A/N: Okay, since the last chapter was just the start of it, I tried to write the next one as soon as possible. And now, I've updated myself with some Skate-related Youtube-clips, so I at least know the basics of their obvious love… And I must say, I love them even more together now! :) Anyway, here's a new, flashback-enriched chapter that I hope you'll like…

1: I Do Want What I Haven't Got

Sawyer can't sleep. He tosses and turns in his bed, tries to read but the words don't mean anything, even tries to pick up a cigarette but snaps it in halves halfway through because his hands are clenched so hard.

It shouldn't be this hard. This night is really no different from any other night. And he's never had a problem with sleeping here before. It's always been kind of nice with the warm, humid air like a second blanket and the crickets playing outside.

It's just that tonight, the crickets seem to have moved into his head, fluttering, creaking so loud that it hurts.

It's just that Kate is in the tent next to him. He feels her sickness through the distance between them, sees the flush the fever has painted on her cheeks through the fabric.

Go to her.

No.

Sawyer untangles from his sheets with a muttering curse, sits up and leans his head in his hands for a brief second.

Why would he go to her? What the hell would be better by him going there?

Has he done her any damn good this far, or has he just forced her to chose between him and someone that would sure as hell be a lot better for her?

Chicken.

Sawyer sighs and drops his hands.

You try to convince yourself that you stay away because of her. Even though you haven't done a selfless thing since the day you were born.

Don't fool yourself. You don't want to go there because you're a coward. You can't stand seeing her like this, partly because you love her, and partly because you would remember.

You would remember her face when her skin tear open in the cut, you would remember the sweat on her upper lip when she fell down on the ground a little later. And you would remember who it was that made her fall.

Sawyer curses again, stands up from his bed, throws the door of the tent aside and walks outside. The fire he made on the beach earlier is dying out. He sits down next to it anyway.

He's not going to go to Kate. He knows that. Either if it's just because he can't stand that fucking way that Jack looks at her, because he never leaves her side since he's perfect doctor Jack who's never done anything wrong in his life, or it's because that goddamned little voice in his head is right, he's not going to go there. He's tried, a few times, but stopped halfway to the tent and turned around, since he saw her through the fabric then, too, and he still hasn't learned to deal with it.

Even though she's going to be fine.

And the one who's going to make her fine is Jack.

That's another reason Sawyer hates Jack right now. He's thought a few times about asking Jack if there's anything he can do to help, so he can at least get some sleep, but that's another thing he only gets halfway through with.

Because he knows that when Kate wakes up, which she will, she's going to ask who got her better. And she will ask against better knowledge, because she knows the answer, she's going to look up at Jack and those brown eyes will go soft and sweet like the surface of a chocolate praline in that way he used to make them look, and she's going to see what an amazing person Jack is and they will hug and kiss and blah-blah-blah. And Sawyer will not contribute to that.

Kate doesn't need his help to get better, anyway.

Sawyer's surprised she needs anything at all. One of the reasons he still obsesses over her like a goddamn lovesick teenager is that she's basically the first girl he's ever met that he hasn't had to feel like a father to, never had to be the caretaker or the support, and that's a huge weight off his chest.

Sawyer can take care of himself. But he's so damn focused on not letting anyone else do that for him that he couldn't possibly take care of someone else.

That's why he's surprised that he still doesn't really want to get off this island. Here, it's all about teamwork, dependence. Needing each other.

Every man for himself doesn't work here. But Sawyer barely manages to think the thought before he slaps it away, curses again.

Why wouldn't that work here? Depending on only yourself has worked for him all these years, why wouldn't it work now?

Why wouldn't it work even more when the one person he's ever remotely depended on is about to leave him?

Wasn't she supposed to be okay?

Go to hell.

Sawyer lies down on his back in the sand.

Kate is going to be okay.

But he will be only for himself until that moment comes. Only himself, and those memories that rise to the surface, fresh and searing, refuse to be ignored just to rub it in his face that if Kate does get okay, he will never be for himself, ever again.

"So I'm here. Where is it?"

Sawyer looks up at her. Just that makes his neck hurt even more, his head feels like a rock. One that's throbbing, a dull, grinding ache.

Kate looks sympathetic. Like she wouldn't ask him this if he weren't the last way out. Like she feels for him.

Like she's the only one on this island that doesn't hate him.

Sawyer wants to kiss her. He feels that desire splitting through the pain that's brewing in every bone of his body, like a dull mutter.

"Happy to tell you."

The sunlight gets matted through the ceiling of leaves above them. It gives a green light to everything, shadows Kate's slightly tanned skin, makes her hair darker.

In a way, she's more beautiful now than ever.

"Soon as I get that kiss."

The words are past his lips before he's managed to think them. Maybe it's his emotions talking for him. For once in his life.

Kate gets a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows.

"What?" she says, not quite as outraged as she could be. "Are you serious?"

Sawyer chuckles and leans his head back. He doesn't even feel the pain anymore.

He should be ashamed of himself. Blackmailing someone into kissing him is worse than any con, hell, it can be registered as sexual offending, but he isn't.

Kate likes him. And he's suddenly so incredibly attracted to her that it takes every ounce of willpower he has not to break out of his ropes like The Hulk, grab her in his arms, glide his lips over her skin just because he suddenly wonders if it tastes different when it's shadowed with green.

He wants this. And he's had a crappy day, he's been beaten up to give up information about meds that he doesn't have. He's crashed on an island with people he hates just because he doesn't know what he'd do without them. It's only fair. He deserves it.

And Kate isn't as repulsed by the idea as any other woman would be.

"Baby, I'm tied to a tree in a jungle of mystery," Sawyer says calmly, with a smirk in the corner of his lips. "I just got tortured by a damn spinal surgeon and a genuine Iraqi. Of course I'm serious."

Kate lowers her gaze. Still not disgusted, though. Sawyer feels his smirk growing.

"You're just not seeing the big picture here, Freckles," he continues. "You really going to let that girl suffocate just because you can't bring yourself to give me one little kiss? Hell, it's only first base. Lucky for you, I ain't greedy."

Kate still doesn't look at him. At first, he's worried he's scared her off, since he actually cares what she thinks of him for some reason, but then he looks up.

And then he gets even more scared. Doesn't know what for.

"Okay."

Her tone is grave. Sawyer throws his head back again. The pain feels slower now. Darker.

"Okay."

His lips feel slower, too. In fact, everything seems to happen in slow motion, even when she walks up to him, kneels down in front of him, his breath feels heavier, harder to drop from his chest, the blood feels thicker in his veins.

The only thing that speeds up is his fear for something he doesn't know what it is, it manages to go as irrationally fluttering as his lust when she leans forwards, only hesitates a little bit, and then her lips are on his, soft and gentle first. Slow.

And then the fear melts away.

It's different than all the other women. He could never really separate them because they were all for the same purpose. Their lips were dry and crisp like the dollar bills that were all he could focus on, they all tasted of his own nervousness for what he was going to do and what the sex was just a transport to.

Kate is not like that. Her lips are wet and full, so careful the first time that he wants more, wants what she doesn't give him, the desire turns into something dark red and sparkling in his chest, and maybe it's the same for her, because she kisses him again. Her lips get harder and softer at the same time, her breath streams over his cheek, his tongue enters her mouth with less confidence than usual.

For some reason, Kate still scares him a little bit. Because with every little bit she gives him, he just wants more. When his tongue insecurely explores her mouth, memorizes the insides of her lips, the hardness of her teeth, he wants more, wants her tongue gliding over his when she does the same for him, and she does.

They're connected for a second, Sawyer feels Kate's reluctance melting away, reveals her own want and allows it to clash with his own before she pulls away again, her breath is shallow and quivering and he still tastes it on his tongue.

He looks into her eyes for a second. And realizes that this was exactly what he was afraid of.

Sawyer stands up again. Now his frustration isn't bitter and gritted anymore, but a roaring, uncontrollable fire, it scores him inside, feeds his resentment when he barges into the tent again, tries to sit on the bed but stands up again.

They slept on that bed together.

So many nights, they slept on that bed together.

Sawyer feels his breath slowing down. Weird, since he doesn't remember it increasing.

Kate is a light sleeper. She always complained about him moving in his sleep, to which Sawyer shot back that she always hogged the covers. And Kate never had a good comeback to that, since she knew that it was true, so she just kissed him, with those soft lips that grew hard if she wanted more, and said that then maybe she should sleep in her own tent tonight, to which Sawyer replied that she could try. And she never did.

Sawyer takes the pillow from the bed and throws it on the ground. He lies down in the sand and puts his head on it, before he remembers that the left side of it always smelled like Kate's hair since that's the side she always had to sleep on, and then he throws it back onto the bed, put both hands under his head and stares at a loose head that hangs from the ceiling of the tent.

He won't get much sleep tonight.

Not tonight either.

I looooved that scene in the first season… They're so cute together! Anyway, please review! I squeed when I read the ones I got for the last chapter… XD