At the Funeral

"I wanted to remember

Everything we did together

But more so, I wanted to cry

When you didn't say goodbye

I searched high and low

But you flew out the window

I haven't found you since then

I'm missing my dearest friend

I wanted to keep my memories

But without you with me

Those memories aren't so sweet

They've turned rotten and not so good to eat

The memories tear through me now

And I can't imagine how

You managed to get away like that

I sit only where you sat

I sleep only where you slept

I cry only where you wept

I wanted to keep our memories

But they hurt without you with me

I don't know where you are

How near or how far

But I know that I died

When you didn't say goodbye"

Such was the poem she read aloud at the funeral, if one could call it that. Slowly after that the people began to inch away and finally dissipate, one by one, until it was only Kitty sitting by the grave. It was cold. The waning day light darkened and distorted her vision of the dirt mound, under which he laid, and the flowers some of the sympathetic cast aways had laid there until each flower, no matter if it was pink or yellow or white to begin with, became just another shade of blue.

Where she would have twitched, where she would have screamed, where she would have whipped around in fear and anxiety, she sat still, not caring, as someone draped a blanket over her shoulders.

"What was his name?" came a friendly voice from behind her. The bald man named John Loche (sp?) stepped out from behind her and knelt down by the wooden cross with a large hunting knife in his hand.

"Mark," Kitty said with surprising clarity. After she had confessed to Sawyer that she had heard what Hurley said, she could no longer cry. The tears just wouldn't come. She was barely even sad, but something compelled her to stay by the grave.

Guilt… she thought, its guilt. But it wasn't my fault. No, it's not my fault. IT'S NOT MY FAULT!

"It's not your fault, you know," Mr. Loche seemed almost to read her mind. Kitty raised her head in alarm at this, and saw that he was carving Mark's name into the cross.

"What?"

"I said it's not your fault. He killed himself."

"How do you know that? I might have shot him before I tried to drown myself."

"We found the gun in his hands."

"I could have put it there."

John stopped carving and looked at her, the ligns on his face deepened as he smiled, "Would you really do that? You broke down when you saw him; no killer has that kind of remorse."

Kitty stared at the ground. The blanket was warm, she could stay here all night if she wanted. … But she didn't want…. She wanted arms. She wanted safety. Would she ever feel those things again? Out of instinct she looked to the last thing that had given her those things, but when she looked there was nothing but a dirt mound; that and a cross with messy, scratchy letters reading, "Mark."

John got up and after a quick goodbye he turned around as if he had changed his mind about something very suddenly and said, "Oh I almost forgot." He produced a wrinkled and blood splotched photograph from one of his chest pockets, "He was holding this, when we found him."

Kitty looked at the picture. It was one of herself again, but this time she was alone, save for a baby bird. She held the tiny bird in her cupped hands, smirking, and standing above it. She seemed to dominate the bird, but a look in her eyes, suggested caring, and love.

"I hated this picture, but he always loved it. He said… he said that the bird, was like his soul. He said I was what was keeping him. Keeping him alive…." Kitty trailed off.

Loche looked at her in an odd questioning way, "And you didn't believe him?"

"He said it so long ago, it wasn't the same recently. I guess that's why I… why he…."

"Are you going to tell Jack?"

Kitty whipped around and gave Loche a glare, "Tell him what?"

"That you have your memory back."

"What right does he have to know?" Kitty jumped up enraged.

But Loche just walked on, into the jungle, and disappeared.

Kitty didn't know what compelled her to visit Jack's shelter, but once she was there, she had only to stand in his doorway for him to explode with questions.

"Kitty? What's wrong? Are you alright? Do you remember anything?"

She bit her tongue. She wanted so dearly to just scream at him for prying, but he wouldn't have to brown nose after she finished.

"I haven't remembered anything." Jack's face fell, "Because I never forgot anything."

"So you just, lied that whole time?" the doctor was incredibly tired, frustrated, and he did not need this.

"It was my right."

"How the hell was it your right?"

"You all got to start over! Why should I be any different just because I'm new! I want my chance at a new life! If I can't be dead I can at least be reborn. That's the message I'm getting here, so why are you denying me that?"

"Who's giving you this message?"

"Don't worry, I don't believe in fate this is just what my logic is giving me right now. That's all."

"Then can you at least tell me one thing?"

Kitty considered and nodded.

How bad could it be?

"If you've remembered everything, where did you get the scars on your arms?"

Kitty's eyes darkened, "The boy you buried today, he was my reason."

And with that she left. No more questions from Doc for a long, long time, or at least she hoped. After stepping out of the caves, she stared around.

It was really dark now. Too dark, were it not for the huge moon in the sky, Kitty doubted she would be able to see her own hand in front of her face. Almost immediately after this thought, a huge cloud covered the moon and she was plunged into darkness.

All around her lay an abyss, panic stricken and frightened, Kitty ran frantically toward the direction where she had last seen the path. Plunging through trees and being scraped by pushes every which way she turned, Kitty was met with an onslaught of confusion, frustration and lethal vegetation. All around her hands seemed to be clawing at her flesh as she continued to run in what she thought was the general direction of the beach. But she had twisted around to pry needles and hedges off of her clothes and out of her skin that she could not be sure. I want safety… I want arms… Will I feel them again? I want safety… I want arms…I want safety… I want arms… I want arms… I want safety… I want arms. Nothing made sense anymore. Where she could have sworn there was a tree a mere few seconds ago, there would be open and inviting space. Where the space was, she would smash her head against another tree, or cut herself on another bush. Her breathing got heavy, but she would not allow herself to scream, she had caused the people of the island enough trouble. A huge branch seemed to swing down out of nowhere and apply a deep gash across Kitty's right arm. It opened a number of old scars and Kitty screeched at the pain, cutting herself off shortly trying to keep quiet. She ran again, her hands stuck out in front of her like a bland man, and as if she had called upon it, the cloud moved. The gargantuan moon revealed itself, and Kitty could see.

She stood their panting, she could feel blood running down her arm and her face and basically every other part of her body. Little trickles to huge rivers, they varied in size. Hearing a rustle in the trees, Kitty whirled around, eyes wide with fear and shock.

Sawyer.

She ran to him. Not being able to control her own actions she ran right into his chest and clutched his rib cage so tight that he coughed.

"What the hell happened to you?"

She would not raise her head, she simply snuggled her face farther into his chest in horizontal motion, as if to shake her head, "No."

He was holding a torch, the warmth of the fire was so perfect.

A/N: Wow this was a long chapter! I really didn't intend it to be so long, I'm sorry if anyone got bored, and yes I know a lot happened in a very short amount of time. Hope you liked it, R&R! REVIEW ALWAYS! NEVER STOP REVIEWING!