"I want to take you far
from the cynics in this town and kiss you on the mouth.
We'll cut our bodies
free from the tethers of this scene,
Start a brand new
colony, where everything will change—
We'll give ourselves
new names."
The Postal Service
"Didn't know if you were coming," Sawyer greets her, and she can see that he doesn't have the will to put up a cocky attitude about it, with the stress of just being ready to leave. Instead, he looks relieved, glad even, and the color is high on Heather's cheeks from running back from the caves, afraid she might end up missing him. She stops a few feet in front of the man, who had stepped away from the raft as she approached at a jog.
"Well here I am," She is slightly out of breath, but she is smiling.
"Decided you're better off without me?" He asks with a dry humor, arching an eye at her smile. "Happy to see me go after all?"
"Neither. I brought you a present." At this the man's eyes light up, appealing to his insatiable curiosity.
"Really now?" His voice betrays any calm collectedness, and she can hear the giddiness of getting ready to leave it in. It hurts to know that he's excited about leaving, but she still pulls a bag from behind her, along with Hurley's CD player. Sawyer's eyes immediately fall. "Hun, this thing's been dead for a while. I saw the fat guy trying to fix it, but the batteries are dead, and I'm not taking any of the few batteries out on the ocean-"
"Hush and listen." From the bag Heather removes a plastic, black square that is about the size of a Rubik's cube. "I once had a friend who worked for a solar energy company. We were old buddies, and I met up with her in one of my infrequent encounters with western civilization in South Africa." She unfolded the cube, which laid out wing-like structures that stretched a good foot and a half across. Dangling from this was a cord, and at the end of it, encased, rechargeable batteries. "See? You'll be out in the sun a lot, and you can just open this for a while, and then you can get some music. I got this for a great deal, but it still cut a major hole in my expenses."
"That supposed to mean that I owe you?"
"No, that's supposed to mean that if you drop this in the ocean, I will swim out and find you, and then kick your southern ass." Her tone is amiable, and she turns to put this back into the bag, "I also brought you some of the CDs I found lying around the is-"
Heather doesn't get to finish her sentence because Sawyer has gruffly pulled her to him, and firmly pressed his lips against hers. She is shocked at first, but warms to the brief, hard kiss. When he releases her (hands at her waist) she can still feel the scratch of stubble across her lips and cheeks.
"I don't have to go," He tells her, and his voice is low, brutal, needing. "Just tell me not to. Tell me to stay with you, because I don't have to go." Her eyes water, and she blinks away tears—usually she can control them, but this is testing her.
God damn you Sawyer, she thinks, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. Why couldn't you have decided this earlier? Heather stands on her toes, wraps her arms around his neck, holds him to her.
"Yes you do." His body tenses, and she kneads softly at the back of his neck. "You've got to go and sort yourself out. If you stay, you'll resent yourself and me for going back on your word. You've got some thinking to do, that you can't do with me around." She pulls back enough to where she can look into his eyes, which are a brilliant blue in perfect reflection of the ocean and the sky. "Besides," And against her will, the tears start down her cheeks, and she struggles to continue smiling in jest. "Besides, how else will the rescue-team know what a jackass we've had to put up with all this time?"
Sawyer chokes a laugh, which comes out tight and squeezed from the pressure in his throat. He's finding himself blinking back tears, but tries not to make it too obvious.
"Watch out for Walt for me, will you?"
"Of course." She expects him to throw in a joke, but he doesn't—maybe can't. They squeeze each other tighter, and then it's time for the raft to be launched. Sawyer kisses the crown of her forehead like she remembered from the morning after Boone died—and then turns, wiping his eyes none-too-gently with the palms of his hands, boards the raft.
- - -
Later, after she can no longer see the raft on the horizon, only a few watchers are left. Heather has her arms folded across her chest, and finally hangs her head, turns to leave, when an older black woman comes up to her. She doesn't know who the woman is, but she seems serene enough, with a strangely mysterious (and content) smile on her face.
"Did he tell you he loved you?" Heather looks the woman over, wonders what kind of question that is, and then decides that it's harmless enough. Besides, it's one she needs to answer for herself anyway, isn't it?
"Yes. I think he did."