Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of Lost and ABC.
Note: This is set a little after Episode 21 and before the end events of Season One.
Dedicated to Chev! Merry (late) Christmas, hun!
It was amazing how noisy the island had become. Never mind the banging of scrap metal into shapes remotely raft-like, and the constant bickering of two people who somehow managed to create their own means of communication despite their language barriers. That raucous alone was hard enough to tune out with even the best of books.
Sawyer drew the line at crying babies.
He knew their peace—or more to the point, his—would be disrupted the minute that baby was born. He'd been hoping to either get rescued from the island or have the raft built so he could get the hell away before it happened.
Unfortunately, things had a way of working against him. First the boar, then his eyesight and now Baby Hughie, or whatever she decided to call it. He didn't care as long as the damned thing was quiet and far away from him.
However, he didn't expect to be the one to shut him up.
The dog-eared copy of Watership Down in his hands, Sawyer sat in the shade relaxing after working a shift on the raft. He was entitled to the break. After all, without his supplies, they wouldn't have gotten far in the building of it. There was a nice breeze coming in off the ocean—just enough to cool him off.
"Hey Sawyer!" called Charlie. Looking up lazily, he eyed the Irishman and the bundle he carried.
"Oh, not again…" he grumbled, turning back to his book. He almost wished he was back working on the raft. No, correction. He wished he were off the goddamn island.
The Irishman was closing in, his characteristic goofy grin absent from his face. What with the baby crying, no wonder he wasn't smiling. "Hey Sawyer!"
"I heard ya the first time, Seamus," he sighed, removing his glasses and closing his book. "Whaddya want? I'm in the middle of something."
"Can you…you know," Charlie replied, nodding towards the wailing baby.
"Can I what?" he asked, knowing full well what was being asked of him. For some reason, his talking quieted the little kid.
"You know. Talk. To the baby, I mean," he replied.
"Shouldn't that pseudo-girlfriend of yours be taking care of it?" It wasn't hard to notice how quiet it became whenever he started to speak.
The man shifted nervously on his feet. "That's the thing! Claire's not feeling well, so I'm taking her to go see Jack. And I figure it'd be best that the baby have as little contact with her so he doesn't get sick too."
"Well, ya seem to have it all figured out, don't ya? So why don't you just bring the kid with you?"
"Listen, can't you please just look after him for a little bit? His crying hasn't been helping Claire's head and I've been trying to settle him down for the past hour. We won't be gone long and you're the only one who can calm him down."
He sighed rolling his eyes. "…I ain't changing no diapers."
"Excellent!" Charlie said, grinning. Carefully, he deposited the baby into Sawyer's arms. "Oh, be sure to support his head—yeah, that's it!"
"I know that!" he snapped, raising his arm up more. The baby was starting to calm down again.
"Okay, we'll be back as soon as we can, Sawyer. Half hour, tops! Thank you!" Charlie said before turning around running across the beach.
"Well," Sawyer said, an eyebrow arched as he glanced down at the whimpering baby in his arms. "I guess it's just you and me, kiddo."
He sighed. Babysitting wasn't on the top of his to-do list for the day, if it had been there at all. It was bad enough that some of the other survivors had seen his last performance as the Baby Calmer. If they saw this spectacle, he was swimming off the island post haste. People might think him sweet or even nice for looking after the baby.
He'd rather go back to being the one everyone despised. Much quieter that way.
But, he put on his second hand glasses and cracked open his book again. After only a few words, the baby completely quieted. The story seemed to suit him more than the car magazine did.
Every now and then, he'd adjust the warm bundle. He was a lot heavier than he looked. Then again, Sawyer normally didn't deal with babies, much less hold them for a prolonged amount of time.
"Geez, what's she feeding ya?" he muttered after shifting the baby completely to his other arm. He frowned, looking at the quiet and awake baby, his wide blue eyes staring back into Sawyer's.
Suddenly, the baby started to laugh. Of all things it could do, it was laughing.
"What're ya laughin' at?" Absently, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Oh, you think these things make me look funny, huh?" he asked, removing the glasses and propping them on the baby's face. "Guess they don't look good on anyone, 'specially not you, Baby Hughie."
Unfortunately, the comment made the baby start to cry again.
"All right, all right," he grumbled, putting his glasses back on. "Happy?" The baby giggled in response. "Yeah, I'm sure ya are. Now, where'd I leave off…?"
Finally, after what seemed more like a couple hours rather than half an hour, both the Charlie and Claire returned to retrieve her little bundle of joy. Thankfully, the baby had been asleep for some time, so when he was transferred back to his mother's waiting arms, he didn't start bawling his head off.
"Thank you so much, Sawyer," Claire said, clutching the kid to her chest.
"Yeah, thanks mate."
He shrugged and stretched his arms. "Yeah, whatever," he said. "That kid better get used to your voice though. I'm not sticking around here for much longer, so you won't have me to come crying to whenever you can't handle him."
"I—I know, but you're one of the first people I thought of to help me out and I very much appreciate it," she said politely.
He found it rather amusing that any one could think of him first for anything outside of theft accusations.
"Tell you what, I'll leave the book for you when I go. Won't find better reading material elsewhere on the island," he said, patting the paperback. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some business to attend to." Picking up the book, Sawyer sat back and began to read from where he'd left off. He half listened to the repeated thanks and waved them off until they finally left him alone.
For the moment, it seemed the Odd Couple had taken a break from the raft, and suddenly, the beach became much quieter.
"Ah, much better," he said, smiling.