Misty: Thanks for posting the Crazy lyrics.. I considered doing that, but I didn't want to seem pushy. ;) Better if someone else does it.. Although, just because they suggest something, doesn't necessarily mean they predict something. That vague enough?

I hope people aren't going to hate me too much after this chapter... What would a story be without angst?


Chapter Thirty-Five

For a few seconds after Sawyer stopped the truck, they didn't move. The silence of the night pressed in on them, disturbed only by a slight breeze and the chirping of the late-autumn crickets. They'd left a few lights on in random rooms, and the house now gave off a comforting, lived-in glow. They sat and looked at it. Kate shivered slightly.

"Cold?" Sawyer asked, looking down at her.

"A little."

"Guess we better get inside." He reluctantly pulled his arm away from her shoulders, and she missed the warm weight of it almost immediately. She would have preferred to just sit there for a while longer, in the dark. For some reason, she was in no hurry to get inside.

"Hope you don't forget your promise, though," he said as they slammed their doors simultaneously.

"What promise?" she asked, having no idea what he was talking about.

"You gotta keep the costume on for a few hours, remember?" He gave her a knowing grin as they walked up to the house.

"That wasn't a promise," she said defensively, smiling. "Besides, aren't you tired after the diner?"

"Nope," he smiled, unlocking the kitchen door. "Just gettin' warmed up."

She rolled her eyes. "That's what I was afraid of."

He pushed the door open and leaned against the doorframe, gesturing inside. "Ladies first."

She started past him and then paused, retreating back a step to lean up and kiss him. "Thanks," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For the date." They smiled at each other.

Pulling away, Kate stepped into the kitchen. Sawyer followed, closing and re-locking the door. He pulled off his head-kerchief and tossed it, along with the keys, onto the kitchen table. Opening the refrigerator, he examined its contents with interest.

Kate poked her head into the pantry, where the dog's bed was kept. "Gus?"

She came back out. "That's weird... He isn't in there."

"Probably on the couch," Sawyer said, sounding annoyed.

She headed toward the living room, while he continued to peer into the fridge. Did he want a sandwich, or just a beer? Or should he have both? But if he did that...

"Sawyer!"

Her cry of shock ripped through his mundane thoughts with the force of an axe. Not bothering to close the door, he hurried to where her voice had come from, his heart starting up a sickening thud in his chest.

She was in the front hall, kneeling over something. There was only one dim lamp on in the living room, and not much of its light filtered out here. He took a step closer. Before he could say anything, she spoke again, sounding shaky and heartbroken, in disbelief.

"He's still warm..."

She moved aside a little, looking back at him, and he could just barely discern Gus lying motionless on the floor.

"Sorry about that," a voice came from the living room. Slowly, a man stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at Kate. She scrambled backwards, pulling herself off the floor and backing into Sawyer, who tried to push her behind him to shield her. They stared at the man in shock.

"I like dogs... I really do. I've always been a... a really big dog-lover. A... uh, a dog-connoisseur, if you will. So, it's nothing personal against him. Really, if you think about it, it's the humane thing to do. Because of course, after I kill you, who's gonna feed him? You wouldn't want him to starve to death, would you?"

They both continued to stare at him, gripping each other's arms desperately. The guy was short, wearing a v-necked sweater over a button-down shirt, wrinkled khakis, and loafers. He had black-framed glasses and tousled, unruly brown hair, and he possessed all the hallmarks of a scientist or a professor. Incongruously, he looked and sounded a little bit like... Woody Allen. The gun in his hand shook slightly, and it was clear that he wasn't accustomed to this.

Sawyer swallowed, his entire body tensed. All he could think of was that he didn't have the gun. She'd made him take it out of his pocket. Why the hell had he listened to her? He glanced over quickly at the hall table, but the pistol was no longer there. Maybe this guy wasn't a pro, but he'd at least managed that much.

He was now staring at the two of them curiously, like he was waiting for something. Sawyer could feel Kate trembling very slightly.

"Well?" he finally asked. They didn't say anything.

He sighed, lowering the gun for just a fraction of a second as he brought his arms down and shook his head in disgust. "Unbelievable..." he muttered. "You don't even recognize me, do you? Okay, so maybe I'm not the most...the most memorable guy in the world... But you think, you know, you destroy a guy's life, that seeing him again might ring a bell!"

"I'm sorry," Kate finally whispered, fighting back tears. "I don't remember you at all."

He looked at her, confused. "Not you!" he said with scorn. "Him!" He angled the gun more towards Sawyer now.

Kate looked up at him, not understanding any of this. Sawyer didn't appear to, either.

"Okay, fair enough," the guy continued, as if he conceded the point. "So maybe you don't remember me. After all, we only met the one time. But I'm willing to bet you remember my wife, right? Tara? Does that sound at all familiar?"

Sawyer drew in his breath, tilting his head back almost imperceptibly, faint recognition dawning in his eyes. Tara. Tara Rosenberg. And this was the husband. He remembered them both now - their townhouse in New York, the satin sheets of their bed, the hot tub downstairs, Tara naked and holding a cosmo, the meeting with the husband at a fancy restaurant... It had been an easy scam, taking only a few days. Neither one of them had been hard to convince. It had gone so smoothly that he barely even recalled it.

"Yeah," the guy said, nodding, seeing Sawyer register the name. "I thought that might do the trick. After all, I'm sure you and she had some nice times together. It's too bad I couldn't bring her along," he went on, thoughtfully. "It's just that she did the craziest thing a few months ago. She was on this bridge, driving, and then she just... drove off the side of it. Took three whole days before the divers could get her body out."

Sawyer felt Kate grip his arm tighter.

"I know, right?" he said, seeing their dismay. "It doesn't sound like anything Tara would do. But I think maybe it had something to do with the fact that, with a baby on the way, it was a little difficult to figure out how we would survive, considering we didn't have a cent left and I'd lost my job. She always did have a guilty conscience, even when she didn't have anything to feel guilty about. I'm thinking it probably just went into overload on that bridge. Of course, that's really just a guess, because she didn't leave a note."

Kate closed her eyes as if in pain. Sawyer was frozen, unable to react, trying to make sense of all of this.

"Who's this?" the guy now asked, looking at Kate as if he hadn't really noticed her before. "Is this your wife, by any chance?" There was a gleam of hate-filled, dangerous interest in his eyes.

"No," Sawyer finally answered, raggedly. "She don't have nothin' to do with this."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he answered, in an exaggerated politeness. "Is she another job? Am I ruining it?" He turned to Kate. "Are you married, sweetheart?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Well, then," he looked back at Sawyer. "Guess this must be the real thing then, huh?"

Sawyer looked at him lethally, breathing hard.

"Come over here," he said to Kate. She didn't move, and Sawyer didn't let go of her.

"Excuse me, miss!" the guy called, waving his arms as if to get her notice. "It may not have come to your attention that I am HOLDING A GUN. Come over here, now!"

She pulled her arm away from Sawyer's grasp, and their eyes met. Slowly, she tore her gaze away and crossed over to the end of the hall. Proving to be stronger than he looked, the guy gripped her arm and spun her around, pressing the barrel of the gun into her back.

"How about we all move into the other room where we'll be more comfortable, shall we? You first," he said to Sawyer. "In there." He cocked his head toward the living room.

Not taking his eyes off of Kate, his hands clearly itching to attack the guy but his rational faculties doing their best to restrain him, Sawyer stepped into the room.

Pushing Kate ahead of him, the guy said, "I'm Norman, by the way."

"Kate," she whispered through tears.

"Nice to meet you, Kate," he said, with irony.

"You sit there," he told Sawyer, gesturing toward a chair. "We'll take the sofa... Is that all right with you, Kate?" She didn't answer.

When they were all seated, the gun still pressed uncomfortably against Kate's back, Norman spoke.

"So, you're, uh... you're probably wondering why I brought you in here. Well, I'll be honest... This is my first murder, and I thought maybe we should all get to know each other a little better before we start. You probably think that sounds strange, but it took me months to track you down, and I think it would be, well, really a little anti-climactic if everything went too quickly. You see what I mean?"

They didn't answer. He sighed.

Looking curiously from one to the other, examining their clothing, he asked, "So, what are you two, in some kind of religious cult or something?"

"It's Halloween," Kate explained in a shaking voice.

Norman did a double-take. "Today is Halloween? Today," he repeated, incredulous. "Are you sure about that?"

She nodded, alarmed.

"Jesus," he said under his breath, contemptuously. "I can't believe this... Of all nights. I mean, come on.. Halloween? Me coming here to kill you, on Halloween? That's just so cliché. It's so... so trite, and... and overused, you know? I hope you don't think I planned it this way." He seemed truly embarrassed.

Sawyer sat forward on the edge of his seat, and Kate shook her head at him, so slightly it was barely discernible. It was too dangerous. The guy was a loose cannon... his eyes were wild, crazed. There was no guarantee of getting to him before the gun went off. She tried to make him understand all this, although he probably already knew it.

Noticing the look that passed between them, Norman dug the gun more deeply into Kate, causing her to wince. "I'd pay attention to her if I were you," he said to Sawyer. "She seems like a pretty smart girl. Other than the fact that she's with you, of course. Must have been a lapse in judgment."

"If you're just gonna kill us both anyway, what difference would it make?" Sawyer asked quietly, looking him straight in the eye.

"Not much difference to me," he answered. "It's you I was thinking of. See, the thing about a gun is, you can put it just about anywhere. I shoot her here," he said thoughtfully, keeping the gun at her back, "I tear her lung, it'll probably take an hour or two for her to die. I do it here," he moved the gun around to her stomach, and Kate drew in her breath and shut her eyes tightly, "then it'll take a lot longer than just a few hours. And it won't be pretty. On the other hand, I shoot her here, like I was planning to," he said, resting the tip of the barrel on her temple, "the lights go out like that." He snapped his fingers. "So, it's your choice, really. Either way, you're gonna watch it."

Sawyer settled back down into the chair, looking helpless and sick. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Any movement he made would put Kate at risk.

They were all silent for a few seconds. Norman seemed to be disgusted with himself. "Halloween," he muttered under his breath. "I just can't get over it."

"You want to reschedule?" Sawyer asked savagely, unable to help himself. Kate shot him a desperate warning look.

"That's hilarious," Norman said with sarcasm. "I bet he's a real comedian, right?" he asked Kate.

She didn't look at him.

"Yeah... I was never good at the jokes, myself. I'm a scientist... Not usually the funniest guys you come across. I developed this special kind of plastic that the CIA uses for... Well, I'm not really supposed to talk about it." He paused. "Of course, since I'm going to spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, I suppose it doesn't really matter now, does it?" He snorted. "What do you know.. I guess I am funny."

He thought for a second, his face growing softer, in memory. "Tara always thought I was, anyway. Or at least she said she did. Maybe she was just trying to make me feel better." He reached into his back pocket with his free hand and pulled out his wallet. "You want to see her?" He held the wallet out to Kate. Reluctantly, she took it.

"It's the first picture in there." She still didn't open it. "Go ahead," he urged her.

Taking a shaky breath, Kate gingerly opened the wallet and flipped to the clear plastic folders, holding it open on the first one. She gazed down at it, sadly.

"She's beautiful," she said in a whisper.

"Was," Norman corrected her, bitterly. "Was beautiful. And I know what you're thinking," he went on. "How on earth could a woman like that ever marry somebody like me? Right?"

Kate looked over at him. "I wasn't thinking that at all," she said gently.

"Yeah? Well, you're the only one, then. It must be the first thought anybody ever had when they saw the two of us together. I know it must have been what he thought," he said, shooting a piercing glance at Sawyer. "I mean, let's be honest... Why would any woman sleep with a guy like me, when she could have a guy like that?" He turned back to Kate. "I mean, you're a beautiful woman... Tell me the truth.. Would you ever sleep with a guy like me?"

She was at a loss for words. "I..." she stammered. "I don't know anything at all about you."

"What a polite response," he said, rolling his eyes. "Thank you for that. But seriously, you know you wouldn't. And why? Because you can get guys like him. I mean, how am I supposed to compete with that? I spent my time as a kid building dinosaur models.. and reading comic books, and... and playing Dungeons and Dragons." He looked sharply at Sawyer. "Did you ever play Dungeons and Dragons?"

"No," he said, teeth clenched.

"I didn't think so." Norman shook his head. "You see what I mean?" he asked Kate. "Even his name is cool. Sawyer," he said enviously. "How cool is that? With a name like Norman, did I really stand a chance?"

"It's not his real name," Kate said quietly, unable to think of anything else.

"Really?" he asked, intrigued and hopeful. "What's his real name?"

She looked at Sawyer, not wanting to answer, but having no choice now. "James," she whispered.

"James," Norman spat contemptuously. "That's even more cool than Sawyer! I can't win with you people!" He looked hopeless.

After a few seconds, he sighed, collecting himself. "It's not like I didn't know the truth... I mean, I knew she would cheat on me. Can you really blame her? But I didn't even care. I know that sounds hard to believe, but I really didn't. Just as long as she stayed with me, I didn't care what she did when I wasn't around. Pretty pathetic, right? But I loved her. I loved her so much that..." his voice threatened to break. "That I would have done anything to make her happy. Anything at all." He swallowed hard, the pressure of the gun slacking off a bit.

Sawyer marveled at the pain on Kate's face as she listened to the guy. Here he was, holding a gun on her, and she was feeling sorry for the bastard. Her heart was so big that it had room for everybody else's pain in addition to her own. He stared at her, hard, believing in some irrational way that he could protect her just by focusing all his thoughts on her, concentrating on everything she meant to him.

"Do you have any idea what that's like?" Norman asked Kate. "To love somebody even when you know there's no rational reason for you to?"

"Actually, I do," she said softly, meeting his eyes, trying to make a connection. "Love isn't rational. If you're a scientist, then you must know that."

"I guess so," he agreed. "I suppose I just never thought it would lead to anything like this. I figured, someday, she'd get tired of those other guys, and then she'd appreciate the fact that I'd stuck around. Who knows? Maybe she would have," he said bitterly.

"I just wanted to take care of her, you know?" he asked, nearing tears again. "Her and the baby. We tried a long time to have kids, but it just didn't happen. Then finally, finally... she gets pregnant, but only after everything had fallen apart and we'd stopped trying. And you're probably thinking, how do I know it was even mine? Because after him, there wasn't anybody but me." He shot an accusing look at Sawyer. "After he took everything, she barely even left the house. Until we lost it too, since we couldn't make the payments."

"It was a girl," he continued, almost in awe. "The baby was, I mean. We already had one of those things done... What are they called?"

"An ultrasound," Kate supplied, looking haunted.

"Yeah, one of those. And we even had a name picked out already. Elizabeth. What do you think?" he asked, as if he truly wanted her opinion.

Kate gave him a weak, tentative smile. "Elizabeth is my middle name."

"No kidding?" he asked, surprised. He stared at her for a few seconds, the arm holding the gun trembling slightly. Sawyer watched her too, wondering if that was the truth. She certainly looked sincere.

"Are you Irish?" Norman suddenly asked, still staring intently at Kate.

She looked confused, not knowing how to respond.

"Because most people who have freckles are Irish. Or at least have an Irish ancestor. That's not really.. scientific," he admitted. "It's just a... just a little something I've noticed."

"I think my great-grandparents were Irish," she said, slowly, trying to sound calm.

"You see?" he asked, pleased. "I thought so."

He turned to Sawyer, questioningly. "Oh, and before I forget, I have to ask... now that I'm here. You took $200,000 from me, which was pretty much all I had. Was that some kind of joke? I mean, would it have taken all of the fun out of it to steal it from a really rich guy, where it wouldn't have made much of a dent? Or do you just get off on cleaning people out entirely?"

Sawyer looked slightly surprised, the realization dawning on him gradually. "She said you had millions stashed away... That you were this brilliant scientist, like the Bill Gates of chemistry, or some shit like that."

"She said that?" he asked, touched. "She said I was brilliant?"

He now seemed to drift off a little, his vision getting stuck on something in the past, his eyes not really focusing on the room. It was possible he was on drugs, or at least very drunk. Sawyer again considered trying to wrest the gun away from him, but before he could make up his mind, Norman shook himself out of his reverie and said, matter-of-factly, "I guess we should get this show on the road, huh?"

In a quick, fluid motion, he raised the gun from Kate's back to her temple, cocking it with a clicking sound. "Do you want to count to three, or shall I?"

Sawyer tensed, using all the willpower he possessed not to take a flying leap at the guy, which would almost certainly cause the gun to go off. If he could be sure that the bullet would only hit him, then he would do it without hesitation. But it would most likely fire where it was aimed... into her head.

"Wait," Kate pleaded weakly.

"For what?" Norman asked, making an effort to remain steady. "What would you do if someone killed the person you love and destroyed your entire life? Wouldn't you want to make them pay? Wouldn't you?" he repeated when she didn't answer.

"Yes," she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I would. But... Norman?"

The sound of his own name affected him, as she seemed to have known it would. He looked startled.

"What?"

Her voice wavered slightly. "There's something you need to know, first. Before you make this decision. Would you listen to me, please? For just a second?"

It was obvious that he was considering, wondering whether to finish the job now or to let her speak first. To Sawyer, it felt like time had stopped.

Finally, with excruciating slowness, he lowered the gun from her temple down to her back again. Kate closed her eyes, letting her breath out.

"What is it?"

She turned to him, meeting his gaze, forcing him to look at her. "Have you ever done anything terrible before?" He didn't answer, and she continued. "Something that tortures you every single day... Something that's so bad, it's the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning, and the last thing you remember before you go to sleep at night? And you can't even escape from it in sleep, because you have to re-live it in your nightmares?"

Her voice was broken, haunted. "Have you ever done anything like that? Because I don't think you have, Norman. I think... that you're a good person, who's led a good life." She spoke slowly and deliberately. "But the second you pull that trigger, none of that counts anymore at all. It's like it didn't even happen... that's how much difference it'll make. Like that was a different person completely... a different life that you can never get back to, no matter how hard you try, or how long you live."

He was listening to her, drawn in by her words, by the force of conviction behind them. Sawyer watched her as well, mesmerized and tormented, momentarily forgetting the danger of the situation. It occurred to him, forcefully, that if anybody was going to save their lives tonight, it would be her, not him.

"He killed my wife," Norman whispered, his face a mask of pain and bewilderment. "He killed her."

Kate swallowed hard, and more tears ran down her cheeks, but her voice remained calm and firm. "But there's nothing you can do that will ever bring her back. And what you think will make you feel better... what you think will make it hurt less, or make it easier to bear... It won't. It'll make it a thousand times worse. Right now, you can't even imagine... can't even comprehend... what it'll be like, to live the rest of your life, knowing that another human being ceased to exist because of you. Because of a decision you made. That... the lights went out for someone, and you were the one who flipped the switch. You can't know what that's like," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "But we do," she glanced over at Sawyer, including him. "So please believe me when I tell you... that this moment is the most important one of your life. Because if you make the wrong decision now..." She shook her head slightly. "You don't get a second chance. Ever."

Norman gazed out at the room, his resolve clearly weakening. His lower lip trembled slightly, and his left hand balled itself into a fist.

"You came here to do this for your wife... for Tara," Kate said softly. "But if you really loved her as much as you say you did, then you probably already know that she wouldn't have wanted you to." She paused. "You know what I think? I think... that what Tara really wanted you to do, was to start over. And maybe, in a way, that's what she was trying to give you the chance to do."

"I don't want to start over without her," he said, sounding like a hurt child.

"I know," Kate said in an understanding tone. "But there isn't any other way to do it."

"How could I, even if I wanted to? I don't have anything left. Or don't you remember that part?"

"You can have your money back," she said in a firm tone. "You managed to track him down... You can at least get your money back."

"I don't want the money. The money doesn't mean anything."

"Tara drove off a bridge because of that money. She killed herself over it," Kate said sharply. "So how can you say it doesn't mean anything?"

He looked like he was considering her words.

"She would have wanted you to get it back."

He finally met her eyes again, and it seemed he'd come to some kind of decision, although he didn't say anything. Kate held his gaze for a few seconds, and then nodded. "Sawyer," she asked carefully. "Do you have your checkbook?"

"It's upstairs." He had a feeling it wouldn't be a good idea to mention the fact that he didn't have anywhere near $200,000. At least not in one account.

"Will you let him go get it?" she asked Norman.

All the earlier intensity had died out of his eyes, but a new idea was growing there. He spoke in a strange, flat, emotionless voice. "Yeah. Go get it."

Sawyer stood up, a little unsteadily, keeping a close eye on the gun still pressed against Kate's back. Norman added, "And in case you get any brilliant ideas about bringing a weapon back in here with you, you should know that she'll be dead before you can even aim it at me."

Kate looked down, still fighting fear, and then back up at Sawyer. "Go get it," she whispered.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and he wondered if she'd ever looked as beautiful to him as she did right now, still in her ridiculous gypsy costume, her makeup mostly worn off, mascara tracks combined with her tears. Her gaze pierced into his heart, the combination of the vulnerability and the simple, unadorned bravery in her expression enough to stop his breath. For the first time, he thought how much stronger she was than him, and how much wiser. If the events of tonight had been left in his hands, they'd both already be dead.

Tearing his eyes away from hers, he forced himself to move toward the stairs. His knees were weak and it was like dragging his feet through sand.

Once upstairs, he frantically dug out a gun from his nightstand, disregarding the crazy bastard's warnings. Whether it was stupid or not, he couldn't have stopped himself. It was just second nature. He would keep it concealed, only using it if he thought he had no choice.

Next, he retrieved the checkbook, like he was supposed to. As he quickly flipped through it to make sure there were still checks left, his hands froze as a deafening gunshot echoed through the house.