22 September 2004

Kate looked around her, and all she could see in the distance was green. She stretched her shoulders, releasing a knot from her back, and feeling the raging pain in her entire body. She scanned her body quickly. Nothing. Not a single visible injury. How the fuck is that possible? She thought to herself. The plane just broke into three pieces in mid air, they just dropped what should have been 50,000 feet from the air. How the fuck is she still alive? Were there any other survivors?

Where was Edward Mars?

She looked around her again, more panicked this time. Was any of this even real?

The pain was real enough.

And then it hit her. This was her chance. She can get away now. Run, feel her feet bouncing off the floor, feel the wind in her hair. She looked around her again. But what if there were other survivors? Injured? In need of help?

Who the fuck cares? This was her chance.

She wiped her hands against her pants, brushing away the grass and leaves that hung on to her. She scanned her surroundings. She had no idea where she was, what direction to run towards or what she was going to be running towards. She saw smoke, further inland, it must be where the plane landed. Run in the opposite direction. That was her one instinct.

And so she did. She ran, ignoring the searing pain in her limbs and the fact that the salty wind was stinging against the cuts on her cheek. She was not sure how long she had been running to when she reached that small clearing on the hill by the beach. The small clearing with the shirtless man who asked her to sew him up.

"Excuse me," he said, startling her slightly. She jumped back, taking a moment to understand what was happening. He was hurt and needed her help. Must have been on the plane. So there are survivors. Why wasn't Edward Mars next to her where she landed? Why wasn't he chasing her?

She shook her head, trying to understand what the injured man needed from her. He wanted what?

Kate's voice shook as she talked to him, her body and mind not working in sync. Run, Kate, ignore him and just run in the other direction! Her brain was pretty clear. No point prolonging the inevitable, just run. It wasn't like she was really going to sew up a strangers wound.

But still, she took another step towards him, and he went on explaining, urging her, showing her the gruesome gash on his back. Yeah, run, NOW!

He looked at her, warm brown eyes shrouded with unshed tears, a sincere, genuine plea in his voice.

"You can do this. I'm telling you. If you wouldn't mind." there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at her, the way his shoulders fell, like a man drowning, looking to her for salvation.

Kate, dammit, run! Every fiber in her was screaming, yelling at her to just turn around and run. This was her last chance.

"Of course I will," she said, taking that last step towards him.

Fuck.

She sat in front of him, knees bumping, his erratic breath hitting her flushed freckled cheek and his laugh bubbling with earnest mirth when they talked about thread color. The joke floating between them like it would two old friends, and when her fingers rested against his injured back, she felt his heartbeat, pounding rapidly in rhythm with hers.

Maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

END.


Thank you so much to every one who read this little ficlet and to everyone who took the time to review. This was just a little thing I wanted to do to honour Lost's 10th year anniversary, so Happy Anniversary, Losties, and here's to ten more!