Watching that scene in "Exodus" (Part 1) where Sawyer tells about his encounter with Jack's father in Australia is truly one of my favorite scenes. And so, I just had to write a follow-up to that scene, where Jack meets up with Sawyer to ask him why he'd tell him such a thing. This first chapter will be from Jack's POV (350 words), while, with any luck, the second chapter that I post will be a companion piece from Sawyer's POV (350 words).

NOTE: In this fic, Sawyer never hinted that the story he was telling was about Jack's father with such lines as "Small world, huh?" and so on. Semi Jack/Sawyer hints of slash, but can be simply considered friendship, or in any case, tolerance between the two men. Please feel free to leave reviews, whether they report compliments or constructive criticism. Thanks.

"Sawyer!" I run to meet the blonde, who's loading the raft with supplies.

"Is there something you want, doctor?" he questions, very acrimoniously.

"Why'd you do it?"

"Care to elaborate?" Sawyer chuckles beneath his breath.

"Why'd you tell me about your encounter with my father? What reason did you have to tell me?" I persist. I was puzzled like hell; I needed to know. Part of me needed to know why Sawyer, of all people, would go out of his way to reveal some of the most touching things I've ever heard. Listening to Sawyer's words, hearing all that about my father … that my dad was proud of me, that he wasn't mad at me, that he still loved me … that really made my heart swell. I was never so happy to hear anything else in my life.

Yet, I still wonder why Sawyer would perform such an act of kindness without a catch or ulterior motive.

"So why'd you tell me, Sawyer?" I inquire again, as I see Sawyer neglected my initial question.

"Sheppard, Sheppard, Sheppard," Sawyer shakes his head, slowly, smilingly, "what in the hell ever makes you think that story was about you?"

To my own surprise, I find myself suddenly smirking. Figures. Even if this is the last time we would see each other, Sawyer would never admit to doing something sentimental – especially not for me. I think he kind of sees me like a rival or something, though I can never understand why.

"Well," I respond, understanding Sawyer's hesitation in telling the truth, "it was a nice story, anyway. Thanks … I guess."

"Anytime, Doc. Anytime."

That's all he says before he turns his attention back to packing the raft and I make my way to my bags, gathering all the things I would need for the expedition. I half wanted to say something to Sawyer; something that would tell him I never completely hated him, but I figured that some things are better left unmentioned.

Anyway, Sawyer strikes me as the kind of guy that only believes what he wants to believe.