Chapter Two: Fall Out

Kate tore through the jungle. She ran flat out, ignoring the occasional sting when a branch would catch at her skin. Her breath sawed in and out, searing her throat, but she didn't care. A sore throat was a better fate than the pilot's. If she stopped to catch her breath, that thing could catch her.

She felt Sawyer running close behind her. Hard as it was for her to believe, she was glad he was here. Not that she liked him at all, but she knew she would be twice as terrified if she was running through the jungle alone. Her mind flashed back to the polar bear. Whether he was fearless or stupid, or both, he'd stood his ground and killed the bear. She only wished they still had the gun. She didn't know if she'd be able to fire it, but she would have felt better knowing that they had it if they needed it. Because even if she couldn't force herself to use it, she knew Sawyer could.

Her foot hooked on a ground root and she went down hard. One moment she was running, the next she was spitting out a mouthful of dirt. She cried out as pain shot up her leg. She jerked her foot loose from the root and winced.

She got to her knees as Sawyer came back to her. He reached his hand down and helped her up. She gripped his arm and almost fell again. She thought she heard him sigh, but she couldn't be sure, then he took her wrist and pulled her arm around his shoulder. His other arm snaked around her waist.

"Come on," he said, and they took off in a sort of limping run. She gripped his shoulder and felt solid muscle beneath her fingertips. She pushed the thought away. She didn't need to think about his muscles, now or ever. It was a bad idea. Think about the pain instead, she told herself. Worry about the injury. As they covered more distance, it went from throbbing to a sort of warm, diffuse ache. It was probably swelling, she thought. If they were back at the camp, she would have had Jack take a look. Then again, if they were back at the camp, it wouldn't have happened in the first place.

The rain stopped suddenly. She stopped running and looked up as the clouds slowly began to clear. "We should find somewhere to rest," she said. "We can find our way out when it gets light."

"Thought you were afraid to stop in the dark."

"That's why I want to find somewhere open, where we can see anything that comes at us." She knelt down and tightened the laces on her shoes. Her ankle was tender and warm to the touch. Definitely a sprain, but she could move on it, so it must be a mild one.

They hiked in silence for a while, Kate resolutely walking on her own, refusing to lean on Sawyer for support. If she didn't touch him, she would have no reason to think about things she had no business thinking about. Like the subtle bunch and glide of his muscles as he moved. Or the way his hand had clenched on her hip as he helped her walk.

Thoughts like that would do her no good. She needed to concentrate on finding her way back to the beach and learning how to survive here, not on what Sawyer might look like without clothes or what he'd be like in bed. Or in the jungle, as the case may be.

They broke out of the trees and found themselves at the edge of a small valley. Kate leaned back against a tree and looked around. The valley was about two hundred yards across, clear except for a few wild plants growing here and there. If they kept their backs against these last trees, they could see anything that came at them.

"Let's stop here," she said. "If we keep going in the dark, we'll just get more lost."

"Won't we get eaten by the monster if we stop?" he asked, that now-familiar sarcasm in his voice.

She glared at him from under her lashes, then sank down to the ground. "Joke all you want," she said. "You haven't seen what it can do." She stretched her leg out in front of her and rubbed her ankle above her shoe. She left her shoe on, not wanting her ankle to swell any worse than it had.

"You know," Sawyer said, "No one's actually seen this monster. How do I know it really exists?"

"You know what? You're right," Kate said. "There is no monster. We made it up. A group of us takes turns going into the jungle and knocking down trees just so we can scare people." She shifted away from him and wrapped her arms around her body. She didn't care what he thought. She knew something was out there. She might not have seen it, but she'd seen its handiwork.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the brass pilot's wings she'd found in the mud. She didn't know why she'd kept them. Every time she reached into her pocket and touched them, they reminded her of the sheer terror of the pilot being torn from the cockpit. She remembered his blood splattering the glass in front of her. And she remembered looking up into the trees and seeing what was left of his corpse.

Maybe that was why she'd kept them. Because these wings were all that was left of the pilot. She wasn't especially given to sentimentality, but something had made her keep the wings. She looked down at them and flicked away a speck of dirt. Jack had said earlier that they all deserved to start over. Well, maybe she'd start over by remembering this piece of someone who wouldn't get that chance.

Sawyer leaned back against the tree and scraped his hands through his hair. This was his own damn fault. Every time he tried to do the right thing, it came back to bite him in the ass. One of these days he was going to learn to mind his own business and let people worry about themselves.

He'd gone running after her because he'd sensed she was terrified of something. He'd sensed she was in some sort of danger. He should have left well enough alone.

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit it. He took a drag and let the smoke filter to his lungs. "So," he said, "when are you gonna tell me why you went running into the jungle in the middle of the night?"

She looked over at him, but it was a long moment before she spoke. "What does it matter?"

"It matters because we're stuck in this damn jungle and I wanna know why, Freckles."

She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head and turned away. A chill ran through her, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She wasn't going to answer him.

His anger began to simmer beneath the surface. She owed him an explanation. He'd gone after her; now he wanted to know why she'd run in the first place. He wasn't going to sit out here all damn night without an answer. "You ain't getting off that easy. One way or another, you're gonna tell me why you ran."

"It doesn't affect you."

"Doesn't affect me?" He laughed incredulously. "Of course it affects me. Until we get out of this jungle, every damn thing you do affects me."

"Look, we're here, all right?" she said with a shrug. "We're going to be here until it gets light. Nothing can be done about that now. The reason we're here is irrelevant."

"Not to me, Sweetheart." Suddenly he was next to her, his face only inches from hers. Even in the dark, his gaze, full of heat and righteous anger, burned her. She blinked, but resisted the urge to look away. She was trying not to let him intimidate her, but he could see that his proximity shook her up. It cleared away some of that aggravating bravado. Maybe this was the key to learning her secrets. Invade her space.

"Why'd you do it?" he murmured in her ear.

"Go to hell."

He chuckled softly. "All right. You don't wanna talk about that? Let's talk about why you went into the marshal's tent earlier."

She cut her eyes up at him, but didn't say anything. A blank mask descended over her face.

"What did he want from you?" Sawyer asked. "Did he know you had the gun? Did he want you to end it for him?"

"It was a nightmare," she said after a moment.

"What?"

She sighed. "I ran into the jungle because I was caught up in a nightmare and didn't realize what was happening."

"Let me get this straight, Freckles. We're stuck in this damn jungle because you ran into it when you were asleep?"

"Think whatever you want. I don't really give a damn." She turned her back on him and leaned her head back against the tree trunk. Her arms wrapped around her body, and he heard her sigh again. He watched her, but she didn't say anything more. The only movement she made was to rub her hands up and down as she shivered.

Truth be told, he was getting cold, too. That rain had soaked through his clothes, which now clung to him like a damp second skin. A chill raced over his body as he realized just how cold the island could get when the sun went down. If everything wasn't wet they could build a fire, but it seemed they were both in for a cold, miserable night.

He looked back at Kate. Her shivers had increased, but she hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. No, she wouldn't be the type to complain about something like being cold. She'd keep her suffering to herself, which should suit him just fine. Any other time, any other place, it probably would have. But here on this island, in the jungle, his instincts and habits were starting to get mixed up. He wasn't a protector. He wasn't a hero. But watching Kate shiver silently was doing something strange to him. Despite his anger at being stuck here, he felt an urge to keep her warm.

He stared at her for several moments, willing her to turn around and tell him she was fine, that she didn't want his comfort or help. But she didn't move, only continued to shiver. Finally, he muttered a particularly inventive curse and scooted up against her. He put his arm around her shoulder to draw her back against his chest, but she went stiff, holding her muscles rigid as she tried to pull away.

"What—?"

"Shut up and lean back," he said crossly. "We'll both stay warmer this way."

He thought, hoped, that she would insist on pulling away and comforting herself. But gradually she relaxed, until her back was pressed against his chest. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and the tension leaked out of her body. After a time, she fell asleep.

But Sawyer remained awake, intensely aware of the feel of the woman in his arms. How long had it been since he'd stayed with a woman long enough for her to fall asleep in his arms? He couldn't remember. Not that this was the same thing. It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

He refused to admit, even to himself, that a part of him liked the feel of Kate in his arms.

He stared up at the sky. "Ah, hell."