Hey, guys...sorry for the late chapter! I'm sure you've noticed the site's been semi-down - let's hope it's fixed now!

Note: The part of Greg will be played (at least in my head) by John C. Reilly (the chubby loser in movies like Boogie Nights, Chicago, and What's Eating Gilbert Grape) :)


Chapter Sixteen

Sawyer opened his eyes and saw Kate over on the far side of the bed, backed up practically to the edge. He was infinitely relieved that she wasn't one of those girls who wanted to sleep right up against him all night long. He hated that. Maybe for awhile when you were first drifting off, but the entire night? That was just overkill. He was thankful for the fact that she seemed to need her space just as much as he needed his.

Another thing to be grateful for this morning was the fact that she was sleeping in the nude, and, since at some point during her sleep she had pushed the sheets down to her waist, he had ample opportunity to take in the view before she woke up. All in all, it was starting out to be a pretty good day.

They were in Kate's room, because upon returning from the lake after midnight, she'd realized that she'd never remembered to transfer Sawyer's sheets from the washer to the dryer. He'd blamed her for being shortsighted, even though her laundry consistency was much better than his, since he generally only did a load every three weeks or so. She'd blamed him for being so cheap and unprepared as to have only one set of sheets. In the end, they'd settled the matter by deciding to sleep in Kate's room, since, as she'd pointed out, it was cleaner anyway. Plus, it had new wallpaper - to which added incentive Sawyer had responded sarcastically, "Boy, you sure know what turns a man on, don't you, sweetheart?"

But now, he was glad the mistake had been made for the simple fact that the drapes were of a lighter-colored fabric than the ones in his room, and thus let through more daylight. More daylight meant that he could see her more clearly. And there was plenty to see.

Just as he was settling in for a nice, uninterrupted scrutiny, however, she opened her eyes. Noticing him watching her, she buried her face in the pillow a little and stretched. Then, realizing how much of her body was exposed, she pulled the sheet back up to her neck, smiling at him and blushing a little.

Damn. Although he had to admit it was cute that she was so modest. It was always the ones you'd least expect.

He smiled back at her, but tried to act disappointed. "What the hell you wanna do that for?"

"I think you saw enough of me last night, didn't you?" She pulled herself over to him and leaned onto his chest.

"It was dark then."

"Good. What's that old saying? 'The darkness is a woman's best friend?'"

"Oh, please. That's for old ladies and fat chicks. I don't think you got anything to worry about quite yet." He ran his hand through her hair and looked at her quizzically. "How old are you, anyway?"

It occurred to him for the first time that he didn't really know. According to Jack, she was in her twenties, but that could mean anything from twenty to twenty-nine. He wasn't about to attempt a guess. He knew from experience that that was one game you never wanted to play.

"You're not supposed to ask that," she said, pretending offense.

"Come on now, you really gonna pull that one? You got so many secrets I wouldn't think age would be at the top of your list."

She studied him for a second, but then gave in, sighing. "I'm twenty-five."

"Christ," he said, looking concerned. "I'm a damn cradle robber."

She laughed.

He waited a second, but she didn't say anything else. "Aren't you gonna ask how old I am?"

"I don't have to ask, I already know. I found your passport, remember?" She paused for effect, and then said with a perfectly straight face, "It's okay...I like older men."

"Older men," he said scornfully.

"Don't worry," she said in a soothing tone. "You've still got five good years before forty."

"Why don't you shut the hell up?" he muttered.

She laughed, unable to maintain her composure any longer. "Yeah, well...I'll be twenty-six in a few weeks, so that'll bridge the gap a little."

"What day?"

"October 15th."

"Well now..." he said mysteriously. "That's comin' up right around the corner, ain't it? Hope you're not expectin' a big party, though. We might have a little trouble makin' out the guest list."

"I'm not much of a party girl. You get another bottle of champagne, and that'll be good enough for me. I haven't celebrated my birthday in about five years anyway, so it doesn't really mean anything. It's just another day..." She looked a little sad when she said this, so she lowered her head into his neck, hoping he wouldn't notice.

He had noticed, but instead of saying anything, he kissed her cheek. "How the hell you always manage to smell so good, anyway?"

"I probably smell like the lake," she mumbled, her voice muffled against him.

"Nope," he replied. "Smell the same way you always do...even on the island."

She raised her head and looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know what I smelled like on the island?"

"What do you mean, how do I know?" he asked incredulously. "You tackled me just about every damn day, girl." He winked at her. "You know, for two people who weren't screwin', we sure were on top of each other a lot, weren't we?"

She closed her eyes, sighing. "You have such a charming way of putting things."

They looked at each for a few seconds, both reflecting on how unlikely it was that they'd managed to end up here, in bed together, indulging in meaningless morning chit-chat.

Kate's face grew a little more serious. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"If we had to do it all over again, would you give me that spot on the raft?"

He seemed to consider, and then said, with a hint of a smirk, "No."

She smiled a little, biting her lip. "Sawyer," she whispered, slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Would you give me the spot on the raft?"

Leaning up, he kissed her lightly, lovingly. He laid his head back on the pillow and regarded her with gravity.

"Nope."

She tried hard not to laugh. "You're such an asshole."

"Good thing you like older men, then, huh?"

She stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower." Stopping in the doorway, she looked back at him. "If you make it downstairs, maybe you could manage to get some coffee on. If your hip doesn't give out, that is."

She managed to duck into the hall just as the pillow crashed into the doorframe.


When she came downstairs later, he was sitting at the table reading a newspaper.

"I didn't know you got the paper."

"I don't. Bought it yesterday in town."

"Oh." She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned over him from behind. "Shower's free."

"Is that a hint?"

"Maybe," she said. "You might not think I smell like the lake, but you sure do."

"Think so, huh?"

"Yep. I also happened to notice an electric razor up there in the medicine cabinet. You remember how those work?"

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

She smiled and balanced her chin on the top of his head, looking at the paper. Squinting and peering closer, she said in surprise, "Shannon signed a book deal?"

"Where's it say that?"

She tapped the upper right-hand corner of the paper, where a small headline proclaimed "Castaway Beauty to Pen Memoirs."

Sawyer snorted in laughter. "Wonder who she'll get to write it for her?"

Kate wandered over to the sink. "Be nice," she said warningly. "She did lose her brother, after all."

"Yeah? You might wanna hold that thought," he said, scanning over the article. "Listen to this." He picked up the paper and read from it.

"When asked about her perception of the notoriously dangerous fugitive, Kate Austin, who was also among the stranded survivors of Oceanic Flight 815, Ms. Rutherford had this to say: 'I didn't really know her all that well, but she creeped me out right from the start. She was always sticking her nose in everyone's business and trying to play people against each other. She also thought she was way hotter than the rest of us. But I'll go into all that in my book.' " Sawyer stopped reading and looked up at Kate.

"That bitch," she said, in bemused shock. Sawyer tried not to laugh.

She stood there in thought. "When did I try to play people against each other?"

"Well..." Sawyer started, knowing that he shouldn't say anything but unable to stop himself. "You tried to steal my spot on the raft by makin' it look like I poisoned someone."

She still looked annoyed. "Yeah...but other than that?"

"What about when you got Jack to get the keys for that case by havin' him come after me? Or that one time when you..."

"All right!" she interrupted him. "Would you just go get in the shower?"

He came around behind her and kissed her neck. "Don't let it bother you none. Sticks was just jealous."

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes. "All the girls want to be like me."

He went toward the door. "I gotta run up to Greg's and use the phone later to get a damn mechanic out here. He's got some parts he's gonna sell me cheap, anyway."

"Don't you think you should probably have your phone service turned back on?"

"Ain't nobody I wanna talk to!" he hollered as he went up the stairs.

She sighed and shook her head.

Going into the pantry, she pulled the sheets out of the dryer from where she'd left them last night. As she gathered them into the laundry basket and turned back toward the kitchen, she stopped in shock, a jolt of terror traveling immediately throughout her entire body.

There was a man standing at the screen door, peering into the room.

"James? Where the hell you at?" he called.

Even though she froze, there was no way he could avoid seeing her. He turned his head a little and noticed her there. Squinting his eyes as if he wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, he opened the screen door casually and stepped into the kitchen.

Kate swallowed hard and tried to keep her heart from pounding. Her immediate instinct was to take the guy out and run, but she did her best to quell this impulse. If she stayed calm, maybe there was a chance she wouldn't have to.

Looking at her as if he thought something was vaguely funny, he said, "Oh...Didn't realize he had a houseguest."

It began to dawn on her that this must be the neighbor Sawyer had referred to - Greg. She noticed that his eyes were red and he appeared to be stoned already, at 11:00 in the morning. But he didn't appear hostile or threatening. He was slightly chubby and had curly hair, and he looked like the loser sidekick in every movie ever made. She knew Sawyer hated him, but then again, Sawyer hated everybody. That wasn't much to go by. If the guy didn't recognize her, then maybe she could just bluff her way through the encounter.

She walked towards him slowly, hoping he wouldn't notice that her knees were trembling.

He looked her up and down, appreciatively. "Got those parts he wanted," he said, his gaze getting stuck on her breasts and not moving any farther up.

"James is...in the shower," she said slowly. It felt completely bizarre to refer to Sawyer as James; it was the first time she'd had occasion to do so. "He should be right out. You, um...you want some coffee?"

He finally looked back up at her face. "Ehhh." Wiping a hand across his nose, he gazed blankly around the room.

Was that a yes or a no? Confused, Kate moved over to the cabinet, deciding to pour a mug anyway.

She turned back around to find him looking at her more sharply, almost suspiciously. She felt her hands shake a little as she carried the cup over to him.

"Hey..." he said quietly, as if he'd just thought of something. "Wait a minute..." He smiled slyly at her.

"I know who you are."