Chapter 3
Sawyer glanced at Kate one more time before he turned away. He felt an icy cold stone fall to the depths of his stomach and he wanted to hit something. He could hear Jack's voice trail away the further they got from each other. As soon as he was sure he was out of earshot of Kate he spun around like lightening and hit the closest tree to him as hard as he could. His fist bounced off the tree as the force vibrated up his arm and into his shoulder and neck. Now he wanted to throw up. That was not a good idea. Growling in pain, and clenching his teeth to hold his last meal in, he turned again but more slowly this time. He leaned his back against the tree he'd hit and slowly sank to the ground. His hand was still in a fist and Sawyer was afraid that if he unclenched it it would hurt more. But he gritted his teeth and relaxed his hand only to find to his amazement that it actually made the pain subside a miniscule amount.
He looked at his knuckles in disgust. They were shredded and bloody. And his arm still carried a stif ache from the impact. He thought he might have sprained his arm. Oh well, he'd dealt with worse before. Using his shirt, he wiped the blood away as much as he could without making the pain too much. Hell, this hurt worse than the damn stab wound had. Of course, he'd blacked out shortly after that, and he most certainly wasn't planning on repeating that just to ease the pain. He wanted the pain, needed it. It was the one this on this damn island that he actually understood.
Saywer stood up a little at a time so as not to send a blood rush down his arm. And, favoring his right hand, he made his way toward camp. Along the way he brushed, or hit his hand at least 5 times, but it felt like 50. As soon as he got back to his "digs", he got out a bottle of water and drank about half, then spent the next half an hour trying to wash out the cuts without making any noise...wouldn't want to attract anyone's attention. When he was finally done he set the bottle aside and leaned back in his chair. He put his hand carefully on the seat next to him and closed his eyes.
When he woke up it was completely dark out. He stood, and walked over to the fire and told Boone to go to sleep, that he'd watch the fire for a while and make sure it didn't go out. Boone hesitated but finally agreed and left. Sawyer sat down on a log and just stared into the flames and thought about what had almost happened. He'd seen the passion in her eyes, the desire. But he'd also seen the hesitation. Wasn't that natural though? He wasn't sure, it had been a long time since he'd encountered anything even close to that situation, and even that hadn't been VERY close.
He watched the flames flicker and send sparks into the night air. He watched them float through the sky and up into the endless black. As he watched them float up and up, he noticed that the sky wasn't so black, it was more of a grayish color, like rain clouds.
"Ah, ." Sawyer muttered only seconds before the rain started pouring. It was no use sitting by the fire now, they'd have to start a new one tomorrow anyway. But Sawyer didn't want to leave and so he just sat. He could feel the rain pelting his skin through his shirt and in seconds he was soaked. His long, blond hair hang down into his eyes and dripped water onto his face. And still he sat there. With his eyes closed. Breathing slowly, evenly. He was listening. As a child he'd always run outside as soon as the rain began and he would listen. Try to isolate each drop as it fell. And sometimes, when he tried really hard, as he was now, it worked. It seemed like he could hear every drop for yards all around him. Every splash in the sand, every plop onto a leaf. It was as if he was with them as they fell. Each and every one of them.
And time slowed down. The rain fell, and he sat there, just listening. The pain in his hand and arm melted away. The pain in his heart and memory was forgotten for the moment as everything shifted around him, everything changed, everything was beautiful.
Slowly, not wanting to come out of his trance-like state, Sawyer opened his eyes. Only a slit at first, then wider. He'd heard something. Not like a footstep, or leaves rustling against anything, but something he hadn't heard in a long time. As each drop fell, he was still with them even though his eyes were open. He knew what it was that he heard. It was the rain, falling on another person. The sound came closer, but he couldn't see it. Not only was it dark out and his eyes hadn't adjusted, but the person was behind him.
As they walked around the side of him, Sawyer stayed perfectly still, staying with the rain as long as possible, staying away from the pain as long as possible. He listened. They walked in a circle to the side and then front of him not 4 feet away. Once they were in front of him the person stopped, just for a second, then walked towards him. He could hear the steps now, and it was the rain's turn to melt away. The person walked toward him with seeming determination. It was a girl, tall, with long legs. She stopped once again at arms length. He could have reached out and touched her easily, but continued still. She ever so slowly knelt down in front of him, putting her even closer.
She just looked at him for about a minute. He wasn't sure if she could tell that he had his eyes open or not. He just looked at her. He knew who it was, he could feel it in his bones. She slowly, inch by inch, reached her arm out toward his face. And this time completed the reach. Her delicate fingers softly, hesitantly caressed his skin through the beginning of a beard. With a fleeting thought he wondered why he hadn't shaved it. But the thought had gone before he could analyse it. All that mattered was her. Her milky, soft, white skin. Her pale blue eyes. Her soaking matted hair. Her beautifully detailed face coming ever closer to his. Ever closer...even slower than her hand had not a minute before.
Then he focused on her eyes, and the stone in his stomach from earlier disappeared, and was replaced by the fire.
