Title: Don't Move On
Disclaimer: I do not own LOST (although I wish I had the mind of J.J. Abrams) and I do not own any of the characters (although I wish I were rubbing elbows with some of them)
Sawyer mentally prepared himself to shift. He had to be careful so as not to fall off the airplane seats that have been his bed for who knows how long. He shifted uneasily, and the moment he did, he knew there was something wrong.
He didn't feel his back pressed against the back of the airplane seats; he didn't hear the soft creak which he always anticipated every time he shifted; he didn't even remember being irritated, as he always have, by the coarse worn out seat cover pressed against his face making his whole body inexplicably itch. Something was wrong and with a jolt, he raised himself up causing a navy blue pillow to fall off to the tiled floor. Now where did that come from?
Clearly disoriented but not needing to adjust his eyes to the light as he always did, Sawyer suddenly became aware of his surroundings, suddenly recognized his own house. Damn, I have been on that island too long, keep wakin' up thinkin' am still there.
The all too banal digital alarm clock on the bedside table read 1:27 a.m.; he wondered for a bit but then almost immediately remembered himself last night saying, "I'll be damned" and making a mental note to replace the batteries. Even the damn clock tells the wrong time. Must be why I've been so out of place that last night...
Last night. Suddenly images of what had happened last night raced through his mind. He almost as quickly turned to the other side of the bed. He smiled. There beside him, still asleep, is Kate.
He breathe her in, then held his breath for a fraction of a second as if exhaling would mean letting her go. For once in his life, things were starting to seem right.