Death was like a long, dark tunnel. Sawyer had seen this portrayed in movies, but would never have imagined the uncanny accuracy.

It was pitch black, he couldn't see a thing, but he kept moving anyway, because it just seemed like standing still wasn't an option. At least he thought he was moving. It was hard to tell due to the gloom (understatement of the month).

At this time, he recalled another movie he had once seen as a teenager, in which a dying man's friends had begged him not to go towards the light.

Well, there was definitely no light. Did that mean..?

Suddenly, it seemed as though his entire surroundings (or lack thereof) were shrinking away from him, stretching away into the distance, as if he was being pulled away by an invisible rope around his middle.

He was plummeting through the darkness, no idea if he would ever stop.

And then, he slammed back down to earth. His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt-upright, pulling in huge, raspy gasps of breath. He didn't even notice his forehead smack into something as he sat up, the relief of the cool air was so great.

Jack breathed an enormous sigh of relief, rubbing the sore, pink spot on his forehead as he did so. Standing up, he wiped the sweat off his face. Sawyer was still gasping for breath, so he waited patiently for him to finish.

And then Jack began to laugh. Laugh at the immense wave of relief washing over him. He knew it probably looked wildly inappropriate, but he just couldn't help himself. It was the sort of laughter used when words could not express the extreme happiness you were feeling.

And although he would not say it out loud, the happiness was not in light of saving Sawyer's life. It was no secret that Sawyer and himself weren't about to adopt each other as brothers, and that rule still applied here. He hadn't wanted to see him die, but he hadn't necessarily wanted to save him, either.

Because when it came down to it, Jack realized that it wasn't Sawyer he'd been trying to save, it was himself. His reputation, status, credit as a doctor. If he let one patient die, it would jinx the rest, no matter who it was. Jack felt awful thinking it, selfish even, but he made sure the triumphant smile never left his face.

"You're a lucky man, Sawyer." Jack said, as Sawyer's breathing was beginning to return to as close to normal as can be expected after such an ordeal. "A lucky, lucky man."

Sawyer didn't reply, partly due to shock, and partly due to breathlessness.

"Here." Jack said, picking up some thick, woolen blankets to give to Sawyer. "Keep warm. You'll be in shock for a few hours, I suggest you get some rest," He knelt down to give him the blankets, adding in a low voice so that only Sawyer could hear. "Then we'll talk."

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Boone tore through the jungle in the direction he had heard the scream. Correction, where he had thought he'd heard the scream. There were so many echoes in the jungle; you could never tell for sure where a noise was coming from. He would just have to cross his fingers and hope that he was running in the right direction.

"Shannon!" He called as he sprinted through the undergrowth, nearly tripping over a fallen branch. "Shannon, where are you?"

"Help!" Came the faint, choked cry from somewhere up ahead. At least now he knew that he was going the right way.

He had grown used to the rain, wind, thunder and lightning, but the droplets were still pounding against his face as he ran, the ground was still a sloppy swamp of quicksand-like mud, and the fact still remained that if he wasn't careful, he and Shannon could end up like Sawyer.

He wondered briefly if Sawyer was still alive, but brushed it off almost instantly. There were much more pressing matters at hand.

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Sawyer sat by the fire, huddled up in the blankets Jack had given him. His breathing was sharp and shallow, and he'd had to stop himself twice now when he'd started to hyperventilate.

He hadn't bothered to get his shirt back from Jack, but he wished he had, now. Even right beside the fire, wrapped up in a couple of layers of thick wool, it was really cold.

"Feeling better?" A friendly voice asked.

"What do you think?" He replied bitterly.

"Right." Charlie said, boldly plopping himself down beside Sawyer. "I guess it's a bit soon for that."

"Whaddya want, Ringo?" Sawyer asked rudely. He wished he had a cigarette. Or better still, a whole pack of cigarettes.

"I'm here to give you some company." Charlie replied enthusiastically, undeterred by Sawyer's rudeness. "Thought you might be lonely."

"I'm always lonely, Chuckles." Sawyer said, a faint tough of regret seeping through in his voice. "Always have been, always will. Get used to it."

Charlie blinked, a little stunned by Sawyer's confession, but still, he pressed on.

"But… you don't have to be lonely."

"Its how I choose to live my life." Sawyer replied simply.

Charlie was silent for a few seconds as he took this in.

"Being lonely all the time…" He thought aloud. "It must be really… well, lonely."

Sawyer offered a small grin and me his gaze for the first time since Charlie had come to sit with him.

"No shit." He replied.

Charlie began to stand up.

"But if you really want me to leave…" He trailed off.

"No!" Sawyer blurted out before he could stop himself, and turned a delicate shade of pink. "I mean, y'know… it's a free island." He mumbled. "Do whatever you want."

"Actually," Jack had emerged from the crowd and started walking over to them. "If you don't mind, Charlie, I'd like to have a word with Sawyer."

"Oh." Charlie said, deflated a little. "Uh, sure." He turned and stalked off, upset that he had been stopped when he was so close to cheering Sawyer up.

Jack crossed his legs, taking Charlie's place beside the fire.

"I appreciate you losing the smurf," Sawyer began. "But I guess you're gonna talk to me now, huh?"

"You just got hit by lightning, after narrowly escaping it the first time." Jack said, ignoring Sawyer's remark.

"You know, Doc, I think that breakthrough may just put you up for a Nobel Prize-" Sawyer said, his voice dripping sarcasm as usual.

"I want to know why." Jack cut him off. "The lightning didn't get near anyone else. Why you?"

"You're the doctor." Sawyer replied, purposely being as unhelpful as possible. "You tell me."

"Part of my job as a doctor is to ask you what you know." Jack answered calmly, unabashed.

"Well, you're wastin' your time, Doc." Said Sawyer, turning away from him. "I ain't got nothing on it."

As he turned, something around his neck caught in the firelight, drawing Jack's attention as it shone.

"What's that?" He inquired.

"What?"

"Around your neck."

Sawyer caught sight of the copper chain around his neck.

"Won it in a crab race." He replied. "What's it to you?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Sawyer!" Jack held his head in his hands. "Copper? In a lightning storm? I never thought anyone, not even you could be that stupid!"

Sawyer didn't say anything. He wasn't used to being insulted, to his face, anyway, and least of all by the good doctor.

But he heard what he was saying. He hadn't remembered the chain that he had won this morning until just now, and he would never admit it, but he felt stupid.

Jack got up and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief, and Sawyer stared after him.

It had been a big day, especially for him, and all Sawyer wanted to do was sleep. So, rearranging his blankets so they were under him as well as on top, he lay down in front of the fire, and did just that.