We can live beside the ocean,

Leave the fire behind.

Swim out past the breakers—watch the world die.

Everclear

Chapter Five

The next day Heather heads back out to the same spot, and on her way she is approached by Michael (and Walt, who is tightly grasping the dog Vincent's leash). She stops, smiles warmly—tries not to give the impression as some kind of outsider. Sawyer is by the caves, getting his antibiotic, which explains why isn't striding alongside her, toting a book.

"Hi there!" Michael calls, waving with one hand. The other is grabbing Walt's shoulder, leading him forward.

"Dad, I don't need a babysitter!"

"Hello," Heather says, already understanding.

"Hi, um, I'm going up to the golf range for a game, and I wanted to know if you'd watch my boy, Walt," He asks, bracing himself. She can already see the train of thought this required—he couldn't go to Sun now with the Jin problem (Heather is perceptive, and Sawyer may not be very much of one for gossip, but he's not adverse to putting his own spin on things, and she knows how to more or less weed out the facts), didn't trust Locke, and she was more of a familiar face even in her brief visits to the caves than some of the others. Though he doesn't like asking me because of the rumors about me and Sawyer.

"Yeah, sure. I'm going fishing actually, so he's welcome." Heather throws a smile to Walt, who does not return it, is angry and uncooperative in the way that only children (and she supposed, some grown men) can be. There are fifteen unbearable minutes on the walk there, and Heather gives him silence, waiting for the anger at his father to wear off. Without really speaking, she already feels a certain attraction to Walt, doesn't mind his company. It's not like Sawyer's: being with that man is like smooth sailing with wind in your sails, but always knowing that there are jagged rocks only inches below, ready to scrape out your hull if you get careless. The energy around Walt is calmer somehow—and when Heather thinks about the current that buzzes through everything on the island, is isn't necessarily softer around the boy, but clearer, less overwhelming and more direct.

"Do you like to fish, Walt?"

"Not really."

"Do you like magic?" He looks up at her sharply, gauging her.

"I don't believe in magic," Walt answers, and Heather thinks, Pity, because it seems to believe in you.

"Maybe you don't. Then card tricks?" He still seems apprehensive, but she can tell that the boy is warming to the idea. After all, children and adults alike loved card tricks, didn't they? Picking a spot in the shade, with a small strip of beach further off, Heather motions for him to sit, and he does, already shedding some of his anger. She takes out a deck of cards, which are relatively new (gleaned from the air-craft wreckage), and by the third go around, Walt is leaning forward, anxious, and has forgotten the displacement.

"How do you do it?" The boy asks her, astonished, jaw slightly ajar.

"Magician's don't reveal their secrets." Heather answers with a smirk, and his face falls. "But I've always hated that line. Besides, learning is half the fun." She knows that having something to do with his hands on his own time will make the island more bearable. After showing him a quick overview of the easier tricks, he sits back, playing with the cards, getting a feel for them.

"How did you learn to do this?" He asks, and Vincent is sitting at his side, pauses to sniff at the cards and then go back to panting.

"I used to spend a lot of time on the road—switching village to village in Africa, even. It's something to pass the time, and it always impresses the locals." She laughs lightly, and shuffles a hand through her hair, which is thick and unruly, especially with the constant salt air coming off of the ocean. "Sometimes too much." When Walt looks up, she gives him a wink, and she gets the first true smile out of him that she's seen. It fades quickly, and she is almost startled by the sudden change.

"I'm sorry that my dad pushed me on you."

"Walt, don't talk like that. I enjoy the company, I promise. Besides, who else would I show my card tricks?" He arches his eyebrows and gives her a certain look, and Heather chuckles. "No, I don't think Sawyer would like them." In a small voice, more to herself than to him, she adds, "He only likes what he can touch and hold, and magic isn't one of those things."

After a while they move more towards the ocean, and Heather sets to fishing while Walt practices at the card tricks. When she asks again if he wants to try fishing, Walt agrees, carefully setting down the cards before taking the rod. Not long afterwards, she helps him reel in a large fish, sealing their fast friendship.

Part of it is because of the circumstances, another part because she simply treats him with an openness and respect. Lastly though, and undeniably, there is a spark that exists between them. Something about him reminds her so much of that feeling she had during those rituals (even the first one, the big one), and she swears that she can almost hear the island humming through the child. He's got 'the touch' in her way of explaining it, certainly more than she does, but that they share a bit of it gives them common, unexplainable ground.

Later on, as the island moves from afternoon to early evening, Heather and Walt head back to the caves, Vincent in tow (along with several fish, the biggest of which Walt caught). Michael looks eased by the sight of the boy, immediately stands up from the log he was sitting on. The boy holds up his catch with a triumphant smile, and grins back at her. She tilts her head back and smiles, an action she has subconsciously picked up from Sawyer (something that does not escape Jack or Kate). She tosses Walt the pack of cards, and he looks at it like he's been given treasure.

Heather makes the gesture of asking for one of the cleaned fish from Sun, and Sun smiles and nods. Heather takes it, and heads back towards the beaches. Sawyer is in his usual spot, though seems almost lost in thought. When he spots her, his countenance clears in a way that is like relief, and Heather feels happy intrigue at that.

"Haven't seen you around today," He begins, sounding casual and 'Don't you dare think I was worried' at once.

"Guess you haven't. I was asked to watch Walt for Michael today."

"Babysits and still has time to put food on the table," Sawyer drawls, a familiar jackass grin on his face.

"Bite me," She replies, but not without a smile. Within minutes the fish is cooking, and they're in their usual end of the day places. The smile at the ends of her lips gives her dry humor away, and she adds: "He's better company than some people on this island."

"Ouch," He responds, and then gives Heather a look that is more serious. Licking his lips, he starts, "You know, you could sleep in the tent. There is enough room." She gives a calculating glance, and he shifts his weight, palms open and facing her in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay. Just trying to be hospitable is all. You've only been sleeping out here for days now." He turns stiff legged and feeling put-off for his efforts.

"Wait," Heather stands, takes his wrist. It is well muscled, and her fingers do not easily close around it. "Sure. It's going to rain anyway."

"That's all?" Sawyer asks with a smirk, nodding towards her hand on his wrist, and she lets go without hesitation.

"That's all."