He doesn't care about me.

Why am I so painfully aware of that? Why do I care? He doesn't care about anyone else either. Look at him, sitting over there with that damned smirk on his lips and a book seated on his knees. It hurts his eyes to read it, but he's still sitting there, poring away over some dumb novel. Like no one is hurt by him, like no one cares. As if I'm not sitting here, only a couple of yards away, watching.

"Kate, would you mind watching Aaron for a few minutes? I want just a little bit of peace and quiet," Claire is suddenly beside me, with a fussing baby in her arms. I nod softly, easily averting my gaze from Sawyer and smiling. Claire looks tired. The weariness sags at her mouth and trembles in her fingertips. Her eyes are rimmed with red. She's missing Charlie's help, but sadly, she does not seem to be missing him.

Settling Aaron into my arms, I keep my seat on the shifting sand, cooing to the baby absently. I wish Claire cared for Charlie so that at least two people on this island could be happy. Instead, his love for her, and yes, Charlie does love Claire, has driven him mad, and she doesn't care. Still she pushes him away, driving him further and further towards insanity.

Aaron's whining finally ceases, and he closes his tiny eyes, wrapping his fingers around my thumb. I smile at him, even though he cannot see. I hate that this child must grow up here on this spit of sand sprinkled with dense jungle and littered with dangers. With my fingers, I brush his cheek, feeling the smooth skin. It reminds me of a peach, completely smooth and unblemished, a perfect peach.

Suddenly, I feel someone standing above me, that vague feeling of being watched ripples over my skin. Looking up, I see Charlie. His eyes are sad, tinged with a wildness that wasn't there only a few days before. Something inside of him has snapped, and it makes me sad. Can unrequited love slowly render a person unstable? His hands tremble, but I still have sinking suspicions that the shakes are due to his drug problem.

"How is he?" Charlie's voice is very quiet. There is a touch of fear. I know that if Claire hears him, she will come snatch Aaron away, whether she wants peace or not. I smile sadly.

"He's fine, Charlie. Sleepy," I answer. Charlie nods and drifts away from me again, moving towards the shade of the palm trees. I want to comfort him in some way, but there is no solace for him. There is no answer for him in me. Maybe there is no answer for him on this island, or even on this planet. That is a scary thought. What if there is no answer for Charlie? Or for me?

My eyes drift back to Sawyer. He reads on, either oblivious to or avoiding his surroundings. I remember being young and disappearing into books. Perhaps that is why he reads so much. I suppose that is the only time he does not have to face reality. The longer I live, the more I realize that reality is a web of tangled lies, pain, and anguish. No happiness can last. I wish I knew why.

Unable to look at him any longer and still ignore the ache in my heart, I rise awkwardly to my feet. I keep Aaron cradled against my chest as I begin a walk down the gentle slope of the beach. I step out into the water, where it barely pools over my ankles, and stare out to sea. The water laps around my feet, turning the denim of my jeans dark with dampness. Aaron coos softly in his light sleep. I gazed at the sky and sea's meeting point, the distant horizon, and wished I could see a ship. Part of me wants to leave the island. I want electricity and conveniences, but I know that there is nothing out there for me but jail time.

"Kate?" I hear Sayid's voice. Turning, I manage a smile. Here is another person for whom the island has been a blessing and a curse. Without it, Shannon would have never been part of his life, but neither would the pain that followed her death. His dark eyes, heavy-lidded and cheerless, make me want to cry. Life has played cruel tricks on this kind man. Their effects run deep in his and the lines in his face. I read his pain like a story, and like any sad story, it hurts my heart.

"Yeah, Sayid," I reply quietly, almost curious.

"Oh, you're watching Aaron. I didn't realize. You looked lonely," His eyes glance over at Sawyer for an instant. I know what he is thinking. He wonders if I am still hurt from the con, from being played. I want to answer his unspoken question. I want to tell him that inside I'm bleeding with pain, but only because I care about the one who hurt me. I care about him so much. Why? I cannot say, but I do.

"Well, I'm not," I force a smile. He does not believe me. "Really, I'm not."

"Alright, well, enjoy watching Aaron. There is nothing like a baby for finding joy," he tells me wisely, walking away. I am sure that is true most of the time, but not now. Aaron's sleeping face is not happy, just content, and it torments me to know that I cannot find that same peace. Not here on this island, not anywhere.

I long to call out to Sayid's retreating back and ask him if he's dying on this island. I don't mean physically. We're all going to be okay physically. I mean mentally, is he dying? Sometimes it feels like we all are. I guess its just one of those days.

I looked out at the water and thought about nothing and everything all at once. I stood still for a very long time; Aaron slept in my arms. Finally, I turn around and walk back up to the tents. Twilight is wrapping its cool arms around us. Claire is walking towards me. Her blonde hair floats out behind her, and she is smiling.

"Thank you so much, Kate!" Her voice is happy as she sweeps him out my arms. "I needed a nap, and now I bet you need one, right?" Her laughter is such a surprising and beautiful change that I laugh too.

"No, actually, I'm fine. He slept the whole time. A regular little angel," I answer.

"He is, isn't he? Well, thanks again, Kate!" She replies. Holding him carefully, she hugs me in a one-armed gesture. A lump rises in my throat as she walks away. For once, I wish we weren't all so busy doing nothing and that we could sit and talk for awhile. I hate always walking away.

I turn to look at Sawyer, but he is not seated on the sand anymore. His eyesight is bad enough in the light, but in the dark, he could not have read a word of that book anyway. I guess he's moved on to something new.

I have duty in the hatch tonight. It's not a task I mind, but tonight it will be harder than usual. I'm pulling Locke's shift, too. He's going hunting for the guns. I don't know why he waits until nightfall; when the dark is too thick to see the hand in front of your face, let alone hidden weaponry. I don't question John, though. Why bother? He moves to his own drummer.

I move through the brush, beaten down by how many times we have walked the path. I don't even have to think to move through the shrubbery to the hatch and then climb inside. John is getting a pack ready to leave. Jack has been gone all day with Ana Lucia. They are plotting, still building their army. More power to them, I say. If they want to fight, to create more pain and more god-forsaken sadness on this island, then more power to them. But I want no part of it.

"I'll be back in a few hours, Kate. It was good of you to keep the shift by yourself," Locke is as calm as always. "And not to tell Jack. He wouldn't like me going out without telling him."

I nod, almost uninterested. I don't want to talk about Jack.

I did like Jack. I suppose any woman would. He was strong and smart and savvy, like a knight shining armor. He was a doctor, gentle enough to cleanse your wounds and not hurt you, but strong enough that you could sew up a cut on his back without antiseptic. Handsome, heroic, but still humorous. Gosh, even describing him, he seems perfect. My mind says that I should like Jack a lot more than I do. But I don't. That can't be helped, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. I want to like Jack. I should like Jack. He's been nothing if not perfect.

But I'm not perfect.

Sawyer is the imperfect man, the flawed rogue. Yet, when I look in those blue eyes, set deep in his rugged face, I see someone I care about. Why? Who the hell knows. Even as I sit here, staring at the blank computer screen, I can see him in my mind. He's taller than I am, strong and handsome in his own right. There's his smirk now, flitting through my mind, and his voice, deep and throaty.

"Hey Freckles," he says. I shake my head, not turning around. No matter how much I care, I cannot turn to look Sawyer in the eyes. He hurt me too badly. He played me like a piano, twisting my emotions and predicting my actions so that he could control me. I can not forgive that just because I feel something for him. There is no excuse for what he did; no matter how much my heart makes them for him.

"You gonna turn around?" He is right behind me. His voice has the usual light of mischief, constantly playing and flirting, but never willing to be serious without being angry. I turn to face him, feeling my cheeks heat red and my eyes flash. I am angry, despite my heart.

"What, Sawyer? What do you want?" I snap. He holds up his palms as if to pacify me, smirking.

"Easy, tiger,"

"I'm not in the mood for your crap. What do you want?"

He reaches over and grabs the other chair, twisting it around and setting himself on it backwards, legs spread around its back. His eyes are boring into mine, unreadable, and I look away first. I glare at the blank computer screen.

"Why do you love Jack?" The question comes from nowhere, just a random questioning into my emotions. I whirl to face him in shock.

"What?" I retort, surprised. I wish there was anger in my tone, but there is none, just surprise. I am caught off-guard.

"Aw, c'mon, you heard me,"

"I don't love Jack,"

"Sure you do. I see it in your eyes when you look at Doc,"

I know how to answer this because the instant he says it, my heart hurts. "You don't see anything in my eyes, Sawyer."

"Maybe I don't. But if I did, what would I see?"

"Someone that doesn't love Jack," I toss back easily, rising to my feet. I walk away, but his hand catches my wrist. "Let go of me!"

"No, not until you tell me the truth," I turn around. Suddenly we're too close, but he's not moving. He wants an answer.

"I told you the truth. I don't love Jack. Hell, I don't know if I love anyone," I reply slowly, eyes still blazing. There is a sudden softness to his eyes, almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless.

"Not anyone?" He answers, reaching up to press his palm softly to my cheek. The skin is calloused and hard from work. Without thinking, I reach up and lay mine on top of his. He smiles. Again, I see the softness. It is clearer this time, as if he wants me to be able to see it.

"Not anyone," I answer. I try to sound solid, but there is a quake in my voice. He chuckles softly.

"Liar," he replies. His hands slides down and drops away; mine falls away too. I close my eyes. We are closer than before. His breath is brushing my face, hot and sweet. I wonder what he ate. It smells like coconut. Sayid must have been husking them again.

"Maybe," I reply, opening my brown eyes.

"Definitely," he corrects me, smiling. "But don't worry. I've lied too, Kate, and I'm sorry. Had to do it, dunno why, but I did."

"You're sorry?" The question sounds silly, but I need to know.

He nods. His face his so close to mine that our noses are touching gently. "And guess what, Freckles?" I don't reply. We're too close for me to answer. Our torsos are touching slightly and his hands are hovering near my waist, not touching me, but lying in wait.

"I love you, too," he tells me and presses his lips to mine. His hands catch my waist, pulling me against him, and my hands glide up around his neck. Fire leaps up from inside of me and pours over my entire body, lighting me up as quickly as if I had been doused with gasoline. I bury my hands in his hair as we kiss. I was alive, and as everything fell away, I no longer cared about where we were. I could stay on the damn island forever.

And, in this breathless moment, I have never been so happy to be wrong.

He does care about me. He loves me.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing! (As if you didn't know that!)

Author's Note: No, there will not be another chapter to this. It is a one-shot, meaning this is it. If you like it though, please drop me a review. I am always open to new ideas, so if you have those, share them. I am open to constructive criticism. If you have it, offer it. And if you are wondering if you have seen this name before, you may have. I hope to write more very soon! Thanks for your support!