First two-parter!
Hurrah! Have some time off work so as a treat (i.e. a break from DIY) I wrote a sequel to Ghosts. I'm not 100% happy with it, not sure I've taken it where I wanted to, but I just sat down and wrote and this is what came out. Maybe someday I'll go back and re-write the second half. Hope you like it.

Title: Demons
Characters: Jack/Sawyer, some Kate
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own them, not making any money



He’d only stepped out of the tent for a minute, to work off a bout of cramp he’d got from sitting beside Jack for too damn long. He’d only stepped out for a minute, walked ten feet away, and that was the exact goddamned moment Jack woke up. He didn’t know straight away, because Kate was in there, and Kate tried to calm Jack down, explain where he was, ask how he was, but after maybe a minute she was shouting for him.
‘Sawyer! Sawyer!’

His stomach clenched at the tone of her voice, the sudden note of panic, and he half-ran, half-limped back to the tent flap, his leg still cramping. He ducked in, seeing Jack standing, swaying, backed up in the corner, eyes still dark, black now in the shadows of the tent.

Kate flashed her eyes to Sawyer, then back to Jack. ‘He’s, he’s not making sense, I don’t know-’

Jack frowned, looking to the side, and once again, when he spoke, his voice wasn’t quite his. Sawyer felt terror wash through him, ice-cold, and he almost turned and ran then; the urge was a powerful one.

Not here. Jesus, not here in front of Kate.

‘No way man, no way,’ Jack muttered, and Sawyer untensed a fraction, because the accent was a little softer, and he knew that his pop hadn’t talked like that.
‘Doc?’ he said loudly, putting a hand on Kate’s arm, a message to stay put and stay quiet. ‘Hey Jack?’

Jack jerked, looking down now. The movement was a little sickening, because it didn’t look natural; it looked a little like Jack was a puppet. Fear ebbed back into Sawyer as a quiet thought got lodged in his head on repeat.

Who’s pulling the strings who’s pulling the strings who’s pulling the strings

‘Yeah I know I need the money. You ain’t gotta remind me bout that,’ Jack mumbled, twisting his foot in the sand, and something triggered, something made Sawyer feel like he was going to be sick, like he wished Jack would just shut the fuck up right now. But he was pinned again, forced to watch it play out.

Jack looked up, looked straight at him, and Sawyer felt his guts clench, but Jack was looking through him, at someone else.

Sometime else.

‘How…how do you work out who…?’ Jack said, flicking his head as if he had hair in his eyes, gesturing around helplessly, before his expression twisted with something like disgust. ‘Fuck, man.’

Sawyer felt Kate turn to him. ‘Sawyer,’ she whispered, but he tightened his grip on her arm, not daring to say another word.

You just gotta keep an eye out, he mouthed silently, why he didn’t really know. He remembered the other side of this conversation word for word, as if it were seared indelibly into his mind. Happens sometimes, with something that changes your life, flips it completely inside out. You’ll work it out – you’ll catch their eye, they’ll hold it for a little bit longer’n they should, take off to the john a moment later.

‘What, so I just waltz in there after them and drop to my fucking knees?’

Pretty much, bud. Pretty much. But you name your price first, for sure. Gotta get the green, that’s the whole fucking point. Pretty boy like you, you’ll clear those debts in no time.

Sawyer knew Kate was staring at him, knew her eyes were locked on his face, on his mouth.

‘Jesus,’ Jack muttered, rubbing his hand over his face, then behind his ear, as if he were tucking long hair there. And then he jerked again, before stilling. He got some focus back in his eyes, and Sawyer flinched because Jack was actually looking at him properly now. His mouth carried on working, but he was frowning now, his eyes confused. He spoke softly, and Sawyer clenched his jaw, because he knew he’d yelled the words, almost screamed them, when he’d been the one speaking them.

‘Fuck you, man. Fuck. You. I usually do this for money, you know. Don’t think you’re fucking special.’

Something finally snapped and suddenly Sawyer was free to move, and he turned and left the tent, not running but near as damn-it, and he tripped in the sand, stumbling back to his feet, as Kate called after him in anger and confusion. He made it to the shade of a nearby tree before falling to his knees and retching, not bring anything up but foul-tasting spit.

He had been torn open, eviscerated, his insides laid bare.

No more secrets. Not ever.

He knows you.

Kate was there a moment later.
‘What the fuck was that?’ she hissed, her voice trembling.
Sawyer shook his head, gathered his breath.
‘You shouldn’t’ve left him in there,’ he growled, his normally gruff voice sounding weak to his ears, hauling himself to his feet. He turned and faced the tent, and Kate stepped in front of him.
‘Sawyer…’

He took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly.
‘That, freckles, was between me, and the doc. Let me deal with this.’ He left the please unsaid, but Kate must have seen it, because she stared at him for a moment longer, searching his face, her eyes betraying her utter confusion, but she nodded.

He nodded back, hoping it conveyed his gratitude, and walked back towards the tent.

---

Jack was reeling, still on his feet, but swaying like he was punch-drunk. And it was Jack this time, no longer trapped in a memory that wasn’t his. But whatever was happening to him had left its mark; his eyes were wild, he was trembling, and he looked more terrified than anyone Sawyer had ever seen. He looked at Sawyer, and laughed, an unhinged giggle that gave Sawyer chills, that had more desperation than amusement in it.

‘And I thought I was fucked up,’ Jack rasped, his voice raw, and Sawyer took two quick steps forward and hit him before he’d even finished the sentence. It was a clumsy punch, and Sawyer tried to pull out of it halfway through, once his brain had actually engaged, but it still connected, and Jack stumbled back, falling down on his ass.

Sawyer followed him down, a quick glance at the expression on Jack’s face
I hate you
then he was grabbing Jack by the shoulders, pulling him into a fierce embrace, mouth at Jack’s ear.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t fucking mean that. I didn’t fucking mean that. I’m sorry.’

Jack twisted in his grip, struggling hard for an instant before something in Sawyer’s words or tone of voice got through, and he slumped, dropping his forehead to Sawyer’s shoulder. It felt right, somehow, and the thought gave Sawyer a jolt.

‘Are you okay?’
Jack huffed humourlessly against Sawyer’s shirt.
‘Okay. Stupid question. I meant, did I hurt you?’
‘With a pansy-ass punch like that?’ Jack muttered, letting out a shuddering breath. He was shaking now, a step up from trembling. Sawyer wondered how much adrenaline you had to have coursing through you before you had a heart attack, then pushed the thought away as he scooted back from Jack, sitting in the dirt of the floor of the tent. With one hand he tilted Jack’s face up, checking for injury; Jack allowed it for a second or two before batting his hand away.
‘You didn’t hurt me,’ he said quietly, tonelessly, looking away, towards the flap in the tent.

Sawyer stared at Jack for a minute or two, biting at his bottom lip, frowning, desperately trying to think of a question that would help things, even just a little.
‘When it happens…you remember it all afterwards?’
Jack nodded, still looking away, and Sawyer’s stomach dropped, even though he’d known what the answer would be.

He knows you

‘Is it…real?’
Jack cut his eyes to meet Sawyer’s for a second, then stared back out of the tent.
‘You mean, was I really channeling your dead dad, who shot your mom in a jealous rage then turned the gun on himself on top of the bed you were hiding underneath?’

No secrets

Sawyer stifled a surge of rage at the sarcasm in Jack’s voice.
‘Yeah,’ he forced out.

There was a silence, that stretched almost unbearably.

‘Yeah,’ Jack whispered in reply, and then he was crying, silently. He covered his face with his hand, and Sawyer just sat, and stared. He hadn’t actually been expecting that answer; he rebelled against it but then remembered that this was Jack, who wasn’t remotely convinced by whatever mysticism this island seemed to possess.

‘Fuck,’ he breathed, and reached for Jack again, but Jack pushed him away.
‘Don’t. Leave me alone.’
‘C’mon doc…’
‘What can you possibly do to make it any better, James?’ Jack’s voice was loud, and raw, and he stared at Sawyer as tears streaked his face, so frighteningly close to a complete breakdown.

‘You said…you said not to cry,’ Sawyer croaked through a dry throat; simple, childish words. ‘You said that way they win.’
It wasn’t enough to make it better, not by a long shot, but it was enough to let him in. Jack didn’t push him away this time; he let Sawyer reach for him, hold him, hard and fierce.
‘We’ll figure it out, hoss. We’ll figure it out.’

---

It was later, dusk, and Sawyer was outside the tent, reading. Jack had been sleeping for nine hours straight and Sawyer had been just about to check on him when the tent flap opened and he sat down in the sand next to him. Sawyer marked his page, folded the book.

‘You’ve been out all day.’
Jack nodded towards the sunset.
‘I noticed. You been here all day?’
‘Nope. Kate was here for some of it.’
Jack frowned. ‘I think…I think I scared her. Back there.’
‘You mean, with the whole ‘I can transmit thoughts directly into your brain’ shit?’ He said it gently, keen to keep Jack away from that terrifying edge he’d been teetering on earlier. ‘Scared us both, doc. Don’t worry about Kate. She’s pretty tough for a girl.’

Jack nodded absently, biting his lip. Sawyer shifted his ass slightly so he didn’t have to crick his neck to look at him.

‘You sleep okay?’
‘Think so. Don’t remember otherwise if I didn’t.’
‘Do you think it’ll just wear off?’
Jack shrugged. ‘They gave me a shot, that’s what seemed to start it all. So maybe it’s just something that’ll work its way out my system.’
‘But maybe not, right?’
‘Yeah. Maybe not.’

‘What can you…when you were doing that shit…can you hear what I’m thinking?’
‘I could. Not so much now.’

At all?

Jack grinned. ‘It’s just a murmur now. Nothing that actually makes sense.’
‘Doubt anything in there ever made much sense, doc,’ Sawyer snorted, starting to turn away, to get up.

‘You’d be surprised,’ Jack said quietly, looking at him for a few heartbeats, then away again, and Sawyer felt himself go red, an honest-to-fucking-goodness blush, because that look had a fair bit of heat in it, and he kinda got the feeling he knew which thoughts Jack was talking about. His cock twitched, and visions of Jack back in that room flashed by him, of Jack on his knees with his back to Sawyer, of Jack kneeling next to him with his thick, hard cock outlined against his jeans.

Sawyer pinched the bridge of his nose hard, steadying his breath.

‘That ain’t what you want,’ he whispered, trying to convince himself as much as Jack. ‘If that had been what you wanted, you would’ve taken it back in that fucking room.’

Part of him hoped Jack wouldn’t understand what he was talking about, that Sawyer had mis-read what Jack’d meant, and he could just cover it up with his usual bluster. Jack picked up a handful of sand, let it trickle from between his fingers. He was frowning.

‘I didn’t want to hurt you, and that’s what would’ve happened back in that room,’ he said quietly.

Sawyer wasn’t sure why they were keeping their voices low; there was no-one anywhere near them. He sat up straighter, embarrasment turning slowly to anger, not at Jack, but at what had happened to Jack, and what had happened to all his closely guarded secrets.

‘So you slept well for a couple of hours. So what? Doesn’t mean it’s gone, doc. And ‘til it has, you don’t know what’s you and what’s me. I know what’s me, and wanting to fuck around with another guy sure ain’t you. So let’s just drop it. They’ve fucked with you enough, I ain’t planning to make things worse.’

Jack picked up another handful of sand, said nothing.

‘And I ain’t gonna apologise for anything you picked up, it don’t work like that, man can think a whole lot things without any intention of acting on any of it.’

Jack opened his hand, let all the sand fall out, then wiped his palm on his jeans.

‘I didn’t fuck around with another guy until I was 35,’ Jack said, and all Sawyer’s anger dissolved, instantly, melting away into a sour taste in his mouth.

‘I went to Thailand after Sarah and I broke up – we got divorced – I just needed to escape, completely. Met a guy in a bar, from New Zealand. He had all these Maori tattoos, all over his arms. Couldn’t stop staring at them. Nothing happened at first, we just got talking, drank some, talked some more. Got on well, it was weird, completely different backgrounds, jobs, everything.’

Jack paused, trailing his fingers in the sand. Sawyer realised he was holding his book in a death-grip; he let go, dropping it beside him.

‘Must have been the fourth night we’d hooked up, he dropped ‘ex-boyfriend’ into the conversation. It shocked me, big guy like that, then I got angry with myself that it’d got to me, so I over-compensated trying to look like it didn’t bother me, asking lots of questions. Got back to my room with biggest fucking hard-on I could remember and had my hand on my cock before I’d even shut the door behind me.’

Jack paused again, glancing at Sawyer for a moment. He’d said the last sentence in a rush.

‘Heard enough yet?’ he asked, his voice betraying his nervousness. Sawyer could only shake his head; he didn’t trust himself to say anything. He was suddenly, powerfully jealous of both Sarah and this man.

‘So, I call him the next day, make some excuse why I can’t meet up with him that night like we’d agreed, to watch a game in one of the international bars, and next thing I know he’s at the door, mad as hell, saying he knew I was bothered, but that he didn’t think I’d be such an asshole about it, that he normally wouldn’t give a shit but I was one of the few decent, or so he’d thought, people he’d met since he’d been here. I was just stood there, too chicken-shit to say a thing, and he yelled a bit more, then kind of deflated, went to leave and finally I got the balls to do something, grabbed his arm, and then it was kind of a blur, but I was pretty soon fucking around with a guy and coming harder than I ever imagined possible.’

He stopped, clenching his hand into a fist to stop himself playing with the sand.

‘Don’t think you’ve got me figured out, Sawyer. I know I got an unfair advantage with all this shit that’s going on, but I’m trying to even the odds a little.’

It was almost incomprehensible to Sawyer that Jack would still want to talk to him, let alone do anything else, now that he knew who Sawyer really was. He just couldn’t get his head around it. All the secrets he had so closely guarded the whole of his life were known to this man, and more than just the actual events themselves; what he thought and how he felt, too. It was terrifying, but despite it all, he was achingly hard.

‘In the tent,’ Sawyer croaked.
‘What?’
‘Get in the fucking tent.’

It was clumsy, at first, but soon settled into a rhythm. As soon as they were both inside Sawyer had pulled Jack down onto him, Jack half-falling to the floor, and now he slid his hands up underneath Jack’s t-shirt, hand to heated skin, pulling towards him, and Jack gasped, bending his elbows to brush his lips against Sawyer’s, sharing a breath. He kept on his knees, although he could feel Sawyer raising his hips beneath him, rubbing against the inside of his thighs.

‘God,’ Jack whispered shakenly, as he crossed mouths with Sawyer again, Sawyer opening the kiss and licking into his mouth, such an obscene feeling after such a long time. His cock surged, and Sawyer grabbed the waistband of his jeans, pulled to the side, and suddenly they were laying flush against each other, Sawyer pushing one leg in between Jack’s, rutting against him. Sawyer kissed Jack hard, revelling in the rasp of stubble against his own, in the wet surge of Jack’s tongue against his own.

He was incredibly turned on, had been since Jack had first started talking about the Maori, and coupled with his jealously it drove him on, made him kiss Jack deeper, pull at him harder.

Jack got Sawyer’s shirt open, marvelling that his shaking fingers still had the dexterity to work buttons, then pulled out of the kiss, biting gently at Sawyer’s neck, at his collarbone, at his nipple.

‘Fuck,’ Sawyer growled, arching against Jack’s mouth, tugging at Jack’s t-shirt, pulling it off then popping the button of his jeans, unzipping the fly, sliding his hand down Jack’s back, underneath his boxers, kneading his ass and grinding his cock against Jack’s.

Jack moaned, and the sound went straight to Sawyer’s cock, and pretty soon after that, things became kind of a blur, punctuated by first Sawyer, then Jack, coming hard; Sawyer in Jack’s mouth, Jack inside Sawyer.

---

Sawyer woke a few hours later. It was still dark; he could see the first glimmers of dawn through the tent flap.

The half-open tent flap.

He turned to Jack, and felt fear slam into him like a freight train – the tent was empty. He scrambled to his feet and struggled into his jeans, his heart hammering in what felt like his throat, before he saw an arm waving him down from outside.

‘Relax, I’m just getting some air. Thought you could see me from where you were.’

The relief was a physical thing, and he gasped with it. He shook his head, catching his breath, then stepped out, sat down next to Jack, and punched him lightly on the arm.
‘Jackass,’ he grumbled. Jack grinned. He was half-dressed, wearing his boxers and t-shirt. Sawyer eyed his muscular thighs before a thought occurred to him.

‘You ain’t bothered that someone might see you sitting half-naked outside my tent?’
Jack looked around.
‘Didn’t realise this was your tent, to be honest. And no, not really.’
Sawyer nodded. ‘Good,’ he said, and only surprised himself slightly that he really meant it.

‘We’ll need to talk to Kate once it’s light.’
Sawyer nodded his agreement. ‘Why’d you wake up? Any weird shit?’
Jack shook his head.
‘Feel pretty normal actually.’
‘Even with this?’ Sawyer said, casually gesturing between them, not feeling very casual about the possible answer.

Jack looked at him, nodded. ‘You?’
Sawyer nodded, then grinned.
‘Get in the fucking tent?’ Jack asked, smiling too.
‘Hell fucking yeah.’