Chapter Three

"Dammit!" Sawyer shouted, throwing a shirt aside. "Dammit! Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

Sawyer's heart leapt. He turned, and felt relieved when it was only Kate.

"Well if it isn't the island girl herself?" Sawyer asked, recovering. "Off duty and down from the throne?"

Kate rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Don't change the subject," she said, pushing a stray strand of hair behind an ear cooly, "what were you looking for?"

"A lighter," Sawyer lied, "guess I 'misplaced' it."

"Don't lie," Kate warned, seeing right through him.

Sawyer didn't answer, and went back to his search. Kate watched him, beginning to figure out what was going on.

"It's that letter isn't it?" Kate realized softly.

Sawyer stopped and slowly turned around.

"Aren't you the Sherlock?" He said, trying to cover up his surprise.

"How long has it been missing?" Kate asked.

"Why do you care?" Sawyer shot back at her.

"That letter means something to you," Kate said, searching his eyes, "you wouldn't of just left it somewhere."

"Stop putting on the concerned citizen act and get out of here," Sawyer said, not caring how rude he sounded.

"Some people actually do care about others here, Sawyer," Kate replied.

Sawyer tilted his head, cracking his jaw.

"Fine then," he said, bringing his head upright, "if you really want to know, it fell out of my pocket."

"Smart," Kate said under her breath.

"What was that?' Sawyer said, catching it.

"Let me help you look for it," Kate offered.

"Why the hell would you want to do something for me?"

"Because I know what will happen if someone reads that letter and gets the wrong picture," said Kate, "and let's face it, I get around here better than you do. People aren't going to answer to you going through their stuff."

"Fine," Sawyer said, not really caring what she did, "do what you want. Look for the damn letter.

Kate nodded.

"I will."

She began to walk off back to the caves but stopped after a few feet.

"Oh, and Sawyer," she said, trying to catch his attention.

Sawyer pretended to ignore her.

"The act doesn't by me."

She threw Sawyer a smile, perking up the edges of her lips, giving her a mysterious, yet calming demeanor. With a swift graceful turn, Kate walked off. Sawyer put down the bag he was holding, and looked after her as she left, not being able but to help to wonder if she was serious. Would she really help him? He was of his ability to pull through life himselfs, the downs, going even further down, and then climbing back up, slowly but surely, only to be pushed back down. Still, it'd be nice to, for once, have someone offer to help. Someone who wouldn't push him back down.

Boone had never been in so much pain in his life. He was unable to open his eyes for a time being, and they had never felt so heavy. His head pounded, his face was in stinging pain, and his chest felt closed up. He was trapped between what seemed like life and death, and he could do nothing but remember..

It was eight-thirty. He hadn't seen or heard from Shannon since two that afternoon, after their fight and her throwing him out. Boone was on his cell phone, pacing the small hotel room he had rented.

"Come on Shannon, come on Shannon!" He repeated as he tried her phone over and over again.

The idea of Shannon getting hurt had haunted him all afternoon, and Boone knew that was what she was destined for if he could get a hold of her.

A voicemail came on for what seemed like the dozenth time that afternoon. Furious, Boone hung up, throwing the phone down hard on the bed. He sat down on the edge, elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. What was he going to do? A knock at the door drove him out of his worries, and his heart began racing. Praying it was his sister, Boone answered. It wasn't. His face fell, and Boone could feel a knot developing in his stomach. At the door stood Rodney Foster, a close friend of his who volunteered to look on the guy Shannon was seeing.

"What?" Boone asked as Rodney entered hastily. "Did you find her?"

Rodney ran his right hand through his hair, which was slightly longer than Boone's, relucant to answer. No one wanted to be the messenger.

"What?" Boone repeated, staring at his friend with an intense fear.

"Andy Fishel has a night shift at the bar on fourth street starting at eight," he began.

Rodney hesitated before speaking again, but finally gave up as Boone stared him down, his eyes fully of worry.

"And?" Boone said impatiently.

"And he never showed up," Rodney finished.

Boone's eyes widened in horror.

"Sorry man-"

Boone shoved past him.

"Wait!" Rodney shouted after him. "Where are you going?"

Boone didn't answer as he ran out of the hotel..

Life slowly began to come back to him as he tried opening his eyes. On the third try, his vision wavered.

"Try blinking," a familiar voice advised.

Not being able to pinpoint exactly who it was, Boone obeyed, and his vision soon cleared. Jack was standing over him.

"How do you feel?" Jack asked rhetorically.

He had already known the answer.

"Like hell," Boone muttered, confirming Jack's thoughts.

"Yeah, well you're lucky to be alive," Jack told him.

"Shannon..?" Boone began to asked.

The last thing he remembered was telling Jack and Sayid he saw someone on the beach. He couldn't even remember if Shannon was there or not, and if something had happened to her..

"She's fine," said Jack.

Boone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Asleep," Jack added, "but fine."

His eyes followed Jack's to the corner, where Shannon sat against the cave wall, head rested in her hand. She would've died had she known anyone saw her sleeping like that. Shannon was the kind of girl who did her hair even before going to bed, in decorative but not too cheesy housecoat and matching slippers; all complete with silky pajamas worth thirty bucks. Boone smiled a little at the thought of Shannon trying to force herself to stay awake. She looked so peaceful, sleeping their in the corner.

"What time is it?"

"Twelve thirty," Jack answered, "give or take an hour."

"Great," Boone muttered. "So I was really attacked?"

"Gored's more like it," said Jack, "remember anything?"

"No," Boone answered, feeling helpless.

He had been in his fair share of fights before, hell, even blacked out a few times, but he had always remembered what happened.

"There's a search party going out to look for Claire in the morning," Jack said, "you shouldn't go."

"No," Boone said immediatly in protest, "I'm going."

"No, you really shouldn't-"

"I'm going Jack," Boone said, overriding him, "they need all the help they can get."

There's was no way that Jack could overrule Boone. He wasn't his father or even the local cop. All Jack could do was advise him the best he could, and if Boone didn't listen, so be it. Or at least that's how one thought on three hours of sleep.

"Just be careful," Jack advised, "but really, you shouldn't-"

"I'm going," Boone said in a dead serious voice.

Traveling around the island with Locke, Boone figured he knew the island better than anyone that would be going. Jack said nothing as he left to tell Shannon Boone was awake.