Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who read my story and took the time to send me a review. Your encouragement is what kept the story going. And sorry it took so long to finish it. It's been so long since I've updated, I hope people actually remember this story. And for anyone who may be wondering, I've started working on a new Kate/Sawyer story, which I hope to begin posting soon. Now, enjoy the final chapter.

Chapter Eighteen: Fear of the Unknown

Kate sat in the sand, staring out at the water. She was still, almost frozen. She could have been mistaken for part of the landscape, just another piece of flotsam on the beach, had it not been for the occasional rise and fall of her chest as her body forced her to take a breath.

A part of her wished it would stop, that she could simply cease to be. That way, she wouldn't have to face it. She wouldn't have to think about it anymore. She wouldn't have to see Christine's battered body every time she closed her eyes. She wouldn't have to remember the slight suspicion in everyone's gaze.

And she wouldn't have to think about the fact that she was falling for Sawyer, a man who was completely wrong for her.

It had been a day and a half-she thought-since they'd discovered Christine. Kate had been in a daze since then, walking around during the day, staying at the fringes of camp, out of sight. She'd spent last night laying on the beach, unable to sleep.

She knew Sawyer was looking for her, and she wasn't quite sure why she was avoiding him. Of everyone on the island, he was the one most likely to understand her. He was the one least likely to blame her. Because he was the only one who knew what had really happened. He was the only one who'd been there. But she just couldn't bring herself to face him. Not yet. Her emotions were too raw. She needed to be alone, needed to try and work through everything in her mind before she chanced another encounter with him.

She needed to find a way to resist him.

She dug her toes in the sand and ignored the voice in her head that told her resisting him was a wasted effort, that whatever was happening between them was completely out of her control. There had been something, a spark, between them since his very first cocky admission, "I know your type." Well, she was pretty sure she'd thrown him for a loop with the truth about herself, but they were more alike than either of them had realized at the time. And it was that commonality that she was finding extremely hard to fight.

She'd been alone for a long time, and in fact had preferred it that way. Or so she'd thought. Crashing on the island had unearthed a few things that she'd rather have kept buried. Like the fact that she was more alone than she'd thought, and that it wasn't so great after all. And like the fact that the person she wanted to help ease that loneliness was Sawyer.

"The hell is the matter with you, Freckles?"

Her eyes sliding shut was the only move she made. She should have known he'd find her sooner or later. She should have known that she wouldn't be able to wallow in her self-pity indefinitely. She'd known he was looking for her, but she hadn't known that he'd find her so quickly.

"Excuse me?"

He stood several feet behind her, but she didn't turn to look at him. She opened her eyes and stared out at the ocean again, wondering if it was inevitable, the battle she sensed was coming.

"That's a hell of a damn walk you've been on," he said.

She stood up and brushed the sand from her legs before turning to fix him with a pointed glare. "Did you ever think that maybe I just wanted to be alone?"

"Something's out there killing people."

"And it hasn't made a noise in almost two days."

"Don't mean it ain't still there."

"You're worried about me now? Well, you don't need to be."

He raked a hand through his hair and muttered a curse under his breath. She turned and looked back at the ocean. She wasn't used to having anyone be worried about her, let alone a man like Sawyer. It was more than a little disconcerting. She was used to being alone, to fending for herself, and she wasn't sure how to handle this.

"So what are you gonna do?" he asked. "Just keep running away? Hide out forever?"

"Don't talk to me about hiding," she said, whirling back around. "You think you've got it all figured out because you know I was on the plane with the marshal? Well, you don't know anything."

"Then tell me what it was about," he challenged.

"Do I look like an idiot? I tell you everything, and you've got all the power. I'm not going to let you hold everything over my head."

"Sweetheart, I could've caused you plenty of damage by now if I'd wanted to. So what's it matter if you tell me the reasons? What's it matter if you're just gonna hide out here?"

She threw her hands in the air and spun away from him. She stalked down the beach, the breeze coming off the water whipping her hair around her shoulders. She pulled an elastic band out of her pocket and pulled her hair up and out of the way. She didn't want to think about everything that had happened. She didn't want to think about Christine, who was recovering in Jack's improvised med tent down the beach. She didn't want to think about the fact that even though she'd had no choice, she'd killed the attacker. And she didn't want to think about the fact that Sawyer was here, trying for whatever reason to break down the wall she'd erected around herself.

"Why don't you tell me some of your secrets?" she called out over her shoulder. "Tell me something nobody else knows. Level the playing field."

She turned around and watched him approach her. His expression was serious, not at all angry or taunting as she would have expected. And there was something else in his gaze, something that looked like regret. The look in his eyes stopped her in her tracks as nothing else could have.

"I didn't want you to have to do that," he said after a long, tense pause.

"Do what?"

He looked down at her, his gaze intense and searching, maybe even a little angry. When he looked at her like that, she was afraid that he would see clear through to her soul, discover all of her secrets.

"Take him out," he said.

"There was no choice. He was going to-" She froze, a little stunned by the admission she'd been about to make and its implications. "He would have killed someone else if we hadn't have done something."

"Not what you were about to say, Freckles," he said with a slight shake of his head, his brows drawn and his lips curled just a touch. She remained silent. "What were you really going to say? Before you stopped yourself?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

She turned away, but before she could take a step, he caught her arm and spun her back. "What were you really going to say?"

She gazed up at him, at the hard, determined look in his eyes. She felt the grip he had on her arm; not painful, but implacable. She didn't want to say it. The admission was going to cost her. It was going to give him the power that she didn't want him to have. Dealing with Sawyer was always a power struggle, and she didn't want him to have the advantage. Any more than he already did.

But his gaze compelled her to answer. There was something about him, some wild, untamed piece of him, that called out to her. She knew she couldn't resist it, whether it was asking for anything from information to a kiss. They'd gone too far, been through too much together already. "He was going to kill you, okay?" she said finally. "I wasn't thinking about any future victims. When I plunged that knife into him, all I was thinking was that I had to stop him before he could kill you."

For a long moment he didn't say anything. She wondered if this was what would define their relationship, angry admissions followed by awkward pauses. He gazed down at her, his eyes thoughtful and maybe a little angry. It was hard to gauge his reaction. She saw a flurry of emotions cross his features, none staying for more than a second or two. "You were trying to save me? Why?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I'm crazy." She pulled her arm away and walked slowly down the beach.

Sawyer watched her go. She'd done it for him. Though as soon as the initial wave of shock had worn off she'd been overcome with guilt, thinking she'd condemned Christine to death, in the heat of the moment she'd been thinking of him.

He didn't know whether her admission aroused him or scared the shit out of him. Maybe a little of both. This woman, this intriguing, mysterious woman-he still didn't know why she'd landed in the marshal's custody-had saved his life. She'd been terrified that he was going to die, and had killed the attacker to prevent it. He didn't know quite what to think. It was the first time in more than twenty-five years that he could remember anyone actually giving a damn about him.

He watched as she stood staring out at the water a couple dozen yards away from him. She'd stopped moving and was facing away from him. Her arms were wrapped around her body, and even from his distance he could feel the tension. He cursed under his breath. Who was he to give her comfort? What the hell did he know about making someone feel better? He'd spent a long time specializing in the opposite.

Before he realized it, he was walking toward her. He stopped a couple feet away, hating that he felt unsure of what to do next.

She turned and looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "I'm not ready to go back there," she murmured. "I need more time."

He glanced back down the beach, in the direction of the camp. "You think I came here to make you go back?"

Her lips tipped up just a bit, but her humor quickly faded away. "Why did you come?" she asked quietly.

"Hell, I don't know." He watched as her gaze settled on the cut on his temple. Her expression softened.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Don't even notice it anymore."

"This is a bad idea," she said as he took a step toward her, closing the already small gap.

"Wouldn't be my first," he said as he dipped his head toward her. He wasn't going to resist any longer. He wanted to kiss her, and damned if worry over what anyone else thought was going to stop him. The attacker had almost killed them both, and the monster, or whatever the hell it was, was still out there somewhere. Who knew where the next threat was going to come from. As his lips met hers, he decided he wasn't going to waste anymore time. He was going to take what he wanted. And right now, he wanted Kate.