Back with the next chapter. Thank you to those who left reviews, it makes me so happy to read your reviews. Sorry for the long wait. This chapter didn't turn out like I expected to, but I think that if for the better. Anyways without further ado, enjoy.

"Okay, it's secured. You can let go now." Jack tells me. I step away and admire our handiwork. With some blueprints that Michael made, Jack and I spent the better part of the morning modifying the water/showers area to make them more productive.

"If we had more wood, we could make more of a wall so that the showers are more private," I point out.

"That's a good idea. Do you want to plan it out while I get more wood?" Jack asks.

"Sure, I can do that." I agree and he departs. I count the steps across the shower's area as a way of measuring it. Once I had the general size in mind, it wasn't hard to visualize the project and how to make it work. I had a working plan in mind by the time Jack returns with the wood.

"Okay, so here's what I am thinking. The area we have to cover isn't large, so it is definitely doable. And the wall doesn't need to be very high. If we make it four, maybe five, pieces high, that should get the job done. We will need to be smart with how we place them though, the wood isn't all perfectly flat," I explain. I motion with my hands as I speak.

"That sounds like it will work, we'll need more wood though." Jack says.

"Yeah, but I don't think we will need too much more. We can start with what we have first and then with the two of us collecting the rest shouldn't be so terrible"

We get to work. Jack stands on the outside while I balance on the other side so that we can work from both angles.

We get about 1/3 of the way done before we need to head out for more wood.

"Can I ask you something?" Jack asks, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Shoot"

"Why'd you decide into medicine? You could have done anything else. You definitely have the skills for a lot of different things."

I smile at his kind words. "Thanks, that's nice of you to say. Honestly, there were a couple of different reason. I was good at medicine too, and I liked it. But also, when I was younger, I knew a doctor who taught me a lot about medicine and stuff like that. I guess it was just a natural choice." All these reasons are true, but they are not what ultimately pushed me towards my current career. But that is too deep, too secret to share with Jack. "I could ask you the same question."

"I was born into the life," Jack answers simply. "I never had much of a choice. My father was a doctor, and it was what he always expected of me."

I nod, understandingly. "Well, at least it has served you well. We are lucky you were on the plane."

"Yeah, I guess so, but there is nothing I've done that you couldn't have done," Jack says.

"Well, thank you. But these people needed you for more than just being a doctor," I tell him.

By the time we finish the wall it is late afternoon and both of us are ready to rest. I sit down next to mine and Patrick's spot and rest until the evening.

Flashback

After work, Robert convinces me to hang out at his house for a bit.

I agree after a little deliberation. "Okay, but I can only stay for like an hour. You know I don't like leaving Patrick alone with dad for too long. It's too hard on him." He's had a melancholy air about him all day, and I can tell something is up.

"I know" he says, taking my hand is his as we walk out to the car together. "But you deserve a break sometimes. And I want to spend some time with you."

Our conversation ceases as we drive over to his house. We sing along to the radio together instead of talking.

"So, what do you want to do? Do you want to see what's on T.V. or just hang?" I ask him once we get inside his house.

"Let's see if Seinfeld is on. I need something funny right now."

"Yeah, sure, that's good with me. Are you okay?" I ask, casting a worried glance his way.

"I'm fine, just happy that you are here," he says. Even though I can tell he is holding something back, I let it go and turn on the T.V. I lean against him as we watch, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around me, holding me close to him. Half an hour later, the show is over.

"What is on your mind?" I ask him. "You seem upset."

He doesn't speak right away, but when he does, his tone is heavy. "I have something I need to tell you."

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the worse case scenario "Okay, what is it? You know you can tell me anything."

"I got accepted into Columbia." he tells me.

I take a moment to process the news. He's been applying to colleges for a while now. Columbia was his top choice. He wanted to get as far away from here as he could. Not from me, but from this place. I snap myself out of my memories and put on a happy face.

"That's great, I am so happy for you!" I exclaim, hugging him. "From your tone I thought you were going to tell me someone died. This is good news!"

"You're happy? Are you sure, because I would have to leave. I haven't committed yet, I could stay close by and go to a different school," he rambles.

"I'm happy for you." I correct. "And don't you dare do that. You aren't staying here for me. This is your dream, and you don't want to be here. Go to Columbia, don't let me hold you back." I put my arms on his shoulders, steading him while I am talking.

"Are you sure? You'll be okay?" he asks, worried.

"Yes, I am sure. And don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll miss you, but I will be just fine on my own." I tell him, putting on a brave face. Even though I know I will be okay without him, I can't imagine him leaving and having to do this all on my own. But I know I can, even if I don't want to. Rob has to leave. He can't stay because I want to be selfish.

"I'll miss you so much," he tells me earnestly.

"I'll miss you too. When will you leave?" I ask. I need to know how much time I have left with him.

"First semester starts in August."

"So, we have four months. That's a long time," I say, even though the time seems too short to me.

"Who will take care of you when I am gone?" Rob asks, twirling my hair around his finger.

"I can take care of myself." I tell him, and it is the first entirely truthful thing I've said during this conversation.

Present Day

It is evening when Patrick returns from the jungle.

"Hey" he greets, sitting down next to me.

"Hey, how was your day?" I ask him.

"Fine, I guess. I got to know that kid a bit better."

"You mean Walt?" I ask. "Michael's son?"

"Yeah, he wanted to learn how to hunt and stuff. So Locke taught him," he explained.

"Wait a second. What exactly did Locke and you guys do with him?" I ask. The image of a young kid with knifes comes to mind, and it worries me.

"We just let him throw a knife around some, nothing crazy" Patrick says causally.

"Nothing crazy?!" I exclaim. "What's wrong with you? He's like 10? He shouldn't have a knife."

"Oh come on, this island is dangerous. He should be able to protect himself." Patrick argues.

"You know what else is dangerous? Weapons to someone who doesn't know how to use them," I scold.

"Yeah, that was pretty much what Micheal said," he said sullenly.

I wrinkle my forehead. "Wait, his dad didn't know about this? What is wrong with you?" I ask.

"Yeah, because dad's always do what's best for their kid," he mutters. Immediately, I know what this is really about.

"Most of them, yeah." I say, hoping to defuse the situation.

"Most isn't all." Patrick says coldly. "We both know that wasn't the case with our father."

"Why do you insist on having this fight?" I ask. "I thought we'd agreed to disagree."

"Why can't you be on my side for this? You know I am right." he says back, his voice rising slightly.

"Because, there is more than one side. And I get why you feel the way you do, I really do. But you only remember the bad parts."

"What other parts are there?" he asks me, eyes darkening.

"Since you insist on having this fight… You don't remember as well when we were younger; but, he was a great father then. You have what, maybe 3 or 4 years you acctually remember with him, and even that is blurry for you. He changed. The man you knew as our dad wasn't who he really was. Mom's death was just tough on him," I defend.

"And it was easy on us? He should have been there for us," Patrick insists.

"He couldn't be, and that may not be right, but that is how it was. I was there for you, and we got through it anyways. What does it matter now?" I question him.

"It matters," he maintains. "He just wasn't there, for 10 years. You only like to remember what it was like when it was good, and you think that the fact that he was a little sad can excuse everything," he is sneering the words at me by the end.

"Where is all this coming from?" I ask, angry now. "There was no need to drag this all up again."

"It doesn't matter. I am done pretending like everything that happened didn't matter," he says, his tone cool and steady.

"Whatever, I am not having this conversation anymore. You are being ridiculous," I say before walking away.

I don't pay any attention to where I am walking, I just need to clear my head. It is not the argument I am upset about so much as the past being dragged up. Everything I don't want to think about. Because Patrick may be right, but he is talking about memories that I have been trying to shove down forever. Memories that have been haunting me ever since we crashed on this island. By the time I refocus on my surrounding I am on the beach. I wade into the ocean, wanting to smell the salty water and feel the ocean against me. I stand there and let the calm waves wash over me in the repetitive calming motion of the ocean.

Sawyer was walking to his tent when he saw a female figure standing in the ocean. The distance wasn't far, and he had a good guess of who it was, but he went over to investigate, regardless.

"Well, look who it is. You're the last person I expected to see, grey eyes. I thought you were avoiding me." he said as he approached her.

She turned around in the water "What do you want?" she asked. She had her arms wrapped around her chest.

He waded out after her. "What are you doing standing in the ocean in the middle of this night? You are going to get yourself sick with hypothermia or somethin'"

"It's not cold, I won't get hypothermia," she said flatly. She returned her gaze to the ocean.

"So what then? You trying to swim to rescue?" he asked, his tone lightly mocking. He was baiting her. Usually she would have made some witty remark by now. Something was off.

She sighed, "If there's nothing you want, can you leave me alone." Her hair was down it moved with the wind. He was surprised at how long it was. She rarely wore her hair down, almost always when he saw her out and about during the day she had it pulled back in some way.

"What, you mad at me now?" he asked. "I won't apologize for calling them like I see it."

"I'm not mad at you," she said tensely. "I just want to be alone, okay?"

This didn't dissuade him. "It's a free country, I can do whatever I want. And what I want to do is to stand right here," he said with a self-assured grin.

"Fine, you do that," she remarked before turning and striding out of the ocean. The current stopped her from making a smooth exit and he easily caught up to her on the beach.

"Would you slow down for a second? Geeze, women. Not everything I do is a personal attack against you," he said, stopping her at the tide line.

"Oh, so it just come naturally then?" she remarked.

He grinned. "Guess so, sweetheart. Now, do you want to tell me what's got you upset?"

"No, not really," she replied, sitting down on a piece of the beach that was out of the reach of the tide.

"How about this, I'll make you a deal," he offered.

She looked at him suspiciously, "I don't know if I should make a deal with you."

"Come on, grey eyes. Don't you want to hear what it is first?" he coaxed.

"Fine, what's your 'deal'," she asked.

"You tell me what's got you so upset, and I'll drop the whole thing about whatever secret you are keeping," Sawyer suggested. He knew she would take it. He didn't offer deals that weren't a sure thing.

"For the record, I don't know what 'secret' you are referring to. But, I'll take your deal if it will get you off my back."

Sawyer nodded and waited for her to speak.

"It's not a big deal, really. I just got in a fight with Patrick, and it brought up some old stuff." she said. Sawyer waited for her to go on, and after a minute she did.

"When we were kids, I was twelve and Patrick was six, our Mom died. Car crash. Dad was devastated, and he was never the same. He just checked out, I guess," she recounted.

"But it was okay," she said, almost as if she was reassuring him of this. Or maybe herself. "I was old enough to take care of myself, and Patrick. We were okay. I understood, why he was the way he was. But Patrick never did. It was just harder for him, he was younger and he couldn't cope as well. But he hates Dad for this, to this day. For not being there for him growing I tried to be there for him, but it wasn't enough. When dad got sick, it just got worse for him."

She hesitates now, but it is clear she has more to say. "I just, I wish he remembered him more when it was good. Because he was a good father, for a long time, but for Patrick he wasn't. And he deserves the good father that I had, more than I do. Even if he wasn't around forever. But Patrick just doesn't understand why I don't hate him too. I just can't make myself hate my father, even if I should," she finishes. Through all of this, Sawyer is perfectly silent. She keeps her gazed focused on the ocean, as it had been since she started speaking, keeping her emotions unreadable.

He's not sure what it is that prompts him to say what he says next, but a confession of his own comes out of his mouth "When I was eight my momma got romanced by a smooth talking con man, he took all the money we had. Wiped us clean. When my daddy found out, he shot her, and then himself. I've been hunting after the man who did it my entire life; but, I never blamed my daddy once."

They were both silent for a long time, the darkness casting shadows over their solemn faces. Finally, she spoke. "Thank you."

"For what, grey eyes?" he asked her.

"For not pitying me. I couldn't stand that." she said.

"Don't mention it," he said gruffly.

The magnitude of what passed between us sits over us like a heavy blanket. We don't speak, but she sits next to him for a long while before heading back. He knows that their next conversation will be the light banter that usually passes between them, and he's glad for it. He doesn't want anything to change.

I am heading down to the beach the next morning when I come across Michael sorting through a pile of plane rubble and bamboo.

He stops me. "Hey, have you seen my boy?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm sorry. I'll keep an eye out though," I offer. "And, hey. I'm sorry about Patrick giving your kid a knife yesterday. That's not cool."

"It's fine, it's not your fault," he says, distractedly. "Excuse me, but I have to go cheek on my boy. I'll see you around." He is off before I can say another word.

I take a path that I think is a shortcut of the usual path and end on a stretch of beach that is away from the main beach camp. I don't need to go to the beach camp, I just like being on the beach, but I walk down towards it, anyway. Along the way, I find Charlie knelling next to several bags of luggage.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I ask him.

"These are Claire's things. Who brought them here?" he asks me.

"I don't know, why?" I respond.

"I can't find it, I don't know where it is," Charlie mumbles while searching through her bags.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"Claire's diary." Charlie tells me. "She kept a diary in the side pocket, I know because I saw her put it in there. Someone's taken it," he seems really upset, and I decide to help him.

"Let's ask around, I'm sure we can find it," I tell Charlie. We head towards the beach camp together.

"So, who are we asking first?" Charlie asks as we walk.

"Sawyer, if he doesn't have it, he'll probably know where to find it," I tell him.

"Oh," Charlie says. He doesn't look too happy at this prospect. "I guess you are right though, he probably took it." Charlie adds on angrily.

"Well, we'll see soon enough," I reply as we approach Sawyer's tent. As we get closer, I call out Sawyer's name.

"You know, I could just go inside and..." Charlie says, reaching for the flap of Sawyer's tent.

"Trick or Treat" Sawyer says from behind us. We both turn towards him.

"So what are you two selling today?" he asks, a smug smile on his face.

"Where's Claire's diary? Someone took it from her bag?" Charlie accuses, walking towards Sawyer.

"Oh, I get it. Something goes missing and right away you figure its gotta be me who took it."

"Do you have the diary or not?" I ask, crossing my arms.

He holds up a little blue book. "You mean this one?"

"Give it to me." Charlie commands, taking a step towards Sawer.

"No, I'm not sure that's the best idea. Maybe Missy Claire don't want you readin' it?" Sawyer says, standing up and sizing Charlie up. I watch the two men from my position, considering my next move. They are gearing up for a fight, and I doubt I can stop it.

"I wasn't going to read it." Charlie defends.

"You aren't curious about what she wrote about you?" Sawyer asks. Charlie moves to take the diary, but Sawyer pulls it back with a mean grin.

"You bastard. Did you read it?" Charlie spits at Sawyer.

"Good literature is kind of scare around here," Sawyer says. He looks at me now, his eyes seem to ask 'what are you going to do about it?'

"What do you need a diary for?" I ask. "It's useless to you."

He ignores me and instead flips to a page of the diary "Dear diary, I'm getting really freaked out by that has-been pop star. I think he is stalking me." Charlie hits Sawyer and tries to snatch the diary, but Sawyer pays no head.

"Sawyer- " I chide sternly.

He ignores me. "Diary, the little runt just won't let up." Charlie punches Sawyer and I wince. Sawyer doesn't stay down for long before he reels back and punches Charlie across the face.

"You hit like a ponce." Charlie says, wiping his lip.

"Oh yeah?" Sawyer says, striding toward Charlie.

"Enough." I say firmly, placing a hand on Sawyer's chest to stop him. Charlie walks away.

"You didn't really read it, did you?" I ask him.

He looks down at me. "I just hadn't gotten around to it yet."

I turn around and walk after Charlie.

After the encounter with Sawyer, I help Charlie move Claire's bags back to the caves.

"Thanks for your help back there." Charlie says once we arrive at the caves. "You really didn't have to help, I could have managed. I've had my share of manly encounters," he tells me, sitting down.

"It's nice to have help, even if you don't need it," I tell him, sitting down next to him. "Are you okay?"

Charlie nods "Yeah. It's weird. I barley knew her, barley know her. Claire. She's been missing over a week, and every day she's gone it feels like... bits of me are crumbling or... something."

"Well... you're doing right by her to keep her stuff save. Until she gets back. And she will get back," I say in attempts to comfort him.

"How do you know that?" Charlie asks.

"Claire is stronger than you think she is," I tell him, and he nods.

"What about you, how are you doing? I know you and Claire were pretty close too."

"I'm alright, I just wish there was something more we could do. Or that I had done more to protect her when she was still here," I say wistfully. "Thank for asking."

"Of course. Thank you."

"No problem. I'll see you around, Charlie." I say, patting him on the shoulder before walking off.

Flashback

I am standing next to Rob's dad while we watch Rob pull out of the driveway and drive away to college. His father's gaze is mixed with pride and sadness, and I try to make myself feel happy for him like I should.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to head home," I say, my voice strained.

He stops me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You know you can stay longer, if you want. Just because Rob is gone doesn't mean you can't be here anymore."

"Thanks, but I need to get dinner ready." I tell him politely.

He nods, accepting my answer. "Okay, you do that. But if you ever want a home-cooked meal that you don't have to make, please come over. You don't need to do this all by yourself."

"I will, thank you, Mr. Wilson."

"Please, call me David," he says sincerely. "You're like family."

"Okay, I will," I tell him. "Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask. I shouldn't be so surprised by his attitude, but I am. In many ways, he acted like a second father to me, helping me take care of my real father. I thought this would all go away now that Rob wasn't in the picture.

"You made my son so happy, and you motivated him to take control of his life. And I know you need help with your dad, even if you have it under control, you need some support," he tells me gently. "

I nod gratefully. "Thank you, I'll visit sometimes."

"I'm glad."

Present Day

It is late night before I see Patrick again.

"I helped Michael find his son," he says when he approaches me.

I stand up. "What happened?"

"His kid, Walt, he got lost trying to chase after his dog. Locke and I helped Michael find him."

"I'm glad you helped him," I say. "And, I'm sorry," I apologize. I don't elaborate beyond this, there is no need to.

"I'm sorry too," Patrick echoes. "So, friends?" he proposes, extending his hand.

I shake his hand. "Friends," I confirm.

"So, do you want to help me find the dog?" Patrick asks me. "I told Walt I would look, Boone and Locke are looking in another direction. I'd appreciate the help."

"Oh, I see how it is," I proclaim dramatically. "You just wanted to rope me into helping you with this."

"What? Nooo. I would never," Patrick defends, holding his chest with his hand.

"Mhhm, sure you wouldn't. You're lucky I like dogs. Come on, I have a flashlight we can use," I say, gesturing for Patrick to follow me.

We make our way over to my stuff and I grab a flashlight out of my bag. "I used to have two, but the batteries died in one of them. But this will do," I hand the flashlight to Patrick to carry.

We walk side by side through the dark jungle, the flashlight only provides a narrow beam of light to see by. "You know, we saw a polar bear today," Patrick tells me. "I honestly didn't completely believe you about the first one until we saw this one."

"How would I make that up?" I ask, incredulously.

"I didn't think you were lying... it just seemed to crazy to be true."

"Yeah, that's fair," I concede. "I didn't fully believe it myself when I first saw it."

There is a rustling noise in the jungle ahead of us, and we both freeze.

"Vincent?" Patrick calls out, stepping forward. Instinctively, I grab his arm.

"Just be careful" I whisper. "That doesn't sound like a dog."

He nods and we creep forward together. A shape appears in the darkness, a person. They take a step forward, and that is when I recognize who it is who just stepped out of the jungle.

"It's Claire," I say out loud.

I walk to her and put my hands on her shoulders. She looks confused and terrified. "Claire, are you okay?" I ask and she passes out in my arms.

End of chapter. So what did you think? Sawyer and Sam got to know each other a little better. Please review, it is really everything to me when you guys review. Also remember my inbox is always open. - K