Lost fic: "Mamacita"
Wrote some Lost fic for lost_land, a challenge comm I unfortunately had to withdraw from. Thought I'd post it here!
Title: Mamacita
Characters/Pairings: Sawyer/Claire
Rating: PG-13
Summary: At an Oceanic press conference, Sawyer surprises Claire.
If Claire had entertained any thoughts about the media being kind to her, giving her space to reunite with Aaron, she was sorely mistaken. Reporters swooped down on her almost immediately, questioning her ability to be a parent. Hadn’t she abandoned him already, by handing him off to a fugitive and a murderer? Was it true that she had been about to put him up for adoption before the plane crash? Did she have post-traumatic stress disorder from her time on the island? Might she have a fit-a word they pronounced with such delicacy, as if the mere mention of it would turn her into a crazy person right before their eyes-and hurt Aaron?
These accusations and more they leveled at her now, as part of the Oceanic press conference being televised across the world, so that everyone would know how terrible a mother she was. They clamored for her opinion, though they didn’t really want it: instead they wanted confirmation, a spectacle. They wanted her to lose it in public, to prove that they were right. Fingers were poised on cell phones, ready to call Child Protective services.
It was on that day, with camera flashes blinding her, that Claire thought she just might give in and show them what it truly meant to be driven mad. Maybe she would join Kate, who hadn’t spoken since the night Hurley contacted them and broke the news about Jack. Kate was sitting beside her, in fact, but she wasn’t really with them and probably wouldn’t be for awhile. Claire knew how she felt.
“Is it true, Claire,” one of the reporters shouted, his voice managing to rise above all the others’, “that your psychiatric evaluation came back inconclusive? Do you think it’s safe for you to be taking care of Aaron, in your current state?”
She surprised herself by not bursting into tears, but the truth was, she didn’t have any left.
There was a flurry of movement in the corner of her eye, and suddenly Sawyer’s furious voice spat through the microphone. “Fuck off,” he growled.
His reply seemed to freeze the entire room, silencing the reporters for the first time since the conference had begun. Picking apart a vulnerable mother was easy enough, but actually being confronted about this was another beast entirely.
“I… Excuse me?” the reporter was finally brave enough, stupid enough, to venture.
“What part of ‘fuck off,”’ Sawyer snarled, gripping the microphone so tightly that Claire half-expected it to break, “don’t you understand?”
No one said a word: they were all watching the spectacle unfold with bated breath. The reporter wisely sat down, his face paler than the white walls of the conference room, and something that might have been a smile made a brief appearance on the corners of Kate’s lips.
When the ordeal was finally over, Claire approached Sawyer. She had never admitted it to anyone, but she had always been wary around him: he was rough around the edges, in the kind of way that had made her hold Aaron tighter and give him a wide berth whenever she passed him on the beach. However, this wasn’t the first time he had rescued her-maybe it was time to put old reservations aside.
He was standing by himself, glaring at anyone and everyone who dared get too close, but his expression softened when he realized that she was there. “Hey,” he said; awkwardly, she thought. “You okay?”
Claire shrugged. None of them were okay, and he wasn’t expecting her to say yes. “I just wanted to thank you,” she replied, having to crane her neck up to meet his eyes. “For what you did.”
“Don’t mention it,” he responded gruffly, looking embarrassed. “They were pissing me off.”
His bluntness made her smile, and the fact that they shared an enemy gave her the courage to do something she would never have imagined doing even ten seconds prior. “Aaron’s with my mom for the night,” she said, watching him to gauge his reaction. “Can I at least buy you a drink?”
“Never pegged you for an alcoholic,” was his comeback. It wasn’t his best, but, judging by the several days’ worth of stubble on his chin and the bedraggled shirt he was wearing, he wasn’t at his best either.
“I guess I wouldn’t mind… forgetting a few things,” she confessed, though “a few” didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Neither would I, Mamacita,” he answered, sighing.
The nickname was when she knew that she wouldn’t be going home alone-not for a few more hours, anyway.
Title: Mamacita
Characters/Pairings: Sawyer/Claire
Rating: PG-13
Summary: At an Oceanic press conference, Sawyer surprises Claire.
If Claire had entertained any thoughts about the media being kind to her, giving her space to reunite with Aaron, she was sorely mistaken. Reporters swooped down on her almost immediately, questioning her ability to be a parent. Hadn’t she abandoned him already, by handing him off to a fugitive and a murderer? Was it true that she had been about to put him up for adoption before the plane crash? Did she have post-traumatic stress disorder from her time on the island? Might she have a fit-a word they pronounced with such delicacy, as if the mere mention of it would turn her into a crazy person right before their eyes-and hurt Aaron?
These accusations and more they leveled at her now, as part of the Oceanic press conference being televised across the world, so that everyone would know how terrible a mother she was. They clamored for her opinion, though they didn’t really want it: instead they wanted confirmation, a spectacle. They wanted her to lose it in public, to prove that they were right. Fingers were poised on cell phones, ready to call Child Protective services.
It was on that day, with camera flashes blinding her, that Claire thought she just might give in and show them what it truly meant to be driven mad. Maybe she would join Kate, who hadn’t spoken since the night Hurley contacted them and broke the news about Jack. Kate was sitting beside her, in fact, but she wasn’t really with them and probably wouldn’t be for awhile. Claire knew how she felt.
“Is it true, Claire,” one of the reporters shouted, his voice managing to rise above all the others’, “that your psychiatric evaluation came back inconclusive? Do you think it’s safe for you to be taking care of Aaron, in your current state?”
She surprised herself by not bursting into tears, but the truth was, she didn’t have any left.
There was a flurry of movement in the corner of her eye, and suddenly Sawyer’s furious voice spat through the microphone. “Fuck off,” he growled.
His reply seemed to freeze the entire room, silencing the reporters for the first time since the conference had begun. Picking apart a vulnerable mother was easy enough, but actually being confronted about this was another beast entirely.
“I… Excuse me?” the reporter was finally brave enough, stupid enough, to venture.
“What part of ‘fuck off,”’ Sawyer snarled, gripping the microphone so tightly that Claire half-expected it to break, “don’t you understand?”
No one said a word: they were all watching the spectacle unfold with bated breath. The reporter wisely sat down, his face paler than the white walls of the conference room, and something that might have been a smile made a brief appearance on the corners of Kate’s lips.
When the ordeal was finally over, Claire approached Sawyer. She had never admitted it to anyone, but she had always been wary around him: he was rough around the edges, in the kind of way that had made her hold Aaron tighter and give him a wide berth whenever she passed him on the beach. However, this wasn’t the first time he had rescued her-maybe it was time to put old reservations aside.
He was standing by himself, glaring at anyone and everyone who dared get too close, but his expression softened when he realized that she was there. “Hey,” he said; awkwardly, she thought. “You okay?”
Claire shrugged. None of them were okay, and he wasn’t expecting her to say yes. “I just wanted to thank you,” she replied, having to crane her neck up to meet his eyes. “For what you did.”
“Don’t mention it,” he responded gruffly, looking embarrassed. “They were pissing me off.”
His bluntness made her smile, and the fact that they shared an enemy gave her the courage to do something she would never have imagined doing even ten seconds prior. “Aaron’s with my mom for the night,” she said, watching him to gauge his reaction. “Can I at least buy you a drink?”
“Never pegged you for an alcoholic,” was his comeback. It wasn’t his best, but, judging by the several days’ worth of stubble on his chin and the bedraggled shirt he was wearing, he wasn’t at his best either.
“I guess I wouldn’t mind… forgetting a few things,” she confessed, though “a few” didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Neither would I, Mamacita,” he answered, sighing.
The nickname was when she knew that she wouldn’t be going home alone-not for a few more hours, anyway.