Green eyes followed the hulking figure longingly as it traveled across the mouth of the cave for a towel. In the flickering twilight, it was hard to distinguish his features. A few people mulled around the outside of the cave, but no one could be found within the shaded, rocky interior. Kate was supposed to have lit the fire, but it had conveniently slipped her mind as she watched the man travel back to the burbling little waterfall at the cave's left side. His sloping shoulders moved back and forth with his steps, his muscles rippling under his tanned skin. She could just make out his sharp, square jaw-line, or maybe she was imagining it. She knew his face well.
An old song came to mind, "got to be good looking, cause he's so hard to see". The thought of the song teased her lips, urging her to hum, to reveal her presence to him. She realized, restraining herself, how angry he would be to find her outstretched on the dirt floor, chin cupped in her hands. Admiring him. Instead she freed one hand from her chin, bit her lip to keep from uttering a sound, and began twirling one, long curl of dark hair around a slender finger. Straining her eyes, she looked after the man, who was now-- wait... what? Unzipping his jeans? Kate bit her lip harder, almost wanting to spring up and run away, her pride hurt at what she seemed to be doing.
She swallowed a giggle as it fought its way up her throat. She was peeping. She felt like a promiscuous teen, watching the pretty boy in the shower across the apartment complex. She closed her eyes for a minute, smiling. It's not like I can see anything, she mused, turning her eyes up again.
Bending over, he filled several bottles with the clear water that fell from the slight overhang. Kate wondered bemusedly if anyone else was watching him. He really was quite indecent. Then again, she thought, he probably doesn't care. She realized with a mingling of pride and shame that he would care if he knew she was following him with her eyes. Methodically, he poured the bottles of water over himself, his legs, his hair, careful not to allow any to fall back into the little pool. Snatching one of the towels recovered from the luggage, he began drying himself off, shaking his hair out. He was still in the dark when he began to pull his boxers and jeans back over his legs. Looking around, he grinned, dimples breaking the rough shadows of his cheeks, "Hey, Freckles."
Her eyes widened, he wasn't even looking in her direction. She pursed her lips into a thin, colorless line, continuing to stare at him. He, in turn, continued to look away.
"Yeah, I saw you there, been watchin' me," he said, still grinning, "been peepin'."
Kate stood up, shrugging her shoulders, and brushing herself off, "No, I was sleeping," she said, quite blankly, "why would I watch you?" When had he noticed? How long ago?
He walked steadily towards her, laughing as he grabbed a black button-up shirt from its place, strewn messily across a large rock, "You're a holler."
"That so?" Kate asked, hands akimbo, eyebrows raised, wishing now that she had run away.
"Yeah, Freckles, that's so," he repeated her with a mocking smile, pulling his left arm through one of the shirt's sleeves.
"Yeah, well, I've got to go find Jack --" She said, pretending to lose interest in the conversation, though, in truth, she was aching inside at the sudden rush of his long-absent attention. She paused, considering his face. She wanted desperately to run her palms across his rough cheeks, but she knew how he would respond if she crossed the newly drawn platonic boundary. That won't go over well. She didn't want to be hated by him. Kate found it everything but possible to understand him, maybe she always would.
He took advantage of her long, staring silence by saying derisively, "Ohhh. That's right, forget about me. You go find your doctor," he finished, emphasizing the last two words in a purposely hurtful manner.
Kate felt as though she'd been stabbed. She got that feeling from him a lot, sometimes, even, she wondered if he just liked to pain her. Little sadistic, right? But she didn't know enough, though he was indeed a bastard. A pig. She'd always known it, but, still, she was drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame long burnt out.
He shook his head, scowling and turning away, letting a small sound of disappointment escape his mouth. Why is he teasing me? He hated her, he had professed his hate to her, even, and, now... now he was gone. She had been so lost in her own head she hadn't even noticed him turning to leave the caves. Why bother following him?
A long time ago, she had admitted she was in love with him, unsure now that it had eve been true. Admitted it to herself, but no one else. She thought he'd gotten the message after everything that had happened between them, but still he had told her he hated her. Told her she was better off without him. He had said lots of things. Did he mean any of it? Probably, she thought, slumping against one of the seats in the dark cavern, closing her eyes and running a hand through her hair.
Jack... my doctor, she wondered, but do I really even know him? She was torn. She could not move past Sawyer, she could not let the man who did not care for her any longer out of her life. What is Jack, anyway? She asked herself, feeling tired. A band-aid, she thought, a little band-aid for a much bigger wound. She knew he must love her. He followed her around, he was tender, unnecessarily so. He's like a little love-sick dog, she realized, almost disgusted. Sometimes, Kate could appreciate how much he cared, but, often, she just felt like a silly little girl again. The same silly little girl who'd had dreams of being beautiful, cared for, intelligent. Perfect. Kate. Everyone's favorite.
Who am I kidding? Kate sagged, exhaling. This must be love. It always had been, ever since she saw him. He would never love her back, not now, and she was trapped in a helpless cocoon by that knowledge. But was it love? Or was it just that angry, toying game they played with each other? The thought returned to her mind for the umpteenth time that evening. Certainly, sometimes, it was about beating him, beating him at life. Getting more points in their obscure little competition. However often it was just a game for Kate, it was always that way for Sawyer.
Clutching her knees in her arms, she looked down. Her cheeks felt wet suddenly, had she been crying? Raising a hand to her face, she realized with quiet chagrin that she had. I'm so weak, she almost said aloud, clutching her legs tightly.
Two months ago Sawyer had come back to her, back from his trip. She'd never said goodbye. Figures that he got sick. She almost felt it was her doing, that he should fall so ill, and with a bullet wound, of all things. Kate felt almost that it was because he had gone without her blessings, without one last lingering kiss, that he had come so close to death. He had bounced back quickly, he always did. He always would. It was a law of life for him, things weren't as he wanted. Sawyer wanted to die, she didn't know why, and he'd probably never talk about it, she realized with useless exasperation. It had something to do with the letter, she knew. Everything, it seemed, that he did for other people, was done with the ulterior purpose of dying or mortally wounding himself. She had pointed it out to him once, only to be rewarded a glare and told to go to hell.
It was a week since he had recovered from the wound, and he was up and about, pretending nothing had happened. Upon going down to the Hatch to see him, she had almost laughed at him. How typical. How typical of him to be pretending he was fine.
"Damn doctor's makin' me stay down here for two more weeks," he had mumbled gruffly upon seeing her, the slightest twinkle of joy showing in his eyes.
Upon seeing him this first time since she had nursed him back to health, she could only wonder if he knew. How she'd held him, how she'd kissed him, how she'd cared. He seemed to feel hated, all the time, and she didn't know how she could change that. He would never know the things she did for him. She sighed, frustrated, when she was sure by the distracted glances he was casting around the artificially lit room that he didn't know. Or maybe he did? She thought suddenly as he looked to her again, leaning against the bunk bed's side post, "so whatcha doin' down here Freckles?"
"Just coming to check on you," she said, matter-of-factly, also leaning against a wall, arms crossed to mimic his devil-may-care stance.
"Well, I'm just fine," he said, straightening himself up and shifting to lean in her direction, "any other particular reason you're down here, darlin'?" He asked in a poorly disguised tone of hopefulness.
"No... uh..." she stammered, biting her lip, stifling laughter. Taking on a greasily sarcastic tone she grinned, "other than because I'm madly in love with you and I just can't resist being around you."
"I knew it," he smiled, biting back, "you're so cute when you tease me."
She felt herself blushing from the tip of her chin to the roots of her rough, curly hair, she looked down, as to hide her bright red features.
"Aw, what, ya' blushin' now? I mean, I knew you liked me, but..." his voice trailed off, a cocky smirk appearing on his face.
She laughed mockingly. He was getting points in their game now. How was she to score them back? Were there any tenser ways to torture him? She caught herself admiring him again as she pondered her dilemma.
"Oh, what Freckles, you want a kiss? Again? I mean, I know how enamored of me you are and all, but you're quite demanding, girl." His posture became more and more confident with each word.
Kate giggled again, somewhat uncomfortably. Not only because of the electrical current flowing between them, but because, as usual, he had somehow guessed her precise thoughts. She wasn't going to touch him now, how obvious would that be? Nope, she'd just have to up and leave. Damn.
He turned away, shrugging, laughing faintly as he walked further from her, toward the bunk again. Kate remained where she was, thinking, arms still crossed, brow furrowed. Suddenly he whipped around and took her arm, drawing her toward him. Her heart beat feverishly in her chest, what the hell was he doing! He craned his neck slightly and bent to kiss her, but she realized his plans first and drew back, "What the hell is wrong with you?" She almost yelled, flattered, but mostly astonished, a little offended. She had wanted it, always, but on her terms. And for him to do that when she was... when she was ready to leave... she stared, flabbergasted.
He looked offended too, but puzzled most of all. He had known, of course, that she'd wanted him. What Sawyer didn't know was Kate's fear of a relationship. He didn't know about anything that had anything to do with her, in all honesty. Sawyer was left to stare after her, ashamed with himself, and disappointed with her, as she stormed out of the hatch.
Kate, in keeping with her reaction to Sawyer's approach, had spent the afternoon sulking. Not because he had tried to kiss her, no, she didn't care about that. He had known her mind. She was so used to having her constant come-ons ignored. The sudden shock of his attention, as usual, had her astounded and scared. And of course, the best way to deter fear is to be angry, to pretend you couldn't give less of a damn.
That had started it, Kate realized, rousing herself from the memory. That was the start of their little whirlwind these past two months. That was why he hated her, and why her professed love for him had faded considerably. Fruitlessly, she tried to turn her thoughts away from the day. Let bygones be bygones.
"Kate," rang a clear voice, echoing throughout the cave, "are you alright?"
There's my doctor, she thought, discontentedly remembering Sawyer's last words to her. It must have been hours, the new moon was rising steadily, flooding the cave with its white light. The sun had gone down completely, and all that was left was the great white body, and the twinkle of the stars.
"Kate?" Jack repeated, edging nearer, "hey... you're crying." He noted with concern as he lifted her chin from her knees, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Kate said with a faint trace of a pout, "Just thinking."
Jack grimaced, "Don't spend too much time on that," he quieted, looking as though he was ready to leave, "Hey, we've caught a new boar, if you..."
"I'm not hungry," Kate said moodily, turning away from him.
"You've gotta eat Kate," he insisted, reaching out to help her up.
"I'm fine," she said, eyes downcast.
"I can't force you," Jack said quickly, hoping to lure her out of the caves by giving up. He stood again, "but we're gonna be eating just outside, so if you want to come, we're right there."
As he turned to leave, he gestured to the fire Kate had neglected to light, "You should light that, it's getting dark. And cold."
Kate looked absently through the darkness at the pile of charred sticks, "I think I did... a while ago," she answered, straining her memory, knowing she had not, "but it went out."
