halfdutch (halfdutch) wrote,

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The Interview, Part 5 (Jack/Sawyer AU)

Title: The Interview
Chapter: Part 5
Pairing: Jack/Sawyer
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sawyer goes AWOL

Prevous chapters: One | Two | Three | Four

Jack had driven past it so many times it had ceased to even register as a temptation, but tonight when he saw the neon sign spelling “liquor,” he spun the wheel towards the parking lot without thinking.

He headed straight for the whiskey aisle, grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a pack of unfiltered Camels, threw a five and a twenty down on the counter and waltzed out, feeling like he’d stolen it.

He opened the bottle in his car already, once he was safely parked in his garage. He tore off the lid, tilted the bottle up and drank. He choked a little as it burned a trail down his throat but he ignored it, waiting for that buzz that came almost instantly.

Coming home to an empty house never got any easier. He’d never gotten that dog, he wanted, a Lab or maybe a German Shepherd. He never had time for a dog, he thought, his mind already going hazy as he went into the house, tossing his keys towards the entryway table but missing by a mile.

He loosened his tie and sank onto the couch. He didn’t bother with a chaser. He just wanted to get good and drunk and blot out the mess he’d made of his life.

Already, his fingers were getting numb around the bottle.


He woke with a start to pitch blackness. The room was stiflingly hot and almost unnaturally quiet. He had the immediate and bone-certain feeling that something was wrong. And it wasn’t just that his head felt like a shattered piñata. He held his breath, straining to hear the slightest sound above the wild beating of his own heart.

Something crashed to the floor to his left.

Jack jumped up, hands outstretched for something, anything to use as a weapon. His fingers brushed against the lamp on the end table. He grabbed hold of the base, ready to swing it at the intruder. Before he could find a target, he was tackled from the side.

A heavy weight fell on him, the body of another man, hands pressing down on his shoulders and trying to hold him still.

The lamp had been knocked out of his hands and now he pushed up against his attacker, striking out blindly.

“Shhh,” came a voice he recognized immediately. “Doc, it’s just me.”

Ford! What the fuck was he doing here? How did he get out? The stab of fear made him feel almost sober. “What do you want?” were the words that found their way out of his mouth.

“Thought you knew by now, doc,” his voice was low, harsh, and Jack tried to determine by the sound of it if he was still drugged. “Just wanted to be left alone. But you wouldn’t leave me alone, would you?” The words were slightly slurred. Maybe.

“I’m sorry, James,” Jack began and Ford tensed.

“No.” His fingers dug into deep into Jack’s arms. A reprimand. “I’m Sawyer. You’re Jack. Got that?”

“OK. I’m sorry, Sawyer,” Jack repeated soothingly, fighting the fear that was building in him. “I ... I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s rich,” Ford chuckled, and Jack could feel the vibration against his chest. “I’ve got you pinned and you don’t want to hurt me.”

“How about letting me up then?” Jack asked in what he thought was a very reasonable tone of voice. He wished he could see Ford’s face.

“Not just yet,” James pressed harder against him, fingers stroking his arm now.

Oh Christ. Jack just had time to let the panic hit him when James’s mouth closed on his own. He kept his lips tight against him but now James was running his thumb along his jawline, coaxing him to open up. His hips rocked into Jack’s and Jack gasped at the friction. James seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth, sending a wave of heat coursing through him. Before Jack knew what he was doing, he was kissing him back, sighing as he unthinkingly relaxed into him, let James wash over him like water.

James was moving on top of him now, hips grinding and it wasn’t until Jack felt his own body reacting that an alarm bell went off. He tried to buck Ford off of him, but he held fast, forcing their bodies closer now.

“Nuh uh uh,” Ford chided him, pressing him all the harder into the parquet floor. “You wouldn’t deny a man dyin’ of thirst some water, would you?”

“Sawyer, please,” Jack said, desperate now to be released before Ford forced this any farther. “I’m not who you think I am. You know that, don’t you?”

“Seems like you forgot that just now. Like you forgot everything else.”

“What? No,” Jack’s head was too foggy to think that through. Great, I’m drunk and he’s drugged, he thought somewhere in the back of his mind and when Ford laughed again, he realized he’d said out loud.

“Fell off the wagon, doc? Rough day?” His voice suddenly sounded almost tender.

“Yeah,” Jack muttered, starting to lose himself in the haze as Ford started to move on top of him again. Too long, too damn long, since... “Real fuckin’ bad,” he sighed.

James’s hand, sliding underneath his shirt, brought him up short again. “No!” he said firmly, grabbing James by the wrist.


“No. Dammit. You don’t know me!” Jack yelled, fear and confusion turning to anger at last. James pulled back, surprised, it seemed, and he seized his chance. He swung out hard, fist slamming into Ford’s chin. Ford fell to the side, freeing him at last. He crawled in the direction of the lamp, reaching out for it, when the world came crashing down around his head.


There was an ominous ringing in his head. That’s the first thing he was aware of. And then an ache through his whole body. His arms were numb, like they’d gone to sleep. His mouth was dry and felt foul. He groaned, remembering that bottle of whiskey.

He tried to stretch, but couldn’t move his arms or legs. He opened his eyes, immediately squinting against the unwelcome morning light that was so bright it hurt his head.

He was in his bedroom, on the bed. Or more accurately, tied to the bed. His arms were secured to the headboard with his own ties. Trying to move them just sent painful prickles shooting through them. More ties bound his ankles together.

Ford. He was here, in his house. Was evidently still here and had God knows what in store for him. An escaped mental patient -- correction, an escaped homicidal mental patient -- who was obsessed with him. Jack felt like he was going to be sick.

Tags: jack/sawyer, lost: au fic, lost_fic

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