Island

Each morning since the day they found Charlie swinging from the tree of death, Elle would wake, pack her backpack, tie on the boots she scavenged from some poor woman who burned in the crash, and put her hair in a loose knot on top of her head. She went out every morning back to the spot where she first found Claire's footprints. The first morning she followed the same path they took that unfortunate day, hoping she'd find a loose strand of Claire's hair, or a sign that would lead her to wherever they took her. Elle would have welcomed a blade of run down grass or a broken leaf from the abundant aloe plants, but she found nothing on that path. Not a damn thing.

She would back track to the point of origin and head off in the opposite direction. What she found that way, was an abandoned spring, where she soaked her t-shirt, and wiped the sweat from her brow, took time to breathe for a moment or two, and headed back to the dreadful area where the girl that reminded her of her little stepsister was taken.

Thoughts ran through her mind like a hamster on a wheel. They would run and run but would never reach a destination. Just like how her tracking was a dead-end. What would they want with a pregnant girl? she thought to herself. Who the hell were They anyway? Questions she didn't have the answers to. Elle despised not having answers. Why couldn't she track them? Why were they so good at covering their tracks? Why did she care for this girl so much?

Heading back for the third time, Elle found herself exhausted. Trying to push herself harder, she looked back on her past. She opened an enveloped memory she kept hidden along with snapshots of the good in her life. She saw Lily, with her bright cerulean eyes, swinging from their jungle gym, her golden locks bouncing. More questions ate at her insides. Did I do enough for Lily? she wondered. Did she have a good life, once they took her away?

How Elle wished they could have stayed together. No one wanted a teenager when potential families could have a sweet, innocent, child. She could remember the day when the social worker came to rip her family apart. Lily's eyes weren't shining, for her tears covered them like a fog. Lily's bouncy curls seemed to hang lifeless as she ran to her big sister. Elle hugged her for what seemed like hours, but in seconds, Lily was taken from her. She knew it was for the best. She had called social services on her own step-dad. She knew when the day came for her to leave, he would just turn his anger onto Lily, and she couldn't live with herself. She saved Lily. That's what she told herself.

She had to save Lily again…this time, though, it wasn't as easy as picking up a telephone, or taking a striking hand to her face. It was as if Claire dissipated into the mist of this god-forsaken jungle. It was as if she wasn't meant to find her at all. The mere thought of that sickened Elle.

Elle, shoving her memories to the farthest cubby of her mind, trekked back to the beach. She had memorized the way and could do it with her eyes blindfolded. She counted forty-two steps from where Claire disappeared to two large boulders in the middle of the jungle. Fifteen steps from those markers to the papaya groves that marked the border that separated the beach from the jungle.

She counted the familiar sixteen steps to Sawyer's tent. Ever since he walked away from her on the beach that day, she would catch him glancing at her from his tent, watching her wake every morning. He would offer up a smile her way, but she ignored him. He offered one day to tag along but she was abrupt with him, telling him it was something she had to do alone. She regretted that now. Wasn't it Sawyer that told her, if they were going to be afraid, they could be afraid together?

She approached his tent, the nerves rattling her bones. She hated apologizing. She hated the way he made her feel. She hated the way he looked at her with those bottle green eyes. She hated feeling warm when it was so much easier to be cold, hardened, and aloof. She was about to turn around and head back to her own isolated tent, when she heard his voice, the bitter twang was distinct.

"If you're lookin' for a bit of compassion, 'fraid I'm fresh out."

His face was hardened like stone and his eyes just as cold. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he stood there waiting for her to walk away. Elle didn't budge. She expected him to be angry, but the one person she had hoped to talk to, disappeared. James wasn't anywhere to be found. He's looking for a fight, she thought to herself. Well, hell, so was she.

"That makes two of us." she threw her backpack onto the sand.

"Don't you do anything but sit on your damn ass?" she threw in his face.

"Are you too busy coming up with passive-aggressive comebacks that you can't spare some time looking for Claire?"

Elle was in Sawyer's face, tearing down his character one word at a time.

"You don't want to do this, Elle. I'm not afraid to hit a girl."

"Are you threatening me, Sawyer?"

"Ain't a threat, suga'." he promised her.

Something hidden, deep within her gut, awoke when she heard him call her sugar. Before he knew what hit him, Sawyer was knocked onto his back, Elle on top of him, laying into him a right hook.

He wrapped his legs around her, grabbed her fist mid swing, and pulled it into his chest. Head butting her, he twisted his body, so she was flipped onto her back.

"Now," he snarled, "that's how I like it." He had a mischievous grin on his face.

She began to fight him off, even attempted a nice head butt in the midst of it all, but he was prepared for her. He forced her arms above her head and kneeled over her writhing body.

"Get off 'a me," she spat at him.

She was so angry with him right now. She cursed him for holding her down, she blamed him for leaving her alone, and she told him that she hated him. She didn't even realize that she was crying. She never cried.

Relaxing his grip on her wrists, he wiped the sand from her cheeks. They were collecting there like paint spatter, her tears matted to her face.

"You don't hate me, darlin'," he said matter of factly, "you hate yourself."

"You blame yourself for Claire. You go out every mornin' on some ill-fated mission."

Elle had her hands over her face, unwilling to look him in the eyes. She let him go on because she couldn't find her voice.

"But hell if ya want my pity, for coming back empty handed, you ain't gonna get it."

"I…don't…want…," she began in between sobs, "your pity, James."

Elle didn't want anyone's sympathy. She was so full of regret that she felt she didn't deserve it. She wasn't a good person. Who was she trying to fool?

"What is going on in the stubborn 'lil head of yours when you're out there trackin' for Claire?"

She didn't answer him. He knew damn well what was going on in her mind. She was trying to save someone; he had called it from the beginning. That is why she was so angry with him. She hated him for understanding her.

"I ain't giving up on the little lady, Elle. I sure as hell ain't gonna give up on you."

Sawyer knew that the more days Claire was gone, the less likely it was for her to be coming back. Shit, he thought to himself, the less likely it was for her to still be alive. A small part of him hated thinking it and he couldn't say it to Elle. He already hurt her enough. He removed himself and helped her sit up. They sat there looking out into the vast ocean.

Elle was exhausted. She was emotionally drained and her head hurt something awful. Laughing aloud, she motioned to her head.

"You actually head butted me."

"I'ma plead self defense on that one, Artemis."

They sat there side by side as if they hadn't fought at all. Sitting in one another's silence remedied their wounds superficially. Realizing they needed more than just one another's company to heal their wounds, Elle suggested going to the caves for some assistance.

"Hell, woman, first you kick my ass, and now you want to go see the Doc? Ain't that enough torture for one day?" he jested.

"C'mon, I need something for this headache."

Attempting to stand up, Elle didn't realize how fatigued she was. Remembering she hadn't eaten more than a few pieces of fruit the last couple of days, she felt her legs wobble. The fight took the last of her energy.

"Whoa there, killa. Don't want you to pass out on me." he said as he scooped her up into his arms.

"We're some pair, huh, Sawyer?" she laughed. "My own personal knight comes to my aide, even after the stubborn princess kicks his ass."

Nodding in agreement, he began the walk to the caves. Hell, he thought, ain't a one of us heroes, but I could get used to this knight in shining armor shit.

Off in the distance, Charlie was dumbfounded. He turned to Hurley and shook his head.

"Those two are sodding mad."