A/N: I popped in my little orange TV guide disk the other day and watched the mini-doc about "Whatever the Case May Be," and this quote was what really inspired me to write this story: "When Kate has her mind set on something, she's going to do whatever she can to achieve it." - Damon Lindelof. So what lengths would Kate go to to get what she wants most? Would she even consider the consequences? Basic character death spoilers for those who haven't seen season 2, but that's pretty much it. Title inspired by the Norah Jones song.

I've tried to hard, my dear, to show that you're my every dream. Yet you're afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme. A memory from your lonesome past keeps us so far apart. Why can't I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold, cold heart.

"Boat."

With that single word from Sun, they were rescued. Their island lives were over, thanks to a navigational error by a coast guard ship. While the stunned crew made anchor, Kate and the others went to collect their things. It had been Jack who asked to the ship's crew to exhume the bodies of their fellow survivors to put into the standard coffins the ship carried. Seven bodies for seven coffins: the marshal, Joanna, Boone, Scott, Shannon, Ana-Lucia and Libby.

She watched the procession glumly, then went to her shelter to pack. While she stuffed things into her bag, Sawyer dropped by and handed her a little blue book.

"What's this?" She asked as she took it from it.

"Joanna's passport. Thought you might like to hang onto that for a while," He indicated for her to open it. She did, and saw that he had finished putting her picture on it. "Don't think they've figured out you were on the plane yet." He added. "Doc told everyone to keep quiet about you being the fugitive and all. So you're safe for now."

Her smile was the gratitude she couldn't say out loud.

"You got a place to stay once we get back to civilization?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of disbelief. "I was on the run for a long time. What do you think?"

"I got a place in Tennessee. Nothing big, two bedrooms, if you need a place to stay for a while. Nice little house. Cops don't look for fugitives in the backwoods."

She bit her lip and felt her cheeks turning red. "Sure. By the time they figure out the mix-up, we'll disappear. Thanks, Sawyer."

"No problem, Freckles." He winked at her. "You'd look good in overalls."

She rolled her eyes and sighed at him, watching him walk to his shelter. She watched Jack pass him and head toward her, and her face fell. In the whirl of events, she had almost forgotten about him and what he had said to her only days before. She raised a finger to her lips as if trying to remember the way they had felt against her own. She watched him come closer and noticed he was wearing his pack.

"Hey," he said as he came up to stand in front of her.

"Hey," she replied, trying to busy herself with gathering her belongings.

"I'm going into the jungle with Michael, Locke and Sayid, and a couple of the crew are coming with us. To find Walt."

She flashed him a concerned look. "Now?"

He nodded, looking into the forest of trees beyond the line of sand. She followed his gaze for a moment, then went back to cramming things in her bag.

"You okay?" He asked suddenly. She glanced up at him.

"I'm fine."

He laughed, and her heart skipped a beat to see that smile again.

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," he said shaking his head. "It's just that you're normally the one who always wants to go on a hike."

She shrugged. "I'm not really in a hiking mood today."

His face filled with concern for her. "I know what this means for you," he pointed to the ship anchored just offshore. "We won't let anything happen to you. Hurley's offered to pay them off, everyone's offering to contribute. You can stay at my house if you don't have anywhere to go."

She hated having to lie to him. "I'm staying with my dad. It's been awhile, so . . . "

Jack nodded, not seeing through her lie. It was a believable enough story, and partly true. She wanted to see Sam Austen. He was her father, no matter what the truth was.

"Well, we'd better get going. See you on the ship, okay? Be safe. Stay out of trouble." The last statement was more a warning than a suggestion, but she nodded anyway.

He turned, starting up toward where the group was preparing to set out. As an afterthought, Kate called after him. He turned, and she crossed the distance between them.

"Don't get–killed out there, okay? That–thing, that monster. And the Others, be careful, okay?"

"You worried about me?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt. Please, be careful."

He nodded and looked at her for a moment, a look of hesitation on his face. Then, he dropped his pack on the sand and put his arms around her. She stiffened at first, almost stunned by his audacity, especially with all the others milling around. She finally relaxed and let her own arms go around to hug him, tightening around the muscles of his back. She shut her eyes, trying to memorize this moment. She breathed in his scent, sweat mixed with the tangy scent of fruit, and some brand of very nice smelling cologne. That made her inwardly smile to know he still used cologne, even on the island.

She made up her mind that Jack deserved better than her. Whatever she felt for him, she had to let those feelings go. When they returned to society, he would be hailed as a hero. If she was lucky, she'd be serving jail time. He couldn't be seen with a farm girl turned fugitive. He was supposed to find a nice wife with blonde hair to give him nice little well-behaved children. They'd go to fancy portrait studios and maybe someday she'd get a picture of him with his family. She would never belong to that happy family scene.

She let herself pull away from his hold and watched him search her eyes for answers. She gave nothing up. He nodded, picked up his bag, and went to join the others. She watched them go for a moment, then went to gather her things. She waited on the shore with Sawyer as a smaller boat ferried people to the larger one. She gave her name as Joanna's, and no questions were asked. The two of them were put in a room with double bunks. She felt slightly uncomfortable being alone in a room with him, so she joined most of the others on deck, scanning the trees, waiting, watching, wondering.

They returned early the following morning with not only Walt in tow, but Rousseau and a dark-haired girl that Rousseau said was her daughter. The others offered no explanation. Kate didn't ask. Without Jack around, she had nothing else to ground her. She told herself she didn't mind having sex with Sawyer. He was good, and she hadn't been with anyone in months. On the soft feather bunk bed she fell asleep in the warmth of Sawyer's arms and had the best sleep she'd had in months.

Kate would never forget the look on his face that morning when he saw her leaving Sawyer's cabin on the ship. He was hurt, she could tell. She started to explain, but he disappeared inside his own room without a word. When the others tried to coax him out, he told them he was seasick. To everyone else, the fact that their brave doctor was seasick was amusing. To Kate, it was painful. She tried his door once or twice, but he never answered her knocks. When the ship docked in LA, Kate and Sawyer vanished into the crowd, leaving the others behind to tell their story. By the time the confusion with Joanna was resolved, they were comfortably settled at Sawyer's place. The FBI called off their manhunt. Someone had pulled strings. She never found out who, but not that it mattered. She was a free woman.

She and Sawyer had been living together seven months. He was very needy, she found, to the point of exhaustion for her. He drank too much, but then so did she, and they made a strange couple. Being with Sawyer, she was reminded of her own childhood, the strangeness of being his arm candy at bars and walking around the house in underwear and a long t-shirt. She drank so much that first month she suffered a hangover on a daily basis, and ended up in the hospital for a night. But this was where she belonged.

That summer, Jack invited everyone to his house for an Independence Day party. Even those who weren't Americans showed up, bound by an unspoken bond to one another. It was the first time Kate had seen Jack since their rescue. He attempted to maintain a safe distance between them the entire day, and every time she tried to talk to him, he would make up a hurried excuse.

"You going to ignore me this whole day?" Kate asked, having finally cornered him.

"I don't have anything to say to you," He told her calmly.

"Jack, I'm sorry–"

"Obviously not." He nodded his head toward Sawyer. "I always thought . . . " he trailed off and sighed. "Well, good luck."

He got up and left her standing there, stunned and angry. She wanted to remain friendly with him at least, but he continued to ignore her. She wandered around, talking to everyone else, pretending nothing was wrong. Claire asked her what was bothering her, but she lied and told her it was just PMS. It was obvious that Claire didn't believe her.

Amid the party, there was a loud commotion from the house. Despite her habit of nosiness, Kate didn't follow the small group into to investigate. She heard later from Sun that Jack and Sawyer had a fistfight in the kitchen. Kate had a feeling she knew what the cause of the fight was. When she and Sawyer drove home after the party, she asked him what had happened, he said simply, "Doc's jealous."

When they got together for the anniversary of the crash, Jack wasn't there. He didn't go to the Thanksgiving dinner Hurley threw, and he was absent at the Christmas party at Charlie and Claire's. She would sometimes catch a clip on him on television, doing something heroic. Two years came and went. She kept telling herself she was happy being with Sawyer. On good days, he could be a gentleman. But she had learned quickly that he was not the type of man who stuck around in long-term relationships. Because she didn't have anyplace else to go, she remained at his house, sleeping with and next to him. Some nights she fell asleep before he got home and the next morning, would find a pair of underwear–not hers–on the floor in the guest bedroom. He began suggesting she get a job, find her own place. She stuck around, letting him yell at her because she told herself she deserved it.

The last straw was when he hit her. She made excuses for him before when he was too drunk and pushed her around or yelled at her. This was different. He was sober this time, and she felt the sting of his hand on her cheek long after it happened. While he was gone, she took a wad of bills and a gun from his sock drawer, grabbed her things and left, not bothering to look back.

She took a Greyhound bus to Los Angeles, and a taxi to Jack's house. It had been almost three years since she had last seen him at the Independence Day party. She wondered if he was still the same man as he had been on the island. Clutching her bag, she knocked on his door.

She heard his voice inside say, "Coming!" and his footsteps. Kate pulled off her sunglasses, not needing them in the fading like of the cool June evening. She was nervous, her heart was racing. She heard the door unlocking, and then it opened and there he was. His face changed from casual nonchalance to disbelief.

"Kate?"

She gave him a bright smile. "Hey,"

He rubbed his hand over his close-cropped hair with a sigh. "It's not a good time."

"I just want to talk. Sawyer kind of kicked me out. Or I left, I'm not really sure. I just need a place to stay until I can--"

"Kate, this really isn't a good time."

"I won't stay long, I promise, I–"

"Jack, who's at the door?"

Kate's face fell. A woman's voice. She looked at him in stunned silence.

"I told you this wasn't a good time," he pressed, his eyes pleading with her to leave. She tried to look past him into the house.

"Jack?" The voice came again, louder. A slim, blonde woman ducked under his arm and gazed with interest at Kate.

"You know this woman?"

Jack stared down at Kate, still pleading with his eyes. Kate held his look, as if daring him to look away first.

"Baby?" The woman questioned again. "You're blanking out on me, Jack."

He broke eye contact first, inhaling sharply and looking down at the blonde woman.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I know her."