TITLE: Boomerang
CHARACTERS: Kate, Sawyer, Jack
RATED: PG-13 for the time being.

EPISODES: Set after the story "Drawn Together": The raft is successful.
STATUS: Chapter Seven of….Unknown
BETA READER: Nicki and Ben (Two of my friends that are hooked!)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters from the show LOST. I certainly don't own Kate or Sawyer. (tear tear) But I do, however, own the rights to this story and my imagination that created it.

Quickie:
Bum bum bum!

Chapter 7

"No rush," she replied. "I just didn't think you'd want me hanging around here that long."

He didn't say anything, but let out a puff of smoke. Curious now, Kate couldn't control herself anymore.

"Do you want me here?"

After being quiet for a few minutes, he finally spoke. "I'm hungry."

Her shoulders slumping, she decided to leave it alone. "Yeah. Me too."

"If you want, I know a place we can grab some breakfast," he said, getting up.

"Isn't it a little late to get breakfast?"

"You can get breakfast at three in the afternoon here."

She shrugged. "Oh."

"Look. I'm gonna go shower. Can I trust you not to ransack my house?"

She smiled. "Maybe."

"I find anything missing, I'm comin' after you," he said with a grin, heading up the stairs.

She walked to the doorway of the living room and followed him with her eyes. When she heard a door slam upstairs, she looked around the living room. It was nothing special. It had a rustic wooden look. He had a ratty old couch and two cushion chairs on either side of the couch. Across from the couch was a large TV, and coffee table separating the two. On the other side, there was a fireplace, looking as though nothing had burned there in ages. She noticed there were a few things on the mantle above it. She wandered over to look. There was a few opened envelopes, his keys, a small open bottle of some kind of alcohol, and a small black book. Curious, she took the book from the mantle and flipped through it.

It turned out to be a phone book. Each page was crammed with names and numbers and little notes. She skimmed through. Garrison…Hibbs…Jessie…Julia…Kendra….Lisa… She saw a recurring theme of female names up until she reached the Qs. Were these really all the women that Sawyer had "worked" with? Why did he still have the book anyway? She browsed through a little more, then found a paper wedged in the back of it. She pulled it out carefully and read: The Parlor – 2AM: Hibbs & Lloyd. At the bottom, she saw scribbled, Lloyd's vacation cut short.

"Better not have torn my house apart!" he called from upstairs.

Startled by his voice, she dropped the book and the paper.

"Don't worry! It's not that bad!" she called back to him, trying not to be obvious.

She then bent down to pick the book and paper back up. She tucked the paper back into place, and put the book back on the mantle. She didn't know exactly what Sawyer did, but after reading that paper, she wasn't sure she really wanted to know. For some reason, she didn't think anything good could come of Lloyd's shortened vacation. She walked away from the mantle and sat on the couch. Just as she did, a few whirls of dust rose from it. She coughed, and waved it out of her face. Just how old was this house and everything in it?

Finally, she heard the stairs creaking and saw Sawyer coming down. He had managed to get jeans on, of course, but no shirt. His hair was still dripping down his back and chest. She looked at him, teasingly questioningly.

"I ain't got a clean one up there!" he reasoned.

"I didn't say anything," she laughed.

"Yeah, whatever," he said, walking into the kitchen through to the pantry.

She hadn't noticed before, but in the pantry, there was a washing machine and dryer. She was both shocked and amused that he actually did his laundry. When he came back into the room, he had a white t-shirt that read "Wife Beater" on it. She looked at the shirt strangely.

"Are you seriously wearing that shirt?"

"What's wrong with it?" he looked down at it.

"Wife beater?" she laughed. "People are going to think you beat me!"

"Don't get carried away, Freckles. I know you wish you were, but you ain't my wife," he grinned.

"Thank god," she muttered, jokingly.

"So what were you doing down here?" he looked around, suspiciously.

"Noticing how dusty all your furniture seems to be," she said, getting up from the couch.

"Haven't gotten around to gettin' new ones yet."

"Well you might want to start considering…" she teased.

"Har har. Let's go."

"Think maybe I could wash up a bit first or something?"

"Fine," he said, annoyed and hungry. "Just don't tell me you're one of them girls who take hours to get ready?"

"Okay. I won't tell you," she joked.

He sighed, and went back into the kitchen, putting the coffee cups in the sink. He wasn't waiting long when she came into the kitchen. Her hair was no longer a mess, but pulled back into a neat, tight ponytail. He could see that she had obviously washed her face, but her jeans still had the tear and mud at the bottom. He thought she looked even prettier than before. She shrugged, and he got up, grabbing his keys from the mantle. He started out the door, and she followed him around to the side of the house. That's when she saw the beat up old thing that was his truck.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Looks can be deceiving, darlin'."

"That actually works?"

"It runs just fine."

They both got in the truck, and he started it. It would have been fine, except the truck didn't want to cooperate. Instead of starting, it stalled.

"Oh come on!" Sawyer shouted.

"Runs just fine, huh?" she teased. "Might want to consider a new truck…"

"Shut up," he said, angrily. "Come on…Start!"

Finally, after ten minutes of trying, it started.

"Haha! I knew you had it in ya, you piece of crap!"

Kate shook her head, and laughed, looking out the window. Men and their toys. They pulled out of the driveway and started down the dirt road. It was a quiet drive. Kate spent the ride looking out the window at everything around. Sadly, it was mostly trees. When they reached the town, she looked at all the shops. He pulled into a parking lot and she looked up at the name of the place – The Parlor. Her eyes widened, and she hoped to god they weren't going in there. He turned off the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

"Um, maybe I shouldn't have come. I mean what if someone recognizes me?"

"No one will. Half the people here don't even watch the news. And the other half is asleep when they are watching it," he told her, getting out of the car and walking to the front of it. When she didn't come out, he went over to her side, and opened her door, leaning on it.

"You got a good chance of 'em not recognizin' you."

"But still. It's risky," she said, her legs already hanging out the door despite herself.

"Chances are the only people in there are a few waitresses and two old guys readin' the mornin' paper. Now come on," he said, holding his hand out to her.

She looked at his hand, longingly, and sadly. It was the first time since she'd gotten there that seemed to show he still cared for her. She smiled to herself.

"Okay."

She took his hand as he helped her down from the truck and they walked into the restaurant.