"Where the hell is Kwon?" Christian demanded sternly.

Sawyer held the ice to the side of his head as he walked forward, Loveless hanging onto his arm like he was trying to support him. "Got away."

"What?"

Shephard sounded truly angry, but Sawyer was too tired and in too much pain to care.

"I told you. I gave explicit orders to bring her back-"

"Yeah. I know, I know, Hutch. God help me."

"Well do you mind telling me where she is?"

"Go easy on him, sir." Muff advised in a soft tone, "It's not his fault—those Arabs really worked him over."

Christian's forehead creased, "Arabs?"

"Yes sir. How many did you say there were, Ford?"

"A whole damn army." Sawyer muttered, even though he knew Christian might realize it had been Sayid; he really couldn't care less right then. He pulled away from Loveless and sank down in the couch, suppressing a moan.

"Were they CIA agents or working for someone else?"

"Somethin' else."

"And they took Kwon."

"Best I can tell."

"Well where did they take her, James?"

"I-"
"You were given a simple order, a simple task, and you couldn't even complete it. Don't you understand what's going to happen if Widmore-"

"Yeah. I got it, all right? I know. But I don't think the Arabs are takin' her to Widmore."

"And why is that?"

"'Cause they told her that I'm working for Widmore. It just doesn't make much sense to me." He sighed and closed his eyes.

The other three looked at him for a second, and then Loveless asked, "What now, sir?"

"Now." Christian started to pace, one hand in his pocket, the other stirring his scotch, "Now the two of you should leave and let me talk to Ford alone."

Muff and Loveless stayed where they were, exchanging glances.

"Please."

Muff nodded. "Yes sir." He headed for the garage. "I'll go back to headquarters and see if anyone found out anything."

"Thank-you. And take Loveless with you."

Loveless hesitated a little longer, looking at Sawyer, biting his lip a little, like he was worried.

"Beat it." Sawyer snapped.

Reluctantly the young agent followed Muff out.

As soon as they were gone, Christian sat down on the edge of the table, kicking back a little booze before speaking, "You know, James, I don't think you're being fully honest with me about what happened."

"What would I lie ta' you for?"

"I'm not sure. I would like to know something though—about these Arabs that attacked you. One of them wouldn't have happened to be Sayid Jarral, would they?"

"How'd ya' guess?"

"He's one of the Oceanic Seven," Christian shrugged, "so we've been monitoring him of course. He was in Korea at the same time you were."

"Yep. That's my buddy Sayid, workin' for th' other side." Sawyer got up and stumbled toward the kitchen to dump the partially melted icepack in the sink. He grabbed a beer while he was there, rubbing it against his temple for a second before opening it.

Christian followed him, "The only question is, who is this other side?"

"Beats the hell outta' me."

"Obviously. God, you really look like crap, kid. You ought to be more careful."

"I'll log that away." Sawyer took a harsh swig of beer. "So God help me. What now?"

"Well, in light of the circumstances, I may be obliged to let you off the hook-for now at least-and see how bad the damage is."

Sawyer snorted, "Well ain't that sweet of ya'?"

"Not really. You know you're the one who's going to have to go after Sayid."

"What?" Sawyer opened his eyes wide. "Go after Sayid? What the hell're ya' talkin' about, Boss?"

"He's one of the Oceanic Seven, and if he's gathering the others that means he must be planning something—or working for someone who's planning something. The most obvious course of action is to arrest him immediately. Unfortunately, the best candidate for that is you-since you know him personally-"

"Sayid'll never come with me, Christian. Don't care what I tell him."

"Please don't interrupt me, James." Christian said, a little icily. "As I was saying, you're obviously the best candidate for bringing Sayid in, but that being said, you're in no shape to do it. Why don't you take tomorrow off and rest?"

"Great." Sawyer mumbled. He took another swig from the bottle before slamming it down and starting to walk away.

Christian caught him by the arm, "Just one more thing, kiddo. About Sayid—he's the one who took Reyez, isn't he?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Oh you know all right. What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me that in the first place. Don't you trust me?"

Sawyer didn't answer.

Christian tightened his grip a little, "You must know I only have the best for you-and all of the Oceanic Seven-in mind. Hell, James, Jack Shephard is my son. Why would I let anything happen to him?"

Still there wasn't no way to reply—he didn't want to have this conversation right now anyway.

"If we're going to be working together, you have to trust me."

Christian gave him such a firm, cool look, Sawyer knew he had to answer, "I trust ya', Scotch." He said vaguely, and then pulled away and went upstairs.

When he got to his room he finally released the sigh he'd been strangling, felt vague pain in his chest from the breath. God, everything hurt. His chest, his stomach, shoulders, neck, absolutely everything. Sayid had really kicked his ass—whatever he was up to, he wasn't wasting any time showing sympathy to anyone, not even an old friend. That meant he really believed Sawyer was the enemy.

"Just my luck."

Rubbing his shoulder, Sawyer walked across the room to the window and pried the blinds open a little to see out. He had a nice view of the street, a good location to watch Jack and Kate from. Good for the job. Bad for the heart.

First of all, it was hard enough to watch them in their house together, to see their bedroom light go off at night, to wonder if they were making love…

On top of that, it made it seem like he was just a bystander, watching someone else's life, vicarious to the fact that they were his friends and that they were in danger. Hell, at any moment the double agents could make a move, or whoever Sayid was working for; at any given second they could storm Jack's house and kill or capture everyone inside. Christian's little crew was doing everything they could, but Sawyer got the feeling that there weren't enough of them. All of his friends' lives were hanging on the edge of a knife, and for some reason he was the only one who could protect them.

And at the same time, Hudson had him on the ropes, and more and more he was feeling like Christian Shephard was backing him into a corner.

It was early morning, the dawn's light still slightly gray, the sun rising orange-pink in the east, and Jack's house looked abandoned. The doc was probably already off to work, Kate was probably still sleeping.

What he wouldn't give to go over there and knock on the door and tell her everything. Maybe she could help him figure out this whole nasty mess. She'd always been good at that—very level headed and smart.

But if anyone saw them together it might not be hard to connect the dots, and if anyone found out he was one of the oceanic seven it could be dangerous, not just for him, but Kate and the others too. He hadn't forgotten how much trouble he'd gotten into for just taking her a donut, so swinging by her house just to visit was out of the question to say the least.

There was nothing to do but keep watch and hope that Christian knew what he was doing.

With a sigh, Sawyer flopped back on the bed, fell asleep looking at the ceiling and thinking about Kate. Maybe if he pictured her face long enough he could dream about her.

And then of course wake feeling empty.

When he got up a few hours later it was almost noon, and his body ached even worse. For a while he just lay there, thinking, trying to block out the pain, but it was steadily throbbing, and he was starting to feel nauseous.

Finally, he forced himself to roll off the bed, moaning, and checked out the window again. Both cars in Jack's driveway were gone. Kate must have taken Aaron somewhere.

Hopefully Loveless was tailing her.

Still groaning, Sawyer headed downstairs. He was going to take a handful of aspirin and go back to bed. After all, here in a few days he was going to be in charge of a man hunt for Sayid, and since Sayid had been the one to put him in this condition it made sense to gather as much strength as he could. And this time, if it came to a fight, he wasn't going to go easy on him. He was going to knock him flat on his ass, hogtie him and drag him back to headquarters. Screw being Mr. Nice Guy.

For the next few minutes, Sawyer went through every medicine cabinet in the house, looking relentlessly for any kind of painkiller, but the house was ill-equipped, and he didn't find anything strong enough to make the pain go away. The house was empty too—Loveless and Muff were probably tailing either Jack or Kate, and Christian was God knew where. Conspiring somewhere.

He toyed with the idea of running to the nearest grocery store and picking up a bottle of aspirin, but that probably wasn't smart—he didn't know where Kate was, and if he ran into her around here it would mean more trouble.

Instead, he opened a beer and sat down at the kitchen table to brood a while. As he sat there, he noticed the garbage can was overflowing and snorted at it. Obviously no one else felt inclined to take care of it. So he finished off the beer and tossed the can, then got up to drag the heavy bag of trash outside. Normally it wasn't smart to go out front and risk Jack or Kate seeing him, but it should be okay, as long as the house across the street was empty.

"I'm just running to the grocery store, so I should be back in a few hours."

"Okay, Dude."

Kate looked at Hurley. She was so pretty—he'd always thought she was really pretty, but then, he'd always known that he didn't have a chance with her. "You want me to pick anything up for you?"

"Oh, no thanks."

She nodded a little, and smiled, but the smile seemed strained. Both Jack and Kate had seemed to be acting weird since he'd come, but he had no idea why. Maybe it had to do with Ben and Sayid and Sawyer. But if it did, they weren't saying anything about it.

"All right then." She turned toward the door, taking Aaron by the hand. "Jack should be home around five thirty, but I'll be back by then. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Kate." He said quietly.

With one last bright flash of her white teeth, she was out the door and a few minutes later he heard her engine start.

"Check it out, Mate." Phantom Charlie said from his place at the window.

Reluctantly, Hurley got up off the couch and went to stand beside him, "What is it, Dude?"

Kat was just pulling out of the driveway in her silver car. She noticed him watching and smiled, waving. She said something to Aaron and the little boy waved too. Hurley waved back and watched them go. "I don't see anything-"

"Just watch."

Just a few moments after Kate had pulled away, the garage door to the house across the street suddenly opened, and sleek, black car pulled out, turned the same way Kate had gone, and sped down the road after her. Hurley only caught a glimpse of the driver, but he looked young, wearing sunglasses and a very spiffy suit. The same way Sawyer had been dressed the other night.

Charlie and Hurley were both quiet a moment, and then Charlie said, "I find that just a touch odd, don't you?"

"Hey, he wasn't necessarily following her, Dude. It could just be, like, I dunno', a coincidence or somethin'."

"With all the activity that's been goin' on in that place? I doubt it, Hurley."

He had a good point. Hurley had been woken early in the morning by a car pulling in across the street, and the lights had stayed on for a good hour afterward. Then a car had left. A few hours after that, Jack leaving for work had disturbed Hurley again, and he'd sat up to see yet another car pulling out of the driveway across the street. A different car, seemingly following Jack. And all morning after he'd gotten out of bed, there had been the same white car in and out of there, disappearing and reappearing at random intervals. Now this black car, leaving at the exact same time as Kate. Could it be just a coincidence?
It was eleven thirty now. Maybe it would be smart to keep an eye on the house across the street. After all, so far there was no indication that the activity could be attributed to either Ben or Sayid, but there was no guarantee that it wasn't, and so far Hurley was the only one who knew-if the others did they weren't mentioning it-so it was up to him to anticipate a strike. He was the first line of defense.

So he went to the fridge and got out some leftover take out that was probably a few days old, poured himself a glass of Pepsi-it was a little flat, so he suspected it was leftover from a party or something-and went to plant himself in front of the TV, balancing his attention between the normal, mid-day crap and the house across the street.

Charlie sat up on the back of the couch, making jokes and comments about what they saw on the television, but he seemed totally distracted from any possibility of a threat from the people living across the street.

For a long time, the neighborhood was quiet. It was a Monday afternoon, so everyone was at work, and all the kids were at school. It was a slow, sunny day, and after Hurley had eaten he started to feel tired. TV was boring, and he felt himself drifting off, no matter how many times he reminded himself that he should be keeping an eye on the house across the street. For a while, the inane chatter of phantom Charlie kept him awake, but then Charlie disappeared completely, and there was nothing to keep Hurley awake at all.

Finally, his eyelids were so heavy, and the house was so peaceful and comfortable, he simply couldn't stay awake any longer, so he abandoned all of his qualms and worries, and fell asleep.

It seemed like just a second later when something woke him up, and he sat up straight on the couch, nearly knocking his empty plate onto the floor. Hurley looked around, blinking and confused. The house was still, no sign of Jack or Kate or Aaron, the clock said twenty after twelve, so he hadn't even slept for an hour. He sat quietly, listening, but all he could hear was the ticking of the clock above the entertainment center.

"Charlie?"

His ghosty friend was no where to be found. He wondered where he went when he wasn't here in the real world. That was a ridiculous thought though—phantom Charlie was just a product of his sick mind, he didn't come and go freely. He didn't exist at all.

Yawning, Hurley decided it didn't matter what had woken him up. Maybe he just hadn't been sleeping very deeply. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms before picking up his dishes to take them into the kitchen. Maybe if he could, he'd run a load, just so he wouldn't be a burden on his friends.

He was about to turn the TV off and go into the kitchen when he saw the front door across the street swing open and a man stepped out into the sun, rubbing his head a little and carrying a large, white garbage bag.

"Dude, how many people live over there?" Hurley muttered. There was the black car that followed Kate, the silver one that went after Jack left earlier, and the white one that came and went periodically. He didn't see a sign of any of them, and yet there was still another person over there.

Phantom Charlie was suddenly over his shoulder again, "Quite the weird little fam'ly they got over there, eh, Mate?"

Hurley didn't answer. He was busy watching the figure across the street as the man took the trash down to the end of the driveway. Something about him, the way the moved and swaggered, the way he turned his head as he went, it was all so familiar, but Hurley couldn't quiet place it. He walked with such confidence and such casual arrogance, it almost looked like…

"No way, Dude. What is he doing over there?"

"Sawyer?" Charlie ventured. "Well, that is a surprise. What're ya' gonna' do?"

Hurley stood there a second, not sure what he could do or what he should do. Why would Sawyer be living across the street from Jack and Kate? Did they know he was over there? Wouldn't they have said something if they knew? They couldn't have known. Hurley remembered everything Sayid had told him about Sawyer—about him working for Widmore and the CIA and how he was a con artist. Sawyer hadn't really gotten a chance to explain what he wanted with Hurley, but after seeing that Sayid was working for Ben it shattered Hurley's faith in the Iraqi. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he couldn't trust Benjamin Linus, and therefore he couldn't trust Sayid. But in that case, it was possible that he could still trust Sawyer.

Hurley was sick of being in the dark; he wanted answers, and at the moment, it seemed there was only one way for him to get them.

Rushing a little, he went to the front door and flung it open, dashed down the driveway as quickly as his legs would carry him, and across the street. By the time he got to the sidewalk across the street, he was huffing and puffing a little, and Sawyer was half-way back to the front door.

If he got inside the house, Hurley got the feeling he'd lose his opportunity.

"I'm not so sure this's a good idea." Charlie said, putting his sunglasses on. "But I s'pose there's not much choice."

"Sawyer!" Hurley called out, a little afraid that Sawyer wasn't going to hear him.

But he stopped in his tracks, not moving or turning around, just completely stiff, like an animal that had strayed into the sights of his predator. Like he thought if he stayed still Hurley would leave him alone.

Hurley slowed down but continued to pad toward him, trying to catch his breath. He half expected Sawyer to suddenly dart into the house.

But instead, he turned around, smiling largely, "Well, well, well, if it ain't Hugo Reyez. How'd your little meetin' with Sayid go anyway?" For just a second his eyes ventured up and down the street behind Hurley, like he expected to see Sayid there with him.

Hurley didn't answer, but just stared at Sawyer, unable to find his voice.

He remembered that the other night Sawyer's face had been a little bruised, but now he looked even worse. The bruises at the corner of his mouth and under his eyes were dark and severe, there was a gash in his cheek and another in his temple. His lips looked cracked, fat and bloody. His knuckles had half-clotted blood on them, like he'd punched the living shit out of someone. Even his shirt looked a little torn and had a few patches of rusty brown around the collar. More blood.

"Dude…" Hurley struggled to find his voice, "dude…what happened to you?"

"Nothin'. Little bar fight, that's all."

It seemed believable enough, but should he buy it?

He's a con artist—that means he's really, really good at lying. He could tell me anything, and I wouldn't know if I could believe it or not.

"Anyway, Hugo, what the hell're you doin' around these parts? Come ta' visit Jack and Kate?"

So far, he was being perfectly nonchalant, like he was supposed to be there, just living across the street. Like he'd been their neighbor for years.

Was he really working for the CIA? Was he really working for Widmore?

"You can't afford to not find out." Charlie said, a little gravely. "Now that you've seen him and you know he's here, it'd be stupid not to question him about it."

He was right. That was the only Hurley knew for sure—he had to confront Sawyer. The con seemed calm and composed, like he was supposed to be there, but Hurley remembered how he'd reacted to hearing his name called-like he'd been caught in the middle of something-and even now, there was something that didn't feel quite right. It was possible that Hurley seeing him was a huge problem.

"Sawyer," Hurley spoke as sincerely as he could, "I really, really need to talk to you. Like right now."

"Now? That's a tall order, Hugo—I'm a little busy right now."

"Please, Dude. It's important."

Sawyer sighed, "Well, what is it?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why am I where?" Sawyer sounded a little annoyed.

"Here. Like, right here, at this house, taking out the garbage, living across from Jack and Kate with them not even knowing it. Why?"

Sawyer sighed again, "That's complicated, Hurley."

"Sayid told me he thinks you're working for the CIA."

"What?" Sawyer's eyes narrowed.

"Is it true?"

"No. 'Course it's not true. That crazy bastard musta' been messin' with ya'."

Hurley wasn't convinced. "What about Widmore? You working for him?"

"No. Sayid musta' told ya' that so ya' wouldn't find out that he's workin' for Widmore."

"Sayid's not working for Widmore."

"No?"

"No. He's working for Ben."

For the first time, Sawyer's composure seemed to shatter completely. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. His mouth dropped open just slightly. "What?"

"So dude, maybe you should-"

Sawyer took one smooth step forward and fisted a hand in Hurley's shirt, his voice quiet and dark as death, "Did you just say Sayid is workin' for Benjamin Linus?"

Hurley nodded, trying not to let himself feel afraid, but Sawyer's reaction was scary. "Yeah. He took me to see him, but I got away."

For what felt like forever, Sawyer just stared at him with those hard, blue eyes, not looking away for even a second. It was like time had been suspended. At last, he let go of Hurley, and then stepped back to look down the road, like he expected to see someone coming. Then he turned away quickly, "C'mon, let's go."

"Go where?" Hurley stayed where he was.

"Over to McDonalds. Dammit! Where d'ya think, Hugo? Inside!"

Still, Hurley didn't move. "Why?"

Sawyer turned his glare on him again, "Want me to answer your damn questions or not?"

"What do you think, Dude?" Hurley asked Charlie quietly. "Should I?"

Phantom Charlie nodded, "Yeah, Mate. I think you should."

So, reluctantly, Hurley went after Sawyer, praying that somehow, this was the right thing to do.

Inside, the house seemed large-much bigger than Jack's house-but Hurley realized it was only because there was nothing there. No decorations, no pictures on the wall, nothing personal, just a small arrangement of furniture in the living room, and a cheap table in the kitchen. It was completely quiet.

Sawyer practically slammed the door behind Hurley, then strode past him a little quickly, going toward the kitchen, "Want a drink or somethin'?"

"No thanks, Dude. I'm cool." He watched Sawyer take a beer out of the fridge and pop it open. "Dude, don't you think it's a little early to-"

"All right," Sawyer slammed about a quarter of the bottle, set it down heavily, wiping his lips with his sleeve, "let's hear it. Sayid's workin' for Ben. You sure?"

"Yeah, Dude. I'm sure. He admitted it and everything."

"Dammit!" Sawyer turned away, hitting his fist hard on the countertop.

For a moment or two, they stood there awkwardly, then Hurley cleared his throat and ventured, "What about you? Who are you working for? What's with this house, and all the people living here?"

Sawyer didn't look at him. His head was hung a little, and he breathed out heavily. "Look, Hugo, I'm only tellin' ya' this 'cause I got to. Understand?"

"Yeah, okay."

"That means ya' can't go telling anybody. Got it? Nobody."

"Dude, I'm not gonna'-"

"I'm serious, Hurley," Sawyer looked up suddenly and came toward him, pointing a finger at him angrily. "I ain't jokin' 'bout this! Nobody else can know that I'm here or what's goin' on, or that you even saw me—not Kate, not Jack, not nobody! If you blow my cover…let's just say it's gonna' suck. For all of us."

Hurley studied him, not sure what to think of that, whether it was a threat, or if Sawyer was scared, or what. "So, you really work for the CIA, huh?"

"I work with the CIA." Sawyer went back to his beer, sipping it sort of moodily. "There's a difference."

"But why?"

"Don't matter why."

"Well, what are you guys trying to do?"

"I can't tell ya' that."

"I think maybe you should."

Sawyer snorted, "Oh really? Why's that?"

"How else do I know I can trust you?"

"Why wouldn't ya' trust me? I ain't done nothin' to-"

"Sayid told me you're a con artist, Dude, don't gime' that crap."

"And ya' just believed him?"

"He had a file. It looked pretty real."

"File?" Sawyer looked interested. "Where the hell'd he get that?"

"Ben maybe? I don't know."

Sawyer scoffed, "Figures."

"Look, Dude, can't you just tell me what this is all about? What's up with the whole Widmore thing? If you're not working for him, and Sayid's not working for him, then why is he even an issue?"

"'Cause he might be involved."

"Involved in what?"

Sawyer shook his head, "Jesus, I shouldn't be tellin' ya' all this, Hurley."

"But you can trust me, Man. You know that, right? I'm not going to blow your cover or anything, I promise. I just want to understand."

Sawyer looked at him out of the corner of his eye, something cold and disbelieving on his face.

"Somethin's up." Charlie commented. "He's not himself."

That compelled Hurley to ask, "What exactly are you doing for the CIA?"

"Just keepin' an eye on ya'll. We think Widmore bribed some agents to bring in the Oceanic Seven, but we ain't sure which ones. It's sort of a messy situation."

"What does that have to do with Ben?"

"Beats the livin' hell outta' me." Sawyer paused to rub his head, wincing slightly as he did.

"What I'd like to know," Charlie said, "is how Sawyer-our drinkin', shootin', conning buddy-got wrapped up with the CIA in the first place. It's too weird for words."

It seemed like a good thing to ask, so Hurley said, "Dude, how'd you get into the CIA anyway? I mean, you're not exactly…the type they recruit."

"Don't matter." Sawyer growled, "And if ya' know what's good for ya', you won't ask me that again, got it?"

"Well what about Jack and Kate? Do they know anything about this?"

"Not very much. I'm keepin' an eye on them, but they can't know 'bout it. That's why I told ya' ta' keep your fat trap shut. And if you don't mind, I got a question or two to ask you."

Hurley was thinking too hard on the situation to let the insulting words bother him. "Yeah, all right, shoot."

"First of all, ya' said Sayid took ya' ta' Ben, right? Where?"

"Uh…I'm not sure…"

"Not sure?" Sawyer sounded outraged.

"Yeah. It was dark and stuff. Some kinda' cheap motel."

"Fine. No trackin' him down right now anyway. What did he want with ya'?"

"He never said."

"What did he say?"

"Just that…uh, I can't like, trust you. And that you're working for Widmore. Oh yeah, and Ben said he was tryin' to help us, but Sayid said he was gonna' kill Widmore really soon. I dunno, man." Hurley shrugged. "I kinda' ran away before they could say very much to me."

"Good move."

Hurley nodded a little, wondering what would have happened if he stayed there. And then he thought of something else.

"Sayid said something about your superior working for Widmore. Could that be true?"

Sawyer seemed to hesitate for a long time after that, like he was thinking of what to say, and just when Hurley was sure he wasn't going to answer, he said quietly, "No. It's not."

"Dude, are you sure? Sayid seemed pretty insistent."
"What the hell does Sayid know? Remember, he's workin' for the damn enemy, Hugo."

"Yeah, I know, but what if he's right? Do you know that you can trust the people you're working for?"

"Yes, I know it. Now quit askin'."

"But you-"

"Drop it, Hurley. I mean it. I can't tell ya' nothin' else."

"Hey, man, I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need help. You should get outta' here."

It sounded almost like a threat. "What if your teammates come back?"

"I dunno." Sawyer went to the window. "Let's not find out."

Hurley glanced at Charlie as subtly as he could. The ghost of his friend seemed to be watching the exchange with extreme interest. "C'mon Mate. I don't think he's goin' to tell us anymore."

Hurley nodded a little, and then started to head for the door, "Well, Dude…I guess I'll see you later, huh?"

"Maybe."

"You take it easy."

Sawyer looked at him, taking another swig from his beer, "Just remember, Hugo, you can't tell nobody that ya' saw me, got it? I know ya' suck at keepin' secrets, but this one's really important."

"Are you going to get in trouble if they find out?"

Sawyer hesitated again, and then nodded, "Maybe."

"With your superior?"

"'Course."

"Dude, has it occurred to you that you're one of the Oceanic Seven too?"

"What's that s'posed ta' mean?"

"It's just," Hurley hesitated at the front door, looking seriously at Sawyer, "if Widmore is really after us that means he's after you too, and if he's already hired CIA agents to work for him then maybe you're in more danger than any of us. You don't know for sure your superior isn't working for Widmore—what if he has you exactly where he wants you and is like, I dunno', using you to round up the rest of us."

Sawyer studied him a quiet moment, then shrugged, "Don't worry 'bout that. I can take care of myself."

"All I'm sayin' is that maybe you shouldn't trust that guy so much…whoever he is. I mean, I don't know him, so I have no idea, but if I were you I wouldn't trust anyone in the CIA too much…it could be bad news."

"And all I'm sayin'," Sawyer flung the door open suddenly and pointed out, "is that you should amscray before somebody comes back and catches ya'."

"Okay, dude, okay. I'm going. I'm going. Just…" Hurley started to leave, lingering on the steps an extra moment, "just be careful, Sawyer. Please?"

"Mind your own business, Hurley."

With that, Sawyer shut the door in his face. Hurley heard him walking away, and still he stood there a few seconds, hoping Sawyer would come back and fill him in on all the details that he'd left out, but he knew that wasn't going to happen, so he sighed and started to walk back across the street to Jack's house.

"That sure was weird." Charlie said.

"Yeah. It was."

"Just think about it. Sawyer workin' for the CIA…it's completely crazy."

Hurley nodded, but he was lost in thought. It seemed too good to be true to assume that Sawyer had coincidentally been recruited by the CIA at the same time Widmore had hired agents to hunt down the Oceanic Seven. But as long as Sawyer didn't want to tell the truth about what he was doing there was no way to help him. Hopefully his trust in whoever his superior happened to be wasn't misplaced.

And the whole twist with Sayid working for Ben didn't help at all. Whatever Ben wanted had to be the opposite of what Widmore wanted, naturally, but that didn't necessarily mean it was the right thing, or that it was good for Hurley and his friends.

As he walked back to the house and took his dishes to the kitchen, he pondered everything he'd learned. It would be nice to tell Jack or Kate about it, but he didn't know what the consequences for that would be, so he was obligated to stay quiet, keep it to himself.

For the time being, the only person he had to discuss it with was the ghost of his friend.

Hello again! It's me.

I sincerely apologize for the delay on this chapter, but I just finished a particularly brutal quarter at school and didn't have a whole lot of time to work. Now I'm off for three weeks, and hopefully I'll be able to get some writing done somewhere between spending time with family and friends. I'm really excited about the next few chapters, so I shouldn't have any trouble writing them, if I find the time. ^^;

Again, sorry for the delay, and thanks for reading!

--Suta