Disclaimer: Lost is owned by ABC Television and was created by Jeffrey Lieber, J. J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof, produced by Bad Robot Productions. I don't own it but I love it!

"A wise man said the fact that everyone lies is a universal truth, the only variable is about what." – Cameron Jace

Another morning, another fruit run for me. I carried a trunk of bananas again down the beach by the thick "trunk" that felt like a knotty rope about 2 inches thick.

After over a week on this island, I have developed a routine. I try to mix it up. Every day and the challenges it brings is unique, but mornings can be disorienting with a sense of déjà vu if I didn't mix up the order of what I pick and when. It's always the same: bananas, guava or mangos. The latter two are dependent on what's ripe and how far deep I have to go into the jungle to get them.

A few people, namely Jack and Sayid, would disapprove strongly if they knew how far I ventured. I rise early and say nothing. I have respect for the jungle and dangers it hides but also can climb and run fast.

The only person that knows how far I venture is Locke. He rises early to hunt or hike and has stopped by to say hello more than once. I can see approval in his eyes. He kind enough but I see him looking at me as if I am a puzzle. Maybe I am. I'm the only female out foraging. Maybe it's odd for him to see. He's from my Dad's generation.

For some strange reason, he seems to revel in being here. Other people find him odd but overlook it since he can hunt and brings in boar. It makes him a big hero in camp, something he disregards. I bring in fruit every day to keep people alive. Jin fishes.

I don't think people realize how the fruit gets there. They know Jin brings in the fish. I don't do it for thanks. I do it because it's the right thing to do. Maybe it's to build good karma after things I've done, but there is a part of me that finds satisfaction in doing with no expectation of thanks, a form of altruism.

Locke and I don't talk long if he crosses paths with me. He is in camp sometimes. The rest of the time he isn't just hunting boar, he explores the island with enthusiasm and no fear. John has a gleam in his eye and certain smile that tells me he has a secret. Hopefully it's benign.

If I was a betting person and a rescue boat showed up, I think Locke wouldn't set a foot on it. He'd disappear easily into the jungle. That's his business, though.

I usually toss him fruit for his pack. He periodically checks my knife for nicks or dullness at camp to ensure I have a sharp edge. That's normally the extent of our interaction outside of observing each other.

This morning was spent alone. I was nearing camp and walking along the shoreline to stay out of the jungle. The beach was beautiful and virgin. No footsteps marred it except my own until I came across a pile of clothes. They were neatly folded with a pack of cigarettes and a book on top called "Watership Down." I knelt down to examine it. It looked a little waterlogged, but the cigarettes told me who was reading it.

"Helluva book!" Sawyer shouted.

I braced myself before turning. I knew from the pile of abandoned clothes he was in his birthday suit. He waded towards me smiling with no shame or intention of covering himself up. I think he wanted to embarrass me. It's not like I haven't seen one before so I stood my ground, not willing to play the game.

"It's about bunnies." He added with a dimpled grin. He emerged from the water and kept walking towards me. I maintained eye contact and didn't break composure. Sawyer was tan with a muscular build but a little too cocky. It was part of the act he puts on. He stood near me to talk with no attempt to dress himself. I looked at him and he looked back, almost daring me to check him out.

I didn't need to. "Water's cold, huh?"

Sawyer grinned at me. "You bet! How 'bout you come a little closer and warm me up?"

I felt disgust but for some reason I don't hate him. There's something familiar underneath his veneer and it irks me.

I wasn't fazed. "Does this ever actually work?"

I figured this was part of his game to get women in bed. I don't connect with fake. What Tommy and I had as teens was real.

My feelings were genuine for Kevin Callis, but my identity and lack of background wasn't. I regret what happened between us and that I couldn't just be myself, but who would want me for keeps?

Jason was another story. I was near rock bottom and a lot of people do stupid things when they stop caring about themselves, things they might regret for life. I wish I could erase that entire experience.

Even though my eyes remain fixed, his didn't. Sawyer gave me a once-over. "Depends on what you mean by 'this'."

"This." I said. "This macho . . ."

Sawyer's grin widened. "Macho? I ain't heard that one in a while. It makes me wanna grow a mustache."

I shook my head. Why even bother asking him? There was no cracking through the fake macho crap. I think all of the survivors here have layers to them, at least the ones I am getting to know. The difference between them and Sawyer is they don't go out of their way to push my buttons and trigger feelings down deep inside I try to bury, the feelings of shame and being dirty.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Sawyer." I cut him with a sharp look and walked away, terminating the conversation.

The grapevine at the beach camp was abuzz later. I had been working with a tarp for my shelter and had found a few clothing items to supplement my meager wardrobe.

I found the more recent the news, the more accurate it was. If it was hours later, it tended to be laced with speculations. We come from a media-rich culture full of reality shows. What's more interesting to a bunch of castaways than a drama in our midst? This "news" was more recent.

Charlie and Hurley updated me. I consider Hurley the more reliable source of information.

First, Sayid was being treated by Jack for a head wound. Someone had attacked him and destroyed the transceiver when we tried to triangulate the signal yesterday. I hadn't heard from him and figured he camped out on the mountain. I was worried and wanted to check on him but that wasn't the only news.

Shannon has terrible asthma and was at the caves. She had been hiding her condition from everyone, a potentially deadly secret.

Boone was in Sawyer's stash looking for her inhalers and got caught. Sawyer beat him up. Jack was now going after Sawyer. I frowned. I looked over at and saw Jack standing over Sawyer yelling.

I didn't want to see them brawl, especially after Jack's "Live together or die alone" speech he gave the other night as he donned the mantle of leadership. If Sawyer had the inhalers, I don't understand why he wouldn't just give them over. There had to be more than hoarding involved.

Sawyer likes to play games. He could be baiting Jack into losing control and hitting him to knock him down a few pegs.

Sawyer was jealous of Jack.

He just admitted it during our conversation right before he let it slip about Jack being in a cave-in. "Hell, give me a couple of Band-Aids and a bottle of peroxide and I could rule this island." That sentence was a giveaway.

Sawyer also had a lot of questions about why I was attracted to Jack, assuming it had something to do with Jack's profession. He was an ass for withholding information from me that Jack was injured and possibly dead.

I walked over hoping to deescalate whatever the hell was going on. I could hear Jack yelling at Sawyer to get up and saw him pacing angrily. Words were being exchanged. I arrived when Sawyer was stood up and both men were ready to lunge at each other. Jack took a step towards him and stopped when he saw me.

"What's going on?" I asked. I walked up to them both and crossed my arms.

Sawyer turned and seemed to light up like a Christmas tree when he saw me. "We were just exchangin' recipes."

Jack looked furious. He didn't swing at Sawyer, only glared at him. Sawyer looked back at him with that grin, the one that fake on he puts on when he gets his way. "Sorry we couldn't work things out, Doc."

Jack stalked off. I followed Jack, who was still enraged, brushing past Sawyer.

We walked along the surf, far from Sawyer's tent. I faced the ocean watching Jack pace back and forth in close proximity to me. It reminded me of his rage days ago towards me days ago when the marshal was dying, but this was worse. "I'm going to kill him." Jack said. His body was tense and muscles in his arms bulged as he opened and closed his fists.

"That won't get us the medicine." I said. I had my arms crossed, thinking. Sure, Sawyer's a jerk but life-saving medicine? That would be too low, even for him.

"Maybe not but it would feel good." Jack honestly answered. I could tell he was ready to jump Sawyer, not just for the medicine and Boone. Maybe there was a backlog of offenses. In any case, as camp leader, it was wrong. It showed lack of personal control, even if Sawyer did get under his skin constantly.

"Okay. So, what's stopping you?" I asked, playing devil's advocate.

Jack stopped and looked at me in surprise. I looked back, dead serious. He was sweating with that marshal key hanging out of his t-shirt with a tuft of chest hair less than two feet away. His light brown eyes searched my face and looked down as the wheels turned. The infernal pacing slowed, then stalled as soon as his brain took over. "We're not savages, Kate."

I nodded. "Let me talk to Sawyer."

Jack gave me another surprised look followed by a frowned. "What?"

"I can reason with him." I said.

Jack shook his head. "This guy doesn't know reason."

"Maybe not. But my plan is still better than yours." I raised a brow at him.

Jack looked at me. He smiled at me and ran his hand through his hair. "What makes you think he'll listen, Kate?"

"He says we have a connection." My words were skeptical and I rolled my eyes as I said it.

Jack frowned. He bristled unconsciously. Jack's voice raised a few notches, betraying feeling as his gaze penetrated mine. "Do you?"

"Please." I almost spat out the word. I was offended. My only tangible connection was with Jack.

I had a feeling Sawyer had a very checkered past based on his current behavior. If that was the connection Sawyer felt, I'd rather bond with a tree than that the side of myself.

I'm trying to move beyond that. I wanted to start over or "have a fresh start" but was still figuring out how to go about it. I don't have a guide map or teacher. But I did know that hanging out with someone with atrocious behavior was only going to drag me down.

Jack narrowed his eyes. He didn't like it but nodded, agreeing with my plan.

I heard the axe swinging and the grunts from his efforts before I saw him. I went to the area where wood was chopped for signal and camp fires. Sawyer splitting wood and tossing cut pieces into a pile. His back was turned to me. He had just grabbed another piece of driftwood.

"So, what do you want?" I asked. I leaned against a tree.

Sawyer turned to see me but kept chopping. "'Scuse me?"

"What do you want, Sawyer?" I asked again.

He talked and chopped. I could imagine the grin on his face. "Freckles, I got so many answers to that question I wouldn't even know where to start."

I was more specific this time. "What do you want for the inhalers?"

He paused for a moment. "Huh. Good question. Hang on a tick. What do I want?" He took another swing and split a piece of wood before turning around to me. "A kiss ought to do it."

"What?" My mouth popped open slightly. Extortion for medicine that didn't belong to him?

"A kiss. From you. Right now." He stared at me waiting.

I just looked back, reading him, my lips closed. He couldn't be serious, but his eyes said he was.

I was angry. "I don't buy it."

"Buy what?" He asked, still staring.

"The act. You try too hard, Sawyer. I ask you to help a sick woman and you want me to kiss you? No one can be that disgusting." I frowned.

He was starting to look pissed.

I went on, changing my tone. "I've seen you, you know."

"Seen me what?" He asked curtly.

"With that piece of paper. The one you keep in your wallet. I've seen your face when you read it and the way you fold it up so carefully. It means something to you. So, play your games all you want, but I know there's a human being in there somewhere." I paused to look at and appeal to any humanity buried inside of him. "Give me the medication, Sawyer. Please."

Sawyer's body language wasn't one of a man touched or responsive. Instead, I must have touched a deep nerve. He walked up to me, face to face and started down into my eyes aggressively. "You think you understand me?"

"Yeah. I think I . . ."

"Shut up." He snapped, startling me.

Sawyer's voice was full of vitriol. He wasn't playful now. His cold, blue eyes drilled into mine.

"Wanna know what kind of human being I am?" He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out the envelope. "Read it! Out loud!"

I backed up a few steps from him, my heart starting to race. He grabbed my wrist hard and held it tight, stopping my effort to put space between us. He stuffed the letter in my other hand but didn't step back. I felt like I had no choice, his anger rolling off of him in waves.

I took a breath, determined not to show fear or let anxiety take over. I unfolded the letter and read out loud. "Dear Mr. Sawyer. You don't know who I am. But I know who you are. And I know what you done. You slept with my mother." I paused, my lips pressed together. A child wrote this. "And then you stole my dad's money all away. So he got angry and he killed my mother. And then he killed himself, too." I stopped, feelings swirling.

Sawyer leaned in closer staring down. "Don't stop now. You're gettin' to the good part." He was hostile.

I looked at him and tried to process what I just read. I didn't want to read it anymore but continued anyhow. "All I know is your name. But one of these days I am gonna find you and I am going to give you this letter so you'll remember what you done to me." I paused and took a breath. "You killed my parents, Mr. Sawyer."

I looked down. I felt his glare but refused to look up. I closed my eyes instead, face tilted down. It felt like an eternity went by but it was less than a minute. He snatched the letter and leaned in close to my face. I could feel his breath on my forehead as he half-whispered, half-growled. "Now how 'bout that kiss."

I was stunned at the contents and kept my eyes shut, willing him away. Repulsed would be a mild way to describe how I felt if that's what he did.

"I didn't think so." Sawyer stalked off.

I felt sick to my stomach. I finally looked up after he walked away.

I was at the beach later.

I saw Sayid and Jack as they dragged an unconscious Sawyer through camp towards the jungle between them. He had been hit in the head by one of them. I knew this was bad, really bad.

People were already gaping and watching, but nobody intervened. Of all people, I expected better from Jack and Sayid. I didn't know they were capable of resorting to what I suspected was next. I ran up to them.

"What are you doing?" I demanded

"We're solving a problem. Do not concern yourself, Kate." In other words, Sayid was telling me to butt out. He confirmed my suspicion.

"You're going to torture him?" I shook my head, following him. They can't do this.

Jack's eyes flashed at my question. What about Jack saying "we're not savages"? He looked grim and committed. They reached the tree line and I grabbed Jack's arm.

"Jack . . . if you do this . . . you're no better than he is!" I was angry and upset.

He was unmoved. "This was his choice, Kate. Not mine." I scowled. He gently pulled his arm out of my grasp and disappeared in the jungle.

Sawyer didn't choose that. He's just being an asshole. They were choosing to be "savages," Sayid and Jack . . . of all people.

I covered my face for a moment, breathing hard. I didn't know either were capable of this, especially Jack. Isn't that a part of his Hippocratic oath as a doctor, "First, do no harm"?

I paced outside the tree line. I couldn't go in and watch. That wouldn't stop them. They were beyond reasoning, all three of them. A myriad of emotions was jumbled inside of me and none of them felt good.

People on the beach heard Sawyer's screaming coming from the jungle. The responses ranged from "Oh my God!" to "It's about time someone did something about him!" And, as usual, nobody else intervened or cared.

I cared but wasn't able to stop them by myself.

The screams continued, making me feel nauseated. I kept vigil, waiting. I wanted them to look me in the eyes afterwards.

Sayid strode out eventually. He asked me to come back with him, that Sawyer will only tell me where the inhalers were. He met my gaze only briefly. I frowned, following him. Sayid, my friend, and Jack, our leader and the one man I felt something for, had set a dangerous precedent.

I get it that Sawyer's a jerk but it still didn't make sense why he would hold out. Sawyer obviously hated himself, but to the point of torture? What was he trying to accomplish?

I saw Jack's back and then beyond him, Sawyer was kneeling, tied to a tree with his hands behind his back and his head hanging. The left side of his face was coated with blood where he had been knocked out earlier. Jack turned to see us.

As soon as I saw Sawyer, I felt bad for him. No matter what I thought about him, he didn't deserve this. Banish him for a while or something, but this? This was not just about the inhalers.

Sayid spoke coolly to him. "Okay. She's here. Now tell us."

"Uh uh. No. I want to talk to her alone." Sawyer tipped his head up to see me.

Jack uncrossed his arms and was pissed. He and Sayid were already moving back towards Sawyer.

"You are through making requests?" Sayid asked in the same cold tone.

"STOP!" I couldn't take any more of this. "I'll be okay. Just go. Let's get this over with." At the sound of my voice, both men turned towards me.

"You heard the lady. Scram." Sawyer added.

Jack looked like he wanted to rip Sawyer's head off. He looked over at me. "Jack." I said. "I got it."

Jack turned to Sawyer, who had a grin on his face after God knows what happened to him.

He turned to me. "We'll be close." He and Sayid begrudgingly walked off into the jungle. I shook my head. What the hell did they think Sawyer was going to do to me, tied up and bleeding.

I approached him, concerned. "What did they do to you?"

Sawyer answered with twisted humor. "Nothin'. Just a manicure."

I shook my head at his response. "So, I'm here. Where is it?"

Sawyer lifted his head, tossing his long hair out of his face to look up. "Happy to tell you, soon as I get that kiss."

I couldn't believe this guy. "What? Are you serious?" After all of that, here we are again full circle.

"Baby, I'm tied to tree in the Jungle of Mystery and I just got tortured by a damn spinal surgeon and a genuine I-raqi. 'Course I'm serious." And he was.

I just looked at him, unsure what to think.

"You're not seeing the big picture here, Freckles. You really gonna let that woman suffocate 'cause you can't bring yourself to give me a little kiss? Hell. It's only first base. Lucky for you I ain't greedy. I'm making it real simple here. You wanna be a hero or not?"

I considered his words, biting my bottom lip. I didn't want to kiss him but I also didn't want the torture to continue.

In the past, I did things I didn't want to, sometimes forced, sometimes not. This was for a better cause, the inhalers, to stop the madness . . . I made my decision. "Okay."

"Okay." He said softly back.

I approached him slowly, then squatted down when I reached him and got close. I looked him in the eyes first, begging him no more games. I felt sorry for him. His were open and clear with no hint of the things that I found repulsive. I knew I wasn't going to get away with a peck and closed my eyes to get it over with.

We kissed. At first it was just a means to an end, but I felt something emanating from him that prolonged it slightly. Was it lust or desire? I don't know but after a few seconds I broke it off and looked down.

I was disappointed. I wanted my only kisses to be from one man and he was standing several yards away from where I was. I backed up and kneeled near Sawyer.

Sawyer spoke in a soft voice, softer than the kiss he gave me. All of his swagger was gone. "I don't have it."

"What?" After the torture? The kiss? I had even heard Jack had punched him in the face a few times at the caves earlier to get the answer.

"The medicine. I don't have it." He said, looking in my eyes. "Never did."

I was reeling from his answer. "Your book. . .they said you got it out of their suitcase."

Sawyer answered in the same tone, almost as if the kiss was a sedative. "Went in the drink with the rest of the damn luggage from the tail. Book washed up on shore. Had to dry it out, but it's still a damn good read. You'd like . . ."

I gave him a hard left hook in the jaw. His face flew to the opposite side. I stalked away fuming.

I passed Jack and Sayid, who were waiting along the path to the beach for me.

"He doesn't have it."

"What?" Jack's brows knit together in disbelief.

Sayid was livid. "He's lying! Can't you see that?! He's been lying from the beginning! He doesn't want us to get off this island! That's why he attacked me!"

"No. He's not. Not about the inhalers." I said. I knew Sawyer was telling the truth. I didn't know about transceiver. No wonder things went too far.

"Hold on a minute." I could see Jack was in a more rational frame of mind.

"He destroyed the transceiver!" Sayid was convinced. How he came to that conclusion, I had no idea. Whoever did it also knocked Sayid out.

"You don't know that. Sayid!" Jack tried to reason with him.

Sayid didn't listen. He unsheathed a large, wicked blade he must have got from Locke and ran back into the jungle towards Sawyer. I followed him and Jack was on my heels, then passed me.

We arrived in time to see Sawyer rise up, having untied his bonds and jump on Sayid, who was brandishing the knife. He blocked it with his arm. Sayid twisted and hit Sawyer in the kidney. Sawyer lunged for Sayid's knife hand and grabbed his wrist and they both grappled.

Jack yelled at them. "HEY!"

They continued to roll on the ground. Jack and I couldn't pull them apart between the wrestling, blows, and large knife. This was going to end in blood. It was the same reason why I took point tackling Sawyer in our attempt find water the other day in his stash. He and Sayid have clashed since day one, all because of Sawyer's prejudice and antagonizing him.

Sure enough, Sawyer let out an agonizing scream of pain. Sayid sat on his torso and froze, looking down. His white shirt was stained with blood.

Jack switched gears from former torture participant to doctor in a heartbeat. He pushed Sayid aside. Only the knife hilt was visible. It was lodged deep in Sawyer's bicep, pinning it to the ground as blood gushed out.

Sayid tried to explain. He seemed shaken about what just happened. "He . . . he got loose . . . attacked me."

Jack looked up at him. "You hit an artery."

I came up quickly next to Sawyer, kneeling "Oh my God!" Sawyer was obviously in pain but was pale and in shock.

Jack grabbed the hilt and pulled the knife out, tossing it aside. I grimaced and covered my mouth for a second. Sawyer cried out in pain as Jack stuck his hand in the wound. I think he was looking for the artery but he didn't have clamps and the other things doctors need.

I took Sawyer's other arm and pinned him down so he wouldn't move, not looking at Jack's ministrations. Sawyer was crying out in pain, wanting Jack off of him.

"Stay still, dammit!" Jack snapped at him.

Sawyer tried to grab onto something but came up with only a fist full of dirt.

"Jack. Can you stop it?" I felt sick to my stomach at what happened, the blood drained from my face. I looked at him, pleading.

He looked into my eyes. I saw doubt in his about the outcome. He gave orders to Sayid to run to the cave and get his leather backpack and run. Sayid took off in a sprint.

Sawyer was in pain and gritting his teeth while we waited. Jack's hand was covered in blood as he pinched off the artery with his fingers. Sawyer glared at him but looked woozy. I think he resented Jack, not only for what happened earlier, but that Jack was going to fix him.

He gritted his teeth and looked at Jack. "Let go. Just . . . leave it." He hissed in pain. "I know you want to."

Jack tried to ignore him. "Shut up. Stop moving."

Sawyer was pale. He sounded like he was drunk. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you? Yeah, I'll bet you have. You get to be a hero again 'cause that's what you do. You fix everything up all nice."

He looked over at me. "Tell him to let go, Freckles. We already made out. What've I got left to live for?" I didn't change expressions while looking at Sawyer, still making digs at Jack in this state. I felt Jack's questioning gaze fall on my face but felt no obligation to respond or explain. It was only a means to an end.

Sawyer went on, turning back to Jack. "Hey, Jack? You should know something. Right now, if the tables were turned?" He blinked, struggling to stay conscious. "I'd watch you die." He smiled slightly but it faded as his eyes rolled back and finally closed.

Sayid arrived back by then with the pack. He helped pull out supplies and hand them to Jack. I assisted as instructed to help Jack while he repaired the artery by stitching it then cleansing and stitching the overall wound on both sides before bandaging it.

Jack and Sayid carried him back to his tent where they had knocked him out and dragged him from earlier. This time, though, he was carefully placed on his bed.

Not much was said. Sayid disappeared after that. Jack and I didn't try to talk about what happened.

I still was trying to wrap my head around how it went this far with the two men I trusted the most here on hell island.

It was a bad precedent.

I was a fugitive. What behavior would be condoned against me if the camp knew about that? Would they build a cage and stick me in it?

What about other offenses by people in our group? There were no firm rules or boundaries established yet within our small "society."

That scared me more than the monster in the jungle.

I stationed myself in Sawyer's tent, waiting for him to wake up. It was late afternoon and I was holding his letter. I had questions and a little more clarity after examining it more closely.

Sawyer's eyes finally opened. He was groggy and winced in pain when he moved. He had a thick, clean bandage around his arm. When he tried to move it, he winced again.

"You're lucky to be alive." I said.

His head looked my way. I looked in his face.

"The doctor . . ." He asked.

"Ignored you and saved your life anyways." I answered. I knew I was talking to the real Sawyer now.

"Where is he?" He didn't look around.

"He headed back to the caves to check on Shannon." I noticed him glance at what I was holding. I had his letter and the envelope in my hand. I held it up. "I read your letter again. And then again. The last couple hours, I don't know how many times." I bit the side of my lip, thinking as I looked at him.

"Why would you?" Sawyer asked. He looked vulnerable and slightly guarded at my statement.

I gave him a straight answer. "Because I'm trying to figure out why you made me read it. Why did you beat up Boone instead of just telling him you didn't have his Shannon's medication? Why did you pretend to have it anyways? Why did you let yourself get tortured?" I sighed. "The thing I kept coming up with was that you want to be hated. And maybe that's why you made me read this letter."

I opened it up and read a part. "'You killed my parents, Mr. Sawyer.'" I continued on. I had discovered something. "Then I looked at the envelope."

I turned it over. There was a commemorative seal on it. I read it. "America's Bicentennial. Knoxville, Tennessee. 1976." I glanced over at him. I wasn't angry. I was trying to understand him why he put up such a big act. "You were a kid in 1976. Eight, maybe nine years old?"

Sawyer tried to interrupt me. "Kate . . ."

"This letter wasn't written to you. You wrote this letter." I looked at his face carefully. His eyes dropped, confirming what I had discovered. "Sawyer isn't your name, is it?"

I waited for him to talk. He began to quietly. "It was his name." He spoke slowly initially. "First heard it at my Momma's wake. My Daddy didn't get one. You don't get a wake when you kill yourself. It was my Uncle Doug who pulled me aside. Told me it was a confidence man who killed them. Told me how he rolled into town, marked my folks. Romanced my Momma, used her to get to their money. Wiped 'em out clean, left the mess behind. Only thing the cops had was his name on a bogus business card." He stared up as he talked, the information pouring out. I wonder how long it had been, if ever since he had talked about this blight on his childhood.

"So, I wrote that letter. I wrote it knowing I'd find him one day." He looked at me, his eyes still clear, the real person inside him was talking. "You want all the sad parts? 'Cause I spent the next ten years getting passed off from one place to another. Lady from the State wrote me off as havin' 'adjustment problems.' Don't that just say it all?"

He looked up and over at me again. "And then I was nineteen. I needed six grand to pay off some guys I was in trouble with. So, I found a pretty lady with a dumb husband who had some money." He talked and owned what he did. I knew what was coming. "And I got them to give it to me." He shook his head slightly and chuckled but no mirth was behind it, only irony. "How you like that for tragedy? Became the man I was hunting. Became Sawyer."

All this time, I listened to him. I felt empathetic. What a horrible way to lose your parents and to grow up that way? Then he became what the person he despised. No wonder he hated himself. He was wounded, hurt inside and loathed himself and his past. This something I finally could identify with. It was all buried under decades of garbage, mistakes, and attitude.

Sawyer's expression quickly changed after looking in my face and eyes. He didn't like what he saw. He was vulnerable but flipped and transformed into an angry animal in a matter of seconds. "Don't you feel sorry for me!" He was hostile and defensive.

"What?" I asked. He had just turned on a dime.

"Get the hell out!" He pulled the letter from my hand, startling me.

"Get out!" He demanded.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I can't believe I almost shed a tear for him. I felt my own walls come up and stood.

I looked down at him a moment, my eyes piercing his but had nothing to say to him. I left and didn't look back.

If he wanted to act like that and take his pain out on someone, it wasn't going to be me.

I sat alone on the beach to the west of the camp. The sun was entering the "golden hour" before sunset when everything was lit up with diffused, golden light and the clouds, if any were in the sky, began to change color. I watched the clouds and tried to process the day. My head was spinning from all of the events, people's actions and everything I learned. It was a lot to take in.

Sawyer lied. He did and said things that were less than savory, but didn't we all do that on some level, even by omission. He ended up being tortured by withholding the truth. Sayid made a mistake. Jack did too.

Hell, we all made mistakes, past and present. I am no exception.

I could say this to myself because I don't wear a halo. I lied and deceived to get out of beatings when I was little, to hide information from Dad about what was going on at home. I learned it early as a protective mechanism.

I lied as an adult mainly to hide who I was, hiding behind aliases, desperate to elude authorities. I didn't like it, but I own that I did it. Unearthing the truth about my real life would be a painful, large undertaking.

I wasn't mad at Jack, Sayid or Sawyer now. I can't judge them. I have no right. I just felt a little overwhelmed from the day.

I bit my thumb, thinking and once again, wondering how things got so out of control today?

A shadow fell on me. I turned to look. Sayid walked over, his head down and a bag slung over his shoulder. It was bulging with supplies.

"Sayid?" I asked, standing quickly.

He looked up at me, then came over.

"I can't be here." His black, soulful eyes were filled with remorse.

"What did you say?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"I'm going off." He repeated, looking at my face and response.

"What? Why?" I asked. After everything that happened, Sayid was still my friend. I didn't understand.

"I'm leaving. I don't know for how long."

I pled with him. "Sayid, you can't. We don't know what's out there." I started to feel choked up, my eyes searching his.

Sayid straightened up and answered me with an undertone of strength. It must have been the soldier in him. "What, it's too dangerous? No more than staying here. I have worse things to fear than what's in the jungle."

I looked at him sadly. I didn't want him to go. He and I had worked together from the beginning. He was my partner, not just with the transceiver and signal projects, but leading the camp.

Trust and friendship had developed between us and both were rare, precious commodities to me.

"What I did today, what I almost did, I swore never again. Never again." He said the last part almost for himself. "If I can't keep that promise, I have no right to be here."

"But, Sayid, there's nowhere to go." I countered, hoping he would change his mind. He lost control. I get it.

He gave me a kind look. "Someone has to walk the shore and map the island. See what else there is. Find a means of escape. I can't think of a better person to do it then the only one I trust."

I knew I wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. After everything that happened today, the loss of Sayid is what caused my eyes to well up.

I nodded.

He nodded in return.

"I hope we meet again, Kate. Under happier circumstances." He searched my face and stepped back, stooping to kiss my right hand.

He turned away immediately and walked away. I stood, my arms folded, and took a deep breath.

My cheeks were wet.

I watched him until he disappeared, a solitary figure walking on untouched sand.

All that were left were Sayid's footprints.

I turned back and stared at endless ocean waves, crashing into the shore, knowing soon they would erase them, the evidence of Sayid's departure.