Every day she passes by him. She knows he watches. She knows he has something on his mind. And she also knows that there's more behind those unforgiving blue saucers of his. Sometimes she ponders if it's possible that they were once twins in a past life. She always ran, he always tricked. But both were more than that. She needed to remain aloof, shrouded in her own walls of an enigma. He needed to appear cold and distant, a friend to no one but the books in which he loses himself in. Both of them knew themselves perfectly, and yet, at the same time, both knew they were the most messed up, outcast members of the survivors and, inexplicably, could never seem to much of a damn thing about it.
So when she approached him by his favorite tree, where in which he is always enthused between the lines of his current novel, she wasn't afraid to sit down beside him, uncovering herself, hiding nothing. She could open up without worrying about what he'd think- because he knew.
Perhaps what draws her to him so much isn't particularly his charismatic dimpled grin or his picturesque body. It isn't even necessarily his mysterious past nor his witty remarks that never cease to amuse her. It's the way he doesn't hide behind his walls when she sits beside him and leans slightly into his shoulder. He doesn't need to smirk and make a vaguely suggestive comment to let her inside his head. Because she knows what's in there already.
In him, she confides her secrets and inner self. The last thing she remembers before diving half naked into the water earlier that day was his sly chuckle and a lighthearted "you gonna jump or not, sweetcheeks?" As she plunged into the reviving water, she lets go of all inhibitions. She trusts in this generally mendacious man who isn't known particularly for his honesty. The water envelops her body and time seems to stand still as his face stares back at hers under the surface. With one look, they share more between themselves than anyone else on the island ever would. And still, she finds the understanding fades away as quickly as it came as she scramblles out of the water and hurriedly grabs for her clothes, taking off, leaving him floating in the water, unquestionably and unfathomably, defied.
No matter what she does, everything comes back to running away. She knows Sawyer understands that- he runs, but in different ways.
Maybe one day, in some alternate universe, she and Jack would have been together. They may have been happily married, with a nice house, maybe some kids. That's what every girl wants, right?
And yet, she returns to the tree now, to only him now, and as she feels her body pressed gently against his, his golden locks of hair tickling her ear, and the occasional feel of his fuzzy beard against her shoulder, she is able to stop time on this crazy island and in this impenetrable universe, and she knows that, right now, this is all she needs.