Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit. I'll be sure and play nice.

Rating: M, for language. Building up to a slash warning.

Note: I hate it Sawyer/Jack stuff, so why am I writing it? I don't know. Maybe I've read too damn much of it; maybe I think they're capable of doing more than have angry sex against a tree or melt into a puddle of goo at the sight of each other on some random day. This doesn't connect to any particular episode, and I'd probably put it pre-"Do No Harm." However, it contains general spoilers for the whole season. Bear with me. This is gonna move slowly.

Quandary

"Doc!"

I was so beyond tired of hearing that phrase that it almost didn't register with me, except in that deep down place that made me be a doctor in the first place. Though I was beginning to get people going to Sun for minor problems, I was the one that took the brunt of the calamity on the island, whether it was an actual emergency or just a perceived one. It was getting to where I didn't know what to do when I had a half hour to myself.

"Doc!"

The second time, I recognized the voice, and it set my adrenaline going. It was Sawyer, but he wasn't in typical sarcastic form. I was used to his smug, antagonistic presence, winking and barking through my days. But this was a rare version of the man: Sawyer was freaked out.

"Hey!" I called out as he broke the tree line, shirtless and sweating heavily.

"Doc, she's bleeding bad."

"Who?"

"Kate."

"What happened?"

"Get your shit and come on. She's out in the jungle."

"What? Why is she—"

"I could stay with her and let her bleed to death, or I could find you."

Sawyer was already beginning to rummage through my stuff, so I pulled him out of the way, grabbing the wound kit I'd made for myself, everything haphazardly packed into a backpack.

"What did she get cut with?"

"Cut?" He seemed truly confused for a moment.

Grabbing his shoulders, I said forcefully, "With what, Sawyer?"

"Shot. I shot her, Doc!"

I stopped as the world did a nice shift around me, or at least my perspective. I truly hadn't thought him capable of it. My first thought was where the gun was, and what had provoked him in the first place? I felt a little better when I saw that Sawyer was upset, and he immediately began moving into the jungle.

"What did she do?"

He hollered back over his shoulder. "She didn't do nothing! It was a fucking accident! She handed me the gun, and it went off."
"Where did she get shot?"

"Thigh."

"Jesus. She's probably…"

"I know. She's probably dead, and you all are gonna stone me when this is all over. I fucking hope you do."

"Why didn't you find a closer person to come and get me so you could go back to her?"

"Didn't occur to me, okay! I'm not used to saving anyone's ass like you are. I just knew I needed to find you."
"It's okay. Did the bullet graze her or go in?"

"In, I think. I never found a bullet."

"Shit. That means it's still in there. Was she conscious when you left her?"

"Yep. You know her. Stubborn. She was trying not to make any noise, you know."

"Jesus, how far out were you two?"
Up ahead, I saw a small clearing and the sound of running water. Then I heard something that answered my question and made me break out into a cold sweat. Surgery I can deal with, but I was no good in my E.R. rotation. I have a rough time with people in pain. They'd never know it, because I'm still capable of doing my job, but it cuts me so deep I stay rattled for a long time afterward.

I will never forget the sound of Kate screaming. "Oh God!"

"Oh God," Sawyer said beside me, registering her screams in the same primal, wounded way I was, but he was articulating it. And struggling to stay on his feet.

The first thing you always notice is the blood, but I'm used to that. It's like blood isn't really blood anymore, just some sort of scientific proof of injury. But Sawyer was freaked out. On top of that, he wanted to be doing something but he didn't know what he should do, so he just paced and cursed under his breath.

Kate was in her underwear, and she was holding Sawyer's shirt to her leg, making small noises of pain through gritted teeth. For a person who should have been in shock, she was doing a remarkable job of keeping pressure on the wound.

I took her shaking hands from the compress, replacing them with my own and said, "Is anything numb?"

"No. Fuck, no." After a moment, she added, "I'm sorry I screamed. It's not as bad as it sounds. I was just trying to startle myself into not passing out."

"Don't look at it. Okay, Kate? I don't want you to pass out."

Sawyer said, "Why not, doc! Wouldn't it be easier if she couldn't feel it?"

"Sawyer, I don't want her going into shock, and I don't need your help doing my job."

Remarkably, Sawyer didn't argue. He just said, quietly, "What do I need to do?"

"Distract her."

"How?"

"Please don't tell me you're incapable of a distracting a woman. No, shit, wait. First, get out a towel and soak it in that stream." I turned to Kate. "I don't care if you wanna scream, okay. You got shot in the fucking leg. Was this really an accident?"

"Who are you accusing?"

"Never mind."

"It hurts like hell, but I'm not gonna die here, Jack."

"No, you're not."

"My thumb hit the trigger. It wasn't his fault."

Sawyer returned with the wet towel, and I pointed him over to her side. "Hold her hand. Kate, I'm gonna have to look at it. If it hurts, you have my permission to break his hand if you need to."

Sawyer put on a brave face. "I can take it, Freckles."

But when I took off the compress, he looked a little green. I couldn't see the bullet, which meant I'd have to go in to find it, but it didn't look like she was going to bleed out anytime soon, which meant I could take a little more time to make things sterile.

I said to Kate, "Have you moved your leg?"

"Yes, I guess."

"So it doesn't feel broken?"

"I don't think so."

"I don't think the bullet hurt the bone too badly, didn't break it anyway. But I've still gotta get it out."

"Let's go, then," she said, swallowing and closing her eyes.

"I've gotta build a fire so I can sterilize everything."

Sawyer said, "I'll do that, Doc."

"No you won't. I know what I've got and what I'm looking for. You need to come over here." I pressed the new wet cloth into the wound. "You need to hold this here, keep constant pressure. You won't pass out or throw up, will you?"

"Hell no," he said a little too forcefully.

"If there's a choice between pressing too hard or not hurting her, press too hard. You got that?" I looked him dead in the eye and said, "Pain is better than bleeding too much."

He didn't respond, but he sat down beside me. I took his hand and placed it on top of the compress, my hand sliding over his. "Firm just like this, okay?"

"Got it, Doc."

I had been crouched down, and as I stood, I felt the impulse to reassure Sawyer somehow. This was the first time I'd seen him be anything less the confident, even when we'd been torturing him. I rubbed his shoulders for a moment and said in his ear, "She's gonna need you calm."

As I walked away, I could feel the muscles in my legs screaming despite the adrenaline I had going. I said, "Now's the time to turn on that famous charm of yours."

Then I set about building a fire.

In the rush of boiling water in the basin—which was really a small metal makeup case—and sterilizing two soup spoons, I didn't pay any attention to what they were doing. When I returned, burning my hands in the process, Kate was looking worse—sweaty and pale. Sawyer looked better, but I knew it was likely to get much worse. What we were about to do was not pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. I knew I would get through it only because I had to. I was hoping I could say the same for Sawyer. But somehow I wasn't too worried. He's one tough bastard.

"I'm gonna try and get it out now. Here's what I'm gonna do. First I'll press the flesh around the wound to see if the bullet is close to the surface, that way I don't have to dig too much looking for it. That will hurt like hell, okay. I won't lie. If I have to dig, I have no idea what you'll feel. Okay?"

She merely nodded. Sawyer said, "What do I do?"

"Whatever I tell you to. Can you do that?"

"Yep. Let's go."

I have a hard time describing the actual removal of the bullet, as it was frantic and scary and all too adrenaline-filled to go cleanly into my memory. But I remember some feelings fairly well. As you can imagine, we did have to dig around to find it, and she did scream. Not nearly as much as she should have, though. She had a hand pressed to her mouth, her other hand in Sawyer's. I have rarely seen two braver people. Sawyer would shrink from what we were doing, but resolutely take a deep breath and come back. The longer we were at it, the better he was at fighting his impulse to freak out.

I located the bullet, and he had to take his hand away from hers to hold the wound open. If I ever get back, I want to write up his technique for handling a trauma patient. I'm sure the New England Journal of Medicine has never seen anything like an obnoxious redneck using his ingenuity this way. He was straddling her right leg to hold her steady, and he began to insult her. He made it perfectly clear that he was trying to piss her off, but it worked anyway. She wouldn't have let herself scream if he hadn't started saying every vulgar thing he could think of just to bait her. Most of it involved the several graphic ways he wanted to have sex with her, and the more she said, "Fuck you, Sawyer," the worse it got. Eventually, she began to swear at him without provocation. She hardly knew when we actually pulled the bullet out until we showed it to her. At that point, she said she was hurting so bad and screaming so loud everything blurred.

We were faced with the decision to stay put or try to move her, but since it was getting dark, we had no choice until the morning at least. So Sawyer scrounged up some fruit for us and I stayed with Kate. She was fitfully asleep before he got back.

Sawyer and I sat back from the fire, exhausted and still rattled.

"Will she be okay?"

"I think so. She's stubborn."

"God, I wish I'd just stayed on the beach today."

"What were you two doing?"

"I followed her out here. She just wanted to be left alone, but I was bored. Thought I'd pick a fight. Didn't know she was going to dig up a gun nobody knew about."

"I was wondering about that."

"Me too. I don't know how it went off, I swear."

"She says it was her."

"I still feel like it's my fault."

"It doesn't matter."

"Like hell. Did you hear her? I've heard people in pain, but never…"

"Anyone you gave a damn about?"

"Yeah."

"Do you two…?"
He made a funny face, almost like he figured I would know the answer to that one. "No. Don't get me wrong, I like her. She's tough as hell and she's hot, but I don't know as if I trust her."

"I wouldn't think you needed to trust a woman."

"Not if I love 'em and leave 'em. Kinda hard to do that here."

"I see. So it's nothing more complicated than that?"

"Nope. I've never had complicated feelings for a woman."

How unsurprising, I thought. But his face did register something like regret.

He got up then and went over to the stream to get cleaned up. He was still bared-chested, and there was sweat and dirt and blood all over him. I could only see his outline and hear the splashing noises. My first impulse was to stand there and watch him. That would mean admitting I enjoyed seeing his well-muscled back and shoulders, or at least dwelling on the feelings I couldn't deny, which I was not prepared to do, even to myself. That was a dangerous road. So I went over to where Kate was sleeping, and I listened to her breathing and felt her pulse. Normal enough, considering. We'd moved her to a more comfortable position, and it was beside a tree so someone could lean there and keep watch over her. I was setting my back against the tree when Sawyer came back, his hair dripping.

He stood in front of me and reached out a hand. "If anyone's gonna stay awake all night, it's gonna be me."

"Oh?"

"You need your rest to take care of her tomorrow."

"Sawyer?"

"I don't sleep much lately anyway."

He gripped my hand and pulled me to my feet.

"If she starts sweating or stops breathing or—"

"Jack, I won't let anything happen. And I won't fall asleep."

I don't know why I felt like I could trust him, but I did. Maybe it was because he called me by name instead of Doc. Maybe I was simply shocked that he was being reasonable and nice. Maybe I was just too tired. But I took off my shirt to lay over her legs, to keep her warm, and I went and laid down beside the fire, watching his outline where he sat by the tree. Soon, I was asleep.

to be continued…