Okay, I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that you guys do NOT like cliffhangers... Lol. Hopefully, this ending won't torment you quite so much. But thanks so much for reviewing anyway, even if it's just to rant and rave at my evil tactics... ;)


Chapter Thirty-Six

Sawyer's feet remained rooted to the floor for what felt like hours, but was probably only two seconds at the most. The silence that followed the shot was nearly as deafening as the shot itself had been. It engulfed the house, and he could hear absolutely nothing. In the few seconds that he stood there frozen, the certainty lodged itself in his mind that she was dead. She was gone, and he would never see her again. Kate was dead.

Not heeding his surroundings at all, he let the checkbook slip from his fingers onto the bed. Moving toward the door and down the hallway was like walking through a dream landscape. Reality shifted and readjusted itself around him, and his own house had the unfamiliar, distorted quality of a place he might have seen once, years before, and then forgotten. He felt his legs moving slowly, much slower than the situation seemed to require, but he couldn't manage to make them go any faster. His body was separated into fragments, and the parts had lost all communication with one another.

As he descended the stairs, he felt his hand move, as if of its own accord, to rest on the gun in his pocket. He knew, even through his foggy haze of vision, that it wasn't for Norman that he was making sure of the location of the weapon. If he found what he expected to find, it was for himself that he would need it.

He neared the entrance to the living room, an expression of horror already convulsing his features in anticipation of what he would find. His hand closed tighter on the gun, and he allowed his mind to flash forward to his plans. First he would check to see if she was all the way gone, and if not, he would force himself to finish the job. Then, he would quickly follow. There would be no hesitation, and no second thoughts. The decision was already made.

When he finally reached the doorway, he paused in shock, having to reconfigure the version of things he had already seen with such clarity in his mind. This didn't correspond at all to the reality he had convinced himself of.

Norman lay crumpled on the hardwood floor, twisted into a grotesque contortion, his head a pulverized mass of red. A pool of blood gradually seeped out around him, growing noticeably larger every second.

"Five... six... s-s-seven... "

He heard her before he saw her, and he finally tore his fixed, unbelieving stare away from the floor and up to the center of the room. Kate was standing there, her arms and face spattered with blood, her hands covering her eyes... counting.

"Eight... N-n-nine... ten..." Her voice shook badly and she stuttered on the first letters, choking the words out with an effort.

Sawyer watched her, unable to understand what he was seeing, trying to let himself accept the fact that she was alive. It was like a last-minute reprieve that he knew he didn't deserve, and he had to force himself to gain control, to not allow himself to collapse onto his knees in the overwhelming surge of his relief.

Crossing the room to her, he grasped her by the shoulders and felt her jerk away, convulsively. She lowered her hands from her eyes and tried to focus, to register his presence. Turning her head slowly toward the body on the floor, she said in a dazed, wondering tone, "I tried to stop him."

He forcibly turned her away from the mess, pressing her head against his body and pulling her to him with his other arm, squeezing her so tightly that he was probably in danger of cracking a rib. She continued to mutter against his shoulder, in a haunted, broken monotone, "I tried to stop him... I tried to stop him... I tried to stop him." Getting stuck on the phrase, she repeated it like a mantra.

Pulling away from her a little, he shook her, commanding in a hoarse whisper, "Stop it!"

She quit intoning the words, but her expression didn't change. She was deathly pale, and her gaze seemed to look past him rather than at him. Her entire body felt weak and unstable under his grip, swaying slightly, and he could see consciousness flickering dimly back in her eyes - it was clear she had only a tenuous hold on it that she could lose at any point.

"Kate!" he said sharply. "Look at me." She lifted her eyes and was able to focus on him for a second.

Using his fingers, he fiercely rubbed away a smear of blood high on her cheek, grimacing in revulsion. "Don't you dare pass out on me, girl... You hear me?" he muttered with clenched teeth.

She didn't say anything. He pressed his hands to the sides of her face and looked at her, desperately.

"Kate," he repeated again. "You're gonna have to help me here... All right? I can't deal with this all on my own.. I need your help. Now, are you gonna be able to do that, or not?" He waited, tense.

She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep, shaky breath, and then let it out slowly. When she opened her eyes again, he was grateful to see a kind of calm resolve there. Some of the color returned to her face, and a heartbroken, weary expression settled over her features. Locking her gaze on his, she gave him a small, firm nod. The gesture relieved him and saddened him at the same time. She had the air of someone who had been faced with this necessity too many times already, and who knew, from experience, that she didn't have the luxury of giving in to hysteria.

Leaning her forehead against his chest again for a few brief seconds, she pulled back and whispered, "I'll go get some sheets."


After they'd covered Norman's body as well as they could, wrapping it tightly and trying their best not to look at the carnage around his head, Sawyer went to pull the truck around to the front door. While he was gone, Kate gently pulled Gus out of the hallway and laid another sheet over his still body, her hands shaking and tears blurring her vision.

Sawyer came back in as she stood up. They looked at each other silently and then went back into the living room, over to the body. Kate positioned herself at Norman's feet, while Sawyer gripped him from under the arms. Together, they lifted him, half-carrying and half-dragging him out the door, through the front hall, and onto the porch. The sheet was already soaked with blood, and it trailed across the floor, marking their path. Using all their strength, they managed to hoist him into the back of the truck, where Sawyer quickly covered him with a black tarp.

For the second time that night, they climbed into the truck's cab. Kate's mind flashed back to the party and the diner. How could that possibly have happened tonight? It felt like five years ago, at least. Those people... that couple who had accepted jello shots from a sorority girl, who had danced in a diner and then had sex in the bathroom... who were those people? They were like some imaginary, hallucinated version of themselves. They didn't really exist. It had been a mistake to let themselves think otherwise. Because this, right now... this was who they were. This was all they would ever be.

She swallowed hard. "Where are we taking him?"

Sawyer drove carefully down the driveway. He didn't answer her, and she went on.

"Can't we just put him back in his own car? Maybe they'll think he did it there."

"They'll know he didn't do it there," he said quietly.

"How?"

"Because they got ways of findin' that shit out! Haven't you ever seen one of those forensics shows?"

He slowed a little as he reached the spot where the car had been parked on the side of the road.

"It's gone." Kate spoke in shock.

"Dumbass musta left the keys in the ignition... Somebody stole it." He sped up again. "Least that's one thing we don't have to worry about."

They were quiet for a minute. Kate let him drive, not bothering to ask again where they were going. He must have something planned.

The next time she spoke, staring straight ahead through the front window, it was in a soft, contemplative tone of voice. "He put it in his mouth." She paused. "He put the gun in his mouth. I tried to grab it... to stop him... and it went off."

Slowly, she turned to Sawyer, as if she'd just realized something. "I don't know if he did it... or if I did."

He kept his eyes on the road, but his expression was tortured. "He did it," he said fiercely. "If he put the goddamn thing in his mouth, then I don't think you gotta feel bad about anything after that point."

She didn't say anything, and it was obvious that she wasn't convinced.

He turned off onto a dirt track that ran through the woods. It was barely even a road... instead, it appeared to be some kind of rarely-used hunting trail. The truck bounced and jerked along for a few minutes, then he slowed down, inching toward a precipice. Kate couldn't see what was over the drop. In the truck's headlights, there was nothing but enveloping blackness.

Sawyer finally cut the ignition. The rattling of the motor died away as silence descended upon them, and the only light available came from the moon. He turned toward Kate.

"Look at me," he said. She faced him, reluctantly. "None of this has anything to do with you... And I don't want you to ever make the mistake of thinkin' that it does. This happened because of me... only because of me. You understand that?"

She looked pained. "Sawyer..."

"Answer me!"

She continued to stare at him for a second, but then gave in. "Yeah. I understand."

"Then say it," he told her, his intense gaze burning into her. "I want to hear you say that it's not your fault."

She brushed away a tear, looking back through the rear window at the lump underneath the black tarp.

"Say it," he insisted.

"It's not my fault," she whispered, and then swallowed hard, closing her eyes. More tears fell. "It's not my fault."

"And you better not ever forget that," he said, his voice strangled. "No matter what happens, don't you ever forget that."

He opened his door and climbed out. Trying to pull herself together, Kate followed.

Sawyer lowered the tailgate, and together, they pulled the tarp to the edge and lifted the covered body to the ground. Kate couldn't help but notice the irony that now, of all times, they were finally cooperating at something.

"Where are we?" she asked.

He gestured over his shoulder, toward the edge of the precipice. "Drops straight down to the lake, about a hundred feet, more or less."

She shuddered a little. "So much for this one not having any dead bodies in it."

Sawyer almost smiled, a grim expression on his face. "Was only a matter of time, with us around."

They looked at each other, horrified that they could make jokes now, but fighting the maniacal urge to laugh, all the same.

Sawyer stood up quickly to distract himself. "Start lookin' around for some rocks.. the heavier, the better."

She followed his directions, blindly, not asking why or allowing herself to think about it.

When there were enough piled up, the mystery was solved, as she'd feared it would be. "We need to put 'em in his pockets.. in his clothes, inside the tarp... wherever they'll stay."

He started to work, and she watched him, frozen. He glanced back up at her.

"Sawyer. I don't... I can't do this." She shook her head, in horror. "I don't think I can do this."

"Then get back in the truck," he said impatiently. He watched her, waiting for her to make a decision, knowing they didn't have any time to spare.

Taking a deep breath, she let herself fall to her knees at the side of the body. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she picked up a rock.

They worked together, silently, until the pile was gone. Sawyer retrieved a rope from the bed of the truck and secured it tightly around the tarp, looping it over and over from one end to the other. When he was finished, they dragged it the few remaining feet to the edge of the drop-off, straining and using all their strength to move the now weighted-down body.

"Careful," Sawyer warned her. "Don't get too close to the edge."

They circled back to the other side of the tarp. It was now just a foot away from the drop, where a good shove would be enough to send it over.

Kate stared down at it, torn. "Should we say something?"

Sawyer looked at her like she was crazy. "The guy showed up to murder us and then blew his brains out in our living room... I don't think he was expectin' us to deliver a eulogy, sweetheart."

She sighed, distressed.

Reaching down, she rested her hand on the body. "I'm so sorry," she whispered simply.

Sawyer waited a few seconds, respectfully, and then said, "Push."

They put all their weight into it, and the body rolled nearer to the edge, and then, sickeningly, disappeared over the drop. It hit the dirt embankment in a few places on the way down, and then they both heard the dull, heavy splash as it sank under the surface of the lake.

They stood up, looking out over the moonlit water.

"Come on," Sawyer finally said, sounding exhausted. He took her arm. "Let's get home."

Kate allowed him to drag her away from the edge and lead her back to the truck.


They didn't speak on the short ride home. What was there to say? They were each trapped in their own personal hell, unable, for the moment, to share it with one another.

When they pulled back around to the shed again, Kate was the first one out of the truck. After she slammed her door shut, she headed around the back to the other side, when a sudden movement from over behind the shed stopped her in her tracks. Three boys emerged from the shadows. Upon seeing her, they, too, halted in shock. The older two, who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, were dressed up as football players, or rather, dead football players. They wore jerseys and shoulder pads, but their faces were covered with green makeup and plastered-on wounds and scars. The younger boy, probably not more than ten, was wearing a Spiderman costume without the mask, which dangled limply from his hand.

Sawyer had gotten out and was heading toward the house, not having noticed the kids. Kate watched them, accepting the situation, almost calmly, as just one more aspect of the distorted surreality of this night. As the kids stared at her, one of the older boys seemed to become aware of something, and, with a disturbed look, he nudged his companion, giving him a meaningful glance, and then turned back toward Kate, taking a step away. She was still incapable of movement or speech. This all seemed to be happening underwater.

Finally, realizing that Kate wasn't following, Sawyer looked back, wondering what was taking her so long. He now noticed the kids for the first time, and he strode back towards the truck, alarmed and pissed.

"What do you think you're doin' here? This is private property!"

"We were trick-or-treatin'," one of the older boys said innocently, closing his paper bag tighter in order to hide the rolls of toilet paper inside.

"Like hell you were," Sawyer answered. "It's past midnight."

The two oldest looked at each other, trying to think of another line of defense. Kate's attention, however, was riveted by the youngest boy, who hadn't taken his eyes off of her since she'd stepped from the truck. Although he was pale and had curly red hair, he reminded her, strikingly, of Walt. His eyes were deep pools of inscrutability, and he looked more wise and knowing than a child had any right to. She felt chills travel outward from her spine as she stared at him.

"What's your costume?" he asked quietly.

Feeling dazed, as if she was in a waking dream, she murmured, "I'm a gypsy."

He didn't break their gaze for a second, his eyes remaining fixed unblinkingly on hers. "Can you see the future?" he asked with deadly seriousness.

Kate shook her head slowly, feeling incapable of breaking the eerie spell this kid was casting on her.

He watched her sadly, almost pityingly. "I can," he whispered.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, feeling like she was about to fall over.

"Aaron, shut up!" one of the older boys hissed, sharply. "He's my little brother... he's kinda weird," he explained nervously to Kate. "He doesn't usually talk... and he goes to a special school and everything."

"You better get the hell out of here, now, or you're all gonna be goin' to a special school!" Sawyer shouted, moving toward them threateningly.

They backed up and dodged away from him, heading up the driveway. The older one who had just spoken grabbed his brother's arm, but the little boy pulled away and ran back to Kate. He tugged on her costume and gestured for her to bend down. She did, still feeling like this was some kind of hallucination, and he whispered something into her ear. Then, he quickly ran back to his brother, who thumped him harshly on the back, muttering with anger, "Retard!" The three of them took off toward the road, the two older ones laughing and shoving one another playfully, pretending that they hadn't been scared.

Kate watched them go. Sawyer touched her on the arm, and she jumped slightly.

"What was that about?" She turned toward him, blankly.

"What did he say?" he rephrased his question.

"He said..." She paused, confused. "He said, Pick the one with all the birds. At least that's what it sounded like."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

She shook her head, slowly. "I have no idea," she whispered.

"Crazy little bastard..." Sawyer said under his breath, lethally. "I hate kids."

Kate looked down at the ground. "Come on," she said. "Let's go back in."


Once they were back inside, Kate went immediately to work, filling a bucket with soap and water and grabbing as many rags as she could find. Sawyer went to get some wood to build a fire, in order to take the oppressive chill out of the house.

Kate knelt on her hands and knees in the floor of the living room, scrubbing away the blood. She considered changing out of her costume, but there was no point in destroying another set of clothing. This would already have to be thrown out. She was just thankful that the fabric was dark enough to hide the blood that she knew must be spattered all over her.

After a while, she caught a faint whiff of smoke and heard the first cracklings of the fire. When, after a few moments, Sawyer still hadn't rejoined her, she glanced over, wondering what was keeping him. He was staring into the flames as if hypnotized. She couldn't remember ever seeing so much pain on his face before. Settling back on her legs, she brushed the loose hair out of her face and watched him, miserably.

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. Pulling herself to her feet, she walked over to his side and stood next to him, looking into the fire.

He seemed to have been waiting for her. Slowly, he reached into his back pocket and pulled something out. She could only see it out of the corner of her eye, but she had no doubt about what it was.

Pulling the creased, softened paper out of the envelope, he unfolded it for probably the thousandth time, his hands shaking very slightly. Kate waited, silently and without moving, while he read it again to himself, his eyes scanning over the paper with the easy familiarity of someone looking at the features of a face they'd known since childhood.

He folded it once more and replaced it in the envelope. Kate turned toward him, meeting his eyes. Looking weary and vulnerable, he held it out towards her. She looked at it, and then shook her head, with reluctance. Fighting tears, she told him, "You have to do it yourself." It was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to say, but it was the truth. She couldn't do this for him.

Although he was disappointed in her response, he'd clearly expected it, and he seemed to know that there was no other way.

Kate watched his face closely. This was what she'd wanted, what she'd asked him for, that night on the porch... to stop looking, to let go, to give it up. He hadn't been able to give her a promise then, but the events of tonight had made the decision for him. Everything had come catastrophically full-circle. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the end of the road for his lifelong search for the man who'd destroyed his life.

Clenching his teeth together and breathing hard, he crumpled the letter tightly in his palm and, with a quick, unhesitating motion, tossed it onto the top of the logs. It caught the flame immediately, the fire flaring up brighter for a few seconds until the paper was reduced to ashy slivers.

Without taking her eyes from the blaze, Kate reached out and caught Sawyer's hand, tightly. The two of them continued to stare into the fire at the spot where the letter had been, long after there was anything left of it.