"You see you'd love to run home, but you know you ain't got one
Cause you're living in a world that you're best forgotten around here."
Goo Goo Dolls

Chapter Fifteen

"I can't believe it," Boone says to Shannon, as they both watch Heather and Sawyer running back and forth along the beach, chasing each other in the blood orange light of a setting sun. "Who'd have thought that guy had a playful side, that didn't involve harassing someone else?" Sawyer takes a particularly quick turn, with a push, sends Heather careening on her backside into the water.

There is a shriek of laughter that carries even over the waves, and Sawyer quickly dodges back away from her, and Boone knows there has to be other people watching this—even from this distance he can see Sawyer actually smiling. Shannon doesn't respond, turns her nose up on the scene as Heather rushes at Sawyer and he simply opens his arms, catches her.

"Strange, don't you think?"

"I really don't think about them at all, thanks." Shannon's reply is as superior as ever and Boone sighs, sucks the inside of his teeth in irritation. They sit in silence for a moment, but when he starts to stand, she stops him with a hand on his arm. "Do you think… do you think she knows something about the island that we don't, Boone?" Boone is almost shocked by the depth of her question, looks back to the woman out over the beach, now that she and Sawyer are in embraced in a rather passionate kiss. He doesn't know the answer, but he knows what she did for Walt, and it's unsettling to think of.

"No." He finally answers, voice serious. Turning back to Shannon however, there is a grin on his face. "Because if she knew something about this island, then she'd already know that Sawyer's an asshole." Shannon doesn't look like she's going to laugh at this, but then she does crack a smile, leans her head into her step-brother's shoulder.

- - -

And for a while, things are good. Even when the rest of the island seems to be chaotic, things are good. Claire disappears, and Charlie watches Sawyer and Heather with such spite that they may as well have been the ones that dragged her off. Claire reappears not too long afterwards, and for all that Sawyer and Heather react, they've been too drawn into each other to care all so much. There are still games of tag and roughhousing on the beach, though they have seemed to settle more.

On one afternoon they are sitting outside of Sawyers tent, he's reading and so is she, though with markedly less interest than him. Suddenly her body goes cold, and the book she has been struggling to keep her eyes on falls into her lap. Sawyer looks up at her over his own book, brow furrowed at the blank, and then terrified look on her face.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"Yes." Heather answers, eyes wide. It feels like someone has dumped ice water over her body even though it can't be less than 90 degrees, even in the shade. She shivers, and Sawyer's concern deepens, he gets to his feet. "Someone's hurt." Sawyer doesn't like her little premonitions, partly because they're just plain creepy, and partly because he's afraid one day she'll guess about his past. They had died down for a while, though she and Walt could still communicate in complex, non-verbal ways (and she visited Walt everyday, without fail—rain or shine).

Heather looks up sharply, as if someone had called out.

A second later, Kate shouts: "Sawyer! Sawyer!" Then the other woman is there, and Heather gets to her feet (shaking). "I need your alcohol. Now!" Sawyer complies, but Heather can't move to help, feels rooted to her spot. Kate tells them that Boone was hurt while out with Locke, and this seems to break some of the spell on Heather, who turns to listen.

"Can I do anything?" Sawyer asks, following Kate a little ways.

"Too many cooks," Kate responds, but by the time Sawyer turns back, Heather is gone—tearing through the jungle towards the caves, though a different route than Kate (laden with bottles) is taking.

When Heather approaches the chaos at the caves, those 'on guard' outside of the familiar make-shift medical curtain take one look at her, and let her through. She feels like her bones have turned to ice, and her skin shivers heavy under a pelt of goose-bumps. Walt is nearby, in the back of her mind somewhere, and she closes off her thoughts to him (as best she can). Upon seeing Boone stretched out and covered in blood, Heather takes a step back, stifles a short gasp by clapping a hand to her mouth.

Jack and Sun look up at her at once, but what Heather is seeing is not cuts and scrapes. She is not speaking, but her mouth is forming a continuous line of words, as her eyes roll whites in her skull. Sun approaches her, hands outstretched in a careful gesture, but Heather falls back, crying out.

"What is it?" Jack shouts at her, eyes going frantically from her to Boone—he doesn't have time to play games. "WHAT IS IT?"

"Theresa falls up the stairs, Theresa falls down the stairs-" It's nothing but gibberish to Jack and Sun, but the frantic, hysterical pace to it is unsettling. There is something dangerous, crazed in her eyes, and Jack can quickly tell that there won't be any miracles from her tonight—the woman is still far too unstable from saving Walt, and she's not in her right mind.

"Someone! Michael! Get her out of here!" Michael appears from around the screen, and with Sun's help, lifts Heather (who is not struggling, but shivering almost violently enough to be convulsing, in a way that reminds Jack all too much of when they pulled her and Walt apart).

Outside, a blanket is wrapped around her and she is left by the fire. Feeling obligation to help her (probably simply because of what she did for his son) Michael watches over her. Walt comes alongside of him, instinctively goes to see if Heather is all right.

"Don't," Heather growls, and it's a tone that is so severe that Walt does stop in his traces—Michael sits up straighter, none too happy about this. "Don't let your boy touch me Michael. He doesn't need to see it."

"See what?" Regardless, upset, he pulls Walt too him, who is looking a cross between curiously defiant and hurt. Heather turns to look at him, and he can see that her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, even though they look dry enough.

"Keep him away from Locke." With that she rises, shrugs off the blanket, and picks her way (footing not quite sure) into the jungle. No one tries to stop her, though there are plenty of eyes on her. Untouchable, she thinks. Pariah.

As she leaves the fire behind, she dares the island to come to her, face to face.