Chapter Text
All of a sudden, just like that, he can’t take it anymore. He’s been so strong for so long. It starts small, a tremor in his hand. It eventually graduates to heavy breathing, bordering on hyperventilating. He makes a break for it, into the jungle. So nobody has to see him like this.
Logically? Jack knows what’s happening. Panic attack. All of the symptoms are there. Before he knows it, he’s shaking and gasping for air, despite the voice of reason in his head screaming to him that he’s okay, he doesn’t feel like it. Oxygen. He’s not getting enough oxygen. Jesus, where did all of the oxygen go? Claire. Goddamnit, where did Claire go?? Great, now he’s spiraling even further. He should’ve listened to her, he should’ve checked the area more thoroughly for her attacker, he should’ve fucking believed her, oh god.
When Sawyer comes upon him, he’s slowly rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face. Most of Sawyer wants to just walk away, pretend like he never saw their fearless leader so vulnerable. But a little part of his mind is urging him to help. He doesn’t know how he’d help. But that little piece of him doesn’t care. Just as he turns to leave, he hears a small whimper.
“Goddamnit,” Sawyer mutters inaudibly, as he knows resistance is now futile. He takes a deep breath and creeps towards Jack, no idea what he’s going to say, but trying to make a bit of noise so he doesn’t startle the man too badly. He steps on a twig and it breaks. Jack’s head shoots up, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Hah, remember headlights? Sawyer thinks to himself. Jack stands up and takes a few steps back, cautiously. He halfheartedly swipes at his cheeks to rid himself of the offensive tears and tries to clear his throat.
“Whoa there, Doc. I ain’t gonna hurt you,” Sawyer says, testing the waters. As if trying to tame a horse.
“I know, Sawyer,” Jack deadpans, still a mess but doing everything he can to hide it. He knows it's pointless, Sawyer already saw him, but he’d like to hold onto the small shred of dignity he has left, thank you very much. “What do you want?” he says, avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t want nothing, just taking a stroll on this very nice evening and I happened to come across you having a merry old time on that log right there,” Sawyer says and Jack snorts. Sawyer’s lip turns up at the sound, okay, right direction. Jack is relieved he isn’t using this against him. Yet.
“Yeah, well. Life. You know?” Jack says, also testing these new waters. Waters of potential understanding? He wonders if he’s reading into it too much. Maybe.
“Oh, I definitely know. It’s shit, ain’t it?” Sawyer grumbles, moving closer to sit down on the log Jack was just on. Once he’s seated, he pats the spot next to him. An invitation. Jack eyes him skeptically, but Sawyer just shrugs.
“Yeah. Yeah, it really is,” Jack mumbles as he gives in and collapses next to the other man, their legs practically touching.
“Well. You wanna talk about it, Hero?” Sawyer says, ignoring the look Jack shoots him, as if he’s grown a second head.
“Not really,” Jack chokes out, placing his head back in his hands again. Giving up on decency. Sawyer doesn’t feel like a threat right now. Which is odd, but quite frankly, Jack is too tired to give a damn.
“The way I see it, is that clearly everybody sees the doctor, a goddamn knight in shining armor, and forget there’s a person underneath that armor. You never asked for this, so when it comes down to it, this ain’t on you,” Sawyer says. Jack snorts again, this time it’s laced with cynicism.
“Yeah, that sounds like you, Sawyer. Forgoing responsibility at every possible turn,”
“Hey, well you ain’t gotta be rude,” Sawyer says and smiles when the doctor grins. “I’m just saying, none of this is on you. Claire? I’m assuming that’s what you’re so upset about. Claire disappearing ain’t on you,” at this, Jack finally meets Sawyer's eye.
“Claire didn’t ‘disappear,’ she was taken. And if I would’ve listened to her,” Jack chokes on his words. He takes a breath and tries again. “If I would’ve listened to her. Done something. She would still be here,”
“Maybe. Maybe she would. Maybe she wouldn’t. Do you think whoever took her would’ve stopped if you had been there? Nah, they just would’ve taken you too and we’d be down one of the most valuable members of our boy scout troop,” Jack is silent. He slowly contemplates what Sawyer had just said, rendered, for once, speechless. Before he knows it, those cogs are turning again and he keeps coming back to the same point.
“But if I had just,” Sawyer cuts him off.
“No ifs, Doc. What’s done is done. And I can try and help you find her if you’d like, but no amount of blaming yourself is gonna bring that girl back. So I’d suggest you be a little kinder to yourself and stop moping, it’s bringing down the ‘tropical getaway’ mood,”
“Oh, is that what this is? Hadn’t noticed, been too distracted by all of the death,”
“See, that’s the problem with you. You’re too focused on the negatives,” Sawyer says as he goes to his pocket and pulls out a small shot sized bottle of whiskey and cracks it open.
“Do tell how the fuck I’m supposed to focus on the positives. What positives?” Jack asks, exasperated.
“Well, let’s start with this,” Sawyer says as he pulls the bottle to his lips and downs a little less than half of the amber liquid inside. “That’s pretty positive to me,”
“Oh, shut up,” Jack says as he grabs the bottle from Sawyer's hands and downs the rest.
“That’s the spirit!” Sawyer laughs and pats Jack on the back. He gives the man one last look as he gets ready to stand up to go, but he’s halted by the look in Jack’s eyes.
“I,” Jack cuts off, he stares at Sawyer for a second before looking back to the ground, “I just don’t understand why you stopped. You could’ve kept walking,” he laughs, but it’s coated in that infamous cynicism everyone has been embracing as of late, “You should’ve kept walking, I’m sorry, I’m just…” he cuts off again and puts his head back in his hands. He’s no longer shaking, but he’s twitchy.
“I don’t know, man. But you’re driving yourself crazy, and I don’t think anybody would fare too well without you here. So you gotta…” Sawyer tapers off as he looks at the mess of a man in front of him and his heart softens just a bit, “You gotta take care of yourself, Jack,” he leaves the man with that and stands up to go. He looks down at him, his head still in his hands, and he doesn’t know what comes over him but he gets the urge to ruffle his hair. He pushes the feeling down and walks away.
Jack looks over and sees Sawyer’s figure fading into the jungle. He sighs and attempts to pull himself together.
“Thank you,” he says, under his breath, knowing Sawyer can’t hear him. He’s puzzled by the entire interaction, but somewhat grateful, if not a little suspicious. That was weird. Like. Objectively weird. Sawyer isn’t. He doesn’t. He shuts his mind up with one final thought. But he did. Sawyer did.
He fumbles with the empty bottle of booze, picking at the label, before shoving in his pocket, collecting himself one last time, and making the trek back to the campsite.