October 17 2032
Sawyer had never felt so awake in his life. The fog that had clouded him, the exhaustion that weighed him down, had gone in an instant. She'd come for him. She wasn't a dream, but this was a nightmare.
He heard the sound of dragging and scraping as Kate was pulled away. The guards laughed, excited with their catch.
'We've got ourselves a prize here,' one of them sneered in his thick east end accent. 'What shall we do with her lads?'
The voices faded as they left the room.
The last thing Sawyer heard before they went into the adjacent cell was the menacingly-spoken reply: 'They're gonna hang her in the morning. I say we have our fun with her while we can…'
Sawyer spat out the metal object in his mouth, and saw it was a key. Kate's last desperate attempt to help him, but it was useless unless he could free his arms.
He pulled violently at his chains, panic washing over him in chilling waves, desperation building with every failed attempt. His wrists were already bloodied and bruised after a week of hopeless struggle, but the pain was nothing compared to his ferocious determination.
He yanked as hard as he could, sweating with the strain, an agonising shockwave of pain running up and down his arm, and still the bolt at the wall wouldn't come free. He stopped for a moment, willing his arms, that were trembling with exertion, to still. Focussing, concentrating, willing to get loose harder than he'd willed anything before.
He breathed in deeply, and pulled hard at the chain. No movement. He pulled again, gritting his teeth against the pain, and still it wouldn't come loose. Sweating with exhaustion, and summoning the last ounce of strength he could muster, he pulled one last time, and the bolt flew out of the dusty brick wall, a puff of mortar exploding into the air.
His heart sang with relief, joy washing over him, but Sawyer didn't waste a second.
He scrambled blindly on the floor, trying to find the key. His fingers passed over it and he grabbed it and jammed it into the keyhole on his other arm, turned it, and heard the blessed click of freedom as the shackle popped open.
The rage and desperation he had been feeling inside him turned into cold, deadly violence.
The guards had left his door unlocked in the excitement and Sawyer pulled it open. He heard the sound of shouting and screaming, as if a pack of animals were loose in the building. He marched over to the door and yanked it open, and was met with a sight he had tried to erase from his mind ever since.
She was curled on the floor in the foetal position, so tiny and delicate, a stark contrast to the rough stone floor of the cold stark cell. Her arms covered her head in defence, and a small pool of blood matted her hair and escaped on to the stone. Three guards stood above her, rolled up sleeves and bloodied fists, a look of vacant pleasure on their faces.
When they saw Sawyer, they backed off slightly, their faces draining of colour as they looked up at him, his face sending out a message that could not have been mistaken. His eyes flashed, feral and violent, as he launched at the guard closest to Kate, who Sawyer knew had taken the final blow. He punched him in the face, feeling the crunch of his breaking nose beneath his fist. He grabbed the gun out of the man's belt and spun around to face the other two. They were shaking, too scared to even reach for their own weapons. Without blinking, Sawyer raised his gun and fired two shots. His bullets reached their targets with brutal precision. The two men slumped simultaneously, lifeless to the floor.
Sawyer turned to the guard he had first attacked, who was whimpering on the floor and clutching his hand to his broken nose.
'Please… please…' he gasped, his voice shaking in terror, his eyes wide and desperate. Sawyer didn't even pause before lifting the gun, and shooting him, between the eyes. Another life snuffed out in an instant.
Sawyer breathed in and out deeply, just once, before he turned away and crouched in front of Kate.
She wasn't moving. He gently put his hand to her head, and felt the sticky liquid on her temple. Her face was deathly pale, she had another cut on her forehead, and another on the corner of her lip that had already bruised. Her top had been lifted in the scuffle, and Sawyer saw an angry, red footprint on the side of her stomach.
'Kate,' he whispered, shaking her gently. 'Freckles… wake up,'
She didn't stir. Quelling his rage at the animals who did this to her, at every son of a bitch in Central, but most of all at Ben, he put one arm underneath her back, and slid the other behind her knees, scooping her up into his arms.
'Come on, girl,' he said tenderly, whispering in to her ear, pressing his lips to her cold, pale cheek. 'You're gonna be ok.'
Her breathing was barely audible, and her face was utterly drained of colour, but Sawyer couldn't think about that now. All he could think about was getting her out of the tower. He saw Kate's silencer, the one she had taken the night of the weapons explosion, and he snatched it from the floor, putting the one he had stolen from the guard in his pocket.
He walked slowly out of the room with Kate's lifeless body in his arms, stepping over the bodies of the men he had killed without a backwards glance.
As he took the first step up the spiral, stone staircase, he heard the distant sound of the air-raid siren. His mind raced as he tried to think of a way out. He knew the layout of the building well, and knew every exit would be heavily guarded, except one. Traitors' Gate. The water gate that led straight on to the river. Sometimes a boat was moored there, but there was a chance it could be on the south bank of the river. It was a gamble Sawyer had no choice but to take. He ran up the stairs, the weight of Kate's body not slowing him down a fraction, despite his week of inaction.
As he arrived at the top of the stairs, he waited a moment, listening for guards, but it was utterly quiet, save for the eerie wail of the siren echoing through the air.
He walked along the corridor, his eyes looking straight ahead, fearless, and ready for whatever came his way. He took the next flight up to the ground floor level, but as he reached the door, he heard voices on the other side.
'They got her. Old Eric's gone to get the boss,' one voice said excitedly.
'Lucky bastards,' came a low growl. 'Look's like Smith's gonna get a pay rise.'
Sawyer put Kate down, resting her gently against the wall, and took out his blade. He pressed himself against the wall and waited, and in a second the door opened, and he heard the sound of footsteps, walking away from him down the corridor, muffled by the plush red carpet, echoing from the oak wood floor beneath.
He stealthily walked behind them, silently moving closer until they were in reaching distance. Then he grabbed the back of one of the guards heads by his hair, pulled him back into him, and with a powerful slash, brought the knife across his throat, feeling the instant burst of hot blood on his hands. He pushed the man forward in disgust and turned to the other, whose mind hadn't caught up with what had occurred, and plunged the knife into his chest.
He had turned around before the man had even hit the floor, running quickly back to Kate, hating to leave her even for a second.
He ran to the entrance of the small inner tower and pulled it open, feeling the rush of ice cold wind hit him and wrap itself around him.
He ran across the courtyard, ducking into the shadows when he saw another three guards leave one tower and head towards the one he'd just been in. He saw the antechamber of the gate ahead of him and ran with renewed vigour, escape so close at hand. Still clutching Kate, he pulled back the huge metal bolt aside and pushed open the heavy doors with his shoulder, nearly laughing out loud in relief as they gave way, scraping across the cold stone.
He rushed in, and pulled the doors back behind him. He turned around, and was met with a scene that chilled his bones.
Ben Linus. Standing calmly in front of the pool of murky brown water separated from the river behind by the gate. A smile on his face, a curl of victory on his lips. In the water behind him was a tiny wooden boat, rocking gently on the swell, teasing Sawyer with it's promise of freedom.
'Now how did I know that you'd come here, James?' he said, his voice smug.
'You want to live,' Sawyer snarled. 'You'd best get out of my way.'
'That's not the way this works and you're not in control here. What did you think was going to happen, James?' he said, humourless laughter in his tone. 'Thought I was just going to let you walk out of here?
Ben looked hard at Sawyer, the mirth on his face replaced by pure venom.
'You've got something that belongs to me,' he said, eyeing Kate. 'And I'd like it back.'
In a flash, Sawyer reached for the gun in his jeans, but was stopped by the whiz of a bullet, slicing through the air, sparking the ground by his feet.
'Why don't you put the gun down, Sawyer,' Ben said, more an order than a request.
At that moment, the sound of a thunderous explosion rippled through the air, tearing through the night, lighting it an electric orange. And then another, and another. Ben crouched to his knees, covering his head.
Sawyer took the opportunity and ran towards Ben, kicking him hard in the face, hard enough that the smaller man flew back into the water behind, landing with a splash, inaudible behind the explosions.
He lifted his gun to the air and saw the sniper, illuminated in the flaming night sky, and shot. The man fell forward and landed with a sickening crunch on the hard floor.
Sawyer ran over to the boat and placed Kate gently inside, carefully resting her head on the side and ran to the heavy metal ratchet, desperately turning it. It squealed as it slowly started to turn, and waters from the river rushed in and swelled the pool. It splashed against him, plastering his clothes to his body and his hair to his face as he turned it until the doors were fully open. He ran to the side of the boat and untied it from its moor, and giving it a push, he jumped in. He grabbed the oar and started pushing against the water until the boat was on the open river.
He paddled hard against the rough, choppy waters of the Thames, his arms screaming in agony and exhaustion, his breathing ragged, but his eyes staring straight ahead.
It was over an hour before he stopped to rest. He looked at Kate, still unconscious, the gash on her forehead giving way to an angry purple bruise, contrasting with her pale skin. He reached forward and shakily moved a curly lock of brown hair out of her eyes.
He turned his head just once to look back. He didn't know what had happened… who had caused the explosion, but from here, the whole city looked like it was on fire. The tower, which had seemed so imposing, was small in the distance, he could see the old ferris wheel on the south bank, rotating slowly, making its ghostly cycle, and the gothic structure of the old houses of parliament, pure black against the orange sky.
He turned his back on it, refusing to look anymore.
'Hey…' he whispered to Kate, his angel, his saviour. 'Can you hear me? You're going to be okay. You're going to be alright. Just hold on.'
The tiny boat drifted down the river, the stream of water taking them further and further away from the city, and deeper into the wild, untamed lands that lay beyond.