You guys are all my new best friends, okay? ;)

southern cross - I can't believe you predicted the bar scene and the slut...LMAO. But even though it's predictable, I just had to do it anyway..

And as for what was in Sawyer's closet - I honestly didn't have anything specific in mind when I wrote that. However, my friend seems to think it's a blow-up doll, so...do with that what you will.. Lol. ;)

Two chapters in this little update!


Chapter Nine

He sat at a table at the back of the bar in a cloud of cigarette smoke and expensive perfume, looking at the woman across from him. She was gorgeous - silky blonde hair, green eyes, and at least a D-cup. She was also rich, lonely, wearing a wedding ring, and well on her way to being wasted. She was absolutely everything he'd ever looked for in a woman before the crash. And he couldn't force himself to feel the tiniest bit of interest in her.

She was eyeing him hungrily, and every once in awhile she giggled, although he hadn't said anything funny, or really much of anything at all. He had the knack for attracting these types of women without even really trying. He could have taken her home that minute, easily. As a matter of fact, he probably could have had her out back behind the bar, and she wouldn't have put up much of a protest.

And wasn't that exactly what he'd come here for? To find someone who actually did appreciate what he had to offer? Then why was just the thought of it making him feel disgusted? he wondered.

He sighed bitterly and rubbed his hand over the back of his head.

"Aww..what's 'a matter?" she asked in a slurred voice. "You got a headache?"

"Yeah," he said shortly, not really paying attention to her. He couldn't even remember if he'd gotten her name. Probably not.

"Bet I could make it go away," she answered, trying to give him a meaningful look but having trouble focusing her eyes.

I doubt that, he thought. Out loud, he responded by rote, "Think so?"

"Mmm-hmm." She took another sip of whatever the hell it was she was drinking. He'd bought the drinks for her without even noticing what they were. Obviously something strong.

Continuing to stare at him, she went on. "You got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

"You think my eyes are nice, baby, you oughtta see what my mouth can do."

She giggled again and looked at him lustfully. He barely noticed. All he could think about was the eye-roll and annoyed shake of the head he would have gotten if he'd said something that ridiculous to Kate. He almost smiled picturing it.

Taking another drink, she leaned in and whispered loudly, "My car's right outside."

But he didn't hear her. Looking into the adjoining room at the bar where the pool table was, he'd recognized somebody he knew. Some bastard who owed him money. What was his name? Travis something...

He didn't really care too much about getting the money back - he'd accomplished some ridiculously lucrative scams in the past few years and had several bank accounts under different names with enough to last him for years if he needed it. But he wanted to get away from the woman. His plan wasn't working the way it was supposed to. He felt suffocated sitting here with her. It would take a hell of a lot more alcohol than he'd already had to get him to the point where he could endure sleeping with her, and he didn't feel like drinking that much tonight.

Standing up, he said, "I got to go talk business with someone, sweetheart. Be right back."

It took a second for her face to register the news and show disappointment. "Aww...do you have to?" she whined.

But he was already halfway across the room, relieved just to be away from the noxious smell of her perfume.

Entering the room, he saw the guy - Travis - glance up from where he was watching the pool game. A worried look passed across his face, but he tried to cover it with a sarcastic smile of welcome.

"Well well well, look what the cat drug in. We all thought you was dead."

"Been gettin' that a lot lately," Sawyer said. "Too bad for you I ain't."

Ignoring the implied threat in the words, Travis turned to another guy, apparently a friend, and explained, "This guy here was on that plane that crashed..you know the ones they found on that island?"

"No shit," the guy said in wonder.

"Yeah," Sawyer replied, annoyed. This was the last thing in the world he wanted to talk about right now.

The second guy continued. "So how's it feel to be back in civilization?"

"Swell," he answered sarcastically.

Noticing he was pissed off, but misinterpreting the reason, Travis drew him aside and said quietly, "Look, don't think I forgot that little...business arrangement between us last year... It's just that, well, things ain't been goin' so great for me lately, and right now, I got some projects that are just startin' to take off..."

But Sawyer didn't hear a word. His attention was distracted by the TV mounted in the upper left-hand corner of the room, just behind the pool table. The sound wasn't audible, but it seemed to be the 11:00 news. The segment being shown was grainy black-and-white security camera footage, apparently taken at a truck stop. But the blurry female figure the newscasters froze the tape and zoomed in on was recognizable to him instantaneously. Kate.

At the instant of realizing it was her, he felt like his heart had stopped. His first thought was that it was something recent, from tonight. How long ago had he left the house? Could she have taken off and made it that far...? But then he noticed the date at the bottom of the screen - it was from last week. Slowly, he let out his breath in relief.

When he realized he was being ignored, Travis turned his attention toward the TV as well. "Oh, hey...that's that girl, ain't it? The one that was on the plane?"

His friend looked too, and asked, "Did you know her?"

Travis grinned and looked at Sawyer slyly. "Yeah, I'll bet he knew her...I'll bet he knew her real well."

He felt his blood begin to boil and tried to control himself.

The other guy went on. "Hell, no offense, but if I was on an island with that, I don't think I woulda been tryin' too hard to get off. No cops around, I'd just take what I wanted," he said with a leer.

"Ain't you afraid she'd kill ya?" Travis asked.

"I'd die happy," he responded.

The two of them laughed, and Sawyer made every effort possible not to grab a pool cue and ram it through the son-of-a-bitch's neck. He himself had participated in this kind of offensive macho bullshitting hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. But the women he'd referred to then were different. They weren't Kate.

Not having any clue at all of the extent to which he was taking his life in his hands, Travis began again in a mock-rhetorical tone of voice, "See, the problem with these women convicts is that they waste 'em. They put 'em in these prisons with only other women around. Now what the hell's the good of that? They oughtta parcel 'em out in the regular prisons, so at least someone could get some use out of 'em."

His friend laughed. "Now you know good and well that wouldn't work. Hell, I'd be tryin' to get myself thrown in prison if I thought I'd get to share a cell with a nice little piece 'a ass as hot as..." Sawyer's fist caught him in mid-sentence, sending him reeling backward against the wall. All his rage and frustration from the entire miserable evening were concentrated in that one swing, but he still had plenty to spare.

In a drunken effort to defend his friend, Travis shoved Sawyer back against the pool table, but then was caught in a choke-hold and slammed viciously down onto the green felt. Sawyer felt unknown hands attempting to pull him off of the guy, and he turned, blindly swinging.

Within seconds, there were at least ten people involved in the fight.


Kate lay in bed, not sleeping. He'd told her not to wait up, and she hadn't...but she was still having trouble drifting off. Where the hell had he gone? Most likely to get drunk and hook up with some random whore. She knew him well enough to be able to predict his thought patterns. He would probably think that would bother her.

The most annoying thing, of course, was that it would bother her, she realized. She had no claim on him, especially after what she'd done tonight. And she was leaving tomorrow anyway, so what difference did it make what he did? But if he brings her back here, she thought, so help me God...

Suddenly, she heard his car pull into the driveway. Straining her ears, she tried to count the number of car doors that slammed shut. One. She waited, tense. Nothing. Then he must be alone. Well, that was a relief, at least. Even if she didn't have any right to feel that way, it was still a relief.

She heard him enter the house and close the door loudly, making no effort at all to be quiet. She could tell by the way he came heavily up the stairs that he was still angry. As she listened, he started to rummage around in the bathroom medicine cabinet. There was a crash and a shattering of glass, and she heard him mutter angrily, "Shit."

Getting out of bed quietly, she went down the hall and stopped in the open doorway of the bathroom. Taken aback by his appearance, she breathed in sharply. "My God, Sawyer, what happened?"

His shirt was ripped and there was a stream of dried blood on his arm. One eye was nearly swollen shut, his lip was split open, and there was a cut high above his left cheekbone. Turning from the sink to glare at her, he said bitterly, "Don't worry about it...doesn't concern you."

She started to come into the room, but in a flash he grasped her upper arms and shoved her firmly back out. "Broken glass all over the floor...you'll cut your feet up." Then he was annoyed at himself for the automatic protective gesture. She didn't deserve it. He went back to ignoring her.

She remained in the doorway, watching him wash the blood off, trying to think of something to say. "Do you want me to get the peroxide from the downstairs bathroom?"

"I'll handle this...I don't need your help," he answered with hostility.

"That eye's gonna close up completely in a minute, so you might as well let me..."

"Look," he said, interrupting her. "I don't need you to go all Florence Nightingale on me just so you can make yourself feel less guilty!"

"Guilty? What the hell do I have to feel guilty about?" As a matter of fact, she felt unbelievably guilty, but it annoyed her that he seemed to think she should.

He laughed contemptuously. "Come to think of it, you probably wouldn't, would you?"

"How is it my fault if you go out and get in a bar fight, Sawyer?"

"What makes you think it was a bar fight?"

"Lucky guess," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm just predictable like that," he sneered.

She sighed. This wasn't going anywhere. "Will you at least let me bandage that cut up?"

"I got it covered, all right?" he said savagely. "I been takin' care of myself just fine for years without your help. And I imagine I'll go on just fine without it when you skedaddle on outta here in a few days," he wound up, looking at her pointedly.

She looked down at the floor, hurt. When he didn't say anything else, she raised her eyes back up to his. He was watching her, a haggard look on his face.

"Just go on back to bed," he said quietly, in a tone of disgust.

Swallowing hard in disappointment and anger, she nodded sharply. "Fine," she whispered. Giving him one last painful look, she went slowly back down the hall and shut the door.

Sawyer grasped the sink and leaned over it with his eyes closed, feeling sick.