Chapter Eleven: Risk

Kate sucked in a sharp breath, backing up until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with Sawyer. Whatever was knocking down the trees was a ways back, but that didn't mean it didn't terrify her.

After her nightmare last night, she was having a hard time separating thoughts of the monster from thoughts of the marshal. Even though she knew he was dead, if she closed her eyes she almost believed it was him crashing through the trees. Coming for her.

She turned away and walked slowly down the beach. She was so tired. But she knew sleep wouldn't come with their attacker still out there. She reached up and fingered the tender skin around her eye. The man wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted, but the pictures had been reduced to ashes. She knew that simply trying to explain that wasn't an option. She also knew that they couldn't just let a murderer walk around the island unchecked.

She stared out at the dark water of the ocean, wrapping her arms around her body. If they found the attacker, what exactly were they going to do with him? Take him back to the camp and keep him prisoner? They had the handcuffs—the ones that had so recently been locked around her wrists—but wouldn't keeping him at the camp panic people? So if not the beach, what then? Somewhere in the jungle?

And if they kept this man a prisoner, what was next? Would they start punishing others for supposed crimes? Who would decide what was a crime and what the appropriate punishment should be? What about crimes committed before the crash? If her secret broke beyond the small group that already knew, what would happen to her? They had no way of knowing what she'd done unless she told them—which she definitely wasn't going to do—but if they knew she'd been the marshal's prisoner would they insist that she be punished alongside her attacker?

She slipped her shoes off and let the cool ocean water wash over her feet. There was no guarantee that catching the attacker and bringing him back would keep them safe. He could escape. They'd have to watch him twenty-four hours a day, and even then she'd worry.

She closed her eyes. There was really only one way to ensure that the man who had murdered the woman in the pictures wasn't a threat to any of the castaways.

End his life.

Was it okay to kill someone, she wondered, as long as it was for the greater good? Should they ask everyone to take a vote on what they thought should be done, or should they just do what they had to do and deal with the consequences later?

She'd taken that route before. She'd done what she thought had to be done without consulting anyone, and she'd paid the price. Nobody had understood, and she'd ended up in jail, then on the run for all those endless months. But she couldn't run now. She was stuck on this island like everyone else, and she had a feeling that the threats were just now beginning to reveal themselves.

The wailing and thrashing in the jungle ended as suddenly as it had begun. She looked back towards the jungle and saw Sawyer striding across the beach toward her. She turned back to the water, still angry that he'd tried to take the big brother role with her. She didn't want him as her brother, and she didn't want anyone to tell her what to do.

"Why'd you run away?" he asked when he was standing next to her.

She didn't want to have that discussion with him, so instead of answering his question she said, "Maybe the monster ate him."

"'Scuse me?"

"The attacker. Maybe that's why the trees were shaking. Maybe that thing killed him."

"That's quite an imagination you got there, Freckles."

"I watched it happen to the pilot. Why not this guy?"

"Because nobody's that lucky."

She knew it was wishful thinking, but she just wanted this to be over with. She didn't want to think about having someone's life in her hands, and she didn't want Sawyer to have another death on his mind. He already had to contend with the botched mercy killing of the marshal. She didn't want him to have to deal with this too, especially on account of her.

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" she asked.

She felt him looking down at her. "What other choice we got?"

"I don't know," she said finally. "I just don't know if I want to be part of a murder."

"It's not murder, Freckles. It's self-defense. And if you don't want to be a part of it, why are you insisting on coming?"

"Because I don't need to be protected, and I'm not going to let anyone insist that I stay behind just because this guy attacked me."

"So this is about proving yourself?" Sawyer asked as he lit a cigarette.

"No, it's not. But tell me this. Say you find him and kill him. What then? What are you going to do with the body? Leave it out for the animals? Bury it? Burn it?"

"Why do you care about that?"

"Because if someone is out hiking in the jungle and finds a body that's obviously been murdered, I don't want to have to explain."

"So what's your solution?" he asked. "Let him run around and wait for him to kill someone else?"

She looked back at where Jack and Sayid stood near the tree line, then down the beach to where everyone else had camped. Finally she looked back up at him. He wasn't going to like her plan. If he didn't want her to go into the jungle to look for the man, he was going to hate this. "We need to bring him here," she said, "so we don't arouse suspicion. They need to know we didn't have any other choice but to kill him."

Sawyer took a drag off his cigarette, not liking the direction she was going. "So what, you want to bring him here and execute him in front of everybody?" he asked.

"Not exactly."

"Then what, Freckles? Spell it out for me."

"We don't need to bring him here," she said. "We need him to come on his own. We need to lure him."

"Lure him with what?"

"Bait. Me."

He dropped his cigarette as the words shot through him. The full extent of her plan became clear, and he felt almost dizzy from the wave of anger and adrenaline that rushed through him. "Are you out of your damn mind?" he shouted.

She looked around, then muttered, "Keep your voice down."

"This is the most damn fool plan I've ever heard," he ground out. "There's no way in hell you're going to let him attack you again."

"If you'd calm down for a minute, you'd see that this is the only way this can work," she said.

"Like hell."

She blew out a frustrated sigh and leaned close to him. "There's no guarantee that you'll find him if you go looking for him. But he will come back here again, and he'll keep coming either until he gets what he wants or until he's dead."

"And you're just going to sit back and wait for him to come after you?"

For the first time, he realized there was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, and it shook him more than the fear caused by her plan. She had more bravado than she knew what to do with, but he realized that all of it didn't mean she wasn't scared. She was putting on a front, hiding her true self, and nothing could have connected her to him quicker or deeper.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was starting to feel something for her. You couldn't spend twenty-four hours glued to each other's side without feeling something. You couldn't kiss someone the way they'd kissed without being affected. Every other woman he'd been with, he'd purposely kept his distance, even in bed. If someone tried to break through his shields, he simply walked away. But here on this island, he couldn't just walk away, and Kate was breaking through his shields without even trying.

Which is what made it so damn hard to go along with this plan, even though he knew she was right. He could wander around the jungle for days and never find a sign of the attacker. But give him a reason to come back to the beach and he would. The problem with that was the thought of Kate sitting alone, waiting to be attacked turned his stomach. Sure, he'd be waiting, watching for the attacker to make his move, but what if he didn't get to her in time? What if the attacker did serious damage before he could stop him?

"Look, you don't have to like this," she said. "But unless you can come up with a better plan, this is all we have. We don't know how long we're going to be on this island. If we just go after him and kill him, we're going to be branded as murderers. I don't want that, and I'm betting you don't either. But if he comes here and is killed in a struggle after he tries to attack me, nobody is going to blame us for anything."

He stared at her for several long moments. There was fear in her eyes, along with determination, and a hint of something else he couldn't quite name. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't the first time you've hatched a plan like this?"

She flicked her eyes up at him, then turned away and looked back out over the water. She didn't answer his question.

"Why was that marshal after you, Freckles?" he asked quietly.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured desolately. "None of it matters."

But he knew it did matter, and he was suddenly determined that eventually, somehow, he would get her to admit to him what had happened to send her on the run.

"Are we going to do this, or what?" she asked resolutely, turning back to him and meeting his eyes with a shot of bravado he was helpless to resist. Not giving a damn that any number of people could be watching them, he pulled her close and dipped his head low.

She gripped his shirt in her fists and met him halfway.