All That's Left Behind [1/3] - Lost - Sawyer/Kevin
Title: All That's Left Behind [1/3]
Pairing: Sawyer/Kevin (Sawyer/Kate, Kevin/Kate, Jack/Kate)
Word Count: 3900
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written with writing_rainbow's "Thumb" prompt. AU - the Oceanic Six here are not the Oceanic Six of the show.
Summary: Kevin really should know better than to pick up strange hitchhikers in the rain.
The radio's playing a song designed for singing along to: he's got the volume up loud to hear it over the heavy rain pounding on the wind screen. It's a sunny song written for sunny places, not for soaked roads like this. He's the only one driving. Won't be too far now until he's home. Heating on, funny movie, good food and a warm drink. He'll be able to ease away the day's stress.
It's been an easy day really, as days go in his line of work. The paperwork to action ratio is a little steeper than he would have liked, as always, but that's to be expected. No one takes a job as a cop out in the back of beyond without being ready to shuffle a few papers around the desk. It's okay. It's nice. It's easy.
The rain shows no sign of stopping any time soon - the repeated whoosh-click of his windscreen wipers fades into a regular rhythm. Heavens'll close up again soon, Kevin tells himself. Right now he can't even see the sky. The clouds rumble on for miles. The song on the radio ends; the next one starts. Gloomier, more fitting for a day like today. Kevin reaches for the dial and lowers the volume.
He almost doesn't notice the drenched figure by the side of the road - almost drives straight past him. His clothes are soaked through and it's impossible to tell what colour his hair would be if it weren't so waterlogged. His hand sticks out in a rough fist, thumb pointing up. Hitchhiker. Don't get many of those around here. Kevin's fingers tap on the steering wheel. Might be smarter to drive straight past, but he's always been kinder than he's been clever. The car slows.
Kevin leans across the car and finds the door handle, jerking it open with a small push. "You getting in?" he calls over the sound of pouring rain splashing all around.
The figure doesn't hesitate, not for even a second. He folds himself into the car, wet and shivering and dripping all over the seat. Kevin doesn't have a towel to offer him but he reaches for the central heating and turns it up a notch or two. The hitchhiker quirks a smile at him and warms his hands in front of the heater.
"Not a day for hitchin'," Kevin says as he begins to drive again. "I'm just heading down the road a few more miles then I'll have to boot you out again. Still better than walking all that way though."
"Yeah," the stranger agrees. "Thanks."
"No problem. I'm Kevin."
"Sawyer."
The landscape flows by. The car seems unpleasantly hot - artificial and plastic air rushing from the heater - yet Sawyer's shivering hasn't yet ceased. "Hell of a climate you've got here."
"Tell me about it," Kevin agrees. "Moved here a few years ago. Still haven't got used to the weather. Don't think I ever will."
"Yeah?" Sawyer smiles, a flash of teeth and dimples, but Kevin tries to keep his eyes on the road. "Where'd you move from?"
"Florida." Kevin wonders if his smile wavers like he's sure it does, if the flash of bitter memories shows on his face, if the stab of pain in his heart is clear to see. He doesn't let himself miss a beat. "What about yourself? Any particular reason you're out hitchhiking in weather as foul as this?"
Sawyer shrugs and shakes his head. His hair drips in wet clumps onto his soaked jeans, and from there onto the seat of Kevin's poor car. It's gonna smell of rain water and cigarette smoke for days. "No real reason," Sawyer says. "Just needed to get out for a while."
"And you can't get much more out than this." Kevin spares a glance towards Sawyer once the road is straight - not for more than a second or two, because in weather like this he'd rather focus on the road - and feels a peculiar rush of adrenaline when he catches Sawyer staring at him. It's the same buzz he gets on the job, apprehending a criminal, whether it's chasing down petty thieves or closing in on a set of conmen. He clears his throat and looks at the road again. Sawyer's eyes… There's something there that doesn't sit too well with him. The sooner they reach their destination the better, he thinks.
"So what made you decide to leave Florida?" Sawyer asks, circling back to that same damn topic. "That's one big change there."
"No real reason," Kevin says. His voice is more clipped than it ought to be. "Just fancied something new is all."
"What was so bad with the old life?"
Kevin's hands are clutching the steering wheel too tightly. The rain sounds as if it's trying to bore holes through the glass. "Nothing," he says. He doesn't think of how he could barely even look his own mother in the face after Monica's deception. He doesn't think of how goddamn stupid he felt - still feels - for being duped like that. Doesn't think of how every single inch of their city had haunted him with her at each turn. Doesn't think at all.
"Yeah?" Sawyer says. "You sure about that?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Another few minutes and he can be rid of this guy. Kevin's gonna have to start reconsidering his policy on picking up hitchhikers. "Why're you so interested anyways?"
"Just thought you were someone else," Sawyer says. He sounds too level, too rehearsed. Kevin's head spins, leaves him light-headed. His limbs are sluggish with the memory of what Monica did. "I had this friend, see. Kate. She told me about a guy - a cop - she was married to back in Florida. Didn't last long, she told me. I figured I'd-"
The car jerks to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. Any other cars coming along the road will slam right into them but Kevin can't think about that right now. He can't even look at this guy. "Get out," he says.
"Wait, I-"
"I want you out of my car." The words fall like rocks. "I don't care who you are, why you're here, what you want. Just get out."
"I was there," Sawyer hisses. "On the island, I was there."
Kevin breathes slowly, shallowly. He remembers the headlines that came out when the survivors were found - and he remembers that he'd started switching the television off the second he had realised that his Monica wasn't there. "You're one of the Oceanic Six?" he asks.
"James Ford," Sawyer says reluctantly.
The name rings a bell but Kevin still fights with the impulse to throw him out of the car and back into the rain. He doesn't need this, doesn't want it. That whole part of his life is supposed to be behind him now. She is supposed to be behind him now. His fingers tap restlessly against the steering wheel.
"You still want me to leave?" Sawyer asks. His hand rests on the door handle and the car still feels too damn hot, clammy and clogging. Kevin reaches for the knob and turns the heater down again. He needs space to think but he's not going to get it here. "I just wanna talk, Kevin." It's almost a whisper, almost a plea. "Just talk. That's it."
This is a bad idea, Kev, he thinks, but he nods all the same. There's something in this man's eyes that won't allow him to say no - a thread of desperation. Kevin swallows hard. "I don't know what it is you're expecting me to talk about," he says, "but alright. Just…" He wants to give some condition, some warning, but he can't find the words. He starts driving again and the thrashing rain seems comforting.
They don't talk at all as he drives, not now. Nothing more to say. No more nonsense chitchat to fill the air with.
His home is dark when they rush inside to escape the rain. He turns the lights on and draws the curtains, all the while making a purposeful attempt not to acknowledge the man dripping just inside the door. He doesn't know what to do with him. Doesn't know if he should be doing anything at all. He's brought him to where he lives. That can't be any kind of smart.
He knew anyway, Kevin tells himself. He must've known where you work, where you'd be driving, that you'd pick him up. Must've known everything.
Thinking about it like that, it doesn't seem quite so reassuring.
"You thirsty?" he asks eventually, though he isn't even sure if he has anything to offer him. He doesn’t spend too much time out here. It's a place for sleeping and hiding and not much else. Since Monica… It's been hard to find any place he feels comfortable calling 'home'.
Sawyer shakes his head. "Just want to talk," he repeats and Kevin's heart sinks.
"Don't know what it is you're wanting to talk about," he says. He leads Sawyer through to the living room. "I hadn't seen Monica for years even before the crash. Kate." He thinks of them as different people sometimes. Monica, his sweet and funny wife. Kate, the convict that stole her away from him. Simplistic, isn't it? If only that was the case.
Sawyer's shoulders hunch and he doesn't make a sound as he thinks. Kevin leaves the room, raiding his bathroom before he returns with a towel and throws it over to him. They sit down at opposing sides of the sofa, as awkward as two teenagers on a first date.
"Kate didn't die in the crash," Sawyer says, shattering the silence. The words burst out like they've been pent up for far too long. "It wasn't just the six of us - we had about forty or so to begin with. A few died along the way."
"Kate?" It shouldn't alarm him. Dying on the island is no worse than dying in the crash. No worse, no better, doesn't matter. Either way she's just as dead.
Sawyer shakes his head in one jerky movement. "No," he whispers. "She was fine. Last I saw of her, she was right as rain."
"So what happened?"
He gets another shrug in return. "Hell if I know. Rescue came, she decided to stay behind. That's all there is to it."
Sounds like there's more, sounds like Kate's broken another heart, but Kevin doesn't push any further than that. He nods instead, slow and steady. "I sure am sorry to hear that," he says - but at least she's alive. She's out there somewhere.
Sawyer looks towards him, studying him intently. There's more going on behind those blue eyes than Kevin knows how to handle, a nebulas of emotion. How long has he been waiting to tell someone the truth? He keeps watching Kevin, making him feel like a rabbit in an eagle's eye. "You're a nice guy," he says, "aren't you?"
And what kind of a question is that? Kevin thinks, but he doesn't give himself the time to dwell on it. "I like to think so."
"A cop," Sawyer murmurs. "Pretty damn respectable." It's as if he's discovering information, gaining an insight, but Kevin's still shut out from it. "She married you?"
"Not really," he says. "I didn't even know her real name. Didn't know anything about her." The person he'd been in love with didn't exist - Monica was a lie, their marriage was a lie. Sometimes he can convince himself that she really did feel something for him, but it's rare. More often than not, the memory of waking up on the ground when the drugs wore off is stronger than anything else. It's stronger than their first meeting or than walking down the aisle with her. Overruling.
"Think she really did love you," Sawyer says. Kevin can't respond, doesn't know how.
Instead he gives a half-hearted shrug. "You wanna stay for dinner?" he asks, though he shouldn't. He's got nothing to offer this man in the way of food or answers. Got nothing at all.
Yet when the glimmer of a smile shows up on Sawyer's face, Kevin's eyes crinkle in a smile of his own - shared with a fellow sufferer, another survivor of this same heartbreak.
*
It's during his lunch break the following day that he starts thinking far too much. He starts thinking about the following evening and starts remembering the way Sawyer had watched him and had hung on his every word like he was preaching a mighty impressive Bible. It had felt pretty good to be listened to again. Seemed as if people were listening to him less and less these days.
Yet there's something that just ain't sitting right with him about the entire situation. Something about the way Sawyer was waiting for him, about how he already seemed to know everything he wanted to ask, about how he seemed to have the entire situation already figured out. Like Kevin had just been there to play a part for him. Something isn't right there and he finds his fingers itching on the keyboard before he can stop himself.
He takes a look around at the station. It's a tiny place with only a handful of officers ever working at once. It's not a big town and there's not a whole lot of crime to worry about. Nice neighbourhood. Nice people. It's a place where he ought to be able to feel at home, yet every time he sits here surrounded by a sea of nice he has to wonder if any of them have a skeleton in their closet quite like his. Doubts it. Doubts if any of his colleagues have a Monica lurking in their past.
They're all occupied right now, absorbed in their paperwork or chatting and laughing with each other. He's here on the outside, even after a few years working in this place. He used to fit in so easily. He looks down to the screen, not sure why he needs to be quite so secretive about this, as he types 'James Ford' into that big old database of theirs. The computer makes him lean back in his chair and wait on it. He reaches for his coffee even if it's starting to go cold and takes a sip, listens to two of the other officers talking about their kids. Families.
Doesn't take too long to find a match and Kevin finds himself staring at a criminal record a mite longer than he's comfortable with. The charges on it? Those aren't too comforting either: cons and lies and identity theft. His skin crawls as he stares at it in silent contemplation.
"What you got there, Callis?" Christine asks as she places a hand on his shoulder. Despite being in her early-fifties his colleague has an excellent gift at creeping up on him. "Who's this guy?"
The record's heavier than they usually deal with in this place - but all charges have been dropped following the rescue. Kevin reaches for the mouse and exits the file before he glances back at his friend. "Nobody," he answers. "Just lookin'."
"Yeah?" she asks with a tint of worry. "Interesting stuff to be 'just looking' at."
"Sure is," Kevin agrees. He's not sure where his mind's at right now but he's pretty certain it's not a good place. All Sawyer's cards aren't on the table, not yet. He's just gonna have to cling to the hope that the son of a bitch doesn't turn up again, doesn't wait by the side in another rain storm. He forces a smile for Christine. This stuff doesn't bear worrying about. Not worth it, he tells himself. "You on your lunch break yet? I'm starving."
Christine smiles and pats his shoulder once. "I'll grab my coat."
When she leaves, he's left staring at the computer screen for a few overlong moments. The desktop leaves no trace of Sawyer's file but he can still see it so perfectly, like all he has to do is close his eyes. One search, one name, that was all it took to uncover a treasure trove of information. He stares blankly at that screen, mind ticking, until he hears Christine calling for him by the doorway. Banishing his thoughts and trying to put this behind him for now, he nods to show her he's heard. Frowning, he reaches for the screen and switches it off.
*
Phone's ringing.
Piercing and shrill, it rings again and again and again. Cuts straight through the house and leaves an echo in Kevin's ears. He ought to go and disconnect it, just for the night. Get himself some peace. He knows who'll be waiting on the other end for him and he's done with that. He's not going to listen to Sawyer for another night. Already he's stirred up memories that should have been left hidden. Already he's making it hard for Kevin to think about anything else.
Phone keeps on ringing, keeps on ringing, keeps on ringing.
He'll give up eventually, Kevin tells himself. A guy can't keep hanging on at the other end indefinitely. He'll get the hint. He'll give up. This isn't forever. He tries to read the newspaper but it's impossible to focus on the words. The phone might stop for brief five minutes but that's it. Then it starts again, always ringing. Thing like that'd drive a good man mad.
Phone's been ringing on and off for over an hour before he caves and walks over to it. When he picks it up, he doesn't pause for a second. "Sawyer?"
"Kevin, I was-"
"Stop calling here." He's not going to listen to anything a conman has to say. He doesn't know what it is that Sawyer wants from him, but he can bet that it isn't just answers and anecdotes about Kate. "I mean it. Leave me alone."
He hangs up without another word and stays on the spot for a minute, staring at the phone as if he's just daring it to start ringing again. The only sound that comes is the ragged rush of his own breathing. The phone stays silent.
*
It might stay silent but that doesn't mean he's left alone - he gets under a day of respite before he receives a visitor at work. "Callis!" Christine calls for him from where she's manning the front desk. He looks up, pen still in his hand, and freezes when he realises who it is that's standing there waiting for him. "This man says he's looking for you."
All he needs to do is refuse to speak to him and this'll be over. He's in a damn police station: it ain't like Sawyer's likely to try and push his luck in a place like this. He's a smart guy, ought to know his boundaries by now. Even with those smarts, though, he's still turned up here. Holding Kevin's gaze Sawyer leans against the front desk and quirks his eyebrows, some kind of challenge that Kevin knows he's gonna have to respond to.
He curses his misfortune but knows he has to smile before Christine has cause to get concerned. "Thank you," he says to her as he places his work down on his desk and gets to his feet. He feels self-conscious in his uniform in front of Sawyer, self-conscious in a place of law and order when he's dealing with an ex-con. Should be the other way around but Sawyer looks comfortable and at home in the police station.
"How 'bout we go outside and talk?" he says as he reaches where Sawyer is standing. He can feel the wary way that his colleagues are watching them - picking up that something isn't quite right here - and doesn't pause for too long where they can see them. This isn't something he feels like talking about in front of everyone that knows him.
Sawyer shrugs and follows him out into the daylight. The sky seems wet and watery and there are deep puddles on the dark ground but it's not raining yet. Just threatening. "Thought I told you to leave me alone?" he asks when the station door closes behind them. The street's pretty empty at this time of day. There are a few people waiting around outside the newsagent further down the street and a young mother walking with her child in a stroller.
"That you did," Sawyer confirms. His voice sounds more cheerful than it did the night he picked him up. Stronger too. A punch line seems to be hidden in his words - judging by that self-satisfied smile - but Kevin's lost track of it. "Thought that was kinda rude for a nice guy like yourself, if I'm honest."
"Turning up where I work might be classified as 'kinda rude' too."
"True," Sawyer agrees, "but I never claimed I was a nice guy."
Kevin keeps his distance and his arms cross over his chest. "What is it you want, Sawyer?" he asks. Got to be something. With people like Sawyer there's always something, though Kevin can't see what it is that he supposedly has to offer.
"Told you that already - I just want to talk to you."
"Yeah, and we've talked. We're done here."
The expression on Sawyer's face says otherwise. His jaw clenches, a flash of annoyance bursts on his face and he shakes his head. "No," he says. "We're not done. I'm not done."
Kevin frowns and he's not quite sure what to make of that. "I need to get back to work," he says instead of responding to that comment directly. Nothing to say to that. No way to respond to it.
"Wait, that's not- I didn't mean it to come out like that." Sawyer's flustered, confused and angry about that confusion. That shouldn't be a good combination but Kevin's finding it hard not to let himself smile as he watches Sawyer fumble for the right words. Shouldn't be amusing at all. Con-men don't get knocked off balance like that. This is all probably an act, something to reel him in. If that's the case, Kevin's pretty damn sure it's working. "Just… Give me one more chance, alright? Come out with me tonight."
"Come out with you?"
"You cooked for me the other night. I really should take you out to dinner as a 'thank you'." And that dimpled smile is back, the twinkle in his eyes has returned, and his confidence is keeping him afloat once more. Vulnerability cast to the side now he feels he's in control once more.
Kevin really oughta say no to this, but looking at Sawyer he just can't seem to make himself. He smiles and tells himself he's an idiot, but he finds himself nodding. "Yeah, alright," he agrees - because when Sawyer sets his mind on something Kevin gets the impression it's difficult to say no to him. Damn near impossible to even want to.
"Good," Sawyer says, taking a few steps backwards down the road now that he's got what he wanted. "Now you go back to work and I'll pick you up at seven from your place. And Kevin?"
"What?"
"Wear something pretty." Sawyer winks before he turns around and starts walking leisurely - plans to make, Kevin guesses - and Kevin's left standing there, fighting with the outraged laughter that snorts from him. Bewildered, he turns to enter the station again, not quite sure what the hell just happened: he gets the distinct impression that he just agreed to go on a date with the very man he should be avoiding.
Part Two
Pairing: Sawyer/Kevin (Sawyer/Kate, Kevin/Kate, Jack/Kate)
Word Count: 3900
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written with writing_rainbow's "Thumb" prompt. AU - the Oceanic Six here are not the Oceanic Six of the show.
Summary: Kevin really should know better than to pick up strange hitchhikers in the rain.
The radio's playing a song designed for singing along to: he's got the volume up loud to hear it over the heavy rain pounding on the wind screen. It's a sunny song written for sunny places, not for soaked roads like this. He's the only one driving. Won't be too far now until he's home. Heating on, funny movie, good food and a warm drink. He'll be able to ease away the day's stress.
It's been an easy day really, as days go in his line of work. The paperwork to action ratio is a little steeper than he would have liked, as always, but that's to be expected. No one takes a job as a cop out in the back of beyond without being ready to shuffle a few papers around the desk. It's okay. It's nice. It's easy.
The rain shows no sign of stopping any time soon - the repeated whoosh-click of his windscreen wipers fades into a regular rhythm. Heavens'll close up again soon, Kevin tells himself. Right now he can't even see the sky. The clouds rumble on for miles. The song on the radio ends; the next one starts. Gloomier, more fitting for a day like today. Kevin reaches for the dial and lowers the volume.
He almost doesn't notice the drenched figure by the side of the road - almost drives straight past him. His clothes are soaked through and it's impossible to tell what colour his hair would be if it weren't so waterlogged. His hand sticks out in a rough fist, thumb pointing up. Hitchhiker. Don't get many of those around here. Kevin's fingers tap on the steering wheel. Might be smarter to drive straight past, but he's always been kinder than he's been clever. The car slows.
Kevin leans across the car and finds the door handle, jerking it open with a small push. "You getting in?" he calls over the sound of pouring rain splashing all around.
The figure doesn't hesitate, not for even a second. He folds himself into the car, wet and shivering and dripping all over the seat. Kevin doesn't have a towel to offer him but he reaches for the central heating and turns it up a notch or two. The hitchhiker quirks a smile at him and warms his hands in front of the heater.
"Not a day for hitchin'," Kevin says as he begins to drive again. "I'm just heading down the road a few more miles then I'll have to boot you out again. Still better than walking all that way though."
"Yeah," the stranger agrees. "Thanks."
"No problem. I'm Kevin."
"Sawyer."
The landscape flows by. The car seems unpleasantly hot - artificial and plastic air rushing from the heater - yet Sawyer's shivering hasn't yet ceased. "Hell of a climate you've got here."
"Tell me about it," Kevin agrees. "Moved here a few years ago. Still haven't got used to the weather. Don't think I ever will."
"Yeah?" Sawyer smiles, a flash of teeth and dimples, but Kevin tries to keep his eyes on the road. "Where'd you move from?"
"Florida." Kevin wonders if his smile wavers like he's sure it does, if the flash of bitter memories shows on his face, if the stab of pain in his heart is clear to see. He doesn't let himself miss a beat. "What about yourself? Any particular reason you're out hitchhiking in weather as foul as this?"
Sawyer shrugs and shakes his head. His hair drips in wet clumps onto his soaked jeans, and from there onto the seat of Kevin's poor car. It's gonna smell of rain water and cigarette smoke for days. "No real reason," Sawyer says. "Just needed to get out for a while."
"And you can't get much more out than this." Kevin spares a glance towards Sawyer once the road is straight - not for more than a second or two, because in weather like this he'd rather focus on the road - and feels a peculiar rush of adrenaline when he catches Sawyer staring at him. It's the same buzz he gets on the job, apprehending a criminal, whether it's chasing down petty thieves or closing in on a set of conmen. He clears his throat and looks at the road again. Sawyer's eyes… There's something there that doesn't sit too well with him. The sooner they reach their destination the better, he thinks.
"So what made you decide to leave Florida?" Sawyer asks, circling back to that same damn topic. "That's one big change there."
"No real reason," Kevin says. His voice is more clipped than it ought to be. "Just fancied something new is all."
"What was so bad with the old life?"
Kevin's hands are clutching the steering wheel too tightly. The rain sounds as if it's trying to bore holes through the glass. "Nothing," he says. He doesn't think of how he could barely even look his own mother in the face after Monica's deception. He doesn't think of how goddamn stupid he felt - still feels - for being duped like that. Doesn't think of how every single inch of their city had haunted him with her at each turn. Doesn't think at all.
"Yeah?" Sawyer says. "You sure about that?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Another few minutes and he can be rid of this guy. Kevin's gonna have to start reconsidering his policy on picking up hitchhikers. "Why're you so interested anyways?"
"Just thought you were someone else," Sawyer says. He sounds too level, too rehearsed. Kevin's head spins, leaves him light-headed. His limbs are sluggish with the memory of what Monica did. "I had this friend, see. Kate. She told me about a guy - a cop - she was married to back in Florida. Didn't last long, she told me. I figured I'd-"
The car jerks to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. Any other cars coming along the road will slam right into them but Kevin can't think about that right now. He can't even look at this guy. "Get out," he says.
"Wait, I-"
"I want you out of my car." The words fall like rocks. "I don't care who you are, why you're here, what you want. Just get out."
"I was there," Sawyer hisses. "On the island, I was there."
Kevin breathes slowly, shallowly. He remembers the headlines that came out when the survivors were found - and he remembers that he'd started switching the television off the second he had realised that his Monica wasn't there. "You're one of the Oceanic Six?" he asks.
"James Ford," Sawyer says reluctantly.
The name rings a bell but Kevin still fights with the impulse to throw him out of the car and back into the rain. He doesn't need this, doesn't want it. That whole part of his life is supposed to be behind him now. She is supposed to be behind him now. His fingers tap restlessly against the steering wheel.
"You still want me to leave?" Sawyer asks. His hand rests on the door handle and the car still feels too damn hot, clammy and clogging. Kevin reaches for the knob and turns the heater down again. He needs space to think but he's not going to get it here. "I just wanna talk, Kevin." It's almost a whisper, almost a plea. "Just talk. That's it."
This is a bad idea, Kev, he thinks, but he nods all the same. There's something in this man's eyes that won't allow him to say no - a thread of desperation. Kevin swallows hard. "I don't know what it is you're expecting me to talk about," he says, "but alright. Just…" He wants to give some condition, some warning, but he can't find the words. He starts driving again and the thrashing rain seems comforting.
They don't talk at all as he drives, not now. Nothing more to say. No more nonsense chitchat to fill the air with.
His home is dark when they rush inside to escape the rain. He turns the lights on and draws the curtains, all the while making a purposeful attempt not to acknowledge the man dripping just inside the door. He doesn't know what to do with him. Doesn't know if he should be doing anything at all. He's brought him to where he lives. That can't be any kind of smart.
He knew anyway, Kevin tells himself. He must've known where you work, where you'd be driving, that you'd pick him up. Must've known everything.
Thinking about it like that, it doesn't seem quite so reassuring.
"You thirsty?" he asks eventually, though he isn't even sure if he has anything to offer him. He doesn’t spend too much time out here. It's a place for sleeping and hiding and not much else. Since Monica… It's been hard to find any place he feels comfortable calling 'home'.
Sawyer shakes his head. "Just want to talk," he repeats and Kevin's heart sinks.
"Don't know what it is you're wanting to talk about," he says. He leads Sawyer through to the living room. "I hadn't seen Monica for years even before the crash. Kate." He thinks of them as different people sometimes. Monica, his sweet and funny wife. Kate, the convict that stole her away from him. Simplistic, isn't it? If only that was the case.
Sawyer's shoulders hunch and he doesn't make a sound as he thinks. Kevin leaves the room, raiding his bathroom before he returns with a towel and throws it over to him. They sit down at opposing sides of the sofa, as awkward as two teenagers on a first date.
"Kate didn't die in the crash," Sawyer says, shattering the silence. The words burst out like they've been pent up for far too long. "It wasn't just the six of us - we had about forty or so to begin with. A few died along the way."
"Kate?" It shouldn't alarm him. Dying on the island is no worse than dying in the crash. No worse, no better, doesn't matter. Either way she's just as dead.
Sawyer shakes his head in one jerky movement. "No," he whispers. "She was fine. Last I saw of her, she was right as rain."
"So what happened?"
He gets another shrug in return. "Hell if I know. Rescue came, she decided to stay behind. That's all there is to it."
Sounds like there's more, sounds like Kate's broken another heart, but Kevin doesn't push any further than that. He nods instead, slow and steady. "I sure am sorry to hear that," he says - but at least she's alive. She's out there somewhere.
Sawyer looks towards him, studying him intently. There's more going on behind those blue eyes than Kevin knows how to handle, a nebulas of emotion. How long has he been waiting to tell someone the truth? He keeps watching Kevin, making him feel like a rabbit in an eagle's eye. "You're a nice guy," he says, "aren't you?"
And what kind of a question is that? Kevin thinks, but he doesn't give himself the time to dwell on it. "I like to think so."
"A cop," Sawyer murmurs. "Pretty damn respectable." It's as if he's discovering information, gaining an insight, but Kevin's still shut out from it. "She married you?"
"Not really," he says. "I didn't even know her real name. Didn't know anything about her." The person he'd been in love with didn't exist - Monica was a lie, their marriage was a lie. Sometimes he can convince himself that she really did feel something for him, but it's rare. More often than not, the memory of waking up on the ground when the drugs wore off is stronger than anything else. It's stronger than their first meeting or than walking down the aisle with her. Overruling.
"Think she really did love you," Sawyer says. Kevin can't respond, doesn't know how.
Instead he gives a half-hearted shrug. "You wanna stay for dinner?" he asks, though he shouldn't. He's got nothing to offer this man in the way of food or answers. Got nothing at all.
Yet when the glimmer of a smile shows up on Sawyer's face, Kevin's eyes crinkle in a smile of his own - shared with a fellow sufferer, another survivor of this same heartbreak.
*
It's during his lunch break the following day that he starts thinking far too much. He starts thinking about the following evening and starts remembering the way Sawyer had watched him and had hung on his every word like he was preaching a mighty impressive Bible. It had felt pretty good to be listened to again. Seemed as if people were listening to him less and less these days.
Yet there's something that just ain't sitting right with him about the entire situation. Something about the way Sawyer was waiting for him, about how he already seemed to know everything he wanted to ask, about how he seemed to have the entire situation already figured out. Like Kevin had just been there to play a part for him. Something isn't right there and he finds his fingers itching on the keyboard before he can stop himself.
He takes a look around at the station. It's a tiny place with only a handful of officers ever working at once. It's not a big town and there's not a whole lot of crime to worry about. Nice neighbourhood. Nice people. It's a place where he ought to be able to feel at home, yet every time he sits here surrounded by a sea of nice he has to wonder if any of them have a skeleton in their closet quite like his. Doubts it. Doubts if any of his colleagues have a Monica lurking in their past.
They're all occupied right now, absorbed in their paperwork or chatting and laughing with each other. He's here on the outside, even after a few years working in this place. He used to fit in so easily. He looks down to the screen, not sure why he needs to be quite so secretive about this, as he types 'James Ford' into that big old database of theirs. The computer makes him lean back in his chair and wait on it. He reaches for his coffee even if it's starting to go cold and takes a sip, listens to two of the other officers talking about their kids. Families.
Doesn't take too long to find a match and Kevin finds himself staring at a criminal record a mite longer than he's comfortable with. The charges on it? Those aren't too comforting either: cons and lies and identity theft. His skin crawls as he stares at it in silent contemplation.
"What you got there, Callis?" Christine asks as she places a hand on his shoulder. Despite being in her early-fifties his colleague has an excellent gift at creeping up on him. "Who's this guy?"
The record's heavier than they usually deal with in this place - but all charges have been dropped following the rescue. Kevin reaches for the mouse and exits the file before he glances back at his friend. "Nobody," he answers. "Just lookin'."
"Yeah?" she asks with a tint of worry. "Interesting stuff to be 'just looking' at."
"Sure is," Kevin agrees. He's not sure where his mind's at right now but he's pretty certain it's not a good place. All Sawyer's cards aren't on the table, not yet. He's just gonna have to cling to the hope that the son of a bitch doesn't turn up again, doesn't wait by the side in another rain storm. He forces a smile for Christine. This stuff doesn't bear worrying about. Not worth it, he tells himself. "You on your lunch break yet? I'm starving."
Christine smiles and pats his shoulder once. "I'll grab my coat."
When she leaves, he's left staring at the computer screen for a few overlong moments. The desktop leaves no trace of Sawyer's file but he can still see it so perfectly, like all he has to do is close his eyes. One search, one name, that was all it took to uncover a treasure trove of information. He stares blankly at that screen, mind ticking, until he hears Christine calling for him by the doorway. Banishing his thoughts and trying to put this behind him for now, he nods to show her he's heard. Frowning, he reaches for the screen and switches it off.
*
Phone's ringing.
Piercing and shrill, it rings again and again and again. Cuts straight through the house and leaves an echo in Kevin's ears. He ought to go and disconnect it, just for the night. Get himself some peace. He knows who'll be waiting on the other end for him and he's done with that. He's not going to listen to Sawyer for another night. Already he's stirred up memories that should have been left hidden. Already he's making it hard for Kevin to think about anything else.
Phone keeps on ringing, keeps on ringing, keeps on ringing.
He'll give up eventually, Kevin tells himself. A guy can't keep hanging on at the other end indefinitely. He'll get the hint. He'll give up. This isn't forever. He tries to read the newspaper but it's impossible to focus on the words. The phone might stop for brief five minutes but that's it. Then it starts again, always ringing. Thing like that'd drive a good man mad.
Phone's been ringing on and off for over an hour before he caves and walks over to it. When he picks it up, he doesn't pause for a second. "Sawyer?"
"Kevin, I was-"
"Stop calling here." He's not going to listen to anything a conman has to say. He doesn't know what it is that Sawyer wants from him, but he can bet that it isn't just answers and anecdotes about Kate. "I mean it. Leave me alone."
He hangs up without another word and stays on the spot for a minute, staring at the phone as if he's just daring it to start ringing again. The only sound that comes is the ragged rush of his own breathing. The phone stays silent.
*
It might stay silent but that doesn't mean he's left alone - he gets under a day of respite before he receives a visitor at work. "Callis!" Christine calls for him from where she's manning the front desk. He looks up, pen still in his hand, and freezes when he realises who it is that's standing there waiting for him. "This man says he's looking for you."
All he needs to do is refuse to speak to him and this'll be over. He's in a damn police station: it ain't like Sawyer's likely to try and push his luck in a place like this. He's a smart guy, ought to know his boundaries by now. Even with those smarts, though, he's still turned up here. Holding Kevin's gaze Sawyer leans against the front desk and quirks his eyebrows, some kind of challenge that Kevin knows he's gonna have to respond to.
He curses his misfortune but knows he has to smile before Christine has cause to get concerned. "Thank you," he says to her as he places his work down on his desk and gets to his feet. He feels self-conscious in his uniform in front of Sawyer, self-conscious in a place of law and order when he's dealing with an ex-con. Should be the other way around but Sawyer looks comfortable and at home in the police station.
"How 'bout we go outside and talk?" he says as he reaches where Sawyer is standing. He can feel the wary way that his colleagues are watching them - picking up that something isn't quite right here - and doesn't pause for too long where they can see them. This isn't something he feels like talking about in front of everyone that knows him.
Sawyer shrugs and follows him out into the daylight. The sky seems wet and watery and there are deep puddles on the dark ground but it's not raining yet. Just threatening. "Thought I told you to leave me alone?" he asks when the station door closes behind them. The street's pretty empty at this time of day. There are a few people waiting around outside the newsagent further down the street and a young mother walking with her child in a stroller.
"That you did," Sawyer confirms. His voice sounds more cheerful than it did the night he picked him up. Stronger too. A punch line seems to be hidden in his words - judging by that self-satisfied smile - but Kevin's lost track of it. "Thought that was kinda rude for a nice guy like yourself, if I'm honest."
"Turning up where I work might be classified as 'kinda rude' too."
"True," Sawyer agrees, "but I never claimed I was a nice guy."
Kevin keeps his distance and his arms cross over his chest. "What is it you want, Sawyer?" he asks. Got to be something. With people like Sawyer there's always something, though Kevin can't see what it is that he supposedly has to offer.
"Told you that already - I just want to talk to you."
"Yeah, and we've talked. We're done here."
The expression on Sawyer's face says otherwise. His jaw clenches, a flash of annoyance bursts on his face and he shakes his head. "No," he says. "We're not done. I'm not done."
Kevin frowns and he's not quite sure what to make of that. "I need to get back to work," he says instead of responding to that comment directly. Nothing to say to that. No way to respond to it.
"Wait, that's not- I didn't mean it to come out like that." Sawyer's flustered, confused and angry about that confusion. That shouldn't be a good combination but Kevin's finding it hard not to let himself smile as he watches Sawyer fumble for the right words. Shouldn't be amusing at all. Con-men don't get knocked off balance like that. This is all probably an act, something to reel him in. If that's the case, Kevin's pretty damn sure it's working. "Just… Give me one more chance, alright? Come out with me tonight."
"Come out with you?"
"You cooked for me the other night. I really should take you out to dinner as a 'thank you'." And that dimpled smile is back, the twinkle in his eyes has returned, and his confidence is keeping him afloat once more. Vulnerability cast to the side now he feels he's in control once more.
Kevin really oughta say no to this, but looking at Sawyer he just can't seem to make himself. He smiles and tells himself he's an idiot, but he finds himself nodding. "Yeah, alright," he agrees - because when Sawyer sets his mind on something Kevin gets the impression it's difficult to say no to him. Damn near impossible to even want to.
"Good," Sawyer says, taking a few steps backwards down the road now that he's got what he wanted. "Now you go back to work and I'll pick you up at seven from your place. And Kevin?"
"What?"
"Wear something pretty." Sawyer winks before he turns around and starts walking leisurely - plans to make, Kevin guesses - and Kevin's left standing there, fighting with the outraged laughter that snorts from him. Bewildered, he turns to enter the station again, not quite sure what the hell just happened: he gets the distinct impression that he just agreed to go on a date with the very man he should be avoiding.
Part Two