Chapter Text
Dear Mr. Sawyer, You don't know who I am but I know who you are and I know what you done.
Once again, he’s stuck reading the letter. With a cigarette in his mouth, Sawyer sits in the sand with his back resting against a tree trunk. He keeps torturing himself with the same words, over and over. He’s haunted by the past, and will be until he reaches his goal. To find the man he named himself after, and kill him. His hand trembles as he puts the cigarette between his fingers and exhales the smoke.
The sound of laughter makes him look up with a mildly annoyed expression. Further away he spots Charlie, Hurley, Claire and Nova. The four of them are by the campfire, laughing and sharing stories. They’re always so damn loud. His gaze lingers on the dark haired woman. She looks so different without her goth attire. Younger and more vulnerable. The sparkling fire brings out the silver of her eyebrow piercing. Her intense green eyes are locked at Charlie, and an amused grin is evident on her thin lips as she listens to his guitar solo. He scoffs but can’t seem to draw his eyes from the dark haired woman. Why does she look so impressed with Charlie? What can he possibly do that makes him so damn interesting? For a moment, she lifts her gaze to see Sawyer's lingering gaze. He looks away quickly and in a nonchalant act he looks back at the letter. He takes another drag of the cigarette and blows out the smoke.
“You okay?” He looks up at Nova, who stands next to him. His eyes wander up, from her long slender legs and the small tattoos visible on her ankles and thighs - to the black hoodie covering her inked arms. Her dark hair is wet from taking a swim and holds a vague scent of saltwater. She has an amused smile glued to her lips.
“What do ya want, Ms. Addams?”
“I don’t know. What do you want? You’re the one doing the staring.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Sure, Dimples, sure.”
“It’s true.” He mutters, “And stop calling me Dimples.”
“Oh, so you get to have nicknames, but not me?”
“Your nicknames ain’t good, shortstack.”
“And your nicknames are offensive, you twat.”
He can’t help but grin. This woman knows how to challenge him, and isn’t afraid to speak up against his bullshit. Maybe that's why he finds her so attractive. Not that he’s attracted to her - of course…
“What you got there? Your diary?” She slumps down next to him. Sawyer instinctively folds the letter and puts it back in his pocket.
“Nothing.”
“I see you looking at it like… Every night. What kind of secrets do you have, Ford?”
“None of your damn business.” He replies coldly.
Nova's smile fades.
“Sorry. Didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”
Sensitive subject. He scoffs.
“Don’t hit me with your therapist bullshit.”
“You’re such a ray of sunshine.”
“What do you want, Nova?”
“Just wanted to check up on you. You’ve been distant all day.”
“And you care, because?”
She stares at him in a way that almost makes him back away from her.
“Because we’re friends.”
Sawyer blinks his eyes, absolutely dumbfounded by Nova's words. Friends.
He’s never considered her a friend, but maybe they are. She’s the only one - besides Kate and Jack - who still talks to her. But apart from the two of them, Nova still keeps a friendly tone.
The thought of it makes his heart race.
She cares about him. But he can’t for the life of him understand why.
“I don’t make friends, sweetcheeks.”
“I can tell.” She stands up and brushes sand away from her legs, before turning to leave. He wants to grab her hand and tell her to stay - to apologise for being such a dickhead - but what’s the point?
His heart feels heavy as he watches her go.
The sun goes down and the beach is empty. Everyone is heading to bed, after yet another hopeless day stranded on the island. He’s almost lost count of how many days it’s been.
Even Michael has gone to sleep, after a long day preparing the raft. His idea to leave the island with his son sounds tempting. Maybe he can charm his way to a ticket on the raft?
It’s not like he has any reason to stay on the damn island anyways. He has burned all bridges already. As always.
Never letting anyone get too close, never trusting anyone. He keeps pushing people away.
Kate was right about one thing - he doesn’t want people to like him. He prefers keeping them at arms length.
So why the hell does he want Nova to like him?
Why can’t he get that infuriating damn woman out of his head?
Speaking of the devil.
She walks past him, and her vague scent of cigarettes, ocean and coconuts linger in the air.
“Nova, wait.”
She turns to look at him. He notices her clenched jaw. She’s actually quite intimidating when she’s mad - it’s hot.
He sighs and pats the sand next to him. Nova hesitates, but eventually takes a seat.
“You’re… The closest thing I have to a friend here.”
“Well, here's a tip, Sawyer. Treat me like one.”
He chuckles dryly.
“What? You want me to ask ya about your favorite color or food or something?”
“I don’t know. It’s a good start.”
41 days. That’s how long they’ve been stuck here. He hates admitting it, but Nova has made that time more bearable.
And if he can go on the raft with Michael and Walt…
Maybe she deserves the truth, before they part ways. He feels like he can trust her, somehow.
If not, the truth might scare her away. That would be even better. For the best, probably.
“...When I was eight years old, I watched my father kill my mother, before committing suicide.”
Nova stares at him. Her face while processing what he just said is almost comical.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Sawyer shrugs.
“Because we’re friends.”
“You probably want to know more, yea?”
“If you don’t mind telling me, yea.”
“There was this man - a conman… He tricked my mother into giving him all her savings, before he took off. My father wasn’t happy when he found out we lost all of our money. So he came home one day, and blew both his and her brains out.”
“Sawyer, I-” She swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” He mutters, while folding out the letter again. He hands it to her and watches her carefully while she reads it.
Dear Mr. Sawyer, You don't know who I am but I know who you are and I know what you done. You had sex with my mother and then you stole my dad's money all away. So he got angry and he killed my mother and then he killed himself, too. All I know is your name. But one of these days I'm going to find you and I'm going to give you this letter so you'll remember what you done to me. You killed my parents, Mr. Sawyer
“That’s how you got your name.”
“I became the man I hated.”
“You’re nothing like him.”
Sawyer scoffs and glares at Nova.
“And how do ya know that?”
“Because you got a heart.” She stares at him, her green eyes burning into him. “You hide it well. But I know it’s there, Sawyer.”
A lump forms in his throat and he swallows hard, biting back the conflicting emotions washing over him.
“I can tell why you’re a therapist.”
Nova laughs.
“It takes one broken soul to know one.”
“What do you mean?”
She smiles at him, but this time the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Everyone got secrets, Sawyer. Even me.”
He looks intrigued and raises a brow at her.
“Red, and pizza.”
“What?”
Now it’s his turn to have a comical expression. The confusion is evident on his face.
“My favorite color and food.”
“Oh.”
“Lets start there. And maybe you’ll find out my secrets one day.”
Sawyer's heart skips a beat. An unfamiliar warm feeling spreads in his body, at her simple yet innocent words.
“Blue, and… Hamburger. - That’s my favorite.”
“Excellent choices. A very important question… What music do you like?”
Sawyer chuckles and pulls a hand through his blonde hair.
“Rock. Classic rock, that is. None of those shitty subgenres.”
“Hey! Don’t you go roast every subgenre!” She crosses her arms over her chest in a playful manner, “I thought you were going to say country music.”
“Am I nothing but a redneck to ya?”
“I don’t have high thoughts about you Americans.”
He laughs loudly, clearly charmed by her honesty.
“Yea? What else do ya think I like?”
“I don’t know… Horses, wild west movies, beer, bar fights… Football and cowboy boots, maybe?”
“So stereotypical! You wound me, Dracula.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Beer and bar fights - yes. But the rest of it? Ain’t my cup of tea.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What about you? What kinda music do you like?”
“Rock. Especially the “shitty subgenres” you just roasted. And…” A smile creeps on her lips, “You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Tell me.”
“...Disco music.”
“No way. The goth chic likes disco? Hell must be frozen.”
“Fuck you, Ford!”
“So what, you like Abba, then?”
“I do, yea.”
“Lame.” He mumbles. But she hears him.
“Are you disrespecting the pride and joy of my home country?"
“Right. Almost forgot you’re from the viking-and-meatballs country.”
She opens her mouth to say a witty comeback, but just shrugs.
“You know what? Fair enough.”
They sit there quietly for a while. He might be imagining things, but Nova moves closer to him. He can feel the warmth of her hand, which rests dangerously close to his own. He moves his fingers, stretching them closer to hers. And she does the same. Their fingertips touch and it feels electric. His cheeks heats up and he feels damn pathetic. He’s so charming and confident - and has been with multiple women - and here he is, blushing over something as simple as holding hands. He almost wants to pull away and run off - and leave the feelings behind. But Sawyer remains sitting beside Nova.
“Did you see that?” Her excited tone wakes him up from his pathetic thoughts. Good.
“See what, exactly?”
“The shooting star!”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
“Well, sucks to be you.”
“Did you wish for something?”
“Duh.”
“And what did ya wish for?”
“I’m not telling you!”
Sawyer grins and shakes his head.
“You’re full of secrets, Miss Cliff.”
“Are you curious, Ford?”
“Might be.”
Her green eyes sparkle in the moonlight.
“The stars are beautiful tonight.”
Not as beautiful as you. - He could say. But Nova deserves better than that pathetic and unoriginal pick-up line.
“They really are.” He replies hoarsely. But Sawyer isn’t looking at the stars. He’s looking at her.
They continue watching sitting there, both feeling too warm to notice the cold air.
“It’s getting late.” Nova stretches her arms.
“Guess so.” Sawyer clears his throat. He almost feels disappointed as she moves her hand away. Nova turns to face him and for a split second, they stare into each other's eyes longingly.
“You’re a pretty decent guy, Sawyer. Goodnight.”
But before he can say anything back, she presses her lips to his cheeks. He feels absolutely dumbfounded and stares at her with wide eyes. She gives him a sheepish smile and then leaves.
He remains sitting in the sand and his fingers lingers on the skin she just kissed.
Damn you, Nova.
Sawyer lies awake, twisting and turning in the makeshift bed. He can’t forget the feeling of Nova's lips against his cheek. Her sparkling eyes and warm smile.
He can’t keep denying it - he’s absolutely head over heels for that woman.
And that scares him more than anything.
The next day, he watches her. He can’t help but stare and long for her.
He sees it in her eyes too, despite her trying to mask it - the subtle smiles in his direction, her eyes lingering on him and the nonchalant act she puts on around other people.
That afternoon, he finds Michael. Charming him is not as simple as he thought, but after offering some necessary stuff to bring on the raft, he has no choice but to agree. He earns his spot on the raft and walks away with a confident grin. - A grin that dies moments later.
Nova stands further away, by a tree with a cigarette in her hand. She heard that. And despite her efforts to mask it, Sawyer can see the moment her hope shatters.
His heart breaks for her, for himself and what could have been. But they only give each other a nod in greeting and act like nothing happened.
He reminds himself again: I don’t make friends.
This is for the best.