Part way back to the beach, Sawyer dropped the load of wood along the path, leaned against a tree trunk and lit a cigarette. His supply of smokes was running low but he would deal with that when it happened. Never was much of a saver so no sense stockpiling them now. He rubbed both of his upper arms amazed at how a little knife wound and a bullet hole had affected his strength and how they continued to ache. Sure, he'd had his share of knicks before but never had lingering aches like these. Not that he'd ever let anyone know or seek remedy from the good doctor. He even tried chewing on the leaves that Sun had recommended for his headaches to no avail. He smirked wondering if these aches would become his version of lingering "football" injuries that old men always referred to in their old age. Before the crash, he never thought about old age. He never gave the time of day to thinking about growing old. No point in it. With his chosen lifestyle, it was only a matter of time till some job would turn out wrong and he'd pay for it with his life. Didn't matter though. He only had one thing in mind then, one thing he had to do and now that was gone, leaving him with the frustration of not having completed it. The crash left him on this rock with too much time to think. Thinking too much made him remember things he didn't want to remember or feel. Good things. Good feelings. Made him look at things he wouldn't allow himself to recognize. The good in himself. He felt a lot safer, more sure of himself in the black and white world behind his wall. That's why he felt uneasy about this new job. It was foreign territory to him, something different, something new. He strained again to lift the wood, and by the time he trudged on down the path to the beach, he felt his self-preservation foul mood defense mechanism kicking in. Found himself wondering if Kate would actually take him up on his dinner invite. Doubting her. Doubting his plan. Doubting himself. "Should have suggested a quick bite in the jungle with her as the dessert so neither of us would have had as much time to think about it" he grumbled. Thought about ditching the whole plan, but how to get out of it now?
By the time he hit the beach, doubt worried him enough to ponder what to do if she didn't show up. No real reason for her to. He did smash her trust in him to get the guns, he saw the hurt in her eyes, the same hurt he saw during their fireside exchange before he left on the raft. Both of them lying then and knowing it, never admitting it. Hurting each other, because they could. Now he couldn't see any other way to get what he needed without involving her again. It just had to be done. It was a key part of the plan. Part of the bigger picture. What if their previous connection was not enough for him to base this next phase on? Would she be too concerned with Jack's opinion of her sharing dinner with him? He hoped he assessed her independence, stubbornness, and her needing-to-be included well enough to know that she could not care what Jack thought about a shared dinner, at least outwardly. Her curiosity would provide her with a quick cover, a quick lie to defend herself with. Hell, she was as good as lying as he was. He knew the risks involved in pushing her to regain some trust and trusted his instinct on the gamble.
He made his round of deliveries without exchanging a word or exchanging any eye contact with any of the survivors until he noticed that Locke was not hanging around Claire's tent so he discreetly stopped by and left a few extra pieces for her. Claire was nursing Aaron so he quietly stacked her wood and asked how Aaron was doing. Claire thanked him again for helping her with Aaron's teething fussiness the night before. "No problem Mamacita" he whispered, "just remember the deal was that we keep that to ourselves". She smiled and nodded in reply and gave him a little wave as he walked away. She continued to watch him and wondered if she or anyone else would ever understand why he worked so hard to be outwardly miserable and obnoxious. She and Aaron had witnessed firsthand the caring guy inside the night before. Relieved by Claire's response to him, he took some solace in that clear fact that "Operation Mamacita" was progressing as planned!
Back at his tent, he quickly stripped to his boxers, dropped his sweaty clothes in a pile, noting that it was laundry time again, and then made his way to the water to cool off before starting his daily, ritualistic laps Swimming laps was like chopping wood, tiring, dulling, physically exhausting. Made him tired. A few days earlier, Sun approached him as he dragged himself out of the water and cautioned him about such physical exertion during the hottest part of the day. "You should be more careful, Sawyer. You're going to wear yourself out." "Yep, I am" was his reply. He knew it was the only way he could get some sleep. So what if it was the middle of the afternoon, and the hottest time of day. It was only when he was completely exhausted that he could catch of few hours of true sleep, allowing him the quietness at night to plot and rethink his job, his plan. Before he hit the water, he scanned the beach looking for a signal from Charlie, but Charlie was not in sight. "I just love working with Amateurs" he muttered as he dove in.
