milliways_sawyer: (Default)
Nicknames used by Sawyer:
Charlie: Chuck, hobbit
Claire: Angel
Boone: Metro
Shannon: Sticks
Jaina: Princess
Eris: Sunshine
Meg: Squeaky
Indy: Doc
Faith: Jugs
Isabel: Jiggles
Alanna: Red
Ace: Patches
Tahiri: Barbie
Bernard: Rooster
Asar-Suti: Barney
Richard: Scotty
Chase: Buzz
Nathan: Sprewell
Adam/Felicia: Sparkles

Any I'm forgetting?
milliways_sawyer: (Scared)
Sawyer pushes open the door to Claire's room and hurries inside, laying her on her bed. He turns to leave, saying, "I'll go find a doctor or something."
milliways_sawyer: (Gun)
Sawyer steps out into sand and blinding sun. There are still a few remains from his outing with Jaina by the door, but otherwise the stretch of beach is deserted. He pulls the gun out of his waistband and turns to Charlie as the latter follows him out. "Should we bother checking at the camp?"
milliways_sawyer: (Scared)
He walks through the parking lot whistling a tune. It's Elvis Presley's "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You". As he nears the end of the row, his pickup truck comes into view. He has a moment where he wonders why his truck is pink, but the moment quickly passes. Sliding into the driver's seat, he cranks the vehicle up and and turns around to look out the back window, still whistling.

Standing a couple of feet behind the truck is Claire. She waves to him, and he smiles and waves back. He shifts into reverse and, with a sickening thump, Claire disappears from view.

Sawyer turns back around to face forward. He turns on the radio and laughs to find the local station is playing the same Elvis song. Shifting gears, he presses the gas and drives away...


"Claire!" Sawyer bolts upright in bed. Disoriented, he looks around confused for a moment before he realizes he's in Jaina's room. He sighs and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and tries to calm down.

Stupid dreams.
milliways_sawyer: (Sleeping/Resting)
Sawyer walks in his room and peels down to his underwear. Pajamas are for chumps. He climbs into bed and turns off the lamp beside his bed.

A minute later, he climbs back out of bed and walks to the door. He double-checks that it's unlocked in case Claire decides to come spend the night. Satisfied, he falls back into bed and drifts off.
milliways_sawyer: (Toon Sawyer)
A freshly showered Sawyer is wandering around his room dress just in his jeans. He's looking for a clean shirt and not having a whole lot of luck.
milliways_sawyer: (Headache)
Sawyer sits in his room having just come back upstairs from a brief visit to the bar. He's a little unnerved at the idea of Tim the zombie, but then again he doesn't exactly trust anything that comes out of Tim's mouth.

Damn bar.
milliways_sawyer: (Woe.)
On his way out the door to head down to the bar, Sawyer tapes the letter from Jaina on the top right corner of his mirror. It wouldn't hurt to be reminded every so often.

... well, it might hurt, but it's still a good idea.

Sawyer,
I don’t know what to write here. There’s so much I want to say and talk to you about, and I don’t know where to begin. I’m not the politician in the family. I’m not the empath. I’m the reckless pilot whose only real skill is being good at getting herself and those around her killed. So if this sounds strange, it’s cause I don’t know how to deal with this and I don’t know what to say.

I think you know by now that I like you, more than just in a friendly manner. I didn’t mean to fall for you and I didn’t want to. Kriffing hells, you’re a bigger scoundrel than Durron! But there was something in the way you acted, something in what I sensed about your past. I figured that you, more than any other sentient in the bar, could understand me and know what it’s like to have a dark past that you’re still running from deep inside.

I was wrong and it’s no one else’s fault but my own. Hey, it’s my destiny, right? To live a life alone, to lack peace? Sithspawn, if there was ever one moment when I was truly at peace here, Sawyer, it was when I was lying next to you at night. But I don’t deserve peace. No. I have to pay for my mistakes, and this is how.

Thanks, at the very least, for those few moments of happiness. I told Claire when we talked that I’d be willing to die for you if it ever came down to it. I still am.

I just wish the feelings weren’t so one sided.

You’re a conman. Well, bravo, excellent con. You made me think that there was a remote possibility that you liked me back in a way that was more than friendly. Congratulations, you duped a Jedi. I hope you enjoyed it.

Take care of yourself, Sawyer. I guess that’s what your best at.

Love, Jaina.
milliways_sawyer: (Woe.)
Most folks would have the sense to come in out of the rain. Sawyer isn't most folks.

I cause trouble, princess, wherever I go.

He stands under a tree watching the raindrops on the surface of the lake and smokes his cigarette. He feels like shit, and only part of that is because of the hangover.

Sometimes I look for the trouble; sometimes it looks for me.

He thinks seriously about leaving, simply going back to the island and letting somebody else clean up the mess. Just walk away like all those times before.

And, anyone close to me ends up getting hurt by it.

"Fuck," he growls as he thumps the smoking butt out into the wet grass. He's not going anywhere, and he knows it. This place is the best thing he's got going for him right now.

You'd think by now he'd have learned not to screw up a good thing. Most folks seem to have a grasp of that basic concept.

But Sawyer isn't most folks.
milliways_sawyer: (Default)
The beach is empty except for a slightly tattered blanket and a couple of make-shift seats. The sun hangs just above the horizon, about fifteen minutes away from setting. The door stands in the sand, hinges hanging on thin air. It's through this door that Sawyer steps, looking left and right to make sure they are, in fact, alone and that no one tracked Boone as he had tracked Sawyer. Satisfied, he turns to beckon Jaina out, still holding the door open.
milliways_sawyer: (Thoughtful)
I think this whole meme is actually a really good idea, so here the things I have in the back of my mind about Sawyer as I play him:
  • First and foremost, Sawyer is NOT evil. He's not a nice guy, really, but he's not evil.
  • Sawyer's sense of trust was shattered when his family was destroyed at the age of eight, not because of the actions of the con man, but because of the actions of his parents. These two people, who he should have been able to trust above all others, were just as guilty as the con man for destroying his family and leaving him to take care of himself. He came to believe that the only person he could trust was himself. His time as a con man reinforced this view, as he never would have been successful in his cons if the marks hadn't themselves been greedy. Thus, when he encounters a seemingly selfless or just plain nice act, he's constantly trying to figure out what the person is getting out of it.
  • Another result of the death of his parents was to damage his sense of self-worth. In his mind, if his parents had really loved him, his mother would have never attempted to break up the family and his father wouldn't have left their son an orphan. Again, his sense of self-worth was further damaged by his time as a con man since he came to see himself as just as bad as the con man ultimately responsible for his parents' death.
  • Because of the refusal to trust anyone and his sense that he himself isn't worth caring about, he has developed the defense mechanism of pushing people away. The ease with which he's been able to do this in the past has just reinforced his pessimistic views.
  • Despite all this, he craves, deep down, some sort of family to replace the one he lost. This is why he has come to ultimately allow in certain people who have demonstrated a refusal to dismiss him (Charlie, Claire, Jaina, Alanna, Virginia) even though he's kind of confused by their actions; as far as he can see, they get nothing out of their association with him.
  • Despite his awkwardness around them, he's got a strong affinity and protective instinct for kids.
  • Sex has always been some sort of tool to him, be it part of a con or just a way to take his mind off of his self-loathing.
  • Relationshipwise? He ain't got a clue. He's got a couple folks (*coughclairejainacough*) he likes spending time with and who's approval he actually cares about (which, by the way, scares the hell out of him), but he isn't thinking any farther than that.
So, yeah, make what you will of that.
milliways_sawyer: (Default)
Sawyer lies awake in bed beside Delia thinking about Death.

No, not about suicide or anything. That was Death with a capital "D".

He's going over the conversation in his head. There should have been more anger and yelling things like "Why did you take them? I was only eight!"... but there wasn't. In fact, on the spectrum of conversations he's had in the bar, that one was one of the more civil. Why?

I am what I am.

In the end, he supposes that's the root of it, why he can't blame her for his parents' death any more than he can blame Eris for the man who caused it all. They are what they are, and that's all there is to it.

Sawyer groans slightly and rolls over to try and get some sleep. He's doesn't want to show up looking haggard for dinner at Claire's tomorrow... and at that thought, the sound of Delia's rhythmic shallow breaths beside him makes him feel a little guilty. He quickly shoves that out of his mind, though; she knows what he is, and he's not obligated to her.

Still...
milliways_sawyer: (Headache)
Sawyer lies on his bed with a pillow over his head. Beside him lies a copy of The Count Of Monte Cristo, another "recommendation" from the bar he'd found on his nightstand a couple of days before. He doesn't mind the random books; without a job, he doesn't have much else to keep him occupied around here when he isn't down in the bar. He just wishes he knew if there was a reason for the selections.

The headaches are getting worse rather than better, and despite what he might have indicated to Claire yesterday, they weren't all that mild to begin with. The idea of going back to the island long enough to check with Jack briefly enters his mind... and is just as quickly pushed away. Fuck that. He'd just LOVE me having to come to him for help.

Sawyer groans and presses the pillow firmly against his ears as someone walks down the hall outside his door, the sound of the footsteps like needles in his brain. He can't handle this too much longer. Sooner or later, he's going to have to find help...
milliways_sawyer: (Default)
Sawyer walks outside from his room using the alternate exit. The past few days (and nights) have been especially good, and he doesn't really feel like trying his luck tonight by walking through the bar proper. The ground is still a good bit damp and slushy in places, but he finds a relatively dry spot and lies back in the grass. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, lights up, and watches the wisps of clouds that occasionally veil the moon.

Tomorrow, he'll undoubtedly be knee deep in shit again -- most likely entirely his fault -- but tonight, he's peaceful.

And, he hasn't felt that in a long time.
milliways_sawyer: (Dressed up)
Sawyer takes a moment for one last inspection in the mirror. He's shaved and wearing the suit that somehow appeared on his bed while he was showering. The suit has some weird lumps around the waist, but that's just because there's a tutu under there. Other than that, he's looking pretty decent.

He starts to head out the door and toward Indy and Mike's suite when he notices a bottle of amber liquid on the table. There's a tag tied to the neck of the bottle bearing a hand-drawn sketch of an apple. Sawyer smiles to himself, grabs the bottle, and walks out the door.
milliways_sawyer: (Damn)
Sawyer walks toward his room, the whole time tugging at the tutu that kept trying to give him a wedgie. He's muttering something about ballerinas under his breath that Meg should probably never hear. By the time he reaches his door, he's resolved not to leave the room for the rest of this week. Screw hunger.

Except his door won't open. The key still fits; it just won't unlock. Sawyer fights with it for about a minute before he realizes what is going on -- the Bar won't let him hide.

"AW, C'MON! LET ME IN!"

Nothing. Sawyer fumes.

And fumes.

And finally gives up.

"Alright, I'll head back down tomorrow. Happy?"

There's an audible click, and the door opens easily. Sawyer enters muttering something about the Bar under his breath that Bernard and Broom should probably never hear...
milliways_sawyer: (Default)
He opens his eyes to find he's lying under the bed again. He sees his daddy's legs hanging motionless over the edge of the bed. The bag he'd brought back from... where did he bring it back from? He can't quite remember; the memory is quickly dissolving like dreams often do. Regardless, the bag is for some reason sitting across the room against the wall. He can see a folded piece of white paper sticking out of one of the side pockets, and he has no trouble remembering what that is. It's the letter for Mr. Sawyer, and as he lies under the bed trying to work up the courage to crawl out and call the police, James swears to himself that, one way or another, Sawyer is going to get that letter.
milliways_sawyer: (Wee Sawyer)
James folds up his last letter and writes To Mrs. Snow on the top fold as neatly as he can. He places it on the nightstand on top of the other letters he'd written. A small backpack on the floor contains his rose puzzle, stuffed lobster, and boomerang. The stuffed bunny lies in his lap, and he picks it up and snuggles it while he stares down at the pad of blank paper. Just one more letter to go, he thinks to himself. After a few minutes, he gently lays the bunny aside and begins writing.

Dear Mr. Sawyer,
You don't know who I am but I know who you are...
milliways_sawyer: (Wee Sawyer)
He wakes up sprawled sideways in the bed with his new stuffed bunny lying in the crook of his right arm. He's disoriented at first. Waking up in a new place always does that. Slowly, he remembers the events of the previous night, and all of the sudden he feels cold. He pulls the covers up over him again and curls up on his side, holding the bunny tight. Tears well up in his eyes. He cries partially out of sadness for his parents, but last night already seems like forever ago, and the majority of his tears today come out of fear because he doesn't know what's going to happen to him now.

There's another emotion there, as well. Anger. Last night, James had started out feeling angry at his daddy, but that made him immediately feel guilty. So, once he realized there was someone else to blame, he latched onto that idea. Sawyer. It's his fault. Today, that anger has blossomed, and at least a few of the tears that wet the sheets below his cheek fall out of frustration that, despite his righteous anger, there's nothing he can do to Sawyer.

After all, he's just a boy.
milliways_sawyer: (Wee Sawyer)
"Listen to mommy, this is very important. Get under the bed, don't make a sound. Don't come out, no matter what happens. Don't come out, okay?"

James can hear his dad banging on the front door. He looks at his mama, can tell she's really scared... and that makes him really scared. "Okay".

She tries to give a reassuring smile, but she doesn't quite pull it off. "I love you."

"I love you too, mommy."

"Let's go. Down you go."

James crawls under the bed and watches as his mommy's feet pad quickly out of the room. A moment later, he hears his parents arguing. Yelling. It's nothing new, but it scares him just the same.

Suddenly, he hears a gunshot, the sound of something heavy falling to the floor, and then silence. His breath suddenly seems loud, so loud. He focuses on controlling his breathing, keeping quiet as he can. He listens to the sound of his daddy's boots as he walks heavily down the hall, watches as he turns and walks into James' bedroom. Oh no, he knows I here! He's going to kill me, too.

His daddy doesn't lean down to find him, though. Instead, he sits on the boy's bed. James barely has the time to sigh a quick sigh of relief before he hears the gun go off again, watches the mattress above him sink as his daddy's dead body falls back on it.

James lies frozen under the bed. He doesn't dare crawl out, not yet, but he doesn't want to stay where he is, watching as his daddy's blood soaks through the fabric of the bedding above him. He closes his eyes, praying that he's still asleep, that he'll wake up to find both his parents alive and well. He knows, though, this isn't a dream, and part of him just wishes he was somewhere else, somewhere safe...

[OOC: This scene is taken more or less directly from the opening scene of the Lost episode entitled "Outlaws".]
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