Author: Girl Who Writes
Summary: ...And when he finally does look up at her, there's a cool breeze blowing and Claire's fallen asleep.
Author's Notes: I have become an utter ConMama addict! So this is the first of my ConMama fics, and I'm sure I'll be writing a few. This fic was written for a challenge by yahtzee63 at livejournal; she gave us fifty movie quotes, and we had to write a fic based around one of those quotes. The quote I chose was, ""Chivalry is not only dead, it's decomposed." There were quite a few quotes in this challenge I liked, so I may post more :)
Please review, it really makes my day :)
She sits in the sand a few metres away, looking hot and uncomfortable as she stares out to sea. Her hand rests on her stomach as she looks at something only she can see. The hot air on the beach is stifling; the humidity making the air heavy and still. Her long blonde hair sticks to the back of her neck, but she doesn't have the energy to pull it back.
He stands a few metres down the beach, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he contemplates life. He knows she's there but he doesn't really pay attention to her. He savours his cigarette, a bottle of water in the other hand, his shirt balled up and hanging out of his jeans' pocket.
He's lost in his own thoughts when he finally hears her grunting, trying to catch her balance as she attempts to get up on her feet, one arm wrapped protectively around her stomach. He just stands there, taking a long drag on his cigarette, watching her struggle.
"What happened to chivalry?" she jokes, her cheeks flushed with both sun and embarrassment. She regains her balance, her hand resting low on her back, her feet sliding in the sand.
He tosses his cigarette to the ground and kicks sand over it. "Chivalry is not only dead, Blondie, it's decomposed."
But he takes in the sight of her red cheeks, her sweaty face and the dark circles around her eyes and offers her a trademark grin. "Why don't you come and make yourself at home, Mamacita?"
He takes her arm and leads her up to his shelter, where he offers her the bottle of water and helps her get comfortable. She offers him a weak smile, and settles back in the makeshift chair he has fashioned from one of the airplane chairs. She settles back, staring out at the ocean. He sits opposite her, reaching for another cigarette, and a book. When he finally does look up at her, there's a cool breeze blowing and Claire's fallen asleep.
And, even though he won't admit it to himself, Sawyer thinks she looks beautiful.