Author's Note: The rating has again been raised to M, because the cussing only gets more frequent after this point, lol.

"Sink your teeth right through my bones, baby.
Let's see what we can do."
John Melloncamp

Chapter Seven

Heather returns around late afternoon—having left without her gear, she doesn't bring back anything to eat. She's spent the entire morning and afternoon thinking about what happened between them, and has come to a conclusion. The mind games need to end, and they both need to come clean about their intentions. Of course, that sounds nice if you're talking to someone who thinks straight-forwardly, not someone who deals in back alleys and hoarding holes and picking dead bodies. Some of which you're guilty of yourself, so you can't put it all on him.

"Sawyer?" She calls, not seeing him at his usual spot outside his tent, reading a book. There are voices inside the tent, and after calling a couple more times (and hearing laughter) she pulls back the tarp. Kate and Sawyer (albeit in very non-compromising positions) are hunched inside, and by Kate's bag, Heather assumes that she's come to try to get something out of him. Immediately the talking stops, and that's when Heather's suspicions rise.

"I should go," Kate says quietly gathering her things. Why? Heather automatically thinks. After all, what does she care if they two are talking with each other? But Kate is giving her glances like she's afraid she'll be attacked—Heather spins on Sawyer.

"So what the fuck did you tell her?" Kate hurries out of the opening in the tent, and now Heather is standing straight, Sawyer crouched inside. "What did you tell her about us?"

"What the hell are you talking about, 'us'?" Sawyer responds, standing himself (a good head over her).

"That's what you're doing, isn't it? You're implying that there's something between us, so that you can make Kate jealous? Is that it?"

"'Implying'? Kind of a weak word after this morning-"

"Fuck you! You don't even know what you want! You want to be close to someone, and you want to pretend you're not at the same time—it's like, like highschool!" Sawyer starts, and Heather already knows that it's going to be something slick, something infuriating. "Don't even. Just don't." She begins to gather her things, shoving them into her backpack as she goes. Sawyer watches with his mouth open, angry and belligerent at her for making him own up to his own game.

"Look, Heather, you don't have to go-" He undoubtedly sees this as an incredibly grateful extension of courtesy, but Heather is in no mood for giving half a damn. If he wants to treat her like she's fifteen, then fine—she will not, however, be used as leverage, drawing anyone else into the business.

"Fuck you."

"Well you know, you can kiss my ass! Just because you're jealous of Kate-" His words cut short when she swings her heavy backpack into his gut with all her force. As he doubles over, she leans down into his face, and her words are a hiss of rage.

"You try too hard, asshole. And it was stupid."

He shouts obscenities at her as she leaves; Heather is nearly jogging, heading directly for the caves.

- - -

"John, you going hunting?" Heather's face is flushed, but she is not panting, her eyes are bright, intense. It does appear that this is the case—his knives are out, looks as if he's finishing up packing them back.

"Actually yes, why?" As he looks up though, he sees the anger that has control of her, and drops the question—he more or less can guess the answer.

"Heather? What are you doing up here?" Jack asks, and Heather can see Kate behind him, watching her carefully. She's told him that Sawyer and I have had a falling out, or something, Heather thinks, adding insult to injury. Why do they have to be in her business? Why does Sawyer have to make it so damn easy for them to be? At the look of utter contempt she gives him (and the rest of the world, at this point), his jaw drops slightly—but he recovers quickly. "What's wrong?"

"She's going to be hunting with me today," Locke interjects. Heather is grateful for it, for his understanding that she doesn't feel like broadcasting her personal issues. Jack looks from her to Locke and back again.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. It's dangerous and-" Heather reaches one hand behind her and in one liquid motion, draws a knife from Locke's belt and sends it flying through the air. Within the second, the hilt is protruding from a knot on a nearby tree—blade sunk deep into the wood there. There are things one learns after a few rough years of outdoors living.

There is silence for a few moments, and then Kate steps forward, walks almost all the way up to her.

"I'm sorry," She's looking at the ground, and Heather sighs, letting her muscles loosen somewhat.

"Don't be Kate. I'm not angry with you, which is why I'm not going to let him use me against you, or whatever he's trying to do." She meets Heather's eyes, and in that moment Heather is closer to her.

"Can I talk you out of going hunting though? Maybe you should cool down first."

"No. I'm killing a pig tonight one way or another," Heather manages a bit of wry humor from her rage, and Kate smiles, sad but understanding.

"Okay then."