Title: Landslide

Author: Crimson Coin

Rating: T

Pairing: Sawyer/Juliet

Summary: Sawyer is injured on a patrol of the fence line and makes a startling discovery about Juliet.

Disclaimer: I don't own LOST or any of these characters. I just like to screw with them a little.

Note: So here's a second part because so many people and reviewers seemed to want a bit more closure. Hope you all enjoy and by all means, review! I love reviews! If anyone has any more ideas for one-shots, send them my way.

The Infirmary

Sawyer slowly roused, eyes fluttering and he squinted at the bright lights over his head. He shifted a little before finally forcing his eyes open. He lay on a simple cot in the infirmary, a sheet covering him to his hips, his chest bare. Tight bindings bound his shoulder and he turned his head slightly. The wound seeped, a yellowish liquid staining the cloth. He looked at the new wound then the opposite shoulder and the white puckered scar from the last gunshot wound to his shoulder.

"Hey." Juliet stood in the doorway, wearing a lab coat, her hair tied back in a sloppy bun. Arms crossed her chest, she smiled.

Sawyer faced the voice and hummed, a smirk tugging his lips. "Hey yerself."

She approached the bedside, her expression professional. She stood nearest the wounded shoulder and touched the wet gauze. "Time to change your bandage."

"I hope so. I'm leakin' yellow."

"It's not yellow. It's amber. And you're not leaking it. It's Iodine."

"Iodine?"

Juliet nodded. "It's not the choice I would have made. It may scar a bit more but it's the best and I had to be sure. You were in the woods and that water and then the mud and you dug it out with your fingers. God, James, what were you thinking?"

He watched as she peeled off the gauze. "I was thinking to get the damn thing out. I wasn't expecting to see ya so soon, Blondie."

"Why not? Did you think I would leave you there?"

"Yeah."

She frowned. "And if that were me out there. Would you have left me there?"

"No!" He answered quickly then sighed, calming. "No, I mean. I ain't exactly got the track record a watchin' people's backs."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "What do ya think I mean? I ain't the kinda guy that would risk his life fer someone else. I'm out for me."

"You sure about that?" She asked gently then pressed clean gauze to the wound. "Maybe it's just me. But you jumped off of a moving helicopter to save everyone on it. You ran back onto the beach to pull me away from flying arrows and you just admitted that you would have come into the woods after me."

He winced as she pressed the gauze down then taped it to his shoulder. "Yeah well … selfish reasons too."

"Really? You jumped out of a helicopter for selfish reasons? What possible selfish reason could that be?"

He didn't answer and just rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Just seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Mmm, or you actually sacrificed yourself for someone you cared about. Don't worry though, your secret is safe with me." She teased gently and then took the dirty gauze and tape and dropped it in the trash can.

"There ain't nothin' to have a secret about. I didn't sacrifice nothin'. We all woulda died. Hell, if that was our freighter on fire, they could all be dead. It's just you an' me now, Blondie."

She sat on the side of the cot beside him and rested her hands in her lap. "Do you think they're dead?"

"I dunno. I won't say that to Jin though."

She smiled softly. "And you said you don't care about anyone."

"Hey, I don't want to see the guy takin' a swan dive off a cliff cuz he thinks his wife is dead. But … they were goin' to that freighter. And it blew up. Or at least was on fire and smokin'."

She tilted her head, watching Sawyer a long intense moment. "Jack promised me we'd get off the island. We would all leave together."

"Yeah well … Jack-o ain't always out for everybody else. He got his own self righteous attitude. Not that I'm one to preach. But I never pretended to be lookin' out for anyone else's interest."

"I saved his life," she whispered. "He was going to die. I saved his life."

"Maybe ya shouldn't have," Sawyer muttered.

Juliet watched him a moment after the comment and her eyes iced, walls erect as she stood.

Sawyer frowned, unsure of her reaction. "What? I mean yeah, I know doctors are supposed to protect life an' all but …" he trailed off as she walked to the door to leave the room. He struggled and sat up. "Juliet, wait."

She paused at the door but didn't turn around.

"Do you still love Jack?"

Her shoulders sagged slightly and she glanced back over her shoulder. "No." Her simple answer and she left the room.

He cursed and lay back again. She obviously didn't like Jack so why was she so offended? Granted, the comment was a bit off hand but if she didn't love him, what was the problem? So what if she didn't save Jack. One less ass to worry about.

He frowned. If Jack was still sick, he would have been with Juliet and too sick to reach the helicopter. Maybe died. Which meant the helicopter could have handled their weight.

He never would have jumped.

That's what upset her. If he never jumped, she'd be alone on the island. Maybe died on the beach during the storm of fire arrows. Or in the jungle with a machete to her throat. Or not managed to get the canoe into the water and if they did, would have been in the back, therefore at risk to be shot.

With those few words, he told her he wished he wasn't here. And that she was alone. And that he was with Kate.

"God Damn it," he muttered and pushed up from the bed, tossing the sheet aside. He brought a hand to his head, stilling the dizziness and then pushed to his feet. The floor cold against his bare feet, he searched the room for his clothes. Whose bright idea was it to strip him to his boxers?

He finally managed to dress and didn't bother with shoes. He walked from the room, holding the wall for support. He glanced into each room he passed and finally decided she wasn't in the infirmary. When he exited the building, he understood why the place was empty. Dawn was just starting to break.

The only light on in the commune came from his house, Juliet's bedroom. Finally across the commune, winded and tired, he climbed the stairs. Panting softly he leaned against the side of the house a moment. He hated how tired and weak he felt, but knew from past experiences it would take his body longer to recuperate than he wanted.

He turned the door knob and sighed with relief when it opened. Walking into the house, he looked around then closed the door. Continuing up the stairs, his barefoot steps quiet, he pushed open the door to her bedroom. "Juliet?"

Juliet sat on her bed and looked up at the voice, shocked. "James? What are you doing out of bed!" She stood and rushed to him.

Sawyer clung to the door knob of her bedroom and smirked, trying to appear controlled. He succeeded in swinging slightly with the door on the hinge. "I'm alright."

She slipped her arm around his waist and walked him to her bed. "Idiot. You don't have the strength to be running around like this." She settled him onto the bed and he sighed with relief, laying back.

He shifted up onto the bed, head pillowed and his eyes closed. "I was walkin' not runnin'."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You really must have a death wish."

"Nope." He smirked. "You ran off before we were finished. So I came over to finish."

She sighed and checked his bandage then sat back on the bed, watching him. "There's nothing to finish."

"Course we do. Yer such a pain in the ass." He grinned at her and reached out to grab her hand before she could run. "So I say in an asshole way that ya shouldn't have saved Jack. And in what … ten seconds you went from that thought to me regretting being here."

Juliet shook her head then opened her mouth to respond.

"That ain't true," he interrupted her. "I don't regret this. Bein' here. I mean how can I regret warpin' through time only to have us threatened with machetes and shot at in a canoe then livin' in a hippy commune only to get shot again! I mean how can I ever regret that!"

She chuckled at that and shook her head. "You don't have to defend your words. If Jack wasn't on the helicopter. If he kept his word to me, I'd be stuck here now with Jack and not you."

"Would you rather have Jack here than me?"

"Would you rather have Kate here than me?"

Sawyer eyed her. "I asked first, Blondie."

Juliet sighed and looked away from him to the window. Lost in thought, she remained silent for a few minutes formulating her response. "No. I wouldn't rather have Jack here."

He frowned and sat up a little in the bed, leaning back against the headboard. "Why?"

"Because, he left me here. Knowing that, it tells you a lot about someone. It means that he may have done anything to get himself what he needed and not worried about me. Plus I wouldn't trust him to organize this kind of con … managing to get us accepted into the Dharma Initiative thirty years before our time and actually making it work."

Sawyer grinned. "Like I did."

Juliet nodded. "Yes. Like you did. That and you never left me behind. Once you returned to the island, you haven't left my side. You protected me. You came back when the flaming arrows were falling onto the beach. And you did everything when those men threatened my hand. You came to me on the docks, asking me not to go. That you needed me. You've had my back, James."

"Yeah, well, you had mine too."

She smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah. Ok now, your turn."

"I wouldn't rather be here with Kate." He admitted without hesitation. "I was always second to Jack. So if she was here, yeah we'd be together. But it'd be because I was here and he wasn't. Not cause she wanted me."

"Did you know? That she used you?"

Sawyer frowned. "I don't think she always was. But … after Jack brought you back. That's when I knew. When she had competition, then it was damn obvious. I was there to make Jack jealous. Or to make her still feel desired while Jack mooned over you."

She shrugged. "It was nice being mooned over."

"Nice bein' desired." He added then watched her a long moment. "Thanks. For stickin' with me."

She chuckled. "Where was I going to go? I wasn't exactly going to try to bond with the others. Or with the people from Dharma"

He smirked. "You could have, though. Chosen the Others. You know enough about them. You could have found Richard and talked to him. He would have let you."

"Maybe. But then who would have your back?" She stood before he could respond. "Hungry? It's been a while since you ate."

"Starved," he said with a slow grin. "What you got?"

She chuckled. "What do you want?"

He licked his lips, eyeing her up and down. "Baby back ribs. No … no how about. A cheeseburger."

She laughed. "I am not making you a cheeseburger at six o'clock in the morning. Not happening."

"Fine, what's on the menu?" He teased.

"I don't know. I have to look in the fridge." She turned from him and walked from the bedroom, leaving him alone.

Sawyer grinned and settled into the bed. He turned his head and inhaled then sighed contently. Her room smelt so good, the scent of shampoo, her lotions, something about her. It calmed him, eased the tension in him. Turned him on too, but he didn't want to dwell on that now.

At one time, her presence rattled him, made him nervous and uneasy. Distrustful, he kept her at arm's length. The more time he spent with her though, especially now, the more he thought about why she rattled him.

The first time he saw her, he was running from the polar bear cage and she distracted him. So he turned to look and instead of defend himself, he checked her out. He checked … her out.

Sawyer grinned at the memory. He remembered as she stepped from the woods and he thought 'Damn …' So of course, distracted, she had the upper hand. Tasered, grounded, dragged and back in the cage. And all because he had to check out the random hot chick that suddenly emerged from the jungle. Like he shouldn't have known better that anyone he met was likely an Other.

Nope, he didn't think that. After all, when a hot woman walks out of the jungle while you're trying to escape imprisonment, who doesn't think of having sex with her?

Sawyer chuckled and settled into the bed, and shrugged out of the jumpsuit, finally stripping back down to his boxers. He kicked the suit to the end of the bed then slipped under the sheets. Arms tucked behind his head, he stared at the ceiling.

Then the taser incident, the shooting Kate thing, the nearly getting killed thing, betraying the camp to the others thing, Ben's spy, completely emasculating him in front of Sayid and then shacking up with Jack – with whom he was certain she was having sex – it just pushed all those nagging initial desires to the back of his mind. Recently, those nagging desires resurfaced. The more he focused on them the more he realized the real reason she rattled him.

She rattled him because despite all the bad blood, he always desired her. It didn't matter she threatened Kate, threatened him, was a spy, even hated him. He desired her then too. She intrigued him, was so different. Maybe even a challenge. He never hated her; he hated what she did to him. She could disarm him with a look. And even now where they posed no threat to each other, she still rattled him. That's how he knew. He didn't fear her or hate her. On the contrary, he felt this primitive need to protect her. He wanted her.

Juliet walked back into the room carrying a tray. A bowl setting in the center steamed. Beside the bowl was a small glass of orange juice. He grinned. "What do we have here?"

"Oatmeal. With brown sugar and a little milk." She sat on the bed and laughed at his unimpressed face. "We only have four eggs and six strips of bacon left and I'm not wasting it on your stomach."

"Wasting it on my stomach? What the hell does that mean?"

She set the tray on the bed stand. "It means that you haven't eaten in so long and your body is in trauma and you might not be able to keep down something like bacon or butter from the eggs. So you need something filling to give you energy. Starch." She pointed to the oatmeal. "If you can keep this down, I'll make you pork chops tonight."

He smirked. Pork chops were his favorite. "Where'd you get pork chops? I thought meat was low until next week when they slaughter the cow."

She chuckled. "I hid them in the back of the freezer."

"Alright so if I eat the gruel and keep it down. I get pork chops. Do I get a back rub too?"

"Don't push your luck." She retorted. "Sit up a bit." She leaned over him and gripped around his back to try and ease him up in the bed. "I notice how you just made yourself at home in my bed." She teased.

His eyes fluttered as she leaned close and he resisted the urge to close the little distance between them and press his lips to her throat. So smooth, the tendons strained as she tried to lift him a little. It could be so easy to pull her closer, nibble the tension away. He wondered if she'd pull away, maybe slap him. Maybe run from the house. He didn't want her to run again.

His elbow bent nearest her, his hand gripping her waist as he shifted with her into a sitting position. He didn't move his hand when she sat back and grabbed the bowl. His hand tightened to keep her from leaving and Juliet glanced at his hand, brow quirked a moment. She didn't question him and instead stirred the porridge then fed him.

"I can probably feed myself ya know."

"Probably," she responded then smirked. "I don't trust you to eat it. I'll come up here tonight to find the oatmeal under my bed because you'd rather have pork chops than oatmeal. And you'd put off eating until tonight to get it."

He scowled as he took a bite.

She chuckled at his expression. "Don't look at me like that. I know you, James. And no, this wasn't in your file. I just know you." She offered him another bite then another. So gentle and tender with him, caring and compassionate.

"I'm sorry," he admitted. "For bein' an ass to you. The last few months. Ya didn't deserve it."

She never met his eyes, but continued to feed him. "Then why did you?" Eyes on his mouth, the bowl, his mouth again, never his eyes.

"Well …" he took the last bite then licked his lips as he watched her put the bowl aside. "Yer so damn sexy when you're angry."

She blinked, her expression incredulous. "So you pissed me off all the time because it made me sexy?"

He chuckled. "Not all the time."

"So you were rude and tracked mud in the house and left your dirty laundry on the bathroom floor and left dishes in the sink and accidently lost my book on a few occasions just to get a rise out of me. Because it made me sexy."

He winced slightly. "Guess it sounds kinda stupid when ya put it like that."

"Yes, it is kind of stupid." She stood and her eyes shown with the slightest hurt, the rest she masked well. "You went out of your way to make my life hell. And what, am I not sexy enough, just me. For you? Of do you feed off of other people's misery?" She raked a hand through her hair, looked away then back to him. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair."

He reached for her, fingers brushing her hip.

She stepped back from him and put the bowl on the tray. She placed the orange juice on the bed stand then without a word, walked from the room with the tray.

He muttered a curse as she walked away from him. She always ran from confrontation and there was only so far he could follow her. Especially now. Weak and tired. And he probably needed a shower. And he had to pee.

He struggled to sit up and rolled his shoulder, glaring at the wound. He heard the front door open then close. Kate ran, Juliet ran. Did all women run? He pushed to his feet and walked from her bedroom. Retrieving a pair of boxers from his bedroom, he walked into the bathroom. Relieving himself then brushing his teeth, he turned on the shower.

He peeled the tape and gauze off his shoulder and looked at the stitches. He'd just keep them as dry as he could. He stepped into the shower and sighed. The warmth soothed his muscles especially his back. He tilted his head back, letting the water slick through his hair. He felt filthy and knew he likely was from the mud. He ducked his head and rubbed a hand over the bruises on his chest. Those likely were caused when he was swept down river, slamming into those damn rocks.

He sighed contently and washed his hair, wincing slightly as the movement tugged on his stitches. He avoided getting them too wet but made sure to rinse away any and all soap. He leaned against the side of the shower, feeling a little dizzy and rubbed his head, eyes closed.

He willed the dizziness away and finished washing before turning off the shower. He raked his hair back and pulled open the curtain.

"James?"

He smiled at Juliet's voice, likely coming from her bedroom down the hall. "Yeah." He called and then grabbed a towel from the towel rack and dried his hair then down his body, careful at the wound then down and around his hips.

She knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Blondie just fine. Was sick a bein' filthy."

"What? Oh God, don't tell me you showered!"

He tugged his clean boxers up then opened the door. "Yeah, why?"

Juliet stood outside the bathroom, eyes wide, expression worried. "James, you're not supposed to get the wound wet for forty eight hours. It could get infected." She glanced quickly around the bathroom. "Did you take off the bandage?"

"Yeah." He frowned.

She raked a hand through her hair. "So you did this to piss me off too! Do I look sexy to you now?"

His frown deepened. "No, I … well yes, you look sexy. But I didn't do this to piss you off. I didn't know. I felt so stanky, I just wanted to shower. I didn't know, Blondie, I swear it."

She appraised him a long moment and then sighed and nodded, obviously believing him. "It's fine. Just … come on."

It surprised him when she took his hand but he followed her back to her bedroom. He sat on the bed again and waited. He frowned when she left the room.

She returned within the minute with more gauze, tape and a tube of ointment. She sat beside him on the bed on the side closest the wound. She inspected the wound a moment then reached over to her dresser to grab her hair brush. "Here" she handed it to him then pointed to his hair. "Rake that out."

He smiled using his good hand and arm to comb his hair. Juliet reached out with a clean piece of gauze and patted the wound, ensuring all the water soaked from the stitches and the skin. He swallowed hard and licked his lips.

Brow furrowed in concentration, she placed that gauze aside then squeezed some of the ointment onto another clean gauze. She worked carefully and thoroughly, drawing the ointment over the stitches from the center out, covering the entire length. A third clean gauze then covered the wound and she taped it down securely. "Please, don't do that again. It can still get infected even after it's stitched. Wait at least forty eight hours now." When he remained silent she looked up at him. "James, did you hear …" she trailed off, holding his eyes.

Sawyer watched her with a burning intensity and licked his lips. He did not give her the chance to feel nerves, uncertainty or to run. He cupped her cheek with his good hand, twisted and pressed his lips to hers.

She tensed at the kiss and remained still, resisting him.

He leaned closer, lips teasing and coaxing and he held back his moan of triumph when her lips softened against his and pursed slightly.

She pulled back quickly though and licked her lips, standing. "You need to rest."

His eyes focused on her, intense and lust-filled as he leaned back with her coaxing. She reached over to pull the sheets up again. His abdomen contracted and he grabbed her, arm around her waist, his other hand reaching up to her arm and he caught her by surprise.

He dragged her across his body and shifted with her. He grinned from his position, hovering over her as she lay on her back on the bed. He licked his lips, memorizing her shocked expression. "Didn't think I had the strength in me, huh?"

Her expression worried, shocked, confused, her hands gripped his arms tightly at first then released. She touched the bandage. "James, what are you doing? You're going to pull a stitch."

"Yer worth pullin' a stitch." Before she could object again, he kissed her, pressing closer. She resisted a moment, pushing back at his chest but as soon as she pushed, her one hand snuck around his back to pull him closer. Her other hand snaked up to rake through his hair, pulling him more firmly into her.

His body surged when she fully returned his kiss with hunger, desire and emotions she kept so forcefully masked that when she finally released, he felt to drown in them. He never knew her capable of such intensity and he devoured it.

Her hands toyed with the hair on the back of his neck then slid down his back then up again. He growled against her lips, his lips and tongue teasing and toying with her. His hand roamed her side then slipped under her back to pull her more firmly against him. Her leg bent, heel pressed firmly into the bed and her back arched; his hand splayed on her lower back and he felt the scar again.

She tensed and pushed back from him, breaking the kiss. Her eyes dazed with passion for only a moment and he groaned at the sight.

She licked her lips and looked away from him to control herself. She squirmed from him, reaching behind her to touch his hand at her back.

His hand splayed, pressed firmly there and he ducked his head to kiss her ear, slowly, teasing, his tongue tracing patterns on the shell.

Her eyes closed and she shivered, hands tightening on the muscles of his back. Her voice choked with restrained desire, laced with uncertainty. "Your stitches." She breathed.

"Show me," he husked in her ear, fingers outlining the outer pattern of the scar on her back. "I want to see it. And I'm not dropping this."

She shivered, resisting his request and his attentions to her ear continued. Her stomach clenched, desire mounting but she was not ready to cave to that need. Resigned, she sighed and pushed him once more. He relented and lifted up, watching her intensely. She avoided his eyes and turned away from him, lying on her stomach. She turned her head away from him, pillowing her head on crossed arms, staring at the opposite wall.

He paused, waiting to see any reaction. When she did not move, he looked at her back and slowly lifted the bottom of her shirt up to her waist. His head tilted as he looked intensely. Fingers reached out, gently stroking the outline of the scar, tracing the pattern.

She tensed.

He noted her tension, her discomfort. "They did this." He stated more than asked. "The Others."

She nodded slowly.

"Why? Do they do this to everyone?"

She swallowed hard. "No. Just the murderers spared execution." Her voice bitter, laced with rage.

He blinked a few times then leaned closer to her. His words a warm whisper on her back. "I did this."

"No."

"Yes," he reaffirmed. "You helped me." He whispered then ducked his head. His lips pressed to the very top of the scar. As her body tensed, his hand gripped her waist, holding her steady, thumb brushing gently along the skin. His lips pursed again and again as he kissed down the length of the brand, his tongue swirling at each point, claiming, soothing.

The tension oozed from her body and she trembled, lifting up a little to glance back over her shoulder. "James?" Her words breathless. "James, what are you doing?"

He glanced up at her, his hair falling a little into his eyes. His expression sensual, seductive and desired. "Ain't it obvious?"

She licked her lips nervously. "Why?"

He held her eyes as he placed a slow and final kiss to the center of the scar. "I'm claimin' it. Now when you see it, you won't think of what they did … you'll think of what I just did." He grinned at that and licked his lips, eyes intent as he slowly lowered the shirt again. He ducked his head and kissed a slow trail over her shirt up her spine.

She closed her eyes and turned on the bed, lying on her back. She watched him, unsure, her back still tingling from his kisses. "What are we doing?" She finally asked.

"Well," he glanced casually around the room and then back to her. "I do believe we're lying on your bed. It's a nice bed." He grinned at her and rested a hand on her stomach.

She licked her lips, eyes on his mouth a moment before her brow furrowed and she looked away and to the ceiling. "I couldn't bring you to your room. Your bed is unmade and the sheets need washed. When was the last time you washed them?"

He shrugged. "I give up. When?"

She rolled her eyes. "Three weeks maybe? At least?"

"I'm starting to like your bed better."

She remained silent a moment then sat up. Her knees bent as she rubbed her eyes and brow.

He reached out, his fingers sliding along her back again, reaching under to touch the skin though he did not touch the scar. "Juliet."

She swallowed her nerve and turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him. Her confusion evident in her expression, unsure and uncertain of her own desires, her wants.

"How about we don't think anymore? This is all new for me too. I ain't got the best track record with women. I got a long resume … and I was the man all their mamas warned them about."

"Are you still?"

He held her eyes and smiled sadly. "I don't know."

She nodded slowly and watched him. "I wouldn't have believed you if you said 'No'." She sighed. "James, I'm tired of being hurt."

"I'm gettin' kinda tired a hurtin' people. Well some people."

She smirked at that and shook her head. "Some people?"

"Yeah." He smiled and sat up, wincing at his shoulder. His hand abandoned her to reach up to hold the wound.

"Here," she reached to him. "Lay down." She coaxed and he obeyed her guiding hands, lying on his back. She took his hand from the wound. "Does it itch?"

"A little."

"That's good. It means it's healing." She smiled softly at him. "Don't scratch it."

Again, his hand slid around her waist to coax her down beside him. She sighed and settled down beside him, her head pillowed on his good shoulder as her hand reached over to rest over the wound on the opposite side.

"What did you think of? When you were out there alone?"

He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. "How much I hated hippyville." He grinned at that. "And that I just wanted to be anywhere but here. But then thought if I wasn't here, I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"You could go home."

"What's home, Blondie? I ain't got family, no friends. I'm a criminal. I'm a murderer, a con-man, a low life. What is there back in the real world for me?"

She shrugged casually. "What's there for me? My sister thinks I'm dead. If not dead, a missing persons. My career is over because how do I explain where I was and what I was doing all this time. But that doesn't mean I still don't dream of going home."

"Maybe. But here, I got a purpose. I actually got a job. I mean … that's so weird to me. I guess when I was layin' out there I realized somethin' pretty shocking."

"What's that?"

"Crashin' on this damn island is probably the best thing that ever happened to me."

She laughed. "Really? I think it's the worst thing that ever happened to me?"

He frowned at that. "The worst?" His arm around her slackened a little.

She lifted up as the pressure released and she searched his expression. "There may be some redeeming moments. Like now." She smiled a bit sadly and reached up to stroke his cheek. "How is it the best for you?"

"Because here … I actually matter. In the real world, I'm trash. Dispensable. A plague. Here? Here I'm god damn superman." He smirked at her.

"You're not trash," she defended vehemently, eyes focused on him. "Don't say that. You're so far from that description, James."

He shrugged casually. "Eh, maybe. I don't know. Why is it the worst for you?"

"It's the worst because I've been a prisoner for three years." She admitted. "And now, stuck in this time, I'm still a prisoner."

"Am I your new warden?"

She searched his gaze a long moment before shaking her head. "No. You just … break everything inside me until I don't know what I'm feeling. I've never been so disarmed."

"Yeah, well you do the same to me." He whispered and his eyes focused on her mouth. He licked his lips. "In the jungle, I thought about women. Well one woman. And it wasn't Kate."

She swallowed hard and willed the racing of her heart to slow. "It wasn't Kate?"

He shook his head. "No. Kate was the furthest thing from my mind. I thought I was gonna die before I could do this." His abdomen contracted slightly to lift himself up for his lips to capture hers.

Her walls crashed and she leaned into him, pressing close as she kissed him with sweet abandon. "Promise me," she whispered. "This is no game."

He growled. "It ain't a game, Baby, I've wanted this for months."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I can't get you outta my head. And that ain't a bad thing."

She cupped his cheeks. "I swear to God, if you play me … you will think the taser was a love tap."

He grinned at her threat. "If it turns you on. What am I gonna play you for? You got fifty bucks to yer name, sweetheart. And I could sleep with anybody on this island if that's all I wanted. I ain't good at this, but I swear to whatever God yer swearin' to, I'm gonna try."

He hummed in delight when she kissed him and his arms snaked around her back to hold her close. He was used to rocky rides with women and he knew Juliet would be the same. But she was worth it. In the past, he never finished the ride. This time would be different. He had her and he would never let go.

-End-

(( For Real this time ))