It is a couple days before New Years. Kate sits silently invisible against the leaves, watching the makeshift society that they have formed. As she sits she fingers the corners of five or so pieces of paper the lie delicately in her hand. She touches their surfaces as though they were precious objects. And so, as she lightly turns them over in her hand habitually, one after the other, she sits and watches with a quiet smile on her face.

Hurley and Boone are sitting against the ruins of the plane, both hunched over a pamphlet folded with yellow legal paper. Boone squints his eyes in suspense as Hurley excitedly digress every detail drawn.

"And then I used the nine iron to shoot goldballs right into the monster's eye, rendering him blind and unable to chase down it's prey. . ." Hurley turns the page, and Boone's eyes widen in fascination.

"Oh, and that's the mysterious jungle girl that I save from a monster attack. We don't know that much about her yet, except that she seems to be descended from an island tribe that has pretty much died off now except for her, and because of this, she has no access to modern day conveniences. It kinda explains the tiny little loincloth she's wearing."

"Yeah. . ." Boone says, dumbfounded.

Kate's eyes follow Claire and Charlie as they walk, finger intertwined, down the beach. Claire's laughing at something Charlie said, something unheard by Kate. Jokingly, Charlie bends over Claire's belly and knocks on it like it was a door waiting to be opened. Claire laughs again, and bends over to kiss him.

". . . Alright kid, listen up." Kate turns her head at the sound of Sawyer's voice. "The key to poker is being able to read other people and call their bluffs. . ."

Walt nods at him in concentration as he looks down at his cards. They are sitting in a circle of four, Walt, Michael, Sayid, and Sawyer. None of them are speaking, but instead are all reading the faces of the worn brown cards like a battle plan, every single one of them serious and strategic. Sawyer looks right at home.

". . . How do you get a flush again?" Walt asks, looking up at Sawyer quizzically. Sawyer rolls his eyes in annoyance.

He sighs. "Fine. This can be a practice round, but next time around, we're playing for real. Lemme see your hand, kid." Sawyer bends over Walt's cards secretively, and his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Damn," he says, and throws his cards in the middle. ". . . I'm out."

Their voices mingle in Kate's ears with Locke's and Shannon's.

"So you played chess in France?"

"Yeah, my boyfriend was big into that stuff. The dork factor of the game began rubbing off on me a little."

"Hmmm. . ." she heard Locke mumble as he thought about the possibilities.

Jack was out cold asleep by the signal fire, his hand still sorted in the pages of a dog-eared book by Emerson. For once, no one was bothering him with problems.

Kate smiled. This really had turned into a saving grace.

In the distance, she can still hear the boys playing poker.

"I fold. . ."

"Call?"

". . . .Call."

"Call. . ."

"Hit me."

Everyone groans at Walt, still poised with his serious face.

"This ain't blackjack, kid. . ." Sawyer's voice wafts through the air.

Kate laughs to herself and then tunes them out to watch the sea breathe in and out with the tide.