Some Things Never Leave You
By Insomniac Owl
The island is not Iraq. Sayid is not wearing his uniform, either - he knows how it feels, how the fabric pulls at the shoulders and chafes at the wrists; he is wearing a tank top. There are bamboo stakes in his hands. The air smells of wet earth and sweat and plant life, and in the distance he can hear the long, deep roar of the ocean.
But some things are the same.
There is a man on the ground in front of him. There's a bit of blood down the side of his face, dried black in the heat. Sawyer may be tied to a bamboo tree instead of a chair, but Sayid knows the defiance in his face, and he knows the feeling that wells up in his own chest, which is a desire to break it.
"Do it," Jack says.
Sawyer does not struggle, but he screams.