Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Orange

Lost – The Long Road: Fading Fire

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

March 2007

She let him hold her. They were living in a dilapidated cabin they'd found abandoned in the woods of central Canada and it was cold. The fireplace in the living room was burning a bright orange, glowing in through their open door and she lay curled up in his arms. She let him pull her body closer to his, feeling his erection pressed against her backside. Sam slept quietly in the other room. Sawyer built him a crib.

He was a pretty good craftsman and quick too. Sawyer didn't like the idea of Sam rolling around on the floor, or possibly falling off a bed. He'd told her there were plenty of trees around them and no one would miss them one bit if he took two or three for firewood and a crib. So she let him. No harm in it and her boy would be safe. Confined and cuddled in blankets Sawyer bought at a store in town. Kate tucked the baby in for the long night and watched the orange tint to his small sleeping face. His hair was growing now, a thin layer of light brown fuzz that she loved to run her hand over.

She watched him while she wrote her letters to Jack. She told him she was safe. She detailed Jack's son's delivery to him and cried knowing it was one of a million memories he would never have of his son. Kate considered turning herself in. She felt a guilt she hadn't felt in a long time. Her pen scratched along the paper as Sawyer prepared dinner and she inhaled the scent of freshly caught rabbit and potatoes from the market.

"He's growing, Jack. Almost fifteen pounds. Starting to smile all the time too. He thinks everything is funny. Quite the ironic child you have, Mr. Shephard." Sawyer watched her write with a snarl on his lips. He hated that she wrote to him. He hated that the whole world dissolved when she wrote to him. Sawyer said it was as if Jack were there and no one else was. It made her grin. That night he didn't hold her and she felt empty.

Kate had almost forgotten what it'd felt like.

She let him touch her. Sawyer's hands traveled in his sleep. They roamed her body. They squeezed at her arms and rubbed at her thighs and dug between her legs. He rested his palm there, in that space, and it made her uncomfortable. But she let him. She listened to him mumble in his sleep, groaning into her ear as the night went on. She heard it all because she was listening for Sam. After a while she got up and paced the living room. She stood in front of the fire and watched the flames lick up the sides of the fireplace until she was sleepy and then she went back to bed.

He always found her, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her waist. It was why she let him. It made her feel safe. Kate was used to being violated. She was used to pain and hate and horrible things. Sawyer was none of that. He was just needy. He was jealous and lonely. Kate was lonely too. It was the worst thing about being on the run. Knowing there was no one to turn to. Every phone call you had to worry about, every person you talked to a possible snitch.

Sawyer would never. She knew that. Knew none of the survivors would. She called them, she talked to them all the time. All except Jack. She was afraid of calling him. Afraid of what he'd say. Afraid he'd hang up on her. Afraid he'd turn her in. He was the only one she knew could. Kate was afraid he hated her. She wrote her letters with her heart in her throat and she stood over the corner mailboxes with the envelope clutched to her chest, hoping there was some way out of it.

Now Sawyer delivered her letters. He went into town and got supplies and threw the letter in the box without giving it a second glance. Sawyer didn't care about her letters, but he sent them. He sent them because he knew what it meant to her. Sawyer knew her better than anyone on the island sometimes. Even Jack.

The months passed slowly, it had been three, almost four. Kate watched Sawyer's face on the days he'd come back from sending them. He was serious, like the cold affected him more on those days. She hugged him, gave him kiss on the lips and took the grocery bags from him to make dinner while he relaxed in front of the fire. It was her thank you because she couldn't say it.

Kate let him love her. It wasn't hard. It bubbled on the surface of his skin every time he looked at her. He hugged her while she changed Sam's diaper. He ran his hands through her hair after a long day of chopping wood and hunting for food. He didn't like to buy too much when he went into town. Sawyer wasn't trying to draw attention to them. He came home with books and he read to her by the fire.

She laughed at his snark, she ruffled his hair, she played the wife. Kate had never had the chance to, not even with Jack on the island. Life was different on the island. Constantly hectic and rushed and urgent. Like it could all end. They could all die. Boom. Kate remembered the dynamite well. Remembered the accidents. Remembered the deaths. The Others. She blinked them out of her mind when she had nightmares.

They'd take her baby.

Sawyer kissed her neck and she found herself jerking slightly. She'd been in a daze. He ran a hand along the length of her thigh and moaned into her ear. Kate half turned, seeing his eyes closed as he snuggled into her collar bone and sucked roughly, flicking the surface of her skin with his tongue before sucking again. She took in a long breath. Kate pulled away, pressed her hands against his chest and watched his eyes open slowly.

"I can't stand it anymore," he told her honestly.

He moved forward, capturing her lips before she could protest and she found herself melting into the kiss, twirling her tongue around his before letting her hands slide around him, under his shirt and over his bare skin. He was on fire, shifting and pressing her into the bed as he deepened the kiss to a point where Kate found herself forgetting to breathe. It'd been so long. Her stomach burned and she could feel herself starting to shake for him.

Sawyer unbuttoned the long shirt she wore as a nightgown and let it rest against her arms. He thrust himself against her leg and she let out a small gasp of surprise, feeling his wet lips make a trail down her neck, down her chest, until they found her right nipple. He teased it between his teeth and she closed her eyes. The world was a burnt orange, illuminated by the fire; kept dark by the night.

Kate felt his hands push apart her legs as he kissed the space between her breasts and down her stomach, to her belly button and he breathed hot through her panties. His hands slipped under the sides and he tugged, bringing them down to her knees. She let him pull them off her legs and he buried himself into her, making her shout as he teased her, flicking his tongue in circles around her core before sliding it into her body.

She gasped, her knees wrapping tightly around his head. Sawyer gripped her thighs, kneading them gently with his thumbs as he began a rhythm with his tongue. Kate was still delicate and Sawyer danced that thin line between pleasure and pain, moaning into her every so often, making her run her hands through his hair. He sped up the pace and she arched her back, feeling butterflies in her stomach, moving lower and lower until she let out her breath, slammed her eyes shut and felt the jolt of electricity meet Sawyer's mouth. He felt it, the muscles inside her convulse and he pushed farther, intensifying the sensations for her.

"Oh God…" Kate sighed. Then she said his name. It happened quicker than she could think. Quicker than she could stop herself. Jack. In one hushed whisper that echoed within her and stopped the movement between her legs. She felt Sawyer lift his head slightly, breathing roughly against her still quivering body and she let her hands fall at her sides. "Sorry," she breathed, bringing a hand up to her head to wipe away the sweat.

Sawyer threw back the sheets and sat up on the bed. Kate glanced down at him, seeing his erect penis pushing his boxers to their limits. She frowned, watching the sorrow on his face in the faint orange light from the living room. He pursed his lips and lowered his eyebrows and slid a hand up his own leg towards his erection, rubbing himself gently before standing up and going into the bathroom. Kate stood, feeling her legs weak underneath her and she changed into new clothes, pulling her jacket on over her sweater. She heard him grunt from the bathroom and then smack the wall.

Grabbing her bags, she began shoving clothes and diapers into them. She stole a hundred dollars from Sawyer and dressed Sam in thick baby blue clothes and adjusted him into the Bjorn she had wrapped over her shoulder. She made her way into the living room and watched the embers glowing a faint reddish orange as the sun began to shine its own golden color through the windows. Her body froze as she touched the handle of the front door.

"So that's it," Sawyer called loudly from the bedroom door.

"I've been here too long, Sawyer." Kate didn't turn. She measured his movements by his sound. He shifted on his feet and dropped his head lightly.

"Ain't ya at least gonna kiss me goodbye?" It was his attempt at a joke, but neither of them laughed. Kate knew she'd stayed far too long. She'd gotten comfortable. She'd run long enough to know the second you started to familiarize yourself with a location, it was time for you to go.

Kate opened the door and felt the cold springtime air blast her. It would be April soon. Sam woke up and pushed a hand out from underneath his blanket and thumped her chest, gurgling at her. "I'm sorry, Sawyer." Kate pushed the boy's hand back under the warmth of the blanket. He took a step towards her, but she went onto the porch and then stepped onto the snow, feeling it crunch under her boots.

She'd lived in the snow before. She'd do it again.

End Chapter 4