spinx: I'm not sure about Sawyer having a birthday, since it might seem redundant after Kate's in IH, but they do have Christmas coming up. Actually, we're about caught up with them in terms of time right now - it should be mid-November in the fic as well. I started it in May, when it was September for them, and now we'll probably pass them. And that was your useless dose of information for today!
Thank you a million times for reading, everybody!
Chapter 10
Sawyer was in a place he had never seen before. It was a dark landscape, with ominous clouds scudding across the sky, and a strong, howling wind buffeting him from all directions. On one side of the flat tidal rocks he was standing on, ocean waves pounded in surges, sending up a fine spray of mist. That part looked vaguely familiar. On the other side, though, where a beach should have been, there was a series of low, gray foothills, angular and sharp, free of any vegetation. Everything was gray - the sky, the low mountains, even the water. It was a place devoid of any life, color, or hope.
Then his vision snagged on one bright patch, off to the side. It was Kate, wearing red, climbing one of the highest rocks.
Dazed, he moved toward her, the distance seeming to recede and stretch out as he got nearer.
"What the hell are you doin' up there?" he called out. The shrieking wind caught his voice and stole all of its volume, rendering the sound tinny and inconsequential to his own ears.
But she must have heard it, because she turned, as if forcing herself, with regret. Even though she was far, far above him, he could discern her features as clearly as if she were only inches away. He saw her face as a whole, not divided into disparate segments as he perceived it normally, but as one integrated, inevitable form, complete in its beauty, like a painting. It was both familiar and strange at the same time. Her eyes were a deep, soothing gray-green, quiet and sad against the blazing red of her shirt. She looked at him with sorrow.
"Get down from there!" he shouted against the wind, alarmed at how high up she was.
She seemed to consider his words for a moment.
"I can't," she said, not in a loud voice, although he heard her words with perfect clarity.
"Why not?" he yelled back, not understanding.
"There's no way back down," she said. "I just have to keep climbing up. It's where the birds are."
"What!" he demanded. As hard as he tried, he couldn't seem to make any sense out of what she was saying.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Before he could reason with her further, he was distracted by a new noise, first mingling with and then separating from the wind, lifting itself up and swirling around him. It was the sound of a baby crying. Over the clamor of the wind and the waves, it faded in and out like a bad radio signal.
"What is that?" he asked her, glancing around in bewilderment. "You hear it?"
She heard something. Lifting her head up, she gazed out toward the water with a fearful, hunted expression. Her hair whipped around her.
"Where's it coming from?" Sawyer repeated, more insistently, trying to get her attention.
She looked back down at him, guilt written all over her face. She appeared trapped.
He felt a cold dread begin to seep into him. "What did you do?" he asked in a low, frightened voice.
She continued to stare at him, not moving. Their gazes were locked in some kind of contest.
The wailing became louder, more desperate. Giving up on an answer, Sawyer reluctantly turned away from Kate, beginning to search.
The sound came from all around him, from every direction. He moved along the rocks frantically, seeking the source, jerking his head in a strained effort to listen every time the noise seemed to change locations. He moved from rock to rock like a madman, faster and faster as the hunt became more futile. There was no trace of anything living.
The darkness seemed to be increasing, along with the force of the wind. "Where is it?" he muttered to himself, feeling the hard edge of panic in his gut. His heart was pounding in a sickening rhythm and he felt like he couldn't catch his breath. The noise of the infant was like an accusation, focused directly on him. It cut into his soul like a knife.
"Where in God's name is it? What the hell did you do!"
He turned around, seeking help again in his distress. "Kate!" he shouted.
She was gone. The foothills were a uniform gray, empty of any human presence. There was no indication that she had been there at all. He looked at the space blankly.
"KATE!" he roared in desperation. His voice echoed off the rocks.
There was no response.
Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, the baby's cry was cut off in mid-wail. The howl of the wind became louder.
A strong gust launched itself against his back, forcing him to his knees to escape the relentless driving force of the air. He continued to stare at the empty spot where she had been as it grew darker and harder to see.
"What the hell did you do?" he whispered into the wind, feeling a great gulf of hopelessness closing in on him.
The landscape seemed to be dimming quickly, starting at the edges and working toward him, plunging him into complete darkness. Everything was disappearing. As he felt it begin to swallow him up, he heard the sound of the wind transform into something else. It was vague at first, hard to pinpoint, but then the noise swelled up and became substantial. It was calliope music.
He struggled out of this overwhelming blackness as noises started to separate into more definite shapes in his mind. He heard a distinct "Meep meep! Meep meep!"
"What the... ?" he muttered, opening his eyes. The water-stained ceiling of the motel room was the first thing he saw. He squeezed his eyes shut again and rolled over slightly, groaning. As he did, he noticed Kate's concerned face above him, looking down. She was leaning against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of her on the bed, right next to him. In her hand was the remote control.
"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he said, blinking heavily. "Just had a... a really weird dream, is all." Then he squinted at the TV, confused. "Are you watchin' the Road Runner?" he asked.
She smiled sheepishly, a little embarrassed. "Yeah. You caught me."
He couldn't have said why the words, or the look on her face, affected him so much. Without raising his head from the pillow, he grasped her around her midsection and pressed his face to the side of her waist, underneath her arm. She felt warm and substantial and reassuringly real against him. He breathed in as deeply as he could.
"There!" she said suddenly, as if she was intent on something. "You see how he did that? That was genius... absolute genius."
Sawyer glanced at the TV in time to see the coyote blowing himself up.
"You know, Freckles," he began slowly, looking up at her. "I used to think this whole cartoon thing of yours was kinda cute. But now I'm pretty sure you're just using 'em to get ideas. Little disturbing if you think about it."
She smiled again. "Well, it can't hurt, right? I mean, who knows more about making a quick getaway than the Road Runner?"
Instead of answering, he kissed her waist firmly, then the spot just above the first kiss, then the spot just above that.
She ducked away a little, shuddering. "That tickles!"
With his arm still hooked around her, he pulled her down toward him, and she obliged, sliding down so that her head was on the pillow next to his.
"What was your dream about?" she asked softly, looking into his eyes.
"Don't remember," he said. That wasn't really untrue. Already, the details of the nightmare were fading away, becoming fuzzy and indistinct. The more he avoided thinking about it, the further it receded. It was now mostly just a feeling, a mood, a lingering emotional tone - not anything detailed or visual. He carefully tried not to focus on it, knowing that it wasn't anything he wanted to be more familiar with.
"You still look pale. How do you feel?"
"Good as new," he assured her. He'd spent almost all of yesterday sleeping, and by now, the virus seemed to have completely left his system. He felt weak and still somehow drained, even with all the sleep, but other than that, he was fine.
"You know, we don't have to leave today," Kate said. "I know we said we would, but if you don't feel up to it, we should stay one more night."
"Nah," he said. "I'm ready to get the hell out of this room."
She smiled a little, sympathetically. "I know the feeling." She raised up slightly. "I think I'll hit the shower before we leave, though."
Sawyer continued to stare at her, as if he was trying to figure something out. Why did he suddenly have the most unnerving sensation that she was acting a part, reciting lines? That was ridiculous... It made no sense at all. He banished the half-formed thought, knowing it was just an after-effect of his illness.
She watched him, perhaps guessing that there was something disturbing flitting through his mind. Leaning down, she kissed him lightly. Reacting on an impulse, he put his hand on the back of her neck to keep her in place and then allowed his tongue to get into the act. She let the kiss continue for a few more seconds, but then separated herself from him forcibly.
"Yeah," she said in an ironic tone as she sat up, rolling her eyes. "You're all better."
He gave her a wicked look as she headed toward the bathroom. He waited a few seconds, hearing the water start running in the shower. Once inside, she poked her head back out the door.
"Well... You coming or not?" she asked.
"Baby, I thought you'd never ask," he said lazily, pulling himself off the bed and moving toward her. She laughed as she pulled him into the room and shut the door firmly.
Thanks to the distractions of the shower, they got another late start, but since they were already making such bad time anyway, it didn't bother Kate as much as it would have a week earlier. She was just grateful to be out of the room, to be breathing in the fresh, cool air. It also hadn't escaped her notice that ever since Sawyer's illness, she herself had been the picture of health. Whatever the cause, she couldn't have been more thankful that her nausea appeared to be gone, at least for the time being.
They drove through the back roads of southern Indiana, staying on Kate's carefully mapped-out route. She'd been so careful to pick only the most obscure, out-of-the way areas that at times they found themselves on gravel roads so narrow that another car wouldn't have been able to get by them even if they'd encountered one. To Sawyer, these roads were a pain in the ass to navigate, but he could see how much more secure Kate felt when they were far from civilization, so he tried to keep from complaining as much as possible.
With the thin warmth of the mid-November sun pouring into the truck, they both felt a drowsy, simple peace in one another's presence, in just the fact of sitting beside each other, talking about unimportant things, watching the cornfields pass by. To Kate, this was something she had never really expected to feel in Sawyer's company. The fun of competition, the amusement of antagonism, the sexual tension... all these elements had been there from the beginning. The concern for each others' well-being and the most important transition of all, that of love, had both followed in their train. But it was only recently, belatedly, that she thought there might be growing between them something that would best be designated by the term friendship. For this to have occurred, she knew how much Sawyer had had to change, to grow up, in a manner of speaking. Of course, he still had some progress to make (this she thought wryly, gripping the seat, as he floored the accelerator and risked flipping them into the ditch in order to pass some jackass in an SUV who'd cut him off), but she had to admit, she didn't want him to change too much. He just wouldn't be Sawyer without the attitude.
With this line of thought came a host of associations, and the one that hooked in her mind the most prominently was the question of whether she had changed, as well. She knew the answer was an almost resounding no. With a few exceptions, she had barely taken steps to meet him halfway. There was a dark, sealed-off corner of her heart that she kept hidden at all times, even from herself. It was something that she held back, unconsciously, almost as if she was observing all this from a distance, waiting to see how things would turn out before she truly weighed in. Sawyer, despite his occasional lapses, had thrown all his chips in the pot, while she was still holding some cards in reserve. Her spontaneous whispered words to him a few nights ago only served to heighten her perception of the contrast between what she believed she felt, and what that tiny, buried part of her refused to conform to. Even when she could see the discrepancy, she didn't jump to fix it. Maybe, after all, it wasn't something she could change on her own initiative. Maybe it was something that just had to happen to her. But she was beginning to wonder, sadly, if she would ever be able to trust herself to such an extent.
But she knew it wasn't fair to him to hold so much back. Even though he rarely mentioned it, she knew, instinctively, that it was something he could sense. She could at least do him the courtesy of being open and honest about the one thing that he had a right to share with her. It was the last thing in the world she wanted to talk about, and the prospect filled her with dread, but after all, how much longer could they realistically avoid it? With every passing day, she grew more and more certain of the truth. The signs were unmistakable, and she was tired of trying to rationalize them away. More importantly, she was tired of feeling so alone and isolated with her fears. It wasn't really something she was supposed to deal with on her own, was it? She decided that it was time to bring everything to the table. With her mind made up, she settled back to enjoy the rest of the drive.
They continued traveling for another hour or so. Because of the recent time change, it was only 5:00 pm when the sun began to sink toward the horizon.
"Let's eat," Kate said suddenly. "Then we can look for a place to stay. There's a little town up here, after this turn-off."
"Already?" he asked, surprised. "We haven't even come fifty miles yet today."
She didn't answer.
"It don't seem like you're in any big hurry to leave Indiana, sweetheart. Thinkin' about buyin' some real estate? Saw a farm for sale back there," he went on, in a sarcastic voice.
"I just think we should take it slow for a few days, until you're back to full strength."
"I'm at full strength," he said scornfully. "Told you I was, didn't I? You want to arm wrestle?"
She vaguely considered saying yes, picturing how much fun it would be if she happened to beat him. But the blow to his pride would make him unbearable. "Just turn," she said. "I'm tired, whether you are or not."
"All right. But if the Children of the Corn show up tonight, I sure as hell hope you don't think I'm goin' in there after you."
He took the turn, and within a few moments, they were in a small town. They ordered fast food and looked in vain for someplace to eat. Finally, they were forced to go back out into the country a few miles, to a deserted area along the Wabash river. They parked on a gravel embankment, overlooking the water, with a suspension bridge just barely visible downstream to the left. On the opposite bank were steep, wooded bluffs, a welcome contrast to the flatter areas they'd been driving through all day.
As they ate, they looked at the river and the cabins perched high on the hills above them. The sky turned a deep, flushed pink as the sun set.
"I wonder if they rent those cabins out," Kate said idly, as if she was thinking out loud.
"Probably," he said. "Perfect little weekend retreats for Mr. Middle Manager and his girlfriend, while the wifey stays home with the kids."
"That's a little cynical, don't you think?" She paused. "Then again, I guess you would know."
He gave her a dirty look, and then went back to eating.
Kate continued after a moment, casually. "I bet they're pretty expensive. Even for just one night."
"Cost more than they're worth, that's for damn sure." He swallowed the bite he was chewing, and then looked at her, suspicious. "Why?"
"No reason. I was just curious. Of course, it's obvious that we don't have the kind of money to spend on something like that. Motels are more anonymous, anyway. Much safer."
"What makes you think that we don't have that kind of money?"
"Well, you're the one who's always saying we have to be careful what we spend."
"Are you callin' me cheap?" he asked defensively.
"No!" she protested in an innocent tone. "I'm just saying that you're right. Until we get to Canada, everything we have is at stake, so it's not like we can have the luxury of fireplaces and wine and... and hot tubs," she said, like she thought the very idea was absurd. "I mean, can you imagine?"
Sawyer didn't answer for a few seconds. Kate waited, expectantly.
"Nobody ever said we had to stay in the motels every single night. Did I say that?"
"No, but..."
"Because I don't remember that bein' part of the rules for this little road trip of ours."
"It's not a rule, it's just... more practical."
"Well, maybe I'm tired of being practical. You ever think of that?"
"It doesn't matter anyway, because I'm sure the rental office is closed by now. Even if we wanted one for tonight, we couldn't get it."
"Maybe so. But it just so happens I know how to pick a lock, and I'm pretty sure you're an expert in that field as well."
"You really want to stay in one of those things that bad?" she said, like she couldn't believe it.
"Already made up my mind, so you might as well just give up the arguing, princess. Not gonna do you any good."
"Fine," she said turning aside. "I fold." She bit her lip in an effort to keep from smiling at her triumph. God, that was so easy.
For awhile, they didn't speak. Then Sawyer looked down at his burger in disgust. "Never thought I'd miss the taste of boar," he muttered.
Kate gave him a sympathetic look. "Your appetite isn't back to normal yet." As if this reminded her of something, she leaned over and rummaged around in the bottom of her backpack, coming back up with two orange pills. "You should probably take one of these too. It can't hurt."
"They're for women," he said, looking at her like she was crazy.
She tried not to laugh. "They won't make you grow ovaries or anything, Sawyer. They're just vitamins. And I don't care what you say, you're still weak."
He looked skeptical as she forced the pill into his hand and put hers in her mouth, but he eventually tossed it back in his throat and swallowed it with a drink of soda, looking pissed the whole time. "If I start tryin' to wear your clothes in the next few days, you better just shoot me," he told her.
Shaking her head in amusement, she ignored him.
Finally, she sighed deeply. "Once we get settled up there tonight, there's something... there's something we should probably talk about." She tried not to let hesitation creep into her voice.
"You gonna eat the rest of those?" Sawyer asked.
Impatiently, she handed him her fries.
Continuing, she said, "I just think... that there's no point in waiting."
Sawyer all of a sudden became absorbed in trying to open a packet of ketchup. He sounded nervous. "Why you think they gotta package these damn things like they're nuclear?"
"Sawyer," she said quietly.
"I'm serious! What the hell is the point of makin' these so hard to get into? You think those sons-of-bitches get some kind of sadistic pleasure out of it, back at their little ketchup headquarters?"
She sighed. "Let me do it." She leaned toward him, trying to take the small plastic packet from him.
He resisted, saying, "I got it," in a nasty voice.
As he tried to keep her from taking it, though, he squeezed too hard and the end burst open, splattering ketchup all over the front of Kate's shirt. She closed her eyes and compressed her lips in a thin line, holding her arms out away from her in irritation.
"Shit," he said.
"Thanks a lot," she said in low voice.
She raised her eyes to his, wondering if he would still attempt to blame this on her, but the expression on his face surprised her. He was staring at the red stain with something bordering on horror.
"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
Forcing himself to look away, he swallowed hard and then said quietly, "Nothin'. It just.. just reminded me of somethin', is all."
"Like what?"
"Just some stupid dream I had. Forget it... it don't mean anything."
"You dream about ketchup?" she asked, trying to lighten him up.
"Yeah," he said, with a strained smile. "All the time." He paused. "You think it'll come out?" He glanced at her stomach again, and then quickly away.
"I don't know," she said, looking down. "Like you said, I'm an expert at picking locks. Not stains." She raised her eyebrows at him as she spoke these last words, grabbing some napkins from the paper sack. "But I'll go down to the water and rinse the worst of it out, before it has a chance to set in. Want to help?"
"I think I'll just wait here. You were right... I'm feelin' a little tired all of a sudden."
"Well, I'll be right back. Then we can go up there and have a relaxing evening of breaking and entering." She smiled at him.
"Sounds like a plan."
She climbed out of the truck, getting ready to slam the door behind her.
As if he'd just thought of it, Sawyer asked her, "What'd you want to talk about?"
She looked at him, hesitating. "It can wait," she said in a soft voice.
Closing the door, she headed down the slight incline to the river, eventually moving out of view of the truck. She knelt beside the water and used the napkins to dab at the stain, but she couldn't see that it made much difference. It ended by becoming an ugly dark pink color, and to make matters worse, her shirt was now soaked and it was getting cold. She gave up when it became too dark to see what she was doing. Taking one more look at the sky, where the first stars were just beginning to come out, she started to walk back up the hill.
As she neared the truck, she kept her hands in front of the stain. For some reason, she didn't want Sawyer to see how bad it was. No point in making him feel worse. But her steps slowed in confusion as she got closer and looked into the cab.
He wasn't there.
Halting, she looked around. There were no bathrooms here; in fact, there were no buildings in evidence at all, except for the cabins perched high above them, across the river.
"Sawyer?" she said, not raising her voice too much out of a deeply ingrained caution.
She listened. There wasn't a sound at first, but then, after a few seconds, she thought she heard the crunch of gravel from the other side of the truck.
Moving in that direction, she asked with a smile in her tone, "Are you peeing over there?"
Coming around the corner of the bumper, she froze at the sight of his body lying face down on the ground.
"Sawyer?" she asked, unable to move right away. She felt like she was falling into a deep, dark pit that she'd only just recently succeeded in clawing her way out of. Was this some kind of relapse? Her mind protested against the possibility with all the strength she had left, and she felt instant tears of desperation spring to her eyes. But... was that blood trickling from his temple? She took a step closer, peering into the darkness.
The next thing she was aware of was a vigorous, powerful pressure that forced her to her knees. A split second later, she felt the pain on the back of her head, radiating outward.
Making every effort to turn and look behind her, she could make out, with blurred vision, a man standing a few feet away. Although she felt darkness seeping into the edges of her consciousness, she could see him well enough to remember, vividly, the moment she'd last seen him. It was at the bank, when she'd shot him. The image came to her instantaneously.
"Jason..." she said in a whisper, fighting to stay alert.
He walked toward her, blotting out the last dusky blue of the sky.
"Hey, Maggie," he said, with a vicious half-smile. "Long time no see."
The next blow came too fast for her to predict it. Her body twisted around again, and the last thing she felt was her own head hitting the gravel before the blackness closed around her.