2. (Kate)
Something about the woman alarms Kate from the outset.
Something isn't quite right.
It's the general consensus around the group that caution is advised. They would be fools to take this stranger at her word. Especially when she has come telling such an outrageous story. A hot air balloon crash landing on the island? She could have thought up a better tale than that. Kate isn't alone in her initial mistrust. But she is very much alone in instant intense dislike for the woman.
There is something about her. She is dirty and dishevelled, something you'd expect from someone living alone on this island for any number of days. Her perfect complexion is marred with scratches. Yet something sets her apart from Kate, from the plane crash survivors. Kate can't quite put her finger on it. Something about this woman's countenance that just doesn't ring true about the fact that she is supposedly stranded here, alone, at the mercy of this island.
There was underlying cleanliness beneath the surface dirt and grime. The woman moves gracefully, elegantly. In a way that just doesn't belong on an island like this. Even with Jack and Sayid holding her at gun point, this woman never wavered. It wasn't natural.
"Who are you? Where did you come from?" Jack asks the question again, falling naturally into his leadership role.
"My name is Erica Evans." She answers in a fast, yet steady voice. "There was an accident. I'm stranded here. There is no need to shoot me."
She was speaking quickly, as one tends to do when several guns are aimed in their direction. Her voice soft somehow, innocent. But it was her eyes that sent off alarm bells in Kate's head. Not even the slightest flicker of fear in those clear blue eyes. Jack, Sayid and Kate still holding her at gunpoint, and Rousseau nervously shifting from one foot to the other, hissing "She is a liar, She is one of them."
Sayid briefly turns his attention to Rousseau, silencing her with assurances that they will get to the bottom of this.
"And who are you?" The woman asks boldly. It may have been intended as a general question for the group, but her eyes were locked with Jack's.
"Don't answer her." Rousseau warns. "Don't tell her anything!"
The strangers blue eyes were sparkling, completely lacking the desperation you'd expect to find in someone stranded, half starved, fighting for her survival and afraid for her life. That maddening desperation that had taken over the rest of them. She was too calm. Too sure of herself. Too beautiful. And she knew it.
Her hair was messed up, but unlike Kate and the others on the island, there was underlying order to the chaos. As if she had tried to make it look messy, and failed. As if her perfect golden hair was not capable of looking so dishevelled. Even the scratches on her face were perfectly neat and parallel.
"She is lying." Kate utters her agreement with Rousseau.
The three men, for their part, say nothing.
The stranger shakes her head wearily "Well, ok. If it makes you happy to think I'm lying, so be it. Go on then, shoot me. I've really had enough of this place. I'm stranded here, alone, lost..." It was then her voice wavered, and a solitary tear escaped the woman's eye. And Kate could feel the men soften beside her. This woman had managed to get under their skin with her performance.
"I don't think that will be necessary." Jack manages to mumble in reply. And yet none of them lower their weapons. "We just need some answers."
"Answers?" The woman asks. And gone is the sad desperate facade. "I'd like some answers myself. Where the hell is this place? What are you doing here? Who is it that you think I am that has you holding me at gun point?"
"You know exactly who you are! You're one of them! We see through you! You won't get away with this!" Rousseau screams as she lunges toward the stranger. Sayid manages to pull her away, once again to calm her, telling her that they will deal with this woman.
"You want answers Sayid, you're going to have to make her talk." Rousseau insists.
"Not yet." Sayid replies. He hasn't dismissed the idea of torture entirely, but he is prepared to see how far then can get without it. He pushes Rousseau away from the stranger, he pushes her towards Kate, with a look on his face telling Kate to deal with her, to keep her somehow out of the way. And Kate resents that this task falls on her, as if she is the expert on crazy women. But she does take Rousseau by the arm and pull her back away from the woman.
In the mean time, Locke and Jack are exchanging awkward glances. Neither seems to know what to do with this woman. Finally it is the woman herself who speaks again, breaking the awkward silence that has fallen over the group.
"Have you got any water?" She dares to ask, even as Jack and Sayid had not lowered their weapons.
Her voice was now hollow, but not cracking or rasping like someone thirsty, like someone who didn't know where to find clean drinking water on this island and hadn't taken a drink for days. Just low and sweet, and downright seductive. And even though the men were not quite prepared to take her at her word, not quite foolish enough to believe this woman was no threat, they all turned their backs on her, scrambling around trying to find a water bottle for her.
Rousseau rolls her eyes in disgust, and neither she or Kate lowers their own weapon. This woman might be able to captivate those men under her spell, but Kate could see right through her. And something was not adding up. It was more than simple mistrust in the woman. It was now compounded by jealousy at the way the men were falling over themselves to be the one to give this stranger a drink. But that shred of jealousy that had taken hold of Kate's heart had twisted itself already a little deeper. Kate finds herself sickeningly envious of this woman, her calm composure, her seductive power, her beauty that shines through even in this hellish place.
Kate is careful voicing her opinions about the woman aloud. She is wary about being seen to agree with Rousseau. Kate is aware they all think Rousseau is insane. Paranoid. Desperate. Deluded. Pathetic. Downright crazy. And Kate does not want to find herself viewed in that same category. Especially in front of this 'Erica Evans.'
Kate waits, until the decision has been made to escort the woman back to the hatch, to keep it secret from the rest of the crash survivors until the woman's story is confirmed. And as the woman walks ahead of them, several guns still aimed in her direction, Kate pulls Jack aside.
"Rousseau is right." Kate whispers. "She is lying."
Kate can't help but notice that the woman is holding her head high as she walks. It seems so unnatural for someone who is basically a prisoner at their mercy.
"Rousseau lost the plot a long time ago." Jack answers. "I wouldn't put too much trust in her judgement."
"It would be stupid to take the stranger at her word, Jack, It would be dangerous."
"I know!" He hissed back, irritated. "I don't need you to tell me that. We'll take her back to the hatch."
"And do what? Keep her as a pet?" Kate asked incredulously.
"Keep her under surveillance until we can confirm or deny her account."
The woman turns then, to look over her shoulder, and catches Kate's eye. Almost as if she knew Kate was talking about her, when in reality there was no way she could have heard from so may feet ahead.
"Keep walking, eyes forward." Sayid orders the woman.
And before she obeys, and turns her head back around, the woman smiles. Right at Kate. Kate turns quickly to see if Jack has seen it. He must realise this woman was playing games with them. But Jack has already quickened his pace and turned his attention to catching up with Sayid.
Erica Evans is appropriately awed by the sight of the hatch in the middle of the jungle desolation. "This is nice." She says to no one in particular. "You built this?" She asks.
"We ask the questions." Sayid tells her, as he pushes her inside.
And it makes Kate feel a little better to see they are still treating her as a prisoner, as an enemy. That they will give her no answers, that Sayid will shove her about a little to show that he is in control, and not her.
"What did those people do to you?" Once again, Erica Evans asks a general question, seemingly addressed to no one in particular. Her tone borders on sarcastic, almost as if she is making fun of them for their extreme reaction to her presence on the island. As if they were all just as crazy and deluded as Rousseau. This woman is looking down on them, judging them. And all this when she is the prisoner. When she is the one with no power what so ever. Kate reassures herself that the men must see there is something very very wrong with this picture.
"I said, no questions." Sayid tells her again, this time he pushes her up against the wall, his face only an inch from her own.
Jack pulls him away. "Hey" He protests.
The woman apologises. "I'm sorry. I talk a lot when I'm nervous. Say the wrong thing. And this is a rather unsettling situation." She flashes a hesitant smile at Sayid, and Kate can see his muscles instantly relax, the anger dissolve from his gaze. It makes her own blood boil. Sayid must be able to tell she is playing them. Maybe Jack is starstruck, But Locke and Sayid, they must know, they must hear the insincerity in her so called apology.
"I think it's best if you stay in here for the mean time, Mrs Evans." Jack tells her gently.
"Erica. Call me Erica." She tells him.
"You can call me Jack."
"Oh please." Kate mumbles under her breath, but no one pays her any attention.
"It's for your own safety, too." Jacks adds. As if he has to convince her to step inside the locked room with his words. As if he and Sayid and Kate weren't still holding loaded weapons.
"Well, it's better than another night in the jungle." Erica tells him, and compliantly steps inside the room.
"I'll bring you some food shortly." Jack tells her. Even though she had not made a single request or demand. This was clearly not Sayid's idea of how to treat a prisoner, as he angrily called Jack away from the woman.
"We have to talk Jack, Now. Shut the door and lock her in."
Reluctantly Jack closed the door, locking Erica Evans inside the room.
Moments before the door clicked tightly shut, Kate catches the woman's eyes. Again. There was nothing 'prisoner' about her. Not that wild fear, that injustice, of being locked away when she had supposedly done nothing wrong. No desperation in her eyes, no anger, no pleading. Just a too sweet, if somewhat sad, smile. And two deep blue sparkling eyes that seemed to penetrate right into Kate's soul.