A/N: Yay! I'm back with another Lost-fanfic! This starts during the time when Sawyer's locked away, drinking and obsessing over Juliet. So it may seem Suliet at first, but come on… Skate to the very dark and bitter end! ;) And this is just the prologue, the first chapter will be longer. And no, this isn't supposed to make sense. Have you ever been grieving? I swear to God, this is exactly the stuff that goes through your mind.

A/N#2: Also, I'm going to change PenName sometime soon! So, instead of this extremely long and annoying one, I'm going to be called SALJStella (ergo: Sawyer-Adam-Lawrence-Jack-Stella. Those are my four favorite boys. I'll do naughty things to them one day. XD)

Prologue: Can I Please Love You?

The year was 1994. Sawyer had just seen 'Four Weddings and a Funeral,' and he remembers that during the one funeral, someone had recited a poem. He doesn't remember it. He doesn't remember much.

Bursts. Flashes. Slimy heads of fishes, glimmering when they stick up in the muddy water.

Let airplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message: She Is Dead.

He remembers the sweaty hand slipping out of his. The warmth lingering. Even though the cold he was sinking into was enough to squeeze the life out of him.

Lips on his.

A comic book his mom got him when he was nine.

Jack storming out of the jungle.

She was my North, my South, my East and West.

My working week and Sunday rest.

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.

I thought that love would last forever. I was wrong.

Sawyer wonders how far he is from insanity. Then he thinks about the way Juliet never put her keys on the table, because she'd heard somewhere that it brought bad luck.

Then he thinks that maybe OJ Simpson didn't kill his wife and her friend. Maybe he just came home and saw the blood and the decay and his wife's eyes cold and lifeless and maybe he felt like the ground opened up underneath him and like he was the one falling into a giant abyss and like his very life was a phone you got that you thought would work forever because it was so expensive so that'd just be fair, but then one day, though you have no idea how it happened, it's broken.

Broken.

Sawyer remembers the first time he kissed Kate. The first time he slept with Juliet, waking up after the plane crash, his first girlfriend painting his fingernails and laughing at him when he said that he'd gladly keep them this way, because they were young and nervous and she would've laughed at everything he said because she thought that was necessary for some reason.

He remembers so much, and in the meantime, so little. A buzzing headache of things he hasn't cared to remember, never repressed but just never mattered. And then things that are important, key elements of his life, but that still don't matter because they were all before Juliet.

The before and the after. None of it matters. And the now was what left him, dragged into the darkness.

Sawyer looks into the Whiskey bottle. He says the last lines of the poem from 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' out loud, almost screaming, because he's drunk and broken and he's losing his grip on reality, and he's a ghost slipping between the before and the after, because now has left him and present, which is a completely different thing, is way too horrible to be in.

"The stars are not wanted now, put out every one. Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun."

Juliet stares at him from the brown liquid. And Sawyer throws his head back and laughs.

"Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods. FOR NOTHING NOW WILL EVER COME TO ANY GOOD!"

He lifts the Whiskey bottle and tilts. It splashes across his face, only some ends up in his mouth. Then he sees a crack in the ceiling and notices that it looks like an H.

Nothing now will ever come to any good.