"Didn't want to steal your thunder,
wouldn't want to play your game."
AC/DC

Chapter Three

"You're a reading man?" Heather asks, coming to a stop—she's decided to do some exploring, because it's still relatively early in the afternoon. Sawyer is lounging in front of his small shack, has a battered paperback book lying open on his lap. He looks up, smirks, and she can immediately see that it's good-natured because he's willing it to be, that he's really just sizing her up, wondering how useful she'd be.

"Only since we crashed on this heap. Looking for something?" He squints against the sunlight, peering up at her.

"I hear you're the man that's supplied around here?" A short investigation among the others at the caves had revealed that much, and a fair deal more—her summary of him had proved to be accurate by their accounts.

"Yes, well I suppose I am. Unfortunately, nothing comes free." He smiles: there clearly isn't anything unfortunate about it for him.

"I found three books, salvaged them from the small area that I somehow ended up in whenever I really came-to. I figured it might not help anyone survive, but a book's a damn good thing to pass time, which we all seem to have a lot of." Sawyer is looking at her hard, judging again, placing her. "One's just a romance, but the others are westerns," Heather add in a knowing sort of voice, offering her own smile, hands on her hips—the glint in his features fades, and he looks at his boots for a moment, laughs lightly.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing for now. Call it an investment for the future." She doesn't know how he'll react to this, if he'll not find it as open-hearted as it is at face-value. Heather can tell that he grasps the real weight of what she's asking, and then he laughs, nodding.

"How about we just call it a favor, and I owe you one." However, she can see something dark there. Investment, she thinks. Future investment. Term hits something solid with him? And then for no reason at all, she thinks, Two weeks. There's a flutter in her brain that carries with it the sound of a briefcase snapping shut.

It's coming back, Heather thinks, and she can feel that familiar (though always strange) sensation of some kind of charge flowing around her, pressing lightly against her skin and passing by. It's here too. The feeling…stronger, even. She doesn't know what that means, but she decides that it'd be good to keep tabs on it: watch for it, whatever it might show her—ever since landing on this island, it's like she's been on the receiving end of some kind of mental static. This is the first message that came out clearly.

"Sounds good. I'll bring 'em by later today." She nods to him, and continues walking. There is a reason to this abruptness—letting him feel replaceable, or at least not crucial, the same strategy he had tried to use with her. It's about drawing him in and then turning the tables: that is, she might have worked for the good of the world not so long ago, but manipulation is a born skill.

"Hey, so what are you doing now?"

"Fishing." Before the conversation can develops, she leaves. While she never ended up catching lots of fish (like Jin, whom she'd later come to know), she did catch ones that were bigger, and the process was less strenuous. It was also without the risk of stepping on a sea urchin.

Later in the day, after finding a suitable fishing spot, she heads back to the caves with three nicely sized, taking them directly to Sun (earlier she had seen the Korean woman cleaning the fish her husband had caught). What passes then is a rather strange transaction, especially for any bystanders looking on.

First, Heather gives the woman two of the fish, and then motions to one of the cleaned ones fish lying before Sun, in a trade for her last fish. Sun doesn't really understand why the new woman would feel the need to trade it, if she after all did give her two of the three fish for 'free'. She consents however, and Heather seems pleased enough with this.

Jack, talking to Kate, nods toward Sun and Heather, after both of them watched the exchange: "You know who that reminds me of?"

"Who?" Kate asks, but has a feeling she knows what he will say.

"Sawyer. The trading, at least. As if there's some kind of unspoken rule that we aren't here just to help each other, and that you can't get something for nothing."

"Oh, stop it. She's not that bad," Kate rolls her eyes and smiles, but she understands. The woman, Heather, she's playing a different angle than Sawyer, but it's still part of the same game.

"No, she's not." Jack agrees somewhat playfully, but his tone is tired, worn out. Heather leaves Sun, carrying the fish that is now more filet than anything—tail, head, bones, and innards had already been disposed of. She goes through the two other small bags she had brought with her when she found the caves, comes out with three dog-eared paperback novels, putting these into her current backpack. Kate and Jack watch this without saying anything, but Kate can feel Jack sigh deep next to her—new alliances meant more work for him. Heather turns, goes to leave.

"Heather, it's getting dark out there. You might want to stay here in the caves for the night-" She turns to the sound of Jacks voice, an eyebrow arched, body language showing no intention of the sort.

"Yeah, Jack's right. Why don't you stay for now?" Kate offers, watching Heather in a close way that Heather thinks she understands, but doesn't really like.

"Can't, I already told someone that I'd bring them something-"

"Sawyer." Kate asks skeptically, smirking. "Then it can definitely wait."

"I'm not really one to lie," Heather says even-handedly enough, but there's some force to it. Kate's brow furrows, suddenly wondering if Heather knows anything about her, if there's meaning behind what she said. Seeing Jack start to say something, Heather cuts him off. "Oh, don't worry. I know he's using me as a rung step on, to boost his popularity, or position, whatever he thinks it is. My feelings aren't getting hurt." She smiles in a way that is none-too-sweet or naïve. "Honest."

And maybe she thinks she's going to use him, Jack sighs to himself, as the woman heads out into the dusk.

"Sawyer?" She finds him sitting outside his tent, with a small fire burning near his feet.

"Didn't know if you were still coming," He says, looking up from the fire. In one hand Heather can see a half-eaten banana with a peel that is green even in the dim light, feeling more sure of her decision about bringing the fish. "What's that?" Sawyer asks, sneering a bit.

"Fish. If you're interested." She can see this settle over him, though he tries to play it off.

"A woman that keeps her word and brings dinner. I could get to like-"

"Don't push your luck. Figured you were the only person on this island that could manage to stow away a frying pan." Her tone is just curt enough to put him back in his place, make him uneasy. For the first time he's curious of whether she's aware of what he's doing, and is perhaps turning it back on him.

"Ain't no need to be hostile here, missy."

After a few moments, they have set up a make-shift grill, and the fish is sizzling well, has a pleasant aroma. Sawyer watches it with his jaw tight, hungry, while Heather digs the three books out of her bag, hands them to him. They talk easy for a while, and she's almost surprised—she wouldn't have thought that talking easy with such a character would be all too possible. There are times where they lapse into silence, and it isn't a rough, awkward silence—the ocean fills in the necessary background noises.

"So what brought you on that plane?" Sawyer asks. He feels like it's stooping pretty low, almost like asking someone where they're from as a 'get to know you' technique, only a step or two above talking about the weather. He wonders why he bothered once it's out—after all, the return question isn't one he's planned much for.

"Movie producer wanted to talk to me about a journal I wanted to get published. He wanted to make a movie out of it first," She stretches her legs in their loose-fitting blue-jeans, and he knows when someone's avoiding his question, or only answering what they want to.

"What about? Anything interesting?" Heather pauses for a moment, and then shakes her head, giving him a small smile. "Just a stupid documentary on safari life. Apparently that's where the new big trend is going to be, trying to build a more educated America or something." The lie is flawed (More educated America? Come on, that reeks of bullshit.) but Sawyer accepts it, maybe knowing it's a lie. That in itself tells her something about him.

"And you?"

"Businessman," He answers with a smirk, cocking his head to the side. She laughs, pushes sand around with the toes of her boots. "What? Don't believe me?" He manages an air of humor, as if, Yeah I know what you're laughing at, funny world, innit, but she sees through it without effort.

"No, I don't." Heather arches her eyebrows, and he watches her carefully, then shakes his head, letting her know that she can believe what she wants.

"Anyway, it's late, and some of us do need our beauty sleep. You're welcome to sleep in-"

"Nah, I'll stay out here by the fire." A short, very awkward pause elapses.

"Hey look, I wasn't saying-" He begins, trying to save the situation.

"I know. But someone needs to stay outside and guard the sleeping princess, right?" Heather leans back in her lawn-chair, looks up at him with bemusement. He looks back down with a questioning smile—Sawyer can't place her humor or her level of seriousness just yet, doesn't know whether or not it's right to laugh with her. "Night Sawyer." She slides down lower into the lawn chair, crosses her legs at the ankle, and watches the fire.

"Yeah, sure. Sweet dreams." There's a rustle of the tarp flap behind her, and then Heather's alone.