now listen up, ‘cus here’s what you gotta do.”
Sayid felt softness brush against his skin, enveloping him, and he realized Sawyer had moved his wings to fold them around him.
“Now, Sayid…do you know where Hurley is?”
Title: Protect and Guide
Pairing: Sayid/Sawyer
Rating: PG-13 for tone, some language, implied death
Spoilers: "There's No Place Like Home"
Length: 1,585 words
Notes: zelda_zee asked for happy endings, angsty O6 Sayid, wing!fic, and Sayid/Sawyer. This attempts to be a bit of all that. (Also, it was apparantly her birthday yesterday, so go me with my convenient timing! Happy belated birthday, Z.)
Summary: "I might not be here in one sense...but that don't mean I'm not here."
It was late when Sayid returned to his hotel room. He hung up his coat and loosened his collar, wearily.
Then he went to wash off his hands. In the mirror he glanced distractedly at the flecks of blood that had stained his shirt.
“Now there’s a spot that never comes out. Isn’t that right?”
Sayid jerked, going alert instantly. He spun around the bathroom door towards the kitchenette where the voice came from, already looking for something to use as weaponry.
Sawyer leaned with his back against the refrigerator, arms folded. He was wearing a leather jacket, dark jeans and sunglasses.
“Howdy.” He flashed him a dimpled smirk.
Sayid relaxed. He turned his back on Sawyer with a half-sigh, his face cool and blank as he filled a glass at the sink.
There was a pause just distinct enough to make it clear Sawyer had been waiting before he spoke again.
“Uh, what? You’re not gonna say something?” he asked in bemusement. Sayid took a long drink of water before responding.
“There’s no point.” He looked impassively over his shoulder. “You’re obviously not really here.” He turned away again, walking to the couch.
Sawyer’s expression fell. He rolled his eyes slightly.
“Alright, yeah, maybe.” He raised his arms. “But I’d expect most people would get at least a little excited first.”
“You cannot actually be here. Therefore, you must be some sort of hallucination. There is no point in reacting to you, since it would not make much difference either way. Clearly the best course of action is to ignore you and wait for you to leave.” Sayid sat down, sinking into the cushions as he finished his glass of water.
“I’m not the first among us to experience such things, anyway,” he added more lowly.
Both of them knew who he meant by “us”. He didn’t have to say it.
Sawyer frowned seriously. He walked towards him, standing in front of the TV even though Sayid hadn’t turned it on.
“Look, Sayid,” he said, and the absence of any form of nickname caused the other man’s brow to rise a little: “I might not really be here, in one sense, but that don’t mean I’m not here.”
“Oh?” Sayid’s voice was flat. Sawyer’s frown deepened into a self-defensive scowl.
“Maybe I’m here in one sense, but not another. You know?”
“A spiritual sense,” Sayid suggested, blandly. He set his empty water glass on the table in front of him.
“Well, yeah.” Sawyer made an impatient gesture with one hand, moving his head. “Yeah, exactly. Let’s go with that.”
Sayid let out a deep sigh. He shook his head.
“This is a waste of my time.”
“Oh,” Sawyer interjected, pointedly, “and working for that two-timing rattlesnake, that’s a better use of it?”
Sayid lifted his head to gaze at him unblinkingly with half-lidded eyes.
“I do what I have to do, for a cause that has very little to do with myself. And I do not have to explain myself to you.”
“Never said you gotta.” The look on Sawyer’s face was unusual, his deep blue eyes earnest, almost…pained. “But, can you explain it to yourself when you look in the mirror?”
Sayid’s response was automatic. “Yes.”
But hallucination or not, he didn’t quite look at Sawyer as he said it.
“He’s killing you, one job at a time.” Sawyer’s voice was even, cold and matter-of-fact. “One little piece of you, carved up and served on a silver platter to Benjamin Linus with every dirty deed he’s got you doing for him. Now that really seem fair, after all the hell that ankle-biter put us through, to keep giving him even more?”
Sayid did look at Sawyer then, really look at him. He considered him very carefully.
“It’s not like you to care so much about my well-being,” he said at length.
Sawyer fidgeted at that. “Well, things have changed,” he muttered. “Maybe now I’m supposed to.” His tone shifted meaningfully. “Assigned to you by a…higher authority, guess you could say.”
Sayid’s face darkened. He slid down, leaning further back against the couch.
“Did you survive the water? Did you make it back to the island?” he asked tiredly.
“Sure I did. I made it alright.” Sawyer’s expression was almost apologetic. “But, uh…a lot of bad stuff happened after that.” His mouth twitched upward into a thin humorless smile. “Things got pretty rough.”
Sayid nodded. “And so now you are here to haunt me.” His mouth felt dry; he reached for his glass, remembering too late it was already empty. “Or what else? Look after me?”
“I ain’t a ghost, Aladdin,” Sawyer said, finally sounding more like himself. “I’m something else.”
Sayid considered him. “Then what are you?”
Sawyer hunched his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Aw, don’t make me say it,” he grumbled, embarrassed. “It’s just…it sounds dumb.”
Sayid got to his feet. He thought he might be verging on hysteria, because in spite of himself he felt like laughing.
“You are saying that you are supposed to be my…guardian angel?”
“Yeah. Yeah, there.” Sawyer pointed at him with his hand. “It’s been said. You happy now?”
Sayid turned away. “I am going to get some much-needed sleep.”
“Sayid, wait! You can’t just…” Sawyer muttered something that sounded like a curse and then followed him. “We gotta talk.”
“Why are you here?” Sayid didn’t look back at him as he spoke.
“To help you, dammit. Face it Sayid, you’re in a rough spot.” Sawyer swallowed audibly. “I’m supposed to help you get back on track. Get you out of his pocket. Get you doing the right thing again.”
“The right thing,” Sayid repeated. He stopped walking but still did not turn. “And what is the right thing, Sawyer? What, in this situation, is the right thing for me to do?”
“Just…live.”
The emotion in Sawyer’s voice caused Sayid to finally, slowly, turn to look at him. He saw the solemnity of Sawyer’s face.
“Live like it matters,” he continued. “Live like you want to.”
Sayid closed his eyes. His body sagged: his shoulders hunched in on himself and he ran a hand across his face.
“I feel so tired,” he sighed, dejectedly. He dropped his hand and looked back up at Sawyer. “Just leave me alone. Please.”
The other man was right in front of him now, not quite a full foot away. He lifted a hand like he was going to touch Sayid and then dropped it, frowning in uncertainty.
Sayid sighed again, this time in impatience. He reached for Sawyer himself.
His hand found solidity: the fabric of leather and cotton t-shirt, the feel of a frame beneath it. Sayid’s breath caught in his throat, startled.
“Still think I’m not really here?” Sawyer asked quietly, smirking a little.
“I am beginning to suspect I may be in worse trouble than before,” Sayid quipped offhandedly. He gripped Sawyer’s shoulder tighter.
Sawyer’s body felt warm, but not as much as it should. There was an ethereal sense to him. He didn’t feel quite real.
“You are really my guardian angel?” Sayid said to him, letting go at length. “Prove it.”
Sawyer looked genuinely puzzled. “Now how am I supposed to do that? Miracle something up for you?” He chuckled. “Turn a glass of water into wine?”
“You do not look like a guardian angel,” Sayid said pointedly. “Do you not have wings?” Sawyer scowled.
“I have ‘em. It’s just…it’s too corny,” he grumbled. “Make me feel like an idiot.”
“Show me.”
“Aw, really?” He looked pained. “Do I have to?”
“Show me,” Sayid demanded.
Sawyer let out a heavy sigh that was mixed with a grunt of exasperation.
Then his wings appeared, fully-formed and snowy white on either side of his shoulders.
Sayid breathed an oath in Arabic, his eyes gone wide.
“Aw, gee. You’re making me blush.”
Sayid reached a tentative hand to brush the pale feathers. Sawyer’s wings were unbelievably soft beneath his touch, softer than anything of the world should be.
“So?” Sawyer demanded, eyeing him nervously as Sayid stroked along his pinfeathers. “You believe me now or what?”
“I believe you,” Sayid murmured. “Yes, I believe you.” He pulled back slightly, meeting Sawyer in the eyes.
Then he wrapped both arms around him tight, pressing against him in a kiss.
Sawyer’s breath was sweet, his lips soft, his mouth just as strangely lukewarm as the rest of him. But there was strength to the muscles of the arms that slid around Sayid’s back, and he felt stubble on the cheek when he brushed against it.
Sayid broke away, resting his face against him. He felt Sawyer’s chest rise and fall steadily, but there was no pulse beneath.
“Well,” Sawyer said conversationally. “That was unexpected.”
Sayid clenched his eyes shut tight, digging fingers into him a little harder.
“What do I do now?” he asked.
His voice was completely even. Only someone who knew him very well could possibly understand that it was a plea.
“Easy,” Sawyer soothed. “I’ll take care of you.” One arm wrapped around Sayid with hand pressed to his back just under his shoulder blades. The other was fisted in Sayid’s hair.
Sawyer moved so his chin rested atop Sayid’s head, chuckling softly to himself. “Now listen up, ‘cus here’s what you gotta do.”
Sayid felt softness brush against his skin, enveloping him, and he realized Sawyer had moved his wings to fold them around him.
“Now, Sayid…do you know where Hurley is?”