Disclaimer: Any and all Lost characters do not belong to me, although I'll swear to anyone that I have Sawyer locked up in my closet. Ahem

Rating: PG-13 for suggestive reading, language, and well, a shooting scene blinks

Pairings: Kate/Sawyer

Note: This is my first Lost fanfic although I have others that don't relate to Lost floating around out there on the net.

Warnings: If you haven't watched episodes eight (Confidence Man) and nine (Solitary) then prepare to be seriously lost and confused.

Chapter One

A little boy around 8-years-old was walking down the street. His red Converses crunched the dead leaves on the sidewalk as he shifted his book bag to his other shoulder. He rounded the corner and started making his way to a big, white, two-story house. He sniffled and put a finger to his nose. He looked down at his finger and saw a red smear on it.

Still bleeding, he thought. Mama won't be happy.

But it hadn't been his fault, the fight. He was just walking around the playground like he always did. Then that big kid Johnny Pilkington had to come and start pushing him, demanding him for his lunch money. He was tired of giving Johnny his money, so he did the only sensible thing he could think of. He hit Johnny and Johnny hit him back. Much more harder than he had, the boy noted. They had both been sent to the office and the principal called both of their homes. The boy's parents weren't home. He expected his father not to be there. He knew his dad was at work, but where was mama? She was normally home all day. He lied to his principal, telling her that he was going to walk to his father's workplace.

The boy didn't notice the red sport car that was parked by his house. He walked on the front lawn and went up the steps to the house. He opened the door and didn't see anyone inside.

'Hello?' he called out, looking around for his mom. 'Mama?'

No one answered, so he made his way up the stairs to his room. He was halfway up them when he heard a woman's voice laughing and it was followed by a rough man's voice. He knew the woman's voice; it was his mama's. He walked up the rest of the stairs and stood still. He could still hear the voices and they were coming from his parents' bedroom.

'Mama?' he called out again, but the creak of bedsprings now filled the house.

He knew his father wasn't home yet, he didn't get in until 5:00 and it had been 1:00 when he had left school. Part of him wanted to run back down the stairs and out of the house. He didn't want to find out who that was in there with his mama. The other part of him, however, was egging him to go on in the room. He shook his head and walked up to the door. It was halfway closed, but he didn't look in. He focused on the door handle instead. He put a shaking hand on the door handle and pushed it hard. The door swung open and bounced back on the wall with a thud. The man that was on top of his mama whirled around and looked at him. The boy looked up and locked eyes with the man. The man looked away and started cursing. The boy heard his mama's voice, but he didn't look at her. He didn't even hear what she was saying; he just looked blankly down at his feet. The man jumped up and started putting his clothes on. The boy stood there in the doorway with a mixed expression of pain and disbelief. His book bag fell from his shoulder without him noticing.

He knew this man, he realized with amounting horror. His name was Mr. Sawyer and his mama had told him he was a businessman. He had come to their house several times before to talk to the boy's daddy about his money. Mr. Sawyer and his daddy were supposedly good friends, or at least that's what the boy had thought.

I don't think him and daddy are friends anymore . . . a voice inside the boy's head commented.

The man had gotten his clothes on and was now approaching him. The boy didn't move, so the man shoved him out of the way as he ran down the hallway and down the stairs. The boy now looked at his mama. She had the covers up to her neck and she was looking at him. He saw she was crying now. He looked at her for a minute. She called out his name and made as if to get up, but the boy had already turned around and ran out of the room. He ran down the stairs, almost tripping, his vision so blurred from the tears that now ran down his cheeks. He ran out of the house and to the big red oak tree in their front yard. Mr. Sawyer had already left in his red sport car. The little boy sat down with his back to the tree. He pulled his knees close to his chest and softly cried, forgetting all about his bloody nose and all about that stupid fight with Johnny Pilkington. He stayed like that until his father came an hour later, having gotten bad news at work. His father demanded what had gone on and why he was crying, but the boy remained silent.

Let mama tell you the bad thing she did, not me. I didn't do anything. It's all Mr. Sawyer's fault, he thought to himself as his father stormed up the steps and into the house.

The boy heard shouting a few minutes later. He looked towards the house and sniffled. He wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand and got up. He turned away from the house, thinking about walking to his friend Tommy's house, when he heard his mama yell out 'NO JAMES DON'T!!!'

He turned back around and ran to the house. He opened the door and saw his parents in the living room. His father had thrown his briefcase down on the floor and was holding a gun. The boy froze in terror as he saw his father pointing the gun at his mother.

'YOU WERE HAVING SEX WITH HIM?! NO WONDER YOU TOLD ME TO LET HIM HANDLE OUR MONEY! WELL, GUESS WHAT KAREN? IT'S ALL GONE! MY MONEY! MY JOB! EVERYTHING! HE CLEANED IT ALL OUT AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!'

'James, honey, please. Let me just explain. James-' his mother cried, walking up to James.

'DON'T YOU COME ANY CLOSER YOU CHEATIN' BITCH!!!' James screamed, spit flying from his mouth as he cocked the gun.

Karen stopped and stared at him as if he had just slapped her.

'James, listen, you can't. We'll work this out. Please James, give me another chance. I-I didn't . . . didn't know-'

'THE HELL YOU DIDN'T!' James shouted.

'Please. Just put the gun down. We'll make it-'

'YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND KAREN! ALL MY MONEY! WE HAVE NOTHING NOW! THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE EVERYTHING!!!' James shouted.

'We-We'll make it. C'mon honey. H-here, g-give me the gun,' Karen said, tears welling up in her eyes.

'NO! WE CAN'T FIX THIS!' James shouted, the gun shaking in his hand.

'Yes we will. We'll make it-'

BANG

The boy flinched as he heard the gunshot. He saw his mother jerk back from the impact, her face now a bloody mess. He saw her fall to the floor, her head narrowly missing the couch. His father slowly lowered the gun and then turned around. He instantly saw the boy.

'And you . . . you saw it all . . . didn't you?' James asked, seemingly out of breath.

'Daddy . . . I . . . I,' the little boy began, trembling from head to foot. He looked at his mama's body, to the gun in his daddy's hand, then back to his daddy himself. 'Daddy . . . I didn't . . . didn't mean to-'

'Money . . . my money's all gone . . . just like that . . . everything . . . He . . . cleaned me out . . . I'll make it better though . . . it'll be . . . . be better . . .' James said, looking away from his son and towards the gun in his hand.

'Daddy, daddy, no!' the little boy cried.

He took a step forward, about to wrestle the gun from his dad if he had to, but he was too late. James looked at him again, smiling bleakly through his tears. He then held the gun up to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The little boy stopped in mid-step, watching his father as he hit the floor with a dull thud, only feet away from his mama. Eyes wide, tears slowly swelling up in them, his breath coming in short gasps, the boy looked on at his two parents, now dead. He was an orphan now, he knew it. And it was all because of him. All because of Mr. Sawyer. He'd show him one day, the boy vowed as he sunk to his knees, sob racking his small body. He would find Sawyer and tell him exactly what he had done to him. One day . . .

'N . . . NO!' the now grown boy, having adopted the name of the man he hated, cried out into the night.

He shot up like a lightning bolt and almost fell off his makeshift bed. He stared around, still thinking he was back in Tennessee. Then he saw the tropical trees swaying in the breeze, the dark outline of a piece of a plane further down on the beach, and it all came back to him. He was still on this godforsaken island. It had all been a nightmare, or a memory rather. He looked around to see if anyone had woken from his pitiful cries. He sighed and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. He hated this island, this stupid polar bear, monster infested island. He had thought about his childhood once or twice after leaving Jess and David's house, but now on the island he had nothing else to think about. He moved around and tried to get comfortable again. He kept moving for about five minutes.

'Dammit, stupid island,' he muttered as he got up.

He walked out onto the beach, trying not to trip over anyone or anything in the feeble moonlight. He kept walking until he stood close enough to the ocean that the waves crashed against his shoes. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and pulled out a bent one. He fished around for a lighter in his other pocket and then lit the cigarette. He took a slow drag and felt the smoke fill his lungs. He knew he should only light one up in dire emergencies these days. He was getting low on his stash and he didn't want to think what he would be like without any smokes. But this night, this night he said to hell with rationing. He needed something to calm his nerves. He took another drag and looked out into the water. He felt a strong wind whip at his body and he sighed again. He was staring up at the stars, listening to the waves crash together, when he thought he heard something behind him. He turned around and saw the dark outline of someone.

'Can I help ya, fella?' he asked, none too politely.

'Oh, I was just admiring the view,' a male voice said.

Sawyer squinted his eyes and saw it was one of the guys he had seen at the 'Island Open' earlier, but he had never talked to him.

'Ah, well. Piss off and admire it somewhere else, buddy,' Sawyer said as he turned back to the ocean.

The guy seemed taken aback.

'All right then. Just, just be careful out here tonight,' the guy said.

'And just what the hell is that suppose to mean?' Sawyer asked, turning around to look at the guy, but he had disappeared.

Sawyer spun around in a complete circle, looking for the guy. He was nowhere to be found.

Damn weirdo . . . Sawyer thought to himself.

He shook his head and flicked his cigarette into the ocean. He put his hands in his pockets and started walking back to the ten the doc had made, ignoring the thunder that rumbled across the water.