It was true that news travelled fast on the island. After being forced to live together for so long, the castaways had unconsciously set up their own little chain that sent news through the jungle and out onto the beach. Jack would tell Kate, his second in command, who would inform Sayid, then Locke. Charlie would overhear and tell Claire and Hurley. Walt soon followed, telling his father, and then running down to the beach with his dog to tell the others.
Sawyer, however, was not included in this chain. The asshole-almighty kept to himself, the makeshift tent that was once Jacks served as his own little castle, the invisible walls intimidating to the other islanders. They tended to keep away from the southern man: his stinging glares and sharp tongue made sure of that. So when the beach dwellers had all drifted from the sandy shores in groups of two and threes, bound for the caves, Sawyer didn't give it a second thought.
But then night came, and no one returned. Sawyer could only pretend he was reading the paperback for so long before getting bored out of his mind. He needed some action.
And his action was Kate.
Kate, like the others, was not at her bedroll beside the jungle. He figured as much that she had joined the masses at the caves. Deciding that venturing into the jungle at the dark of night wasn't the most brilliant idea he had all day, he made his way back to his tent. He would bug Kate in the morning.
Sawyer spent the night on the beach alone.
The next morning, Sawyer awoke to an empty beach. The crashing waves rang loud against the silent shore. He could only imagine why no one had returned. Jacko was probably holding some island-wide gathering or some shit that obviously didn't concern him. Sawyer decided that he didn't care. At least, not enough to show up and see what was going on. So he picked up his ridiculous pair of studded sunglasses and lay down for a nap.
"Get up,"
It was Kate. Sawyer opened his eyes up just a bit to find the island beauty standing outside his encampment, arms folded, something clasped in her hands.
"Well, lookie' who decided to show up," he drawled slowly, "Docs party end?"
"Sawyer…" her voice was strained, Sawyer noticed. He took off his sunglasses and placed them on the suitcase beside him.
"Whatcha got there, Freckles?" he eyed the bottle in her hand, "Bring me a present?"
Kate shut her eyes tight, and Sawyer finally looked closely at her. Her face was a mess, eyes red and puffy, and cheeks tearstained: things that only came from some serious crying. A lone tear escaped from her eyes and fell onto the sand by her feet.
"Kate," he said quietly, very much concerned, "Why were you crying?" he was standing now. She didn't answer him, "Kate?" he put a hand on her shoulder, an attempt at comfort.
"Don't," she hissed through clenched teeth, tensing at his touch, "Just. Don't."
He drew back, "I was just tryin' to be nice, Freckles," he looked her over. Something was defiantly wrong, but she obviously didn't want to say anything. So there they stood in silence. Then, fighting back a sob, she grabbed his hand and shoved what she had been holding into it.
"There, take it," she sniffed, "It's your turn."
Then as suddenly as she had turned up, she had left, making for her bedroll. Sawyer watched as she stumbled down the beach and threw herself onto the ground. He could almost hear her choked sobs from where he stood in shock.
He tore his eyes away from her for a moment to see what she had come to give him: a bottle and a box.
Peroxide and Band-Aids"It's your turn."
And though Kate didn't say a word to him after that, Sawyer could put two and two together.
And that night, he kept silent vigil beside her as she slept.