Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. And to bloodredcherry, I agree that Sayid would not be so quick to accept this whole situation. But since I am focusing on Kate and Sawyer, with a little Jack thrown in for some triangle angstiness, I didn't think that conversation quite fit. But I wrote it anyway, and if you want to read it you can go to my website (the address is on my profile page). Just click on the Writing button and you'll find it in the Lost Fanfiction section. Now enjoy the new chapter everybody!

Chapter 13: Calm Before the Storm

Kate's eyes blinked open, and immediately slammed shut again. Her first thought was of pain. She hurt from her head down to the dull throb in her ankle that hadn't completely gone away.

For a moment she felt panic-stricken. What the hell was going on? The attacker...the plan. Had she missed something? The last thing she remembered was sitting next to her fire, wondering when the attacker was going to strike again. She'd felt Sawyer's eyes on her and wondered who else might be watching her.

She opened her eyes again and realized she hadn't missed anything. It was morning. The attacker hadn't come. The plan had failed.

She sat up with a groan and tried to rub the soreness out of her shoulders. She tried not to think of what her eye must look like this morning after having had several hours to darken and swell.

"So, how was your night?"

Her lips twisted, knowing the sour voice could only belong to one man.

Sawyer sauntered across the sand, his lazy gait unnervingly sexy. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, she thought, or maybe she was simply losing her mind.

"Actually, my back hurts," she said.

"Sweetheart," he said, a cigarette caught between his lips, "there ain't no way in hell you hurt more than I do. I spent the night in a damn tree."

She reached up and fingered the tender skin around her eye. "Are we going to compare injuries and pain now?"

He was quiet for a moment while he whipped out his lighter and lit the cigarette. "Still hurt?" he asked gruffly.

"Only when I touch it."

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

She dropped her hand, fighting the smile that tugged at her lips. She glanced up at him. "How bad is it?"

"Well, I wouldn't be entering any pageants if I were you."

She laughed. "I'm not really a pageant sort of girl."

"No? What sort of girl are you?"

She didn't answer. It was too early in the morning to think about that. She wasn't ready to get into her past, even with the way she was beginning to feel about Sawyer. She couldn't remember the last time she'd talked openly about her past with anyone.

She turned and looked down the beach to where the others were just beginning to wake up. "What are we supposed to tell them now?" she asked.

"How the hell do I know?"

"We have to tell them something. By now everyone knows about the attacker. They're going to want to know what we're going to do about him."

"Then call a meeting and explain your grand plan to them. Or better yet, let the hero deal with them all."

She frowned, bending down to pick up a water bottle. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "Why are you being such an ass?"

"Freckles, you should've learned by now that's who I am."

She didn't answer him. She knew there was more to him than what he was showing her now. She knew, because she'd seen it. Apparently at the moment though he was content to be a prickly, unapproachable jackass. She hoped the mood blew over soon, because she was already feeling close to the edge without him turning against her. If she was going to make it through another night of waiting for the attacker to come after her, she needed to know he was backing her up.

Sawyer walked down the beach, ignoring everyone as he passed the camp. Not that many people were eager to talk to him. And that was fine with him. He wasn't in a social mood.

He walked around a slight bend, past the spot where Kate had been attacked last night, and his mood worsened. Things were going to change in the daylight. People knew that he and Kate had spend the past day alone together. And even if they knew that she'd been attacked by someone else, once they got a good look at her eye in the light of day, they were going to look at him and wonder if he'd done something to her. Logic wouldn't matter, and all the denials in the world wouldn't change a damn thing. People would make their assumptions about him, and that would be that.

Normally he didn't give half a damn what people thought of him. Hell, half the time he intentionally pushed them away. But there was nowhere to run on this godforsaken island, and if he had to deal with everyone's suspicion and outright hostility day after day, he was going to lose it and do something to prove them all right.

He stripped down and dove into the ocean, washing away all the grime that had stuck to him during the last couple of days. He wished everything else would wash away as easily as the dirt that clung to his skin. Like the images of the bodies in the jungle that were burned into his mind. Like the attacker. And like his feelings for Kate.

It would be so much easier if he didn't feel anything for her. It complicated his life, and he didn't have room for any more complications. Because not only did he want to kiss her again—not to mention put to good use those condoms he'd found in the wreckage—but he wanted to protect her from the attacker. He wanted to find a way to stop him before Kate put herself in the line of fire again. Maybe that's what he'd do today. Instead of sitting around on the beach, contemplating the mess of his life both before and after the crash, maybe he'd go looking for that asshole.

And if he was lucky, he'd find him and stop him before nightfall.

It went without saying that Kate would want to go with him. He'd have to find a way to leave without her. Because taking her with him would defeat the whole purpose. She was safer on the beach, surrounded by everyone else, and if he was alone with her in the jungle again, he wasn't sure he could keep his hands off her. He could feel his grip on his self-control slipping a little further away. He wanted to concentrate on finding the attacker, not on wondering what Kate looked like without her clothes on.

A hazy picture floated through his mind. The two of them in the jungle, Kate pressed back against a tree, her head thrown back and her eyes closed as he drove into her. He could almost hear her moan, feel the sting as her nails raked his back.

He cursed as he swam back to shore and shook off what water he could before getting dressed again. That was the last thing he needed to think about. He wasn't any more likely to get sweaty jungle sex from Kate than he was to suddenly become buddies with the good doctor and Ali.

Speak of the devil, he thought derisively, looking up to see none other than Jack coming toward him. He lit a cigarette and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. "Hey, Doc," he said, his mouth stretched into a hint of a sneer. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Sayid says the guy who attacked Kate attacked you too."

Sawyer took a drag off his cigarette. "So, what? You come to make sure I'm okay?"

"No, I didn't. I came to see what else you're hiding."

"Why don't you ask Freckles, since she seems to be eager to tell everybody everything."

"Because she won't give me a straight answer, either."

"Well, Doc, there ain't nothin' else to say. He attacked me, he attacked her. I'm gonna find him and stop him. End of story."

"And why do I think that's a complete load of crap?" Jack asked.

Sawyer sent a dark grin his way, chuckling under his breath as he took another drag off his cigarette. "You're just pissed that she doesn't hate me the way you want her to."

"That's what you think? That I want everyone to hate you?"

"Not everyone. Her." Sawyer took a step toward him, his gaze turning dark. He was spoiling for a fight. He didn't care with who or where, and figured now was as good a time as any. He had to find some way to burn off the tension that was coursing through him. And suddenly he couldn't think of a better way than going head-to-head with the doctor. He didn't give a damn if it was immature. He wanted a battle.

"Kate's an adult," Jack said calmly, though Sawyer could see a hint of the jealousy he was trying to hide. "What she does is up to her. And I'm not going to fight with you just because you kissed her on the beach."

"She wasn't fightin' to get away, you know. And in case you were wondering, that wasn't our first kiss."

"I wasn't wondering. And I'm not going to let you bait me. I only came over here to try and get a straight story out of you, which I'm obviously not going to get."

"So you don't want to know that she initiated the first kiss?" Sawyer asked.

"No, I don't."

"And you don't wanna know that all it took was me holding up a bottle of water and she was all over me?"

Jack's face went red, and Sawyer chuckled under his breath when he saw Jack's fists clench and release. He stepped up to him, eyes shooting daggers, and Sawyer hoped he'd lose the battle with his temper and hit him. Then he'd have an excuse to hit back. But he didn't. He only continued to glare and said, "I don't know what anyone could possibly see in you."

Sawyer watched him walk away, the sneer still present. Yeah, he was an asshole, and that suited him fine. He didn't need to be surrounded by dozens of friends and family members. He didn't need constant companionship. Just a woman every now and then to keep his blood flowing.

That's what he kept telling himself as he walked back down the beach. He didn't need anyone. He repeated it as he loaded a couple bottles of water and the last of his peanuts into a backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He looked across the beach and found Kate ankle-deep in water, rinsing and wringing out the shirt she'd been wearing yesterday. She'd changed into a white tank top, leaving her sleekly muscled arms bare.

He shook his head and snorted, not wanting his thoughts to head in that direction again. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand; namely, finding the son of a bitch who'd attacked them both. He turned away from her, kicking up a pile of sand as he stalked into the trees. He wasn't going to think about her body, or kissing her, or sweaty jungle sex, any more. He was going to concentrate on finding their attacker. Not on some stupid fantasy that was as sure to slip through his fingers as the fact that they were stuck here and weren't going anywhere.

Kate sat beside the fire she'd just stoked to life, the sinking sun behind her. In the waning light she stared toward the trees, waiting to see Sawyer emerge unharmed. She hadn't seen him since their tense exchange earlier in the morning. She'd watched him walk down to the other side of the beach, and she'd turned back to him at one point and thought she saw him talking to Jack, but she hadn't been sure, and she hadn't asked Jack.

She'd stayed mostly to herself all day. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to answer questions. She didn't want to face the fear and suspicions of the other castaways. So she'd sat on the beach, digging her bare toes in the sand as the surf advanced and retreated. Watching the motion of the waves had reminded her a bit of her relationship with Sawyer. One minute they were right there, lips and bodies pressed together, the next minute they were butting heads and trading verbal jabs to push the other away. It was incessant, and it was tiring, and she wished it would stop, if only for a minute.

She added a few more branches and pieces of driftwood to the fire and tried to ignore the rumble of her stomach. After their food supply ran out, Locke had gone hunting and eventually returned with a boar, but she hadn't gone to get any of it yet, and no one had brought her any. Maybe they were afraid to talk to her. Or maybe they'd forgotten about her. She wasn't sure which option she preferred.

It was almost completely dark when she looked up and saw Sawyer coming toward her. He wordlessly handed her a small dish full of boar meat and sat down next to her.

"You went out looking for him, didn't you?" she asked. She looked over at him, but he studiously ignored her question, eating his own share of the meat. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do I answer to you now, Freckles?"

"I'm just as invested in this as you are. I had a right to know you were going after him."

"Wouldn't have mattered if you'd come or not," he muttered. "I didn't find a damn thing."

"That's not the point."

"I'm too damn tired to argue now, all right? If you're so determined, you can come with me tomorrow. I'll even let you lug around the supplies."

"You're so considerate," she said, rolling her eyes, earning a reluctant smile from him. Given his earlier mood, she considered it a small victory. They'd both been so tense the last few days that any little moment of relief was welcome to her. She'd snatch up anything that could take her mind off her troubles.

"I try to keep everybody happy," he said, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable.

She chuckled, feeling a touch of peace for the first time all day. She could deal with this, she thought, sitting by a fire, the witty back-and-forth engaging her mind, Sawyer's nearness engaging...other things. She could definitely deal with this, especially if it meant she no longer had to worry that a murderer was stalking her from somewhere in the jungle.

Some time later, long after she'd finished the boar meat and tossed the dish aside, long after Sawyer had disappeared into the trees for what she feared would be another futile night of watching and waiting, she felt her eyelids droop. She was so tired. She'd slept since they'd crashed, but she'd never really gotten the deep, restful sleep she needed. It was hard to do that, she mused, when she was sleeping in the sand without pillows or a real blanket. It was hard when the sound of the water rushing and retreating never stopped, and when almost four dozen other people slept not far from her.

A muffled shout pierced the still night air, and all her senses went on instant alert. She jumped to her feet, her flashlight clutched in her hand, trying to pinpoint the origin of the commotion. She looked down the beach as more sounds filtered their way to her. Shouts and struggles. Fear and threats and pleading. Her heart crashed against her ribs. She felt dizzy, nauseous. She trembled.

She turned and flashed her flashlight in Sawyer's direction, and almost instantly he emerged from the trees and came running toward her. "What the hell's going on?" he asked when he stopped beside her.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she moved, rushing down the beach as fast as she could. Sawyer wasn't far behind. She told herself to calm down, to stay focused. She needed her wits now more than ever.

Because their plan had failed. The attacker had returned, but he hadn't taken their bait. He'd chosen his own.