Disclaimer: Still going strong.

Rating: M, for language and sexuality (nothing graphic here at good ole not that I'd write it anyway). Slash warning too.

Quandary (continued)

I'm glad we didn't have a watch to see how long it took us to get back to the camp, but we had plenty of people waiting for us when we finally got there. My arms were sore as hell, but we got her settled and everyone volunteered to watch her and keep her company. That afternoon, when I was satisfied that Kate would be fine without me for a little while with Sun taking care of her, I went out to a pool I'd found only a few days before and stripped down to my underwear to take a swim, reckoning the my boxers needed washing as much as I did. I tried to decompress, but I could still feel Sawyer's arms against mine. My mind wandered back to the only time I'd ever given in to temptation with a highly unsuitable man, and it had been wonderful but made me feel empty inside. I don't need all the fingers on one hand to count the times I've had random sex with a person I didn't care about or respect. And I never liked it.

Of course, I'd never been stranded on an island with one.

And underlying it all was fear. I know I'm no dog, but I also didn't believe I had the charms to loosen someone from their homophobia. Not that it was even advisable. If Kate hadn't told me what she told me, I'd have been just fine, with Sawyer on the periphery where he couldn't get to me. But to think he had a heart, even a small, tortured one…

I've never been able to resist the tortured ones.

I was dripping dry on a rock, dangling my feet over the edge and into the pool, when I heard footsteps coming through the jungle. I expected Sawyer to chuckle and make a crack, but he didn't. He just shed his shirt and climbed into the water in his jeans, dunking himself just long enough to wet his hair. Then he sat down in a shallow spot so that only his shoulders and head were visible above water.

"Howdy," he said.

"Hi."

"Wanted to talk."

"Oh?"

"Gettin' tired of high school tensions, so I thought I'd just ask you some things straight out."

At that, my heart thumped in my chest, mainly because I had absolutely no idea where the conversation was going.

"Okay."

"You screwing Kate?"

I laughed, nervously for some reason. "No."

"Why not?"

"Among other reasons, I don't want to. Why aren't you?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"She does."

"Well, I told you all that before. But you're surprised."

"A little."

"Because everybody's got this idea that Sawyer will fuck anybody with breasts."

"If you had something to gain."

"Fair enough. What else do people say about Sawyer?"

"What?"

"I'm not trying to pick a fight. What do you call me behind my back? Seriously."

"The list is endless."

"Asshole. Bastard. I don't give a shit about nobody. I'd just as soon kick a person as help them. I think I'm God's gift to the world, only I'm too selfish to bother with lesser mortals."

"I'm sure someone's said that last thing about me."

Sawyer laughed then, a small, warm laugh, and shook his head. "Point is, I'm persona non grata on this island. Why?"

He knew the answer, but he wanted me to say it. "Because you wanna be."

"Would you be surprised to know that's not precisely true?"

"Very."

He started to speak, but instead he got out of the water and sat down on the rock beside me, but not too close. He sat indian-style facing me, staring at me as I watched water drip off him and run down into the pool.

He said, "Sawyer's got good qualities. He's tough. He's determined. He's clever as hell when he's of a mind to be."

"I know that."

"I know you do. You may claim to hate me, but you don't, really. You halfway admire Sawyer."

"Sometimes."

He uncrossed his legs and drew them up to his chest, and I could nearly feel the apprehension in his voice until he sighed and his sawyer bravado returned. He said, "So I'm in a quandary."

"Oh?"

"I think you noticed how I flinched every time Kate screamed yesterday. I think you felt sorry for me, and I don't blame you."

"It's understandable."

"Not for Sawyer."

At this point, I was more than a little confused—by his actual words and by the quiet, sincere way he said them, despite the bitterness in his voice. I asked, "Why do you keep talking about yourself in the third person?"

"Because that sensitive soul you met for five minutes the day before yesterday was not Sawyer."

"Who was it?"

"Sawyer's a name I made up. The name my momma gave me is James."

I didn't know what to say, so I just stared at him and let him talk.

"I like being Sawyer. It's fun and I don't have to feel anything that I don't wanna feel. But James has a way of popping up despite my best efforts."

"Is James so bad?"

"No. That's the trouble. He ain't nothin'. He fades into the background. He's got other problems."

"Oh?"

"Do you know how hard it is to be a faggot in Georgia?" He looked at me briefly, searching. "I suspect they're a little nicer in the big city."

I didn't even wonder how he knew. I was a little too surprised to be anything besides honest. "Sometimes. Or maybe they pretend to be."

"I shouldn't really feed you too much of a line of bull. Nobody ever beat me up, but that's because most didn't know. And it ain't like I was the only one in my predicament."

"Being gay's not a predicament."

"It was for me. Thought it was because I was too sensitive."

"That's a bullshit stereotype."

"I realize that. Don't think for a minute that Sawyer, tough and hateful as he is, don't crave men. He just hates himself for it. I ain't two people. I know that. Up here." He pointed to his head. "But I still feel split in two sometimes."

He got quiet for a minute, but I didn't have any clue as to what to say or where this conversation was going. I was still reeling from hearing Sawyer use the word 'faggot,' especially in conjunction with himself. I had an impulse to touch him, but I also had an equally strong fear of that. So I just watched and waited for him to keep talking.

"See, Doc…Jack, I'm in this quandary. You like Sawyer. Unless I'm blind and you're in more denial than I am, he turns you on in all kinds of ways. But all he's good for is fuckin' and runnin'. See, James…he's the one that wants you, and he don't fuck and run."

Before I could speak, he got up, saying, "Tell me to go to hell if you want. I just wanted to lay my cards out on the table, so to speak." He picked up his shirt and was almost threading back through the jungle before I managed to speak.

"Can't I like them both?"

He stopped and turned.

"I don't know."

"You don't have a split personality. You're both of those people. How the hell else could you be so guarded and open right now, at the same time? How could you bite back your fear and help me dig a bullet out of someone's leg? Let me ask you—does Sawyer give a shit about me, or is it just the part of you that you hate that does?"

"I hate every part of myself, Jack."

"I feel like I don't know you."

"You don't."

"It's hard for me to even believe you could have these feelings, for me of all people."

Sawyer looked a little shocked, but he walked back over to the rock where I sat. He said, "Here's how it is: You need a bad boy. Every hero does, really. I need a fuckin' hero. Every gutless wonder does. Besides, how else am I gonna stop having these damn sex dreams about you. Always creeping into my space, with your broad chest and your brown eyes and your absolute faith in everything."

"Even you?"

"In my dreams."

I smiled in spite of myself. "I don't know what to do. Maybe I should ask you what you want from me."

"I'd say it's obvious," he said, running his hands over his hair and looking almost sheepish—except for that very knowing glint in his eyes.

I said, "Sawyer is a colossal pain in the ass. He's precisely the kind of pain in the ass that I try to avoid, because he looks too good and I lose all ability to reason."
"I seriously doubt that. I have a feeling you're practically superhuman when you get laid on a regular basis."

"What about you?"

"Gentle as a lamb."

"I hope the hell not," I said, standing. He pulled me closed to him, looking into my eyes quizzically. Then he kissed me. Instantly, I knew I hadn't been lying to him. I think he is both people at once. He kissed me like I knew he would—feverishly, but with a practiced technique, nonetheless wonderful. The feelings behind the kiss, however, were surprising, though they shouldn't have been. This was touching someone intimately and meaning for them to know it, to feel it. And it's impossible to fake. As he settled into my arms, he let me take the lead, accepting my tongue in his mouth with something like a purr from his throat. He finally broke the kiss to get air, but he didn't take his hands from around my waist. I watched with interest as a grin came across his face, a slow, warm, genuine grin akin to the ones he gives when he's happily annoying someone, but somehow different.

He turned his head to kiss my hand on his neck, and I said, "Now, what should I call you?"

"I don't care. But there's something I gotta tell you."

"What?"

"I picked that fight with you yesterday, so I could knock you down."

"Really?"

"I kinda just wanted to touch you. And I had to know for sure."

"What were you hoping, that I'd kiss you?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd get hard. I think it took all my self-control not to."

"You have the most ludicrous ways of going about things."

"I know. But I get the job done. Still, I was little disappointed."

Pulling his hips into mine, I said, "Don't be."

My erection had been obvious before, but feeling it press against his own seemed to satisfy him. He settled his lips onto my neck, the smallest groan reverberating against my throat. "There's something else you should know. James…Well, it's been a long time and he's real desperate."

"And Sawyer?"

He pulled out of my arms and shook his head, "That bastard's always horny. Thought you knew that."

"I should have. Just out of curiosity, did Kate put you up to any of this?"

He abruptly pulled out of my arms, the lust in his eyes disappearing.

"Sawyer?"

"She accused me of being in love with you."

"What?"

"When I came upon her secret gun hidey-hole. We started talking, joking at first, but it got serious. She said I was really looking for you, and she knew why. I was pissed, and I got stupid and decided to jerk the gun out of her hand, just to look at it, mind you, but that's why…So, I feel bad. We should get back and check on her."

"She said it was her thumb."

"Maybe so, but that was my wake-up call. I figure if I've gotta shoot somebody over these feelings I have, they must be pretty damn big. Just don't ask me to explain them."
"I don't have the slightest clue what I'm feeling either."

"Imagine how comforting that'll be to the other castaways. I'll make you look real stupid."

"Nah. It'll just look like I found someone hot enough to bother the libido nobody thinks I have. Who knows, maybe I'll make you look good."

We stopped talking for a while, instead walking back to the caves together, our minds too confused to continue talking. It was nice to just be together anyway, not even touching. It was only when we were almost there that he stopped me, grabbing my hand to do so.

"You wanna keep this hidden for a while, you know, gradually let 'em warm up to it? Could be fun, sneakin' around."

"Nah. I was thinking I tongue kiss you right in front of everybody."

"You're full of shit."

"Nope. There's no amount of time that will make this less bizarre. Besides, the shock will be worth it."

I'm happy to report that we managed to confuse everyone at the caves, and before long several beachers came out to gawk, or to confirm the most ridiculous rumor they'd ever heard. No matter how many innumerable times Sawyer and I kissed each other that day, it still seemed a little surreal, most of all to me.

-end-