Author's Note: This is a one shot sequel-ish thing to "Running Away". When you finish reading it, then you'll realize why I say "sequel-ish"

Sawyer woke suddenly, with an odd sense that he hadn't gotten quite enough sleep the night before. He sat up, and running his fingers through his shaggy hair, decided to go for a swim. Maybe that would wake him up a little.

Grabbing some clean clothes, Sawyer headed out towards the water. The morning sunlight barely pierced the gray clouds, making it seem earlier than it actually was.

Maybe that's why I'm so damn tired, he concluded.

Locke was by the water when he got down there.

"Wouldn't do that," he advised, as Sawyer shed his shirt and waded into the tide.

Sawyer gave Locke an irritated shrug. "And why the hell not?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Cause a storm's coming." Locke replied, squinting out at the ocean. "Soon,"

Sawyer grudgingly settled for simply splashing his face, then came back in and yanked on his sandy t-shirt.

I need a smoke, he grumbled to himself, stomping back to his tent. Oddly enough, there were no cigarettes anywhere.

"Well, ain't that swell," he muttered, throwing a pair of jeans savagely back into his suitcase. He searched some more, in the pocket of his button-up shirt he found lint, as was the case in the front zipper of his backpack. Under his bed he found a broken picture frame and burnt photo of someone he couldn't recognize.

Finally fed up with his fruitless search, Sawyer slung his bag onto his back, and made his way up the eerily deserted beach. He figured they were all at the caves or something, huddling close to their hero doctor. Sawyer didn't want to be just a part of the pack, but he felt like a change of scenery, maybe to get smoking off his mind.

As he walked through the jungle, Sawyer felt uneasy. The wind whipped his hair in his eyes, making it hard to tell where he was going, and the oncoming storm rustled the trees ominously. And was it starting to get dark? Those damned whispers were closer than they'd been, now that he thought about it.

The entrance to the caves was a welcome sight, it was starting to rain, and he was getting weirded out by the lack of people around.

What the—? he wondered, as the sound of someone singing met his ears.

"If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it," Charlie sang, strumming his guitar.

"What's that from? Willy Wonka?" Jack asked, smiling and tossing a guava to Charlie.

Charlie grinned. "Yeah, that part about paradise is kind of ironic, isn't it?"

"Well I could use some chocolate right now." said Shannon grumpily, brushing past Sawyer as she left.

"Aw, Jack, you can be an oompa-loompa," Sawyer interjected.

"Funny," Jack mumbled, rummaging through his medical stuff.

Sawyer dropped his backpack, filled his water bottle, then voiced something he'd been wondering since he'd got there. "Where's your girlfriend, Jack?"

Jack gave him an odd look, like there was something wrong with him.

"What?" Sawyer asked Jack, then glanced at Charlie.

"Uh, Kate left, man," Charlie acted as if he should've known this already.

"What…how?" Sawyer stammered in confusion.

"On the raft,"

"The raft left?"

Shouts echoed around the cave. "Jack? Where's Jack?"

"We need the doctor!"

"I'm here," Jack called in a tired voice.

Several people came into view, supporting the limp form of a person between them.

"Who is that?" Sawyer asked, standing and trying to see past the people.

They laid the person down on the row of seats Jack used as a doctors' table, and backed away.

It was Kate. She was soaking wet, and was bleeding heavily from what looked like a bullet wound in her left shoulder.

Jack stayed where he was, barely acknowledging that anything significant had happened, then got up and started to walk away.

Sawyer grabbed his arm. "You gonna do something about her?"

Charlie walked away and out of sight.

Kate opened her eyes and coughed up some water. "Jack?"

"Why?" Jack asked, trying to wrench his arm from Sawyer's grasp. "Kate's dead."

Jack tried again to push past him. "She's dead Sawyer." He glanced at his arm. "You need to let go."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sawyer said urgently, glancing back at Kate. "if you don't do something about her shoulder—she's lost a lot of blood, even someone who ain't a doctor can figure that one out."

Jack stared at him. "Let go, Sawyer."

"James,"

Sawyer turned. "What did you—?"

"Come here," Kate whispered hoarsely

Sawyer reluctantly released Jack, and went over to her.

There was no one else now, only Sawyer. "I don't know what the hell to do," he whispered desperately.

Kate shook her head and tried to sit up.

Sawyer put his hand on her undamaged shoulder. "Stay put Freckles." He grabbed an old shirt from nearby and held it on the wound to try and staunch the bleeding. It seemed to get worse as he tried harder to help, and soon all of the towels and clothes, as well as his hands and shirt, were too soaked to do much good.

"What happened anyway?" he asked quietly, trying to mask his frustration and worry.

Kate shook her head again. "I can't say…" she sighed. "I can't say…goodbye."

Sawyer slumped to the ground next to the table. "What?"

Kate touched the top of his head. "I won't tell you goodbye," she gasped, closing her eyes in pain as she tried to get up again.

"Don't," he said weakly, standing to see if anyone was left to help him.

Kate grabbed his wrist. "Don't let go," she sighed, "please." She closed her eyes and a single tear ran down her cheek. Her breathing was so shallow now that Sawyer knew things were getting worse by the second.

"Damn it," he whispered, "I need some help!"

The caves were so empty, where was everyone? Why had they left him to be the hero when they knew he couldn't do it? Why?

Sawyer opened his eyes with a start. It wasn't even morning yet, and checking his stolen watch, he realized it had only been a few hours since he had gone to sleep. He had a shaky feeling in his stomach, that wouldn't let him just roll over and go back to sleep.

He sat up, ran his fingers through his hair, and decided that a walk would be best to clear his head.

Watching the waves, he remembered what dream-Locke had said.

"A storm's coming."

Dreams really are just a load of crap anyhow.

As he passed Kate's tent, he thought of waking her and telling her about his dream, but that just wasn't him.

He continued on down the beach, deciding that there wasn't really a point in telling anyone about something that didn't affect reality. Reality, he thought wryly, is there such thing anymore? Besides, it was around 2 in the morning, no one wanted to be woken up to hear about his dream.

The early morning sky was bright with stars. More than you could ever see in civilization. The only sounds were those of the ocean. Waves broke quietly on the sand in a soft rhythm. There was a dream-like breeze in the salty air. Dream-like. Ironic.

The stillness was broken by a woman's terrified scream.

"What the hell?" Sawyer took off running for the camp. As he reached the small group of tents and wreckage there was another scream.

Claire emerged from her tent. "What's going on?" she asked, sounding tired.

He shook his head. "Wish I knew."

There was an uncertain silence. "I don't know!" someone shrieked.

It was Kate.

"Bad dream?" Sawyer suggested, peering into the tent.

Kate was still apparently sleeping, but restlessly. She rolled over as he crouched next to her. "I don't know," she cried again.

Sawyer reluctantly prodded her shoulder. "Hey,"

Kate sat bolt upright, gasping and almost hitting him. Her face was covered in tears and sweat. Sawyer stood up, startled by her sudden awakening.

"You...okay?" he asked, not wanting to sound worried.

She wiped her face and shuddered, whether from the dream or from the cold sweat that covered her body, he didn't know. "Yeah," she replied shakily. "Yeah, I'm okay."

He nodded, somehow glad to hear it. "Heard you talking in your sleep, figured I'd listen in," he muttered, feeling as if he had to explain himself.

"What did I say?" she asked, suddenly defensive.

Shrugging, Sawyer mumbled, "How the hell do I know? But whatever you were dreaming about, well, let's just say it didn't seem like you were enjoying it."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"Figured I'd wake you, if it was upsetting you that much."

"It wasn't," She insisted.

He didn't believe her.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Sawyer turned to leave "Yeah, well goodnight."

"So, what's going on?" Charlie wanted to know when he came back out.

Sawyer shrugged. "Like I said, bad dream."