Chapter Nine: Recovery

Rain poured down on the beach, soaking everyone who didn't have either the luck or sense to find cover. People used whatever they could find, from pieces of the wreckage to empty suitcases. Some huddled together for warmth, others fought to keep the signal fire from dying.

Jack, Charlie, Claire, Sayid, and Hurley all crowded into the tent, now that the marshal's body had been moved to the fuselage. Jack and Sayid had done it last night, under cover of darkness so as to upset as few people as possible.

So far, nobody had asked about the marshal. Jack hoped it was a sense of out of sight, out of mind. But that theory wasn't holding true for their two missing castaways. The disappearance of Kate and Sawyer had rattled people just as they were beginning to accept the reality of their situation.

He'd thought about telling people the two had gone into the jungle looking for supplies, but they'd been seen running into the trees during last night's storm. The rumors had spread too quickly for him to contain them, so now what was left was damage control. All he could do was try to keep the panic to a minimum.

"Do you think they're all right?" Claire asked.

Jack and Charlie exchanged a quick glance. Aside from Kate, they were the only two who knew just what the monster could do. And given that they'd heard it in the trees about the same time Kate and Sawyer had been seen running into the jungle...

"I'm sure they're fine," Charlie said. "They probably found some other shelter for the night or something."

"Do you think that thing in the trees...?" she trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"They'll be all right, love. Don't you worry."

"You guys didn't find any trace of them?" Hurley asked.

Jack shook his head wearily. "We can't search the entire island in a day. We'll go back out tomorrow."

"How long do you think they can survive without food or water?"

"A person can survive about a week without water."

"What about food? If they don't eat anything, won't they be like...too weak to hike back here?"

"I don't know, Hurley," Jack said with a sigh. "We'll look again—"

He broke off mid-sentence as someone's shouting pierced the drone of the rain and carried into the tent. He came to his feet, glancing back at Sayid as he exited the tent.

He looked around, trying to see through the rain and the dark. He raised his hand to shield his face, squinting his eyes. He saw someone wave at him, and his gaze followed their outstretched arm in the direction of the tree line. And then he saw them. Sawyer, staggering under the weight of several bags, and Kate lying limp in his arms.

"Hey! A little help would be nice," Sawyer called out over the rain, then watched as none other than Ali and the hero emerged from the tent and ran toward him.

He pressed his lips together. He didn't have any claim on Kate, but damned if he wanted to hand her over to the doctor. Anyone but him. He would never admit to anyone that he hated the thought that Jack would be the first person she saw when she woke up.

She'd scared the shit out of him when she'd passed out in the jungle. He'd dropped his bags and leapt forward, barely catching her before she hit the ground. He hadn't been able to wake her back up, but he had felt the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He'd thought about stopping and staying there until she came around but didn't want to be caught unprepared if whatever had killed the pilot came back, or if it turned out their attacker wasn't dead. If they made if back to the beach, at least they'd be able to see any threats that came at them.

"What happened?" Jack asked as he came to a stop in front of them. "What the hell did you do?"

Sawyer's face closed down, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I saved her life, Jackass. That's what I did."

Jack reached out, and Sawyer reluctantly handed Kate over. He hitched the bags up on his shoulders and followed him, ignoring the looks he got as people saw him and realized who he was. Damn them all, he thought. They could think whatever they wanted. He didn't owe them explanations or justifications for what had happened.

Jack carried Kate into the tent. "Everybody watch out," he said.

Sawyer watched as everyone got up and backed out of the way. He dropped the bags at his feet, pretending he didn't know they were casting covert glances in his direction. He kept his attention focused on Kate. He thought he saw her eyelids flutter as Jack knelt down next to her and took her pulse, but he wasn't sure.

"Let's give her some privacy, guys," Jack said.

Charlie, Claire, Sayid and Hurley all left the tent, but Sawyer stayed right where he was. Jack looked up at him, obviously about to suggest that he leave as well. He folded his arms across his chest and stared back silently, until Jack gave up with a shake of his head and turned back to Kate.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened, or what?" Jack asked.

"You think you know so much already, why don't you guess?"

Jack shook his head, laughing wearily and without humor. "You can't ever give a straight answer, can you? You have to play games instead."

"Well, Doc, you'd know about playing games, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack asked, glaring at him.

Sawyer smirked. "You think you know me so well. You wanna accuse me of doing something to her, but you don't have the balls to come right out and say it. You're a coward."

"I'm a coward?" Jack asked, coming to his feet and advancing on Sawyer. "You're letting her lie there in danger because you need your ego stroked."

A cloud of anger flooded into Sawyer's eyes. His fists clenched, itching to connect with that self-superior face. "You think this is about my ego?" he ground out, wondering what the doc would think if he knew that not only had Kate slept in his arms last night, but that she'd initiated their first kiss. And that the kiss hadn't been their last.

"Okay, if not ego, then what?"

They stood toe to toe, ready to do battle, until Kate's soft moan interrupted them. Both men whirled around, watching as her head turned to the side, her eyelids fluttering.

Jack knelt beside her and twisted the lid off a water bottle. "Kate, can you hear me?"

Her eyes blinked open and her lips moved, but they couldn't hear what she said.

"You're going to have to speak up," Jack murmured. "I can't hear you."

Sawyer arched a brow at Jack's choice of I instead of we, but kept his eyes on Kate as she licked her lips and swallowed, then said, "Sawyer..."

"Right here, Freckles," he said as Jack turned and looked at him.

She closed her eyes. "What happened?"

"You passed out about a half hour ago. I got us back to the beach."

"I figured that part out," she said.

Sawyer chuckled, more relieved than he would ever say that she was awake and talking. "I had to carry you and all the damn bags myself. Couldn't have waited to pass out until we got here, could ya?"

"You carried me?"

"What did you think, I dragged you by your hair?"

She laughed weakly. "Now that you mention it, my head does hurt."

Sawyer shook his head and grinned as he reached into one of the bags. "You should eat something," he said, tossing her a bag of peanuts and a package of crackers.

"Thanks," she said, then watched as he picked up his share of the bags and walked out of the tent.

"That was...friendly," Jack said, holding out the bottle of water.

Kate accepted it with a soft smile of gratitude. "We spent the last twenty-four hours alone in the jungle. That's a lot of time to talk."

"You're friends now?" Jack asked, disbelief tinging his tone.

"I wouldn't go that far," she said, tearing open the package of crackers and popping one into her mouth. She wouldn't say she was friends with Sawyer. He drove her crazy. He made her question everything she thought she knew about herself. Not to mention he was the best kisser she'd ever met. Just thinking about his touch warmed her from the inside out. But none of that meant they were friends.

"So, what happened out there?" Jack asked. "Sawyer wouldn't give me a straight answer."

Kate struggled to sit up, waving away his offer of a helping hand. "I had a nightmare last night and I...ran into the jungle. Sawyer...saw me and followed me."

"Where did all this stuff come from?" he asked, gesturing to the crackers, then over at the bags Sawyer had left.

"We found some more of the wreckage," she said with a shrug. "Then we...ended up back at the cockpit."

"You went back there?" Jack asked, clearly shocked.

"Not on purpose. We were trying to find our way back to the beach, and that's where we ended up."

Jack watched her for several moments, waiting for her to say more, but she kept herself busy eating the crackers and peanuts. There were things she just didn't want him or anyone else to know.

She thought about telling him about their mysterious attacker. If it turned out the man was still alive, then the others should know that they may be in danger. But if she told him, and it turned out the man was dead, that was just going to raise his suspicions of her even higher. First, she'd refused to tell him the truth about her involvement with the marshal, then she'd encouraged him to end the man's suffering. If he found out that she'd killed the attacker, she didn't want to think about what he might do.

And there was no way in hell she was telling him about kissing Sawyer.

"What aren't you telling me?" Jack asked finally.

"What do you mean?" she murmured.

"Come on, Kate. I'm not stupid. I can see that you're hiding something."

She met his gaze and held it, saw the sincere concern and curiosity in his eyes, but she didn't say anything. Couldn't reveal her secrets. Because more than his concern, more than his curiosity, she also saw a hint of suspicion. Maybe it came from the marshal, maybe it came from her contact with Sawyer. But whatever the source, it made her angry, and more tired than she'd thought possible.

"I'm going to go," she said, handing the water bottle back to him as she struggled to her feet. She swayed a little, but she didn't fall down. She stalked over to her bags and picked them up.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked.

"Back to my place on the beach."

"Everything out there is soaked, Kate. You should stay here so you can dry out and get some rest."

"The rain stopped," she said. "I'll be fine."

He called out to her as she walked away from the tent, but she didn't respond. She stepped around everyone else and found the spot she'd picked out the night they'd crashed. She stood for a moment, looking around at everyone, then bent down and picked up the rest of her things. She didn't want to be around anyone else right now. She needed time alone to decompress, to digest everything that had happened during the last couple of days and decide what came next. None of that was going to happen with all of these people around.

She looked around, trying to spot Sawyer, but didn't know where he'd gone after he'd left the tent. Deciding that for the moment she didn't want to talk to him either, she shook her head and walked away.

She found a spot a hundred yards down the beach, close enough that she could still see everybody, but far enough away that they couldn't really bother her. She dropped her bags and found some wood that had remained fairly dry. She built a fire with the lighter she'd never given back to Sawyer, then lay back with her head resting on the duffel bag she'd taken from the wreckage. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.

Sawyer's image floated into her mind. She kept seeing the look on his face in the instant before he'd kissed her the second time. He'd tried to hide it, but she'd seen the heat, seen the need. She'd recognized it, because she'd felt the same way. Maybe it wasn't smart, but a part of her needed him, and she didn't know how to deny it any longer.

She wondered what would happen between them now that they were back at the beach. It was one thing to come together in the jungle, when nobody was around, but with a few dozen people as witnesses? Did she want to pretend that nothing had happened, or did she want to say damn the risks and push for a deeper connection? Did she even want to get to know him better, or was it just that she desperately wanted to feel connected to someone, anyone?

Sometime later her eyes flashed open. She slowly sat up, her eyes scanning the beach and the surrounding woods. She'd heard something, she was sure of it. Twigs snapping, or maybe brush crunching under a shoe. She dug out her flashlight and flicked it on, dragging the beam of light back and forth across the trees.

The light reflected back at her suddenly, caught by something just beyond the tree line. She blinked, rubbing her tired eyes, and edged closer to the trees. In the back of her mind she knew she was being stupid. She should call for help. She should get as far away from there as possible. But she moved closer, her heart pounding, her head swimming.

She reached the tree line, but couldn't see what had caught the light. Everything was dark, quiet, still. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, whatever ordinary was on this island.

A hand reached out and knocked her flashlight away, and before she could react, a figure emerged from the darkness and slammed her back against a nearby tree. She cried out as her head cracked against the tree trunk, but a hand covered her mouth, smothering the sound.

She felt something sharp sting the delicate skin of her neck, where her pulse beat out of control. "Where are they?" a gravelly voice demanded.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered when he removed his hand.

The fist to her face stunned her. The solid weight of his knuckles slammed into her cheekbone, stealing her breath from her lungs. She would have fallen to the ground had the man not been standing so close. As is was, her legs turned to jelly, and she leaned her head back against the tree, wheezing and trying to catch her breath.

"Where are they?" he demanded again. "I know you have them."

"I don't have anything," she insisted as her breath slowly came back. She tensed her muscles, subtly shifting her body to the side. She felt something drip down her neck, and she wasn't sure whether it was sweat or blood. The knife—at least she thought it was a knife—was still pressed against her neck.

She did her best to ignore the knife. If she thought about it, she'd panic. And if she panicked, she died.

"What did you do with them?" he asked.

Without warning, she jerked her knee up between his legs, pushing the knife away with her hand. The man groaned, staggering until a second kick sent him to the ground.

Kate grabbed the knife and ran, her scream piercing the still night air. She stumbled, sand and debris digging into her palms as she fell. She scrambled back to her feet and ran for the camp, refusing to look back.

She no longer had to wonder if their attacker was dead or alive.