Chapter Two

Sawyer awakened to the smell of smoke.

It wasn't the satisfying, nicotine-laced kind that came from a freshly-lit Marlboro Red. No, this was thick, stifling; the type of smoke that could only come from fire. He could hear the crackling of flames nearby, feel the searing heat of the blaze on his skin.

His mouth thinned in grim realization. He supposed a part of him had always known that his choices in life would lead him here; he had grown up in the bible belt, after all.

Unlike Oceanic flight eight-fifteen, it appeared that his one way, nonstop flight to Hell had arrived right on schedule.

He probably should have been scared, or at least a little repentant, but after the last month and a half, there really wasn't a whole lot that rattled him anymore.

Bring it on, Beelzebub.

Sawyer shifted slightly, felt a sharp stab of pain in his shoulder. "Ow, son of a bitch!" Damn it, who'd have guessed that people take their mortal injuries with them into the afterlife? Mrs. Grier sure as hell didn't tell 'em that in the Sunday school classes his mama had dragged him to as a kid.

He heard a rustling noise beside him and nearly jumped out of his skin. What now, was the Devil was going to come welcome him personally? "Sawyer?" The voice was tentative, familiar.

Funny how Satan sounded an awful lot like Jack.

Sawyer opened his eyes, and damned if the good doctor wasn't standing right over him. He blinked once to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. They weren't; Jack was actually hovering over him with, oh hell, a shit-eating on his face. A relieved shit-eating grin. With a groan, Sawyer let his head fall back against the pillow. "Yep, definitely Hell," he muttered, slowly exhaling the breath he'd been holding.

Jack let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he leaned in to look at Sawyer's shoulder. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got shot." He probably shouldn't have sounded like such an asshole – the man had apparently saved his life, again – but what kind of stupid ass question was that? How do you feel. What the hell was he supposed to say; that he felt like Riverdancing?

But if Jack was pissed, he didn't show it, continuing his examination as if Sawyer hadn't said a word. "Any nausea or dizziness?"

"No." Fine, he'd play nice while the Doc asked his questions. Although… "Next question better not be about hookers or STD's," he warned with a glare.

That got a genuine laugh out of him. Jackass. "No, not this time," Jack chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. "The infection's gone and the injury looks like it's healing nicely. You'll be on antibiotics for two weeks, but as long as you take it easy, you're going to be fine."

"Been there, done that," Sawyer reminded him, gritting his teeth as he sat up and glanced around. Sure enough, he was back at the caves, resting on a makeshift cot near the large bonfire pit. A couple of people were up and about, but it looked like most of the camp had already gone down for the night.

And there was no sign of Kate. Again. What was he expecting, a bedside vigil? He'd humiliated her, for fuck's sake. She was probably out there mourning the fact that he didn't drown.

"Lay down, Sawyer," Jack ordered, using his Doctor voice for emphasis. Any other time, Sawyer would have given him hell for it, but right now, he was in too much damn pain to bother. "You need to keep physical exertion to a minimum for another day or two."

Another day or two? His gaze narrowed on Jack. "How long have I been out?"

Jack's expression turned serious, contemplative. Sawyer was too adept at reading people to miss the fact that the Doc clearly didn't want to tell him something. "How long," he demanded.

It was another few seconds before Jack finally spoke. "Three days. Your fever hit a hundred and seven, and at one point your heart stopped. It's a miracle you survived."

"Figured as much," Sawyer paused to grab the bottle of water sitting next to him. He took a long swallow before continuing. "What else ain't you tellin' me?"

Jack turned back to him, surprised. Guess he wasn't expecting to have bullshit called on him so soon. He bowed his head, took a deep breath. "It's the Others. They've—"

"Jack!" The voice was sharp, female, and more pissed off than Sawyer had ever heard it. He turned toward it, but his view was blocked by Captain Hero's backside. "You drugged me?"

What?

"Kate…"

"I was fine, Jack. I've gone longer without sleep, believe me. You had no right—"

"He's awake," Jack interrupted quietly, and Sawyer inwardly cursed the man. Just when things were starting to get interesting.

Kate stepped out from in front of Jack, and Sawyer's breath caught in his throat. Being face-to-face with her again hit him like a fist to the gut. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her hair was wild and mussed, and her clothes were wrinkled, as if she'd been wearing them for days. The woman looked like she'd been to hell and back.

Hell, who was he kidding? She looked great.

She took a hesitant step toward him. The expression on her face damn near broke his heart, but it was her eyes that got him. There were more emotions reflected there than he could decipher; relief, concern, and something else that he was afraid to examine too closely. For a split second, that front she worked so hard to maintain was gone and all he could do was stare at her like some lovesick puppy.

She swallowed once, blinking a few times to compose herself. When her eyes returned to his, her features had schooled into a carefully blank mask that revealed absolutely nothing. The girl could teach Jack a few things about concealing emotions.

Kate knelt beside him, her lips curving into a polite smile. "Hey." Sawyer caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked down, saw her hand reach tentatively for his. She caught him watching and pursed her lips, placing her hand in her lap. "You look better."

Sawyer sighed. So it was going to be like that. Fine, two could play at this game. His gaze lingered on her hand long enough to make a point before his eyes lifted to hers, his mouth twisting into a knowing grin. "So you missed me, huh Freckles?"

His words had their desired effect. A spark of irritation flashed in her eyes, and in the firelight, he could see the faint color that tinged her cheeks. She didn't like knowing that he knew he'd gotten to her.

A part of him felt bad for baiting her like that, but damn it, he wanted to see more than that front she constantly wore around everybody else.

He wanted to see something real, like what was in her eyes a few seconds ago.

Kate rolled her eyes and gave him a look that would've probably sent any other man running for the hills. "Don't flatter yourself," she retorted dryly, but she didn't get up like he thought she would. To his surprise, her expression softened, not completely, but enough. It was a concession. "I'm glad you're okay, Sawyer. I was—"

Terrified screams, authorative shouts and the heavy fall of footsteps interrupted whatever she was about to say. He looked up and saw Ana and Shaft running at an all-out sprint toward Jack. Sawyer had been so absorbed in seeing Kate again that he'd completely forgotten the Doc was there. Kate rose to her feet and Sawyer pushed himself up, wincing as a fresh wave of pain radiated from the wound in his shoulder.

Ana's eyes flicked to Sawyer, giving him a quick, cursory glance before she turned her attention to Jack. "They got another one. A girl," she informed him, her expression grim.

Another one? What the hell was she talking about?

Jack's words came back to him right then. The Others. They were here.

Oh fuck.

"Who was it," Jack demanded. "Where did it happen? Is she…"

"Dead," Ana confirmed with a short nod. "Young woman, blonde hair. Can't remember her name. Her body is less than thirty yards from the outskirts of the camp. I'll take you there."