Title: Rebel Heart
Author: DarkSkyedMia
Rating: G
Pairing: Sawyer/Kate
Warnings: Swearing.
Summary: Some tender love and care for Kate & Sawyer. A slightly different take on the events during 2x08/2x09.
REBEL HEART
"Come on, Sawyer!" She yelled at him. "You are not going to die like this!"
Kate screamed in outrage at the motionless form that had been occupying the hatch's
bunk bed for the better part of two days. There was no reaction from the unconscious man.
As a matter of fact, he hadn't been reacting to anything that had happened, at all.
By now, she was more than worried about him, frantically willing her mind to try and come up
with anything that would beat through his oblivion and force his body to recuperate.
"You belong in some damn dream house somewhere in fuckin' sunny California, and when you
hit 90 and are wrinkled like an old man and lazing around in a whirlpool filled with champagne
and at least two nutty girls, then you get to die!"
Her swearing a sign of how much she hated feeling useless.
"DAMN it, Sawyer!" she breathed before finally breaking down onto her knees to bury her head
in her arms, the mattress stifling her uncontrolled sobbing. His fever-addled brain couldn't hear a
single word she spoke, much less comprehend the meaning. It seemed, after all the time that had passed,
their attempts to help him hadn't been enough.
Now she and Jack couldn't do anything else than check his pulse and watch the deadly infection
as it spread through his body and captured every part of it with a burning fever.
When she had first laid eyes on him, roughly 48 hours ago, a tiny grain of hope had grown inside Kate.
Jack had rushed to get Sawyer into the hatch where he could treat him best. While outwardly calm and
determined, Jack had been working in a hurry to position Sawyer's lethargic form in the lower half of the
bunk bed so he could take off the dirtied, blood-soaked rug that served as a bandage. The patch of skin
that came open was inflamed and festering, almost burning his fingers as Jack gently probed to determine
how deep the infection had settled. Using hot water and alcohol, he cleaned out the angry bullet-wound
on Sawyer's shoulder, carefully, yet as fast as he could.
He had then asked Kate to bring him a sterilized needle and a clean towel. He proceeded to methodically
insert its fine point into the open wound while swabbing at the emerging yellowish-green ooze.
When he had finished, Jack repeated his previous task of cleaning out the infected area before dressing it
with a fresh bandage. He didn't bother to administer stitches; the time in between the injury and the group's
arrival had been too long for him to be able to aid with the body's healing functions. With the bullet removed,
the wound had already halfway closed by itself. He couldn't prevent scarring at this point, irritating the remaining
tissue would only hinder its recuperation than helping it.
Right then, Kate had been glad about Sawyers lack of consciousness. Watching him undergo this crude variant
of medical treatment once again reminded her of their ill-fated situation, of how little it took to kill a grown man
on this island. But not this man, she resolved. Not the one whose spirit had been shattered by an undeserving,
loveless childhood, whose body lay weak and unable to move, taking comfort from her even in a coma as soon
as she bedded his head in her lap.
This man would not be taken by the island!
Not if she could help it.
She had held him and coaxed him into listening to her, hoping that the closeness of their bodies and her
desperate voice would be enough to persuade him to swallow two tiny pills to fight off infection.
She had begged him to get better for her, to wake up so they could resume their fragile bond of banter-filled
companionship that had somehow filled her days with just the right amount of excitement to bear the predicament
they had found themselves in.
Eventually, Sawyer would have to be alright. He had made it back to them, after all. Not walking on his own,
the need for him to be carried in hastily-constructed stretcher painfully obvious. But he had made it back to the
one place that could be called the least bit of civilisation on this island.
At the hatch he could rest in a real bed that had sheets, plum pillows and a blanket which almost fit the description
of fluffy. This gift alone should boost his immune-system back on the right track in no time at all to leave behind
hypothermia, dehydration, blood loss, extensive exhaustion and whatever other damage he could possibly suffer from.
Yes, Sawyer would have to be fine!
He'd likely be painfully annoyed about not having escaped Super-Adventure-Island. He'd demand
full-time-entertainment to cope with being bed-ridden. And later on, he'd give Jack his full two cents' worth
of how much he disliked the tedious exercises he'd have to complete to regain muscle-strength and mobility
of his shoulder again.
Kate found herself anticipating the familiar grumpiness.
Then she heard something that made her heart sing.
"Brunettes?"
Kate looked up unbelievingly, not fully trusting her mind to not play tricks on her.
Afraid she had only imagined Sawyer speaking.
"What?" She whispered.
"The pool ... any brunettes in there?" He spoke raggedly, struggling to
articulate words that came out almost inaudible.
"Sawyer", a whispered gasp from Kate, still on her knees, leaning over Sawyers body and running
her hands over his face to make sure this was real.
"That's the name Freckles. Glad you still remember", His eyes were barely open but his lips
formed into a smile for her.
"I'm glad you still remember", she paused: "you've been very sick. It was … bad.
He snorted. "No kiddin'!"
Suddenly, the need to be close to him overcame Kate.
Without thinking she leaned into the bunk bed and touched her lips to his with all the
tenderness she could muster, relief pouring out of her as she softly met his lips again and again.
"What was that for?" he whispered, momentarily
"You waking up for me", she replied, her voice equally mute. An exhausted smile playing on her
face as she caressed his cheek, completing the motion by smoothing his tousled hair. This time,
the warmth generating from his skin made her feel alive, like straying rays of sun just before dawn
which promised a beautiful new day.
"Guess I should be doing that more often then."
"Good choice", Kate beamed at him in return and absently swiped away some left-behind tears from her face.
"You been cryin' over me, Freckles?" His enquiry filled with worry, "never thought I'd see the day."
"You're not", she softly laughed at him, and covered her momentarily embarrassment by chewing on her lips.
"Jus' don't get any ideas now. Gotta save my strength for those bimbos you promised."
She laughed. "You wish!"
"Readin' my mind, Sunshine. Readin' my mind."