spinx: I actually do have the whole thing planned out in advance, and it's not really affected at all by what happens on Lost, other than "What Kate Did" allowing me to flesh out more details of Kate's past every now and then. But I have an outline for the entire story that shouldn't be affected by anything on the show, barring something insanely unexpected. (Of course, if the horse thing had aired earlier, I wouldn't have written Kate taming a horse in Ch.4 - that was just a bizarre coincidence;)

Amethyst Prongs: The stomach punch issue is addressed in this chapter.. You're right, it could cause a miscarriage, and Sawyer's worried about it too.

This chapter is kind of "talky", for want of a better word - I got tired of so much action, so I went with the dialogue this week. Hope everyone likes it. Thank you a million times over for continuing to review! I've been writing this saga for almost 8 months now.. can you believe that!

Chapter Thirteen

It took longer than Kate thought it would to get back to the truck, although they were both relieved to see that it was in the same place they'd left it, and that it apparently hadn't been tampered with or reported to the authorities. Afternoon was quickly sinking toward what promised to be a very dark evening when they finally left the river bank behind them. Since Sawyer had managed to grab a few uneasy hours of sleep during his prolonged wait early in the morning, he maintained that he would be fine to drive for a while, at least. The truth was, he just wanted to get as far away from this godforsaken spot as possible. Kate seemed to understand this, so she didn't argue the point. They decided to head northwest, hoping to cross into Illinois before they stopped again for a break.

The highway they traveled was monotonous and flat, and there was nothing to see out the window but black, empty space. Although she wanted to stay awake with Sawyer, if for no other reason than as an act of solidarity after what he'd just gone through, Kate found herself struggling against exhaustion. She leaned slightly over to her right, supporting her weight against the door and resting the side of her head on the window, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Wouldn't lean on that door if I were you," he said suddenly out of the darkness.

She sighed. "Why not?"

"Because I don't feel like goin' back to look for you in the ditch, that's why not."

She smiled a little and sat back up straight.

They were quiet for a few seconds.

"Tired?" Sawyer asked.

"I'm okay." She paused. "I wish the radio worked in this thing."

"Well, you know what they say about wishin'," Sawyer started, with a mischievous lift of his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Kate interrupted, rolling her eyes. "And I know which hand will fill up first, so... save yourself the energy."

He looked a little annoyed that she hadn't let him finish one of his favorite sayings, but he gave her a sardonic smile.

After another pause, he reached back behind him with his right arm, where an extra jacket and flannel shirt were stuffed into the space between the seat and the rear glass. Yanking them out, he shook them slightly to fluff them out and get rid of the dust, then put them on the seat, propped up against his right leg. "There!" he said, and patted them with a satisfied air.

Kate watched this process, curiously. "What are you doing?"

"It's a pillow," he said, like it should be obvious. Then, when she still looked confused, he added, "So you can sleep."

She seemed touched by this, but still hesitant. "I'm trying to stay awake with you."

"Well, too bad," he told her jokingly. "I'm sick of listenin' to you bitch about the damn radio."

She considered for a second, but her tiredness was getting the best of her.

"You sure?"

He gestured at the pile with his eyebrows raised warningly. "Last chance."

"Okay," she said, giving in. Giving him an appreciative smile, she pulled her feet up into the seat and maneuvered over, leaning her head onto the makeshift pillow, halfway on Sawyer's leg.

"Comfy?" he asked.

She craned her head to look up at him.

"Not bad. Try not to slam on the brakes, though, okay?"

"I'll be on my best behavior."

She smiled again, her eyes already closing. "Night," she whispered.

He had to remind himself to watch the road, instead of her sleeping profile, half hidden in the shadows. It wasn't easy.

The highway stretched on, and he found himself losing track of time as he drove. A few hours ago, he'd killed a man, though it hadn't quite sunk in yet, and he hoped it never would. He felt like he was in some sort of trance state, which probably wasn't a good condition to be driving in, although the warm pressure of Kate's head against the side of his leg kept him tethered to reality. Every time the truck went over a railroad crossing or bumped across a bridge, he automatically reached down to keep her from rolling onto the floor, and then felt silly for it. He had pretended to be solicitous to women for so many years, as part of his act, that it had never really occurred to him how fundamentally selfish he was.

But when he'd met Kate, even before anything had happened between them, his knee-jerk concern for her welfare had taken him by surprise. He didn't understand where it had come from, or what had triggered it. It was annoying as hell, actually, to have to worry about somebody other than yourself - even if that person was so similar to you that caring about them could be considered just an extension of selfishness, rather than its antidote. And now, of course, there was the possibility of this vague, shadowy third life he would share responsibility for... It made him nervous just to think about it.

Although he tried to hold out as long as he could, the gas gauge began to inch dangerously close to empty towards the middle of the night. He would have to stop and refuel. Luckily, the next truck stop he came to was small and nearly deserted at this hour, being so far off the main interstate route. He pulled in and came to a slow stop.

"Hey," he said quietly, stroking her hair. "You slipped into a coma yet?"

She stirred, trying to stretch her legs out but meeting the resistance of the door. Her eyelids fluttered open and she rolled onto her back so that she was staring up into his face.

"Are we stopped?" she asked in a groggy voice.

"I gotta fill up the tank. You want anything?"

Instead of answering, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, looking around and stretching. "It's cold," she muttered, rubbing her arms. She glanced over at him. "What time is it?"

He checked his watch, holding it out to catch the light from the street lamps. "Almost four."

She looked surprised. "I can't believe I slept that long."

"Was startin' to get worried. Hell, you didn't even wake up when I stopped at that strip joint a few hours back. It's a shame, too, 'cause if you'd have taken your shirt off, we'd coulda got free drinks."

She smiled a little. "Funny."

He continued to watch her for a few seconds as she tried to pull her uncooperative hair back into a bun. Her cheeks were flushed and creased from sleeping on the jacket.

She looked over at him. "What?"

"I need the rest of the money back," he said. "I only got a few bucks on me."

Slowly, she lowered her arms away from her hair and turned to face the front, as if she hadn't heard him. She stared out the window, not moving, an unreadable expression on her face.

Sawyer waited. "Take your time, Freckles," he said. "I'll just enjoy the view," he added, gesturing toward a fat trucker who was standing at the pumps, scratching his ass.

"Oh, God," she said in a low, almost inaudible voice that was filled with dread.

He looked back at her, confused. Hadn't she ever seen anybody scratch his ass before?

"He wanted to hold it," she went on in a dazed way, as if she were talking to herself. "The envelope. I thought it would make him feel safer... would make him trust me more, if..." she trailed off.

Now he felt a slowly dawning sense of worry. He sat up straighter, his heart beginning to thud.

"When I finally got him in the trunk," Kate continued, "I was so worried about you... That's all I was thinking about... getting back to you." She turned back to look at him, her features registering a vague horror at what she was saying.

"What the hell are you tryin' to tell me? Because if this is some kinda joke, now's really not the best time," he said savagely.

"I didn't get it back from him," she whispered miserably, although she didn't really need to. He already knew the truth.

He could feel the first stirrings of rage creeping through his bloodstream like a drug, and he did his utmost to control it. "There was close to ten thousand dollars in that envelope," he said slowly, staring at her hard. He gritted his teeth, telling her, "It was all we had."

"I know that, Sawyer," she said. Turning back to the window, she repeated in a strange voice, "Ten thousand dollars. And I left it on a corpse." She bit her lip, and it was hard to tell whether she was trying to hold back tears or laughter. "In a corn field."

Turning to him again, she said in a shaky whisper, "I'm really not cut out for this life, am I?" She gave him a weak, insincere smile.

He let out all the breath from his lungs, feeling a raging headache threaten at his temples. The tension in his body wanted to be released in a violent, yelling rampage, but he fought it. The way she was looking at him - almost like she expected that, and was preparing herself for it... He wouldn't give in to it. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, but he swallowed and leaned his head back against the glass for a few seconds, breathing slowly.

Like she'd said, it was only because she'd been worried about him that she'd slipped up. Otherwise, she never would have been so careless. And it wasn't exactly like he'd worked hard to earn the ten grand... It was all stolen, of course. But still, it was all they had to live on. What the hell would they do now? They couldn't make it up there without money. They couldn't make it another twenty miles without money. The void he seemed to be staring into made him dizzy.

He sighed again and raised his head up. "Let's go inside," he said sullenly, indicating the restaurant attached to the truck stop. "It's too cold to sit out here and chat."

Without looking at her, he climbed out and waited at the front bumper. She joined him, reluctantly, and they crossed the parking lot and entered the building, ducking their heads against the wind. Although he was proud at how well he was fighting his anger, he was still too pissed to hold the door open for her, so he went in first, letting her catch the handle before it swung closed.

The place was almost empty at this hour. It was warm and smelled like coffee and frying grease, with soft honky-tonk country music from the seventies piped in from somewhere. Sawyer automatically searched the L-shaped interior for the table that was the furthest removed from everything else. He looked at Kate for her suggestion, but she was staring at the floor, a far away, bitter expression on her face.

"I hate this song," she muttered, closing her eyes. "I really hate this song." It was clear to him that she was being forced into a memory she wanted nothing to do with, particularly right now.

"You want me to get 'em to change the station?" he offered, momentarily forgetting how annoyed he was at her.

She looked up, making an effort to shake it off. "That's okay... I think I'll head back to the restroom, try to get cleaned up a little. Would you order us some coffee?"

"Yeah," he said, and then couldn't help throwing in pointedly as she started to walk off, "Sure hope they got free refills, though."

She sighed but didn't bother to respond.

He found a table and ordered the coffee, as well as an order of food for her. He was afraid to look in his wallet, but he knew there wasn't much more than ten dollars and some change there. Not enough for both of them to eat.

When she came back, he gave her a questioning look, trying to mask his concern. "Well?"

She sat down. "Well, what?"

"Everything... go okay in there?" He pretended to be fascinated by the menu.

"In the bathroom?" she asked, staring at him like he was crazy. "What do you want, details?"

"I was just wonderin' if..." he began, exasperated, and then gave up. "Forget it."

Now she seemed to be catching on. She looked at him sympathetically, and then down at the table. After a second, she said, "Everything's the same as it was... before." She glanced around, and then lowered her voice. "He didn't hit me that hard. And... I have strong stomach muscles." She tried to offer him a smile.

He watched her, hoping that she was telling the truth.

"Nothing's changed," she said reassuringly. But he couldn't help but notice the fact that she herself seemed less than thrilled by this assertion.

The waitress, who couldn't possibly have been more than fifteen, came to pour their coffee. "Thanks," Sawyer muttered.

Kate stirred her cup listlessly, staring down into the black liquid as the steam rose up toward her.

"So, what'd you want to talk about?" Sawyer asked.

She raised her eyes. "When?"

"The other night, before your old pal Jason decided to crash the party."

"It can wait," she said in a wry tone. "I think we have more pressing things to worry about now."

Sawyer glanced out the window, disappointed. She was right, but he was willing to bet that even if they hadn't had anything more pressing to worry about, she still would have found a way to wriggle out of the conversation.

"There has to be some way we can scrape together enough to get up there. What about your other bank accounts?" she asked, seriously now. "You said you had more than one, under different names."

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I combined two of 'em after we left, and that's the one I cleared out before we crossed into Kentucky. The main one under my real name was already frozen."

"Frozen?" she asked, alarmed. "By who?"

"I'm guessin' by the same lovely gents who paid me a visit the morning we cleared out. The Feds," he told her, as if it were obvious. "Who do you think? Probably thought they could keep us from leavin' the state that way."

She continued to look surprised. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Because," he said, ripping open a sugar packet with a vengeance. "I didn't want you to worry."

She seemed moved by this, but she still insisted, "You should have let me know. We can't keep things like that from each other."

He gave her a sarcastic look. "You really think you oughtta be lecturing me about the benefits of full disclosure?"

She took a sip of her coffee, choosing not to answer. When she sat the cup down, they were quiet for a second.

"You bring any of that jewelry with you?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why?"

"I'm not saying we would get a fortune for it, but it would keep us alive for a few weeks, at least. I mean, your mom's wedding ring was solid gold, Sawyer." She looked at him meaningfully.

He let the silence draw out before responding, and then said with an icy smile, "I didn't bring it."

She watched him, and he could easily see that she didn't believe him, but he didn't care. Finally, she dropped her eyes, choosing wisely not to press the matter.

"What about your aunt, then? She said to call her when we got close."

"She said to call for directions. Meg don't have any money," he said with scorn. "She gambles it away as fast as she can earn it."

"She's a gambler?" Kate asked, in mild disbelief.

"Every second she's not in that rig, she's in a casino. There ain't nothin' she can do for us, trust me."

Kate shook her head, slowly, vaguely amused. "I should have known she was a gambler. If it wasn't drinking, it had to be something else."

Sawyer raised his eyebrows comically. "What can I say, sweetheart? I come from good stock."

She smiled in agreement, wearily. "Yeah... me too."

Their shared look of understanding was broken by the return of the waitress, bearing the one breakfast platter aloft. She seemed confused about where to put it.

"It's hers," Sawyer said, nodding toward Kate, who was mystified.

"More coffee?" the girl asked, pouring it before they could accept.

When she left, Kate asked, "Where's yours?"

"I'm not hungry," he lied.

She wasn't buying it. It was immediately apparent to her why he hadn't ordered more.

"How much cash do you have on you?"

"Not enough," he said simply. "So you might as well eat up."

Sadly, Kate pushed the plate over to him. "You're the one who needs to eat. You've been sick, Sawyer. You have to keep your strength up, or you could have a relapse."

Glaring at her, he slid the plate back. "You don't think maybe there's some reason that you oughtta keep your strength up, too? Think about it real hard."

They stared at each other challengingly, continuing the argument without words.

"Then we'll share it," Kate finally suggested.

Sawyer looked away, irritated, but he knew it was the only way he could get her to eat. "Fine." He picked up a fork and cut off a tiny sliver of pancake, then popped it into his mouth with over-exaggerated relish. "Mmm..." he said, a gleam of sarcasm in his eyes. "Tasty."

With a provocative smile that seemed to indicate that two could play at this game, Kate managed to shave off an even more infinitesimal piece of pancake, barely visible to the naked eye. She brought it daintily to her lips.

"Wow, you're right," she said in a mocking tone. "This is good." Her eyes sparkled with an electric sense of competition, and she waited for him to make the next move.

Damn, she was a pain in the ass. So why did he suddenly have the urge to take her out back to have sex in the alley?

"You want to make this a contest, Freckles?" he asked, tilting his head in a cocky manner.

She smiled, but then bit her lip and looked down at the plate. "I've got a better idea." Using the butter knife, she separated the food carefully down the middle, and then pushed each side slightly away from the central dividing line. She looked up at him. "There... it's even. Now will you eat?"

He examined the food, determined to have some kind of input here. "Trade you the toast for the bacon."

They completed the transaction, and finally began to go to work on the food. Neither had realized how hungry they were, or how long they'd gone without eating. The waitress glanced at them quizzically when she walked by to take another order, but she seemed to write it off as one of those crazy quirks of couples, like how sometimes they sat in the same booth instead of across from each other. She was old enough to have learned that people in love do stupid things, even in public.

When the plate was almost empty, Kate resumed their earlier conversation, as if they'd just left off. "So if your aunt's out, who does that leave? Don't you know anybody else who could spot you something for a while? Maybe someone who owes you money?"

"There aren't that many people who owe me money," he said. "Hell of a lot of people I owe money to, if you want me to try to get in touch with them."

Kate thought for a second, but came up with nothing. "Then I'm out of suggestions. It's your turn."

"I can think of one person you didn't suggest," he said, watching her carefully.

"Would you take money from him?"

"Not unless you got some advance knowledge that hell's about to freeze over."

She smiled dryly. "That's why I didn't suggest him."

He was quiet a second. "What about you? You don't know anybody who'd help you out?"

"You know I don't," she said, sadly. "And even if I did, I wouldn't drag anybody else back into this life. I'm on my own."

He took another swig of coffee and leaned back in the booth, looking at her thoughtfully. They seemed to have run out of possibilities, leaving them only one choice. He'd known from the beginning that it would come to this, anyway. Everything else was just a formality.

"Then I guess there's only one thing left to do," he said in a soft voice.

She met his eyes, questioningly.

He sighed, looking away from her with regret. "I'll sell the house."

"What?" she asked, alarmed. "No. No... that's ridiculous. It would take too long. Weeks, at least... maybe months. You can't just.. sell a house on the spur of the moment."

"You can if you go through back channels."

"You mean illegally?"

"Yeah, I mean illegally," he said with scorn. "You want 'em to be able to trace it?"

She didn't answer, so he continued, bitterly. "I know plenty of bastards who'd love to make a profit off of that place. We won't get near what it's worth, but at least we'll get somethin'."

"Forget it," she said. "I won't let you do that. I won't let you... sell your house, just for this."

"It's just a piece of land, and a building," he tried to explain to her. "It doesn't mean anything to me."

"Well, it means something to me!" she said fiercely.

He watched her, somewhat taken aback, although he realized he probably shouldn't have been.

She glanced around, checking to see if anybody had noticed her outburst, and then lowered her voice. "That house..." she said with a sincere look, "is the only place that's ever felt like home to me." She paused. "Sawyer..." Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she swallowed and looked away, almost embarrassed. "You said we'd go back someday."

He didn't want to hurt her, but they had to be realistic. "You really think that's gonna happen?" he asked.

"Probably not," she said, her voice shaky with emotion. "But I need to know that it's there.. that it's still ours. I need to know that we can go back, even if we never do." She stopped, still fighting tears. "Does that make any sense at all?"

"You want the truth?"

She smiled tightly. "Not really."

"Then, yeah," he told her. "Makes perfect sense."

She drew in her breath to try to compose herself. "Don't sell the house," she said. "Please."

Sawyer exhaled loudly and leaned his head on his hands, pressing his temples and squinting. After a few seconds of inner debate, he gave in. "Fine."

She nodded, gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered.

"But I hope you know, that puts us right back where we started. I'm about out of ideas." He thought for a second. "Maybe we oughtta just go on back to Indiana, tell the cops we left somethin' in our dead guy... ask 'em if we can get it. Hell, I bet it happens all the time," he said innocently.

This remark won a small smile from Kate, but she still appeared miserable. "I'm so sorry," she said, looking out the window. "This is all my fault."

"Hey," he said, to get her attention. She turned back to him. "We'll figure somethin' out," he told her, quietly.

"Yeah," she said, obviously not at all convinced.

To distract her, Sawyer picked up her hand and turned it over on the table, palm up. He traced the lines with his fingertips, and she watched him, with detached interest.

"Ever had your palm read?" he asked her.

"Once, I think... At some girl's birthday party that I was forced to go to. I was about twelve."

"And what'd you end up with?"

"From the reading? Um, I think the woman said I had a strong lifeline. Whatever that means." Kate paused, searching her memory. "She also told my fortune."

"Sounds like a hell of a party," he said sarcastically. "What she'd say?"

Kate smiled secretively, still watching her hand. "You don't want to know. Believe me."

What before had been idle questioning was now promising to take a more interesting turn. His curiosity was roused. "It couldn't have been that good, if you were only twelve," he said, trying to draw her out. "Come on, girl, don't hold back on me."

"Okay," she said, with a tone that indicated, You asked for it. "She said that the man of my dreams would be tall, dark, and handsome."

"Well," he said, with a satisfied grin. "Two outta three ain't bad."

"And also that he would be a doctor," Kate added, afraid to look directly at him. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Sawyer tilted his head back a little, immediately miffed. He made a small hissing sound of contempt. "Come on. You expect me to believe that?"

"I told you you wouldn't want to hear it."

He thought for a few seconds, not wanting to make this into an actual argument. Even for him, that would be beyond childish.

"You know, I thought about goin' to med school once," he said slyly. "Talked myself out of it, though."

"Oh, please," Kate said, laughing and rolling her eyes.

"Hey, now!" he said in mock offense. "You think I'm lying?"

"You didn't even go to college!"

"Yeah, well, like I said... It was just a thought."

She nodded, still smiling. "And what would you have specialized in, if you had? Surgery, by any chance?

"Gynecology," he drawled, without a second's hesitation. "That way, you get to be a doctor, and look at naked women all day. Best of both worlds."

Kate grimaced and closed her eyes tightly in disgust. "I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that." She opened her eyes again to find him smiling at her, relieved that he'd at least taken her mind off of the hell they'd been living through for the past few days.

"Anyway," she said slowly, looking back at her hand. "I think the fortune was basically right."

"That so?" he asked, trying not to sound let down.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "You're definitely not the man of my dreams."

He attempted to smile at her, hoping that he pulled it off without looking hurt.

She squeezed his hand. "You're the man I get to wake up to," she said, and then blushed. "Which is much more important."

Lifting his hand up, almost as if she wanted to hide behind it, she pressed her lips to his closed fingers and looked at him. With her face crinkled in an adorable, pixie-ish manner, she whispered confidentially, "Besides... my dreams usually turn into nightmares, anyway."

He swallowed hard, not knowing what to say in response to this. What he most wanted to do was to lean over the table and kiss her until she couldn't breathe, but would that be wise in the middle of a restaurant?

Before he could make up his mind, the door at the front was pulled open forcefully, and a woman clattered in on high heels, moving directly to the counter with her nose in the air. She was probably in her late fifties or early sixties, but she stood out in this seedy truck stop like a French poodle in a pack of hunting hounds. Impeccably groomed, manicured, and tailored, she looked around her with disdain before rapping sharply on the counter.

"Hello!"

The waitress who had served Kate and Sawyer emerged from the kitchen. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Where's your phone?" the woman demanded. "Apparently this place exists in some alternate dimension that doesn't get cell service."

The girl stared at her blankly for a second, as if at a new and strange life form. Slowly, she turned and stuck her head through the kitchen door. "Sharon!" she hollered back. "Lady out here wants to use the phone!"

There was a muffled reply, and the waitress listened.

"Oh, for God's sake," the woman said impatiently, rolling her eyes heavenward as if she'd been asked to wait for an hour.

The girl came back around front and lifted a rotary phone out from behind the counter, placing it on top. "Have to dial 8 for long distance," she explained.

Instead of answering, the woman rummaged through her purse and came back with a tiny spray bottle and cloth. She lifted the receiver and spritzed the entire thing, then wiped it down before she dialed.

Kate glanced at Sawyer, amused. This was entertaining, at least.

As she waited for someone to pick up, the woman noticed the waitress watching her, fascinated. "Don't you have something to do?" she asked nastily. The girl moved away.

"Yes, hello... Pam?" she said harshly into the receiver. "It's Gloria. Oh, you wouldn't believe it if I told you. The car had a flat, and we're at some sort of dining establishment for truck drivers, I believe. It's like the ninth circle of hell. Everything between New York and LA is nothing but a gigantic white-trash landfill." She shuddered.

Kate slouched back against the booth, shaking her head slowly in contempt. Sawyer knew how much she loathed these snobbish types, and that she took remarks of that nature personally, whether they were directed at her or not.

The woman continued, in a loud, unpleasant voice. "But I want you to fax those documents on over to Victor... I signed the papers for the building... The demolition will start sometime next month, hopefully. I haven't decided yet what to do with the land... Maybe a mini-mall, or something. The tackier, the better, as far as I'm concerned. That's what these people want anyway." She paused, listening. "Well, if the bastard wanted to keep his children's hospital, he shouldn't have signed a pre-nup, am I right?" She cackled gaily. "After all, if it wasn't for all those charities taking his time, maybe I wouldn't have gotten so lonely that I had to find other men to keep me company." She seemed to have a new thought. "Oh, and while you're at it, check into that shelter of his down in Maryland. Cosmetics labs will be willing to pay good money for those animals... but don't settle until you find the highest price, of course."

Sawyer and Kate now looked at each other with equal expressions of distaste. They began to wish they'd left as soon as they were done eating.

"Oh, if you had any idea of what I've gone through to close this deal," the woman now moaned pitifully. "It's just been one thing after another. Would you believe that good-for-nothing maid just walked out on me? She said it wasn't her job to travel with me... that she was only supposed to look after the house. And then whined something about how her son missed her. Can you imagine the nerve?" She sighed deeply. "Call up the agency and have them send me someone else... I'll be at the Hilton in Springfield until Friday, and then with any luck, I'll be a first-class plane ticket away from Fifth Avenue, and won't ever have to enter this cesspool again."

An elderly man dressed in a chauffeur's uniform poked his head through the door. "Car's ready, Miz Winchester."

"Pam? I have to go. Apparently it only takes these people three hours to air up a tire. I'll call you from the hotel when I have more instructions."

She hung up the phone and looked at the man. "My name is Mrs. Winchester," she said in a haughty, deeply offended tone.

The man touched his hat, apologetically, saying, "Ma'am."

As she turned to go, she stopped next to a balding, middle-aged trucker who was staring at her with his mouth open.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded.

He slowly raised his fork to his mouth, not answering or taking his gaze from her.

"Uuuhhh..." she shuddered, moving off. "This is precisely why incest is against the law."

As she brushed by Kate and Sawyer's table, not even once glancing in their direction, they were enveloped in her cloud of heavy, cloying perfume. Kate turned her head away, grimacing.

Sawyer had a funny, deliberate half-smile on his face. "You smell that?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah," Kate answered, covering her nose. "I think she must have taken a bath in it."

"Not the perfume," he corrected her. "The money." He raised his eyebrows at her, meaningfully.

"I guess so... I'm sure she's loaded," Kate said, as if she couldn't see why it made a difference.

"Sweetheart, we been rackin' our brains tryin' to come up with a solution to our little problem, and you're gonna tell me you don't even recognize it when it walks right through the door and calls us white trash?"

Crossing her arms on the table, she watched him as she finally began to understand what he was getting at. "You've got to be kidding me. She must be sixty, at least."

"I'm not gonna sleep with her," he said with repugnance. "There's a lotta other ways to scam people besides sex, you know." He smiled at her charmingly. "Besides, you always said you wanted to see how I work.. so here's your chance."

She was incredulous. "I never said that."

"Well, pretend that you did, then." He paused. "Come on, now... That woman was Satan in Versace. Even you can't feel bad about this."

"I didn't say I felt bad," she said, quietly. "But it's dangerous, Sawyer."

He seemed to think this was funny. "Freckles, we're already runnin' from the FBI. What the hell do we have to lose?"

She smiled a little and looked out the window, where the sky was just beginning to lighten. He could tell she was coming around.

"Don't worry... I won't take all the good parts. You're gonna help me out on this one." She turned back to him, ready to protest, and he added, "I always wanted a beautiful partner-in-crime. You up for it?" He lifted his coffee mug as if he wanted to toast her.

Kate considered, and then sighed heavily, giving up. She picked up her mug. "What the hell."

They clinked them together, and then drank. Sawyer set the cup back on the table with a flourish.

"This is gonna be fun," he told her, a strange, anticipatory excitement shining out from his eyes.