Lost fic: Babysitting [Sawyer]
Disclaimer: Lost belongs to ABC, etc., not me.
Summary: Sawyer babysits.
Spoilers: Through Do No Harm. And yeah, this story will be outdated in about a week when we get a new episode.
Archive: Please ask first.
Feedback: Good, bad, constructive -- all is appreciated.
Babysitting
by eponine119
April 25-26, 2005
"Sawyer, thank God!" Charlie jumped up, accosting him as he emerged from the jungle, blocking his path. "You've got to take him for awhile. I'd do it but I'm so knackered, just completely shattered, been staying up nights with him, y'know. Claire's at the caves with Jack, follow-up visit for girly things, she'll be back in an hour or two, thanks."
Before Sawyer could blink, Charlie shoved the bundle into his arms and ran. It clicked in Sawyer's brain that there was a baby in his hands and he hollered, "Hey!" but the damn hobbit didn't come back. There was no one on the beach except him. And the infant.
What the hell were they thinking, leaving him alone with an innocent little baby? Didn't they know better? This kid was brand new, completely uncorrupted. It waved a hand under his nose and Sawyer noticed it had the most amazing, miniature fingernails. How could they leave him alone with a new human being with fingernails? Didn't they know any better?
"I guess it's just me and you, …" he trailed off. Did the kid have a name? Wait, did he care? The plaid airline blanket trailed in the sand as he transferred the bundle to his left arm, making sure the kid's head was supported by his elbow. That was something you were supposed to worry about, right? Heads. He looked around again, wondering where everybody was. He'd never seen the beach so deserted.
He looked at the kid. Its skin was smooth and practically transparent. He leaned in closer to get a better look and that tiny waving hand seized a handful of his hair.
Sawyer jerked back in surprise. "Owww," he howled, because the kid didn't let go. He moved his head more slowly but the baby had an iron grip and Sawyer had a sensitive scalp. "Damn it," he muttered, and used his other hand to try to detach the amazing gripper fingers. When the kid finally gave up, Sawyer grabbed the long end of the blanket and tried to wrap the kid up in it so no stray hands were peeking out. When he was done it looked more like he'd been tying up hostages, but he was safe. For now.
It took about thirty seconds for him to realize he was bored, and another thirty seconds after that for the baby to get bored. "I'll read you a story," he said, feeling an increasing desperation. With his free hand, he pulled the paperback book out of his back pocket. Sawyer glanced at the book's cover and felt a twinge. VC Andrews probably wasn't the best reading material for an infant. Hell, what did babies know anyway, Sawyer thought, and opened the book.
He closed it again just as quickly. He patted his shirt pocket but he already knew it was empty. "Damn," he murmured, and looked off toward his tent. It wasn't worth the headache to go without them.
He bargained with the baby. "You just stay here, and I'll be right back." He put the baby down on the sand. It was just a baby, it wasn't going to go anywhere. He could leave it alone for the short amount of time it'd take to dash to his tent and back.
He only took two steps. He couldn't leave the baby lying there on the ground. Someone was bound to run out of the jungle without looking and step on the poor kid. Sawyer cringed slightly, all too able to picture the big, soft baby head being smashed under somebody's feet. He dashed back and swept the baby up into his arms.
The kid knew it had been abandoned, though, and screamed. Sawyer looked at it, horrified. What the hell was he supposed to do now? "Hey now, just a minute here," he said, holding the baby against him and kind of jiggling it. The kid screamed louder. He wanted Claire to come back -- now.
"Hell, I don't know what I'm doing," he confessed. "I'm just a guy. A guy with no use for kids. But we're stuck here so we're just gonna have to get along." He realized the screaming had stopped. The kid seemed to be looking at him interestedly. Sawyer raised his eyebrows, cause he couldn't think of the last time someone seemed interested in what he had to say.
The next shriek was more like a squeal. It sounded to Sawyer like it meant, keep talking! He clamped his eyebrows back down into their usual scowl, but started talking again in the same low tone experimentally. "Lemme tell you about life, kid," he said. Sure enough, no squeal. Now that he'd discovered the secret, he had to think of something else to say. "The secret to life is, don't care too much. About anything. It'll just bite you on the ass."
He stopped. This was just a kid. Not even his kid. Didn't seem right to indoctrinate him to all the bitterness of life before he even had a chance. When it got older, if it got to feeling bitter then it could come see Uncle Sawyer and get the straight truth.
Uncle Sawyer? He shook his head. Holy fuck, what was wrong with him that he was thinking crap like that after only fifteen minutes? Babymama better get back soon or he might go completely off his rocker.
Another impatient squeal, this one more insistent. "Yeah, I know," Sawyer said. "It's just a good thing you're not hungry…or anything." He met the kid's eyes. "You understand me, Scrappy Doo? Don't make a mess, cause I'm not gonna clean it up. And don't get hungry, while you're at it, cause I ain't got the equipment to help you out. "
He settled back against a tree with his legs stretched out in front of him. His arm was starting to ache and the sun overhead was starting to make him sleepy. Maybe the kid would get sleepy, too. But that'd be too damn easy, wouldn't it, Sawyer thought, roused a moment later by a strange new look on the baby's face.
A second later, he was splattered with what he could only assume had been lunch. "What the hell are you doing?" Sawyer cried, holding the kid away from him in case he decided to do it again. He would swear he saw the baby smile, a big wobbly gummy smile that kind of won his heart, although he wouldn't admit it. He swore loudly while pulling his shirt off. It probably wasn't such a good idea, but he couldn't stand the smell.
He pulled the baby back into his arms and stared into its eyes. "You're not gonna do that again. You hear me?" The kid just made another grab for his hair, but this time Sawyer was quicker. Deprived of its new favorite toy, the kid decided to cry some more.
"What the hell do you want me to do?" The answer was more shrieking, not very helpful. He tried jiggling the baby again but that just made it madder. Only one thing came into his head and he was desperate, so he tried it.
He sang to the damn baby.
"Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys…" He sighed and snuggled the baby closer to his chest. It seemed to be working. He touched the kid's face and blinked. Its skin was impossibly soft. Guess that's how we all start out, he thought. "Don't let 'em pick guitars or ride in old trucks. Let 'em be doctors or lawyers or such."
He kept singing, and he could feel himself relax. When he relaxed, the bundle cradled against his chest seemed to relax too, instead of the stiff fury he'd felt from the baby when it was screaming. He sang that one twice, his mind wandering.
Everybody gets a fresh start, was what he thought. It was hard to imagine he'd ever been as small as this kid in his arms, as innocent and helpless. What kind of songs had his mama sung to him? He kind of wished he could remember. He knew she'd loved him. Didn't know how he knew, didn't want to think about it much, but somewhere deep down it was there.
She'd put him under the bed. She'd protected him.
Sawyer wondered where this kid's dad was. He hadn't had more than two conversations with Claire, so he didn't know for sure, but he had the feeling the guy was out of the picture. Seemed like a shame. Such a sweet girl. What the hell had she been doing on the damn plane anyway, ending up in a place like this. She didn't belong. Didn't deserve it.
Sawyer had come to think of the island as some kind of punishment. He didn't question why he was there. He knew. He deserved everything he got and then some. But a blond girl traveling alone…a brand new little baby stuck here? Wasn't right. Didn't make sense. It made him angry all over again.
When he got angry, the kid got angry. Sawyer noticed it this time, and had to wonder at it. Was the kid picking up on the tension in the way he was being held, or something in Sawyer's voice? Or was it something else entirely, some weird baby radar he couldn't pretend to understand? He forced himself to take a deep breath, to think of something more calming, to let the anger go.
He wasn't one to let go of his anger. That he could do so now surprised him.
The kid wiggled and stretched contentedly, then put its head back, draped over Sawyer's arm. A second later it let out a snore he could feel vibrating against his skin. He held his breath, feeling hopeful. But the kid opened one eye, on to him. Keep it up or else, that look said, before the eye closed.
Sawyer put his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. He barely even knew where it was coming from when he started to sing Amazing Grace. He was thinking about his mama, and the words came pouring out of him.
"Wow." The word, spoken with a distinctive Australian accent, roused him and made him jump. Claire was standing over him, hands on her hips, an amused smile on her face. "He's calm. He doesn’t usually like singing."
"Charlie made me," Sawyer said defensively, feeling the need to explain what he was doing here with her baby. He straightened up and she took the infant from him. The baby snuggled against her, eyes open and inquisitive. You would never guess it was such a screaming, demanding hellion.
"Good thought with the shirt," Claire said approvingly. "He likes to hear your heartbeat."
"Right," Sawyer said, picking up his t-shirt and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. She didn't need to know her kid had puked on him.
"Was he good?" Claire asked.
Sawyer shrugged. "We reached an understanding."
Claire giggled. "You're good with him," Claire said, jostling the baby closer to her and kissing it on the forehead. It gurgled happily. "Maybe he likes your accent."
Sawyer felt something like a smile pulling at his face, but he tried to keep it away. He wasn't the kind of guy you left looking after your kid, and he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. "I oughta go." He didn't know what to do with his hands. They felt so empty.
She smiled and nodded, and nudged the baby so it was looking at him. "Say g'bye to Sawyer, Jamie," she murmured.
Sawyer froze. "What's his name?" he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.
Claire's smile turned slightly embarrassed. "Jamie?" she repeated, rubbing a hand over the infant's head. "Yeah, I know, it's kind of silly. But it just seemed right, somehow."
Sawyer felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. So he had something in common with the kid after all. He blinked and realized Claire was still looking at him. "I like it," he said gruffly, and turned and dragged himself away.
"Thank you," she called after him.
"Don't mention it," he growled, not looking back. Jamie. God damn.
The end.