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alliecat8As usual, one day late, but I hope this is befitting for the Queen. Your royal request for unusual pairings brought out the hidden Claire/Sawyer shipper in me, so here is my attempt to please Her Highness with a small and humble tale:
Title: Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf
Pairing: Claire/Sawyer
Rating: G (as fairy tales should be)
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf
He scared me of course, at first. That was his first impression on everyone, fear. Charlie was easier to know; Charlie was like Vincent. Scratch him behind the ears, accept a token of affection (a damp bone, an extra meal), and they wanted to give you their undying devotion. And oh, how I wanted to be taken care of. Me, who’d been the caretaker for so long. I stroked my baby. I reached out with my mind and stroked the memory of my mum. And I watched him warily, the wolf. A different kind of caretaker. Sawyer had at least enough sense to take care of himself even when nobody else would.
I wondered if he envied me, being cared for, or if he even noticed me. The other survivors gave him a wide berth. I would’ve too, if I’d had any choice from my carved-out comfort zone on the beach. He had everything that I did not, a straight back, an affinity for number one, eyes that didn’t have to trust.
No guardian angel for him. Mine, unasked for, came in the form of Charlie. While the doctor stayed professional and detached as doctors do, Charlie tumbled to the offer of warm blankets and extra water and peanut-flavored flights of fancy. At first I was flattered. Later I was wary. “Number one” didn’t have quite the same meaning for Charlie as it did for me. “Number one” for him meant me. “Number One” for me was the unborn life I was responsible for.
That’s when I started to watch Sawyer. Sawyer didn’t want anyone’s help. It didn't even cross his mind to expect it, so he helped himself first. Funny what nobody noticed because nobody else was paying attention, or because they were trying to avoid looking at him. Sawyer took enough for himself, and he took enough other things – guns, books, information in the form of overheard conversations – to use when he needed them. I almost laughed every time someone demanded a forceful reparation and Sawyer retreated automatically into the dumb hick routine. You didn’t have to be American Southern to know that you get more flies with honey than with vinegar. All I had to do was ask nicely for my diary back and he handed it over, shamefaced. “Did you read it,” Charlie asked, incensed, a tinge of red in his cheeks. Sawyer looked at me sidewise and mumbled, “Never got the chance.” That’s when I stopped being afraid of him.
Charlie, with his secrets, sometimes frightened me. Could I love him and still trust him with my baby? And yet Sawyer felt like an open book, regardless of what had happened in the prequel to his story on the island. Later, Aaron opened his mouth and with the instinct of those recently arrived from a more straightforward place, he smiled at Sawyer. And when he wasn’t paying attention only to himself, and thought no one else was paying attention to him, Sawyer smiled back. I’ve stopped being afraid. Someday, maybe, he’ll save us.
End
Title: Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf
Pairing: Claire/Sawyer
Rating: G (as fairy tales should be)
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams
Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf
He scared me of course, at first. That was his first impression on everyone, fear. Charlie was easier to know; Charlie was like Vincent. Scratch him behind the ears, accept a token of affection (a damp bone, an extra meal), and they wanted to give you their undying devotion. And oh, how I wanted to be taken care of. Me, who’d been the caretaker for so long. I stroked my baby. I reached out with my mind and stroked the memory of my mum. And I watched him warily, the wolf. A different kind of caretaker. Sawyer had at least enough sense to take care of himself even when nobody else would.
I wondered if he envied me, being cared for, or if he even noticed me. The other survivors gave him a wide berth. I would’ve too, if I’d had any choice from my carved-out comfort zone on the beach. He had everything that I did not, a straight back, an affinity for number one, eyes that didn’t have to trust.
No guardian angel for him. Mine, unasked for, came in the form of Charlie. While the doctor stayed professional and detached as doctors do, Charlie tumbled to the offer of warm blankets and extra water and peanut-flavored flights of fancy. At first I was flattered. Later I was wary. “Number one” didn’t have quite the same meaning for Charlie as it did for me. “Number one” for him meant me. “Number One” for me was the unborn life I was responsible for.
That’s when I started to watch Sawyer. Sawyer didn’t want anyone’s help. It didn't even cross his mind to expect it, so he helped himself first. Funny what nobody noticed because nobody else was paying attention, or because they were trying to avoid looking at him. Sawyer took enough for himself, and he took enough other things – guns, books, information in the form of overheard conversations – to use when he needed them. I almost laughed every time someone demanded a forceful reparation and Sawyer retreated automatically into the dumb hick routine. You didn’t have to be American Southern to know that you get more flies with honey than with vinegar. All I had to do was ask nicely for my diary back and he handed it over, shamefaced. “Did you read it,” Charlie asked, incensed, a tinge of red in his cheeks. Sawyer looked at me sidewise and mumbled, “Never got the chance.” That’s when I stopped being afraid of him.
Charlie, with his secrets, sometimes frightened me. Could I love him and still trust him with my baby? And yet Sawyer felt like an open book, regardless of what had happened in the prequel to his story on the island. Later, Aaron opened his mouth and with the instinct of those recently arrived from a more straightforward place, he smiled at Sawyer. And when he wasn’t paying attention only to himself, and thought no one else was paying attention to him, Sawyer smiled back. I’ve stopped being afraid. Someday, maybe, he’ll save us.
End
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-28 05:10 pm (UTC)What I really adore about this fic is that she watches Sawyer, when traditionally I think of Sawyer as the one who watches everyone else, gathering information to use later as you say here. I also really like the observations on Sawyer and his stuff. In essence, you've made Claire one of us, studying him and observing his motivations the way we do, although her reasons for it are much different, and in fact very primal, motivated by concern for her child.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-29 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-29 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-29 06:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-31 01:41 pm (UTC)The contrast between Charlie and Sawyer works really well here too. On the surface, Charlie looks like exactly the kind of person you'd want around, and Sawyer looks like the kind of person you'd cross the street to avoid. But I love that Claire looked closer than that, looked beneath the surface, and saw them both for what they really are. The fact that Sawyer doesn't scare her after she takes the time to work him out is a really nice moment for both of them in my mind, even though Sawyer might not realise it yet.
Lovely little fic :)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 02:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-06 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-10 03:25 am (UTC)