Title: Don't Move On
Chapter 2
Last night. Suddenly Sawyer remembered what happened last night:
"I'll be damned," Sawyer mumbled as he put back his digital alarm clock on the table realizing that it needed new batteries. Although he knew it was futile because he was bound to forget later on, he made a mental note to buy new triple A's.
There was a sudden knock on the door. It was a light, lazy knock that Sawyer wouldn't have heard had he been doing something else instead of glaring at the red light of his clock, as if accusing it of something grave.
7:34 a.m. Damn, how can it be a.m. when it's damn dark outside. He went down and headed towards the door, quickly, impulsively grabbing his gun and stuffing it into his pants. Opening the door, he found himself in front of a woman; her shoulder-length blonde hair looks like it had just been rebonded; she was looking down and didn't look up despite hearing the door open.
"Darlin' you'd have to tell me who you are and what you're here for sooner or later. For the good of the both of us, why not spill 'em out now and get on with it," it was hard to tell whether his voice sounded mischievous or just commanding, especially since the woman didn't bulge, her eyes fixed on the ground.
As was probably expected, Sawyer was already getting impatient. He found himself suddenly thinking of the time and to his surprise he remembered needing to get new triple A's; he'll get extras this time if only to save him from the uneasiness he's feeling because of a lost sense of time.
"What the hell is it that you're lookin' at the floor for," he mocked the woman and moved beside her consequently but unintentionally pushing her a bit. Mimicking her position and setting his eyes on the floor, he was amused, irritated, and wary all at the same time.
The woman stroked her hair and finally slowly lifted her head, but Sawyer didn't notice her movement for instead he noticed something lying beside her right leg. It was a backpack he knew all too well, the backpack he saw all too often when he trekked the forest behind the only other survivor he'd be glad to see again.
"Kate?" he asked squinting to see her face.
"What Kate," pulling off her hair which turned out to be a wig. "It's Freckles," she joked, hoping that it would be enough for him to let her in, to let her stay.
There really wasn't much to the house. The entire first floor consisted of a few things really, perhaps only the essential—a long black leather couch; a black lazy boy which clearly was Sawyer's "throne"; a glass center table where an ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, and two remote controls lay; a TV; a DVD player which Sawyer bragged can also play VCDs and audio CDs; a dining table and six identical chairs, a refrigerator without magnets of course, a stove, a microwave, a coffee maker; and a rusty washing machine that seemed a bit out of place in the midst of all the other modern, almost brand new appliances. It almost surprised Kate how everything seemed to fall into their proper place. It would actually seem that a woman lived in the house…perhaps.
With his back facing Kate, Sawyer was on the phone whispering to whoever was at the other line. She was saved by that call--it came before he got the chance to ask her questions she wasn't really prepared to answer yet; she hadn't really figured out what she'll tell Sawyer had he asked her about how and why she was there. Probably the truth? She tried not to think of the truth.
After strainfully eavesdropping and making sure that he wasn't talking to the police, Kate took the liberty to go upstairs, slowly making her way through the matte metal stairs. It was getting late and she was growing more tired by the second and she was hoping that Sawyer would save the question-and-answer for tomorrow.
"I might have come to the wrong place," she said upon seeing that the entire second floor was Sawyer's "room", realizing there was no spare room for her.
"What do you mean wrong place?" Sawyer was now behind Kate without her hearing him hang up the phone and come up the stairs.
Well, what do you know…?" Sawyer grinned, realizing the situation.
"You wish, Sawyer," she grunted, rolling her eyes.
"Trust me Freckles, if I were to wish, I would wish something more than having to share my bed with you."
She exaggerated a sigh, kept her mouth shut, decided not to dignify anything he said.
"Aw come on Freckles, givin' up already?"
She was determined not to say a word.
"Fine. I'll take the couch," Sawyer conceded, grabbing a navy blue pillow.
"Aw come on Sawyer, giving up already?" Kate teased.
Sawyer exaggerated a sigh, kept his mouth shut, determined to give her a taste of her own medicine.
"I never thought of you as a bitter quitter."
"Damn it, Freckles! If you can keep your damned mouth shut for a few damn minutes then maybe we can damn start getting along," Sawyer knew he shouldn't have talked like that. He looked at Kate, certain he would see her either angry or hurt.
"Four 'damns' in a breath. Wow tonight must be some damned night," surprisingly without a trace of anger or pain.
Sawyer almost laughed at how Kate tried to copy his "damn". Seeing her again, having her in his house, tonight was unquestionably some night.
Shaking his head, he made his way down stairs.
"Sawyer, your clock needs new batteries! It can't be eight in the morning," Kate yelled after a couple of minutes.
There was no reply.
"Sawyer," a bit louder this time.
Still no answer.
She went over the stairs and peeped down. Sawyer was already sleeping.
That fast? That tired? Well, at least I wouldn't have to deal with his how's and why's tonight.
Noticing that his feet were dangling at the edge of the couch, Kate decided to go down.
"Sawyer," Kate whispered trying to wake him up. Careful though since she doesn't know how Sawyer liked (or disliked) being woken up.
"Sawyer," nudging him a bit more this time.
"What the hell are you tryin' to do, Freckles." Now she knows he didn't like being forced to wake up.
"Sawyer," she put her hand on his arm. Sawyer noticed this and decided to take a more favorable mood.
"What, sweetheart," Sawyer said, consciously using 'sweetheart'.
"You can come up and share the bed with me."
Sawyer grinned. She lightly spanked him on the arm, thinking that he was getting ready for another witty albeit sexual remark. Sawyer took his pillow and led the way upstairs. Truth be told, he was only too happy that Kate had woken him up only to realize that he wasn't dreaming, she was really with him.