The stars twinkled mischievously against the dark sky, eternally failing to light the beguiling depths of space. Entranced, Kate stared upward, trying to pick out constellations. It was a futile effort to keep her mind occupied. She didn't know the constellations well, and she had no idea what to look for. Extending an arm, she traced the outline of three stars in a line, I know that one. She marveled at it, with a small swelling of pride. "Orion's belt," she whispered, smiling to herself as she scanned the other points of the hunter's body. The feeling of self-satisfaction was short lived, her restless mind continued to mull over just one thing. Sawyer. Who was she kidding? She cared, and she couldn't even hide it from herself.
Upset at her own weakness, she sat up, staring out into the leafy undergrowth of the nearby jungle. The little waterfall just outside the mouth of the caves continued to burble giggling promises. She closed her eyes to compose herself, irritated profoundly by the jubilant sound. Standing, and brushing a chocolate curl of hair from her face, she resolutely began to stride down the path to the beach. A mile, at most, she thought, laughing easily at the short distance.
She stared down at her feet, enjoying each sharp crack of the sticks she tread on with her hiking boots. The path was well worn from the many feet that walked it, she wasn't going to lose her way. Yet she was still amused at the thought of the fit Jack would have to see her wandering through the jungle at night.
She could see the sun's first light breaking the horizon, faintly straining to be seen over the treetops. Silently, she stopped to admire the pretty cerulean color it created against the black-lit canopy of the sky. A noise came from the undergrowth to her left. Her heart skipped a beat, but she stayed in place. Feeling panic creep into her mind, she breathed softly of the night air, trying to calm herself. What was that? Closing her eyes again, Kate turned away from the sound and carried on her way along the path.
The easygoing stride choked again as another crack followed in her wake. And that? Her heart throbbed dangerously in her chest. Her weary mind turned over all sorts of insane possibilities, unearthing childhood nightmares about being chased down grungy alleyways with no way out. She stood still, arms straight at her sides, squeezing her eyes shut just one more time, "one..."
A hush followed the beginning of her count, "... two," she whispered, carefully controlling her voice, "Three."
Kate thought she heard a rustling in the brush again, and maybe even saw a shadow flit across her field of view, or maybe it was a trick of the slowly growing dawn light. She shook her head, heart still thundering, "Four..." she paused, listening for any sound of her follower, "Five."
Taking a deep breath, Kate called out boldly, "I know you're there."
There it was again, the shaking, scuffling noise in the deep green undergrowth. But this time, a figure emerged. He was tall, older, with a look of profound strength. He looked at her levelly, lifting a hand to scratch his bald scalp, "Yes Kate?"
"John," she breathed, relieved, "I uh... why are you following me?" She asked uncomfortably, remembering her more immediate question.
"Well," he said haltingly, "sun's coming up, beginning of the boar hunt," he said, pausing again to scratch his chin.
"I'm a boar?" Kate asked, smiling jokingly.
Locke smiled in return before turning his eyes to her again, adressing her more seriously now, "Kate, Jack asked me to keep an eye on you, said something was wrong with you yesterday night?"
Kate's temper flared in an instant, but she restrained herself, chewing her lip, to keep from yelling, "I'm fine," she said, repeating the age old answer.
"I'm sure he had a reason," Locke said loudly, "I mean, we all have a reason," his eyes twinkled like the fading stars.
"I... I gotta head to the beach," she said, turning away, "tell Jack I don't need him to send someone following me."
"He's just worried about you, Kate, that's all," Locke said disarmingly, "what's your reason?" he added with interest.
"Reason?" Kate asked, arching a brow, her back still turned to him.
There was a pause, as though Locke was wondering which reason he wanted most, "Why are you out on a lonely path in the middle of the jungle, at night?" he asked, almost laughing at the irony of the question.
"Just looking," she answered quietly, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulder and beginning to walk away.
"Me too, Kate," the unwavering voice called after her.
Kate was always unsettled by the man's presence. She breathed a deep sigh of relief as she stepped out of his sight, and around a corner in the meandering path. He probably knew she was looking for Sawyer, she was awfully transparent, she realized, disgruntled. Her flirting seemed, to her, quite blatantly obvious. Her thoughts turned again. Jack, why had he sent someone to follow her? Why did he care so much? Couldn't he just let her alone? There was nothing she could do to make him understand she didn't need his constant, overshadowing protection. She could always confront him, but she realized with dismay that she would probably be laughed at. Her musings led her eventually back to John Locke, and her conversation with him just several weeks prior. All the things he'd said rushed to her brain in a sudden flow of heat and, though she did not like to admit it, fear.
"Heard you talking to your friend," Locke said, wiping his eyes with his arm as he proceeded in the process of curing a boar hide with sand and aloe. Kate had been trying to thoroughly forget about yesterday's unsettling events, but her moping behavior as she paced the beach had caught the man's attention.
"Sounded upset," Locke continued, picking the aloe up again.
Kate cast him a sickly glance, not feeling like looking to him, much less talking. She slowly started to walk down the beach again, ignoring his statements, allowing her skin to drink in the warmth of the sand on her feet.
"You took real good care of him," he said, one eye closed against the sun, looking after Kate, "he doesn't know how to appreciate the people around him. It's a serious weakness."
Kate laughed a little, looking over her shoulder at the man kneeling before the stretched skin, "Yeah," she began to walk back towards him, "he's got no idea what people do for him."
Continuing to work at the skin, Locke spoke again, "And, especially you, you nursed him..." he trailed off, looking up at her with one eye again, she was now casting a shadow over the hide, "you're in my light."
"Oh," Kate murmured, stepping out of the way and sitting on the sand beside him, "sorry," she added, looking at him cautiously.
"I had a woman who loved me very much once," Locke said, monotone, as he continued to work at the skin, "I..." his voice wavered for an instant, "I loved her... but... I... I didn't appreciate her much, lost her."
Kate was taken aback at Locke's assumptions. Was he insinuating they were in love? She stammered, "I care about him, he's a friend, that's al--"
Locke interrupted loudly, but in the calm, composed voice he nearly always spoke in, "Do you love him, Kate?" He asked plainly, staring her down again, now with both eyes wide, eyebrows arching, deep wrinkles in his forehead pronounced.
Stuttering again, Kate regained her footing, "N-no," she said squeamishly, "how could anyone... love him?" It wasn't until after the words had left her mouth that Kate realized the tenderness with which she had spoken them. Looking quickly away to the bright blue sky, Kate hoped Locke had not caught the slip in her mannerisms. Much to her displeasure, she looked over to find him continuing to look her up and down, his mouth curved into an ambiguous little smile. She feared he would say something, anything, but instead he just continued smiling and dumping sand onto the leathery skin.
Wordlessly, Kate stood and resumed her walk down the beach, quite disgruntled at Locke's uncanny knowledge of those around him.
Kate was forced to wonder whether it was Sawyer who did not appreciate her, or if it was she who did not appreciate Sawyer. But then again, what had he done for her? She thought of several cliched statements about how he'd "lit up her life", but finally felt sick with herself, giving up as the beach hove into view. It was a welcome change from the dark path, its sprawling white expanses looked pristine in this earliest hour of dawn.
She suddenly felt dizzy. She had spent the whole way walking here remembering why she hated Sawyer, convincing herself she did not need him. Convincing herself that the finalizing harsh words they had spoken to each other were the end of things. Yet here she was, walking to his little blue-tarp covered tent, no more than a lost animal. She tried to stop her legs moving, but could not contain the urge just to look at him. To hear his voice, anything.
She knew once she got there, if he sat awake, they would exchange bitterly sarcastic words. She would leave with a sense of dry satisfaction having had gained points on him, but feeling even emptier knowing that the void between them had grown greater. She had been so used, in the past months, to him, his voice, his touch, and now those were unobtainable luxuries. Remnants of a memory long gone.
When she at last reached the outside of his tent, she could hear heavy breathing from within. With a sudden jolt, she realized that he was still sleeping, and that she could maybe, just maybe, sit in his presence for a few moments, before she carried on her way. Pushing back the rough, plastic tent's flap, she crept inside, kneeling in the corner, looking over him. This is pointless, Kate thought, disappointed with herself. An idea began to materialize in her mind, I know.
"I'm sorry," she whispered through the sickly silence of the tent's inside. The words barely passed her lips. She wanted to speak louder, but found herself strangling on the words as she thought of the last month again, how it had all ended. There he lay, on his side, eyes closed, long blonde hair brushed gracefully over his eyes, his chest slowly expanding and contracting as he breathed deeply of the clean morning air. His denim-clad legs stretched out along the length of the airplane seat on which he slept.
Reaching a quivering hand out to him, Kate leaned over his face, pushing his hair behind his ear, "I'm sorry," she whispered again, "I'm sorry for what I said to you. I don't hate you, Sawyer. I should have said goodbye. I should have come to help..." The words came more easily now, the constricted feeling in her throat was lifted. She didn't know how to apologize for everything she had done wrong in one breath, so instead she closed her eyes, grimacing.
The early light of the sun spilled under the sides of the tent, illuminating her face as a lock of hair fell from behind her shoulders, brushing his face. He twitched in his sleep, and for a moment, she thought she had seen a ghost of a smile cross his face. Quickly, she tucked the hair behind her ear. "What can I do to fix this?" She asked into the air, knowing her queries were falling upon deaf ears, "When will we go back to normal?"
Suddenly his cold blue eyes were open, his brows beetling above them, he reached out and snatched her wrist, "Normal, sweetheart? Why, I thought you'd actually try to say sorry while I was awake. Silly me."