James "Sawyer" Ford
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Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 15, 2008 20:31:38 GMT -5
When one thought of the first thing they’d do once back in civilization after being stranded on a deserted island for three months, most would probably say that they would take a hot shower, eat a home cooked meal, brush their teeth or sleep in a warm, comfortable bed. Few would say that they would attempt to drink themselves into oblivion.
Unfortunately for James Ford, he was one of the few. He hadn’t been without the comforts of home the entire time like some of the others. Near they end he had had himself a house with running water, a fridge and even television, no matter how outdated the videos. He had hardly been slumming it, but he had been attacked and forced to return back to America, and he wasn’t happy about it.
He couldn’t argue that the digs were pretty impressive, but he barely took the time to take it all in before locating and emptying the contents of the minibar. It gave him a nice buzz, all those tiny bottles, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to feel a buzz; he didn’t want to feel anything. He wanted to numb the pain and the loss that he was feeling, but it was looking more and more like only blissful unconsciousness could accomplish that.
That brings us to the hotel bar where he currently sat, his elbows propped on the smooth surface, his unruly hair hanging in his eyes and his expression lost and forlorn. Slamming back another whiskey, he motioned wordlessly to the bartender to fill the glass again. Lucky this night was a freebie for him because this tab was shaping up to break the bank.
((Tags: Let's start with Jack, then we'll open 'er up later on when they're both good and trashed. ;D ))
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Apr 15, 2008 23:49:20 GMT -5
If two things could have made Jack happier than the day he had gotten married, Three words would have said it all: Shower. and Mini Bar.The shower...god, the shower had been wonderful. Jack had stood until the water had gone cold, letting the water run over every inch of him. It had comforted him more than he could even realise. The showers in the Stations, they had been good, but this...this felt like peace. Safety. As Jack had gotten his clothes on, he felt a feeling inside of him...he wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he grew as he put his shoes on.
The mini bar hadn't had as many bottles as Jack would have liked. He finished them quickly and silently, however, the feeling was still there. He ignored it for a moment, but as he opened the door to his hotel room, he knew exactly what it was.
He was waiting for the strike. Waiting for that one thing to pop out of wherever and attack. He glanced down the left side of the hall, and then the right, and reminded himself once again that he wasn't on the Island anymore. He was in a hotel in Los Angeles. He was home.
He felt a laugh escape his lips as he brought a hand up to run across his growing hair. He shut the door and made his way to the elevator. Pressing the button, the smirk stayed on his face as he watched the door open. Thankfully, no one was in there, and Jack stepped in, watching as the door closed behind him.
The laugh bubbled up in him again, causing him to close his eyes as he laughed with almost insane glee. He had spent the past three months on an island...and he had survived. He was back in Los Angeles, in an elevator of a swank hotel...and he was alive.
His laugh slowly turned into sadness, and the tears of happiness turned into slow streaking tears of saddness as he continued to laugh, though it held nothing of what it had before. Not all of them had made it. He had survived something that no one would believe. The people that died...the rest of the world would never know. Never know what happened, and enver know how brave the people were.
As the elevator doors opened, Jack weighed his options as he wiped his eyes. He could stop by Saint Sebastian's. He could go to his mothers, though he wasn't sure he was ready to explain to her what had happened to his father. He could go to Rodeo Drive and probably get anything he wanted just for surviving. However, as he walked out of the elevator and glanced to the side of him, he knew what he wanted to do more than anything.
Walking into the bar, he held up two fingers to the bartender. He looked to the side of him, seeing Sawyer, and he actually felt sorry for the man. He hadn't wanted to come back, but Jack had forced him. Going away from the Island...it had been the best decision that had been given to them. Didn't Sawyer see that?
As the shot glass was set in front of him, Jack took it between his fingers, and closed his eyes. He downed the shot, feeling the famlier liquid burn down his throat, and he clenched his eyes for a moment before opening them. "Fuck." he whispered, and then moved to down the other shot glass, his palm pressed against the bar as he swallowed, feeling the burning liquid spreading quickly in his stomach.
"Gimme two more."
Jack glanced over again at Sawyer as the second round of drinks were set up in front of him, and he took one between his fingers. "They always taste better when they come straight from the bottle. It's the plastic, my dad always used to say."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 16, 2008 0:11:44 GMT -5
Downing the next drink a little slower, Sawyer paid no attention as the bartender lined up two shot glasses on the bar beside him and filled them. Sure, this was a swanky place and anybody could be standing next to him right now, but even if Angelina Jolie walked in right now the southern man couldn’t bring himself to give a damn.
Alright, maybe if she decided to throw herself at him, but only then.
Not even bothering to check, Sawyer watched out of the corner of his eye as the first shot glass was lifted out of his vision. Nope, the hand was far too big and hairy. Definitely man hands. Definitely not interested.
Ordering another drink with the nod of his head, what did give Sawyer pause was the voice when it spoke. Great, now he was going to get to drink with the junior version. He couldn’t believe the self righteous bastard was actually attempting to strike up a conversation with him after knocking him out, abducting him, and taking him away from the Island against his will.
“Well, if it ain’t Doctor Giggles,” he drawled, finally turning his head to look at Jack and fix him with a sarcastic smirk. Two more shots? Hmm, someone wasn’t happy. Wasn’t that something...
“Some sound advice from dear ol’ dad. But what’s this? These sure don’t look like celebratory drinks.”
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Apr 16, 2008 0:26:11 GMT -5
"You think I'm happy, Sawyer?"
The question was slightly harsh, and Jack knocked back another shot, scoffing as he did. "I think this is just another instance where you seem to know nothing about me. I've come back to an empty home, a ex-wife that probably wishes I was just as well dead, and a mother who's expecting the body of her husband. I'm going to have to bury an empty casket and I know she's going to give me hell for it."
Jack grabbed the other shot, and downed it quickly. "Just because I'm back in LA doesn't mean I'm happy. You think you're the only one that felt bad about leaving the island?" he asked and then motioned for two more. "If I could go back and have him still be alive, I'd do it in a second. I'd go back there and stay. But I can't." Jack brought up the shotglass, looking at the amber liquid with a frown. "Sawyer, whatever you think about why I made you go...the only reason I did it was because if you hadn't gone...if you had stayed there..." Jack felt himself trail off as he watched the shotglass before breaking out of his trance and downing the shot. "None of it would have meant a damn thing. And call me a selfish prick or whatever you want, but I couldn't have dealt with that thought."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 16, 2008 0:40:01 GMT -5
Any hint of humour, whether genuine or mean spirited, was instantly replaced by anger. Maybe Jack had been the first to ‘dig in’ on the island, but in the end it had been him, all him, that had gotten them ‘rescued’. And he couldn’t just let it go with the chosen groups. He couldn’t be satisfied with just taking those back that wanted to go and leaving the rest of them behind. No, he had to save every last one of them. Oh, but now he was unhappy? He had been so shit hot to get back here, and now he was acting like it was the end of the world.
And what was all this bullshit about none of it meaning a damn thing if Sawyer had stayed behind? Was Jack just scared that Kate would have stayed with him? Was he that selfish that he’d rather Kate be in jail than free on the island with Sawyer? What the hell was his problem?
Downing his drink in one harsh swallow, Sawyer slammed the glass back on the bar and rose quickly to his feet, ignoring the light-headedness that hit him momentarily. Standing to his full height, he squared off against Jack.
“What tha hell is that spose ta mean? Like anyone woulda gave a damn that I stayed behind, unless ya got a little secret ya ain’t sharin’,” he goaded, the corner of his lips twitching upwards though his eyes remained dark. “If yer life sucks so damn bad, why were ya so shit hot ta get off’a that rock? You did this to yerself, and ta all of us. So sorry if I ain’t got no sympathy for ya.”
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Apr 16, 2008 1:06:12 GMT -5
As Sawyer stood, Jack's eyes followed him as he stood and squared Jack off. Jack stood, the stool screeching behind him as he pushed off of it to stand facing Sawyer. "Oh don't pull that SHIT, James. You're drunk. Sit down before you make an even bigger ass of yourself."
"Hey, you two--"
"Stay OUT of this." Jack snapped to the bartender, and looked to Sawyer. Jack gritted his teeth hard in anger as he listened to Sawyer spout off that he had done this to them, and Jack scoffed loudly, shaking his head. "I can't fucking believe this. You want to know why I did it? You want to know why I was so hot shit to get off that Island? If we would have stayed there James, we would have DIED. I have too much blood on my hands, Sawyer; so sorry I didn't want more. You think you would have lived this perfect little life watching your outdated movies and reading your books; you would have DIED just like everyone else had died. We weren't MEANT to be on that Island, Sawyer. And whether or not you want to even think it, you don't deserve to die on that Island. No one did."
Jack grabbed the stool, pulling it roughly to sit back down on it. "So you know what? You can save your pathetic attempts to say that if you had stayed on the island, you would have been happy. Because we weren't meant to be on that Island and it would have shown us that. It already had shown us that a thousand times over."
The bartender stared at Jack and Sawyer as if shocked and confused. Jack looked at the bartender with a glare. "Can I help you?!" he asked sharply. "Earn your paycheck and give us drinks."
Jack downed another shot, and grimaced though he wasn't sure if it was from anger or the alcohol. "Just think of it this way, James. You'll get an unlimited amount of money from Oceanic. Open up a bar and wallow for the rest of your life. I'm sure it won't be any different that what you would be doing on the island. It's not like you'd be whistling dixie for the rest of your life in your tent."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 16, 2008 10:49:39 GMT -5
James. God damn it, was everyone going to start calling him that now? Hell, maybe he should just go back to using his real name anyways. He wasn’t Sawyer anymore. Sawyer was dead. Sawyer had died back on the Island in more ways than one.
Ignoring the protests of the bartender, James Ford was practically seething as Jack went off on his little tirade. But what pissed him off the most was that it was mostly the truth. Sawyer could try to tell himself all he wanted that he and Kate could have played house and had some little happy life together, but he knew there was no chance in hell it would have ever worked. She was a runner, she would never have stayed, and if she had, if she had missed the boat, she just would have grown to hate him for trapping her there and making it so she had nowhere to run. And for he himself, he knew there was no happiness for him. He would have gotten bored ‘digging in’.
His eyes boring into Jack as the other man reclaimed his seat, Sawyer clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He wanted to beat that damn hero complex out of the doctor, he sure owed him one by now, but that would probably only accomplish getting him thrown out of the bar. And tonight, no matter how good it would feel to beat Jack senseless, that satisfaction wouldn’t last. He needed the dulling affects of the alcohol more. Jack would get his later.
“Ya can’t save people that don’t wanna be saved,” Sawyer eventually replied, his voice low and dangerous as he tried to get his anger in check. It was times like these that he just wanted to strangle...
The memory flashed before his eyes, as real as the day it had happened. That bastard’s laughing face as he tore up the letter. The rage that had coursed through Sawyer’s entire being. The feeling of the chain in his hands, wrapping around his neck, hearing that strangled last breath...
Closing his eyes, Sawyer slumped back down on his stool, impatiently watching as the bartender followed orders and refilled their drinks.
“Some’a us woulda been better off dyin’ back there,” he said slowly. He wished he would have. He wished he would have died back at the Other’s camp when Pickett had held that gun to his head. Then, at least, he would have died for something. He would have died protecting Kate, thinking that she had loved him. He would have died with the rest of them thinking he was... well, not a hero, but somebody. On the Island, he had been somebody. Here, he was nobody.
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Apr 17, 2008 13:22:16 GMT -5
"If you didn't want to be saved you wouldn't have lived as long as you had, Sawyer. You would have found a way to die." Jack said with a slight frown. Jack brought up the shot, gulping it down with a slight grimace, though it was becoming easier and easier to knock them back. The alcohol was warming his stomach and body, calming his nerves. He ignored the feeling to want to fight with Sawyer once more. It wouldn't have done any bit of good except get them kicked out of the bar.
Sawyer said that some would have been better of dying, and Jack nodded. "You're right, some of them would have. But it's not you." he pointed out. His body was tired, exausted from simply surviving for the past 3 months, and yet Jack couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure how long it would take him to be able to sleep without waking, wondering if he was going to be attacked, if he was going to die.
"I saw the news on the television when I was in my hotel room." Jack said after a moment of silence. "They were showing footage from the plane they said was ours. And then showing footage of us. It's only a matter of time before people start wondering. And coming." His mother...he figured once she saw the news, she'd come. And Sarah...he wondered silently if Sarah would come. He was indifferent about it at the moment, but the thought still bugged him. Would she even care?
"I don't even know if I want to see anyone right now. They'll want to know what happened, what we saw...how we survived. And I don't even want to remember."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 17, 2008 14:39:57 GMT -5
Swirling the whiskey in his glass, Sawyer brought it up to his lips, a chuckle escaping them before he took a drink. Of course Jack didn’t understand; no one did. Although he hadn’t cared whether he lived or died before, he had had a purpose. As long as he had that letter, that quest, there was something to keep him going. Now he had nothing. He was so hollow inside now that part of him just wanted to get it over with.
He didn’t know why Jack had said what he did, though. Why not him? The doc was just trying to make him feel better, or more like make himself feel better for dragging Sawyer back her. His argument of saving everyone from death lost all ground if they would have been better off dying.
Looking down at his glass, the anger between them seemed to fade. It always seemed to be there, bubbling just below the surface since the day they met, but it wasn’t always dominant. They had a strange relationship, the doctor and the conman. There was annoyance, anger and rivalry, but at times there was also a mutual understanding, respect and maybe even a little friendship. There had to be something there, because suddenly Jack was opening up, talking about what only they and the other survivors could ever understand. They had all been through a tragic and tremendous ordeal, something that no one else could possibly understand, and it was something that would bond them all together forever.
He hadn’t even given it any thought before, that people would start looking for them, that anyone, everyone, would suddenly know who they were. So maybe James had no family to care about his well being, but he had plenty of former business associates that would probably be at the door before the print dried on the second edition. Jesus, this was not going to be good.
“I don’t think tha question is how we survived so much as what. We might have ta put a muzzle on Claire cause the real story? She just ain’t gonna fly,” Sawyer replied, sliding his glass back to the bartender for another refill.
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Apr 17, 2008 15:17:35 GMT -5
Claire. Jack swirled the glass around, watching as the amber liquid tossed and turned in the glass. "We'll just..." he started, and shook his head. "I'll talk to her. I don't think that Detective believed her anyway. I wouldn't if I were him." Jack wasn't sure why he was suddenlly so protective of Claire, why he worried for her as much as he did. "She's just been through alot." If Jack could change the past, if he could have stopped Charlie from going he would have.
He took anohter drink from his glass, slower however as he frowned. "I doubt the people would believe we just sat on a beach for three months waiting for a rescue." They could always say that they had wandered through the jungle, searching for food and living off boar and fruit. Which was partly true, however, they couldn't mention the Dharma food. Or the Hatches. Jack sighed out harshly, moving a hand to run through his short hair. "It just...it doesn't feel right not having Charlie here. Even if we are here because of him...it just feels wrong. I feel so bad for Claire."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 22, 2008 19:12:47 GMT -5
Retrieving his glass after having it topped up again, Sawyer just stared into it while he listened to Jack speak. He could feel things starting to matter less as the alcohol began to take its toll, but it was going to be one long night.
Lifting the glass, he took a slow sip. Damn, it was good to drink real liquor again. The kind that came in a large bottle, not a box or a bottle almost smaller than his thumb. There was one pro to being back in the real world. Too bad it just wasn’t enough to drown all the cons.
Cons. Heh.
Chuckling to himself, Sawyer soon registered that this was not the time to laugh considering what Jack had just said. Clearing his throat, he glanced over at the other man. Sometimes friend, sometimes rival, but always someone that Sawyer respected, though he would be hard pressed to admit it.
“He ain’t tha only one who should be here,” he finally spoke in a low tone. They had lost so many from such unnatural causes considering what they had survived originally. “Ya talked any ta Hugo... ta Hurley since we been back?”
Although he had put on a good show while staying at the Other’s camp, Sawyer had seen how Charlie’s death had affected the big guy. He was sure it was all a mask.
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Apr 23, 2008 10:42:59 GMT -5
He heard Sawyer chuckle, and Jack felt a half frown spread onto his face. He wasn't going speak about the laugh, because Jack knew it probably wasn't in happiness. How could it be? Sawyer spoke, asking Jack if he had talked to Hurley, and Jack shook his head. "No, not extensively." Jack had briefly spoke to the man as he had gotten Claire into her room, however, Jack hadn't taken time to speak one-on-one with Hurley.
Jack brought the glass up, savouring the liquid in the glass as he closed his eyes. "I think you're the first person that I've actually talked to for more than five minutes." Jack admitted. He knew that he would have to call his mother. The fact that Margo wasn't running into the Roosevelt didn't surprise him in the slightest. Nor did the fact that Sarah wasn't running back into his arms. He wasn't even sure he wanted her to anymore.
Jack wasn't even sure if he really wanted to see anyone. It wasn't like he had many people; after his marriage had fallen apart, what little friends he had had shunned him. Was it the fact that Jack had gone into a downward spyral when he had started watching Sarah? Or was it the fact that he had simply alienated all of them?
He took in a breath, looking at Sawyer for a moment. "You know," he said after a moment. "You're not the only one that's alone back here. You think you are, but you're not." As much as he wanted to be, it wasn't like he and Kate were going to shack up in a big house and live happily and have dinner dates every saturday like Sarah and he had. The wouldn't have the years of happy marrage and the babies on the way. Jack wasn't even sure if he wanted children anymore.
"I was so eager to get back here, because--because I thought if I got back here, I could have something that could be normal. Safe. I thought because I almost died, that made me able to do anything. I could come back, I could rebuild my marraige, bury my father in peace and move on with my life happily. But getting back here makes me realise how...frighteningly pathetic normal can be. You never notice how alone you really are until you get trapped on an Island because when you're supposed to feel happy that you're back on dry land, you're really not. You're just reminded how much your life completely sucked before you left and just because you managed to survive a plane crash on an island...it won't make a bit of difference when you come back."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 23, 2008 13:36:34 GMT -5
It was ironic. The whole time they were on the Island, Sawyer thought that Kate was the only one that got him and that Jack was his polar opposite. He and Kate, they were kindred spirits. While everyone else believed the mask he wore, she saw right through it. She knew why he acted the way he did. She understood him, she got him, and it was the same way for her. He didn’t care what she had done before the crash; it hadn’t mattered that she was a criminal. He understood her and accepted her for who she was, not who he wanted her to be.
Then there was Jack, who could get under Sawyer’s skin like nothing else. The man was so high and mighty, the perfect doctor, the hero, the good guy. The man that everyone respected and wanted to be like. And he, he looked down on Sawyer. The con man wasn’t even in his league. He was just a waste of space, an annoyance. Jack didn’t know him, didn’t understand him.
Or so he had thought. Listening to Jack’s confession, Sawyer slowly realised that they weren’t so different after all. Maybe Jack was the better man, but he was still just a man and his life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows either.
“Welcome ta my world, doc,” Sawyer replied with a wry grin, holding his glass out to Jack for a toast. “Life sucks and then ya die.”
He couldn’t help but at least feel a little satisfied that Jack was feeling what he felt all along. The doctor had been wrong, and it felt good to know his life was going to suck as bad as the rest of theirs.
“So ya got a wife back here, eh? Any little brats gonna come barrellin’ through tha door at any moment ta welcome their dear ol’ daddy back?”
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Jack Shephard
new oceanic 815.
Don't. Pity. Me. You have no idea what I've been through.
Posts: 197
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Post by Jack Shephard on Apr 23, 2008 18:26:33 GMT -5
Jack found himself smirking slightly as he clinked his glass with Sawyer's. "I really never thought I'd be agreeing with that, but the past three months have changed my perspective in more ways than one." he agreed with the con man. However, when Sawyer asked about a wife and little children, Jack found himself laughing bitterly, watching his drink as it swirled around in the glass. "Ex-Wife." he corrected almost bitterly before taking another sip, grimacing not from the alcohol, but from the simple thought of Sarah. "She was...she was my patient. She came into the ER after a really bad car accident. She was engaged to another man and the only question he had when I told him his fiancee was paralyzed is if she would ever be able to have sex again. They thought she wasn't able to walk again...she said I made her walk. We married a year later. But, uh...no. No kids." Was he sad about that? Jack remembered when Sarah had told him she had thought she was pregnant and then in the same breath she told him she wasn't. His head hadn't had time to process, and his heart hadn't had time to break. "You have to be home to get pregnant. I guess I wasn't home enough." Of course, Jack knew that he hadn't been home, but did that really mean Sarah had to go and sleep with everyone in California to get back at him? After he had openly told her he had kissed another woman?
Jack felt himself swallow slightly and he looked over at Sawyer. "She cheated on me. More than once. I never found out who, but...but I think she was cheating on me with my father, too." Of course, Christian had denied it...but he was a drunk. Christian Shephard was nothing more than a drunk. He would lie to save his skin... Jack had to wonder if Marc had been sleeping with Sarah, too. He wasn't sure if he would be surprised at the fact.
"She cheated on me and then wanted me to sign the divorce papers. I didn't for a long while."
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James "Sawyer" Ford
administration.
Revenge has no more quenching effect on emotions than salt water has on thirst
Posts: 248
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Post by James "Sawyer" Ford on Apr 23, 2008 21:35:06 GMT -5
Hell, Jack was one chatty drunk. Sawyer had found out more about him in the last half hour than he had in the whole three months they’d spent stranded on the Island. But while chatty drunks usually annoyed him and he often read the sob stories as a request for a punch in the jaw, he was actually interested in Jack’s. It was reassuring to hear that the man wasn’t perfect.
Finishing his drink, he didn’t even need to ask this time before his glass was refilled. When Jack got to the point of the story about who he thought his wife had been cheating with, Sawyer sucked in a breath.
“Ooh, ouch,” he breathed out, shaking his head. Somehow he found it hard to believe, though. He had met Jack’s father that fateful night in Australia. The man was a coward, and a messy drunk at that. Who would trade up ol’ hero here for that? Didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but nothing seemed to make sense anymore. And the more Sawyer drank, the less sense everything made. And the more he drank, the less it mattered. So... the more he drank.
“Alright, you win. Yer lovelife sucks tha most. I think that calls for another drink,” Sawyer said, signalling the bartender even though he was standing right there. Looking over at Jack, he grinned. “This one’s on me.”
With that he had to laugh.
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