Author's note: Sorry for the long delay in getting this up. My muse decided to go on vacation without letting me know ahead of time.

Chapter 16: Guilt Trip

"Oh, God."

For several moments Kate was frozen where she stood, standing in the middle of the path. She stared, what she was seeing not quite registering. She tried to convince herself it was a trick of the light. It wasn't really there.

But it was there.

Suddenly she was moving, running, stumbling forward until she fell to her knees in front of the unconscious woman. Her face was smeared with light streaks of blood and she was slumped against the tree, held up only by the thin, flexible tree branches that were tied around her. Bruises were blooming on her face, and blood was trickling slowly from a wound in her shoulder.

She tore at the woman's bonds, raggedly murmuring her name, but there was no response. She checked for a pulse and felt a surge of relief when she detected it. But the relief was short-lived, because the woman didn't regain consciousness. How much blood had she lost? It was impossible to tell in the dark.

Sawyer knelt beside her and ripped away the last of the cords. The woman fell forward, and her weight sent Kate sprawling to the ground. She slid out from beneath the woman and rolled her to her back. "Why isn't she waking up?" she asked frantically. "She should be waking up."

"Easy, Freckles," Sawyer murmured.

Kate shrugged off the button-down shirt she was wearing over her tank top, balling it up and pressing it against the woman's sluggishly bleeding shoulder wound. "I think he stabbed her," she said. "We need to find Jack."

She fought back tears, struggling to remain calm. She couldn't lose her cool, not until they found Jack and got him here to take care of the woman. After that she could lose herself in the mayhem and find somewhere to be alone. But not before then. Not until they got this woman some help.

"Hold this," she said to Sawyer, indicating the shirt she held against the woman's shoulder. When he took it she shot to her feet, shouting Jack's name as she headed toward the trees.

"Where the hell are you going?" Sawyer called out to her.

"We have to find Jack! She needs a doctor."

"You ain't goin' out there alone."

"He's dead now," she said with a shudder, still able to feel the sickening slide of the knife as it plunged into the man's flesh. She had a feeling she wasn't ever going to be able to forget that, no matter how hard she tried.

"I don't give a rat's ass if we burn his body to ashes. You ain't goin' out there alone."

"Well, then, you need to go find Jack," she said, kneeling back down beside the woman. "We can't just wait for him to find us. She's going to bleed to death if she doesn't get help."

For a moment Sawyer remained still, his indecision clear. After all, the attacker might be dead, but the monster was still out there. And every rustle of the brush reminded them that they were vulnerable to any number of predators, human or not.

"Fine," he muttered finally, standing up with a shake of his head. "I'll go find the doc. You just stay right there." He turned away and started for the path, but almost immediately he turned around and approached her again. He held out his hand, and she looked up to see the knife he'd retrieved after the attacker's death. She accepted it quietly, then insisted he take the flashlight with him. Rather than argue as she'd expected him to, he snatched it up and stalked off without another word.

As soon as Sawyer disappeared down the path and into the trees, Kate felt an acute sense of loneliness well up. It wasn't just that she was alone with the unconscious, possibly dying woman. It was the fact that a terrible fear was trying to take root in her. A fear that in spite of finding the woman, they'd found her too late. A fear that no matter what they did, she was going to die.

And it was going to be Kate's fault.

Something skittered through the brush beside her and she jumped. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to call out for Sawyer. She didn't need him to protect her; she'd been taking care of herself for a long time. And besides, the sound of his footsteps had receded several minutes ago. He wouldn't be able to hear her.

She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. She looked down at Christine, afraid to lift the shirt and check the wound. How long was it going to take Sawyer to find Jack and get him here? She wasn't an expert, but she didn't know how much longer the woman could survive without help.

A tear slid down her cheek, and she angrily dashed it away. She hated tears, she hated weakness. And it seemed like lately she'd been feeling far too weak. She'd never needed anybody before, but she was starting to realize she did. And she didn't need just anyone.

She needed Sawyer.

Sawyer tore through the jungle, no longer caring how much noise he made. Matter of fact, it might help if he made a lot of noise. Might alert the doc, or someone who knew where the doc was. It was hard to tell in the dark how bad the woman's wounds were, but he wasn't going to piss around in the jungle because he didn't want to admit he needed Jack's help.

But despite all that, he just couldn't make himself shout Jack's name. He could only do so much, only go so far. He was chasing down the doc to admit that he couldn't take care of the woman himself. He wasn't going to shout his name. He'd find him and take him to Kate and Christine, but he wasn't going to shout his name. Maybe it was stupid and petty, and maybe in the back of his mind he thought that he could be delaying the woman's treatment because he couldn't push aside his foolish pride, but hell, he'd done stupid things before.

He thought it should count for something that he was trying to do the right thing now.

Because he didn't want to be out here, running Jack down. He wanted to be back there in the jungle, making sure Kate was all right. Making sure she didn't do something stupid like run off into the jungle to let the guilt swallow her up the way he wanted to. Because even if she'd never said anything to the effect, which she had, it was obvious she was blaming herself for what had happened to the woman.

He didn't know which one of them was more responsible. Him, for taking the pictures out of the suitcase, or Kate for running into the jungle and getting the whole thing started in the first place. Rationally he knew that neither of them was responsible, that it was all the attacker's fault. But with his head pounding in time with his heart, with his concentration absorbed in the task of keeping his legs pumping past the fatigue, there wasn't much room for rationalism. There was only room for adrenaline and the remnants of fear and doubt, for the memory of the look in Kate's eyes after she'd plunged the knife into the attacker's back—saving his life—and the sight of the unconscious woman tied to the tree.

He didn't see any sign of Jack, or anyone else for that matter, as he ran toward the beach. He stumbled over rocks and fallen branches, clutched at plants and palm fronds, and finally burst out of the jungle and onto the beach. There were people milling around, talking nervously and sending glances into the trees.

"Which way did the doc go?" he asked to anyone who would listen.

"You mean Jack?" someone said. They pointed into the trees. "He said he was heading that way."

Before anyone could ask what was going on, Sawyer took off in the direction he'd been given. He wasn't in the mood to answer questions. He wanted to get this over with. When he found the doc and took her to the injured woman, he could go back to his stash on the beach, smoke a couple cigarettes, and try to relax for the first time in the past two days.

But of course, there wasn't going to be any relaxation. Because whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Kate. And when he thought of Kate, he invariably got worked up. It wasn't something he could control, though he'd tried many times.

He rushed through the trees, noting distantly that the wind was starting to pick up. Apparently another storm was coming.

"Hey, Doc!" he shouted, determined to find him and get back to Kate before the storm broke. The last time a storm had broken in the middle of the night, she'd run into the jungle alone. Now, she was already in the jungle. If she went running again, he wouldn't be there to see which direction she went. He wouldn't be able to find her. "Doc, where the hell are you?"

"Who's out there?" a voice shouted from some distance off. Sawyer couldn't tell who it was, but he headed in the direction of the voice nonetheless.

"Hey, Doc! That you?"

He found Jack and Sayid a few hundred yards down the path. He stumbled to a stop, breathing hard. Ain't this just cozy, he thought. The two men he wanted to see the least, running around the jungle together. If it was another time, he might have needled them, said something to stir shit up just for the sake of stirring shit up. But for the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he bit his tongue.

"We found her," he said instead, inclining his head.

"Is she all right?" Jack asked. "Where is she?"

"Back there, with Freckles," Sawyer said. "She needs a doctor."

He turned and headed back down the path at a fast clip, knowing the two men would follow him. They did, jogging behind him as the wind kicked up a notch. He had to bat away stray branches that whipped into his path. The rain hadn't started yet, but he knew it would soon. Stay where you are, Freckles, he thought.

"What happened to her?" Jack asked, and for a moment Sawyer thought he meant Kate. But he shook off his errant thoughts, realizing Jack was referring to the injured woman.

"Found her unconscious. Looks like he stabbed her in the shoulder."

"And the attacker?"

"Dead," Sawyer said shortly, batting branches away more fiercely than necessary. He kicked at a rock in his path and sent it shooting off into the brush.

"Dead?" Jack said, surprise and suspicion clouding his voice. "How..."

Sawyer stopped, pivoting around and fixing Jack with a hard stare that dared him to say anything further. "He tried to kill the girl. He tried to kill Freckles. I stopped him."

The lie rolled off his tongue without conscious thought, but as soon as he realized what he'd said, he knew they wouldn't question it. Given both men's opinion of him, he knew they wouldn't doubt that he was capable of killing a man. Not that he gave a damn what they thought of him. He just didn't want the suspicion and resentment they directed at him to fall on Kate. He could take whatever they threw at him. He wasn't going to wish it on her.

He raced the storm, picking up the trail that would lead him to Kate just as rain began to fall. The rain spurred him on, quickening his steps when all he wanted to do was collapse and sleep for a week. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. Get the doc to the girl, and get Kate back to the beach first.

When the eerie, frightening wails came to life, accompanied by the snapping of a tree trunk he pulled up short, dread lancing through his veins. No, damn it, he thought frantically, taking off again at a dead run. Whatever it was, it was up ahead of them.

Headed right for Kate.