Chapter 3

Sawyer's POV

I open my eyes, prepared to see the jungle around me. Instead, I find with surprise that I'm resting on my bed, by the ocean. Trying to remember how I got here, I see my bandaged arm and I remember. Right after Kate left me, Sayid came running toward me. I had just succeeded in untying myself. We fought. He had a knife…

The artery was severed and I remember thinking I was going to die. Kate suddenly reappeared and I told her I had nothing more to live for since I had already made out with her… Ah, I'm such a jerk.

"You're lucky to be alive."

I turn my head to the right and see her, sitting by my side. She's holding my letter.

"I read it again," she begins. "And then again, because I've been trying to figure out why you beat up Boone instead of just telling him you didn't have his sister's medication. Why you pretended to have it anyway. The thing that I keep coming back around to is that you want to

be hated. Then I looked at the envelope."

She shows me the seal on the envelope flap and reads:

""America's Bicentennial. Knoxville, Tennessee." You were just a kid. Eight. Maybe nine years old. This letter wasn't written to you. You wrote this letter. You're James Ford. Not Sawyer."

So she knows… Somehow I'm relieved and can't help remembering out loud:

"Sawyer was his name. He was a Confidence Man. Romanced my mama to get to the money. Wiped them out clean, left a mess behind. So I wrote that letter. I wrote it knowing one day I'd find him. But that ain't the sad part. When I was nineteen, I needed six grand to pay off these guys I was in trouble with."

I sigh. I'm about to prove her once more what an awful guy I really am. Almost casually, I tell her the whole truth and that surprises me, since I've never told a soul.

"So I found a pretty lady with a dumb husband who had some money. And I got him to give it to me. How's that for a tragedy? I became the man I was hunting. I became "Sawyer"."

I raise my eyes to look at her and I see it in her eyes. Not disgust. No, that would have been too easy. I see pity and that's ten times worse.

"Don't you feel sorry for me," I say through my gritted teeth.

I grab the letter from her and shout:

"Get the hell out! Get out!"

Without a word, Kate stands, but she doesn't have to speak. I know she wishes she could help me. I know she cares for me after all. I almost want to tell her to wait, but instead I let her leave.

Once more, I'm alone.

Kate's POV

After Sawyer had passed out from the wound Sayid had inflicted him, I sat by his side, trying to make sense of the day's events. And suddenly it had occurred to me that the answer was probably in that letter he had shown me earlier. Something must have had escaped me. Delicately, careful not to awaken him, I snuck out the letter.

And then, just like I explained to him earlier, after several readings and closer examination, I realised he had in fact written the letter. That allowed me to understand him a little more. His reaction when he learned about my findings just confirmed my impressions.

I should probably be angry at him for yelling at me like he did, but I'm not. In a strange way, it makes me even more attached to the guy, because I know what he's doing. He's pushing me away, and that's something I know a little about. He's not ready to be James, to drop the Sawyer façade and make himself vulnerable in the eyes of the others. He still thinks he needs to be punished. No need to be Freud to understand that.

So Sawyer and I are both outlaws. He hasn't killed anyone, but life has brought him to do reprehensible things. Does that mean he could ever understand why I did what I did?

I honestly don't know.

Sawyer's POV

I wish we could have reverted to the teasing banter thing we had gotten accustomed to, but after that outburst yesterday in my tent, it's just impossible. Now that she knows that much about me, now that that connection had been made between us, I feel that I actually have to apologise to her. Yep, apologise. I'm not saying it was an easy conclusion for me to get to. It took me a whole day just to get used to the idea of doing such a thing. But whether I like it or not, Kate is important to me. She's the only one who can tolerate me, and that in spite of all I do to push her away. And that's very precious to me.

So, taking advantage of the darkness, I finally decide to go to her and make her understand I'm sorry about kicking her out earlier. Yeah, make her understand. What, you think I'm just going to go to her and say 'sorry'? Come on.

Walking along the beach, I spot her. She's sitting by one of the fires, alone, seemingly deep in her thoughts. Oh, I wish I'd know what she's thinking about. That girl is so mysterious… I wish I could make her talk to me, like the way she seems to be able to talk to Saint Jack. I snort at the thought. That's surely the only thing I can envy this smart-ass doctor.

"Hey there, Freckles! Is this seat taken?" I ask in a cheerful manner that seems completely stupid coming from me. But it has the desired effect.

A little smile appears on her beautiful face and she pats the sand beside her.

"Sit."

I comply and we sit in silence for a moment, staring at the fire. I know she's purposely not speaking, letting me make the first move. I accept that: she doesn't owe me anything.

"So, I see Shannon is still alive. Doc Doolittle did marvels again."

"Sun gave her some eucalyptus."

"Some what? I didn't know there were asparagus here," I say.

Kate looks at me, trying to decide if I'm joking or not.

"Forget it," she finally says, amused. "So, how's your arm?"

"Not too bad considering I could've died," I reply, sending an accusing look at Sayid who's standing not that far from us.

"You should be thankful to Jack."

"The Doc? He'd just feel too guilty if I died under his care."

She rolls her eyes but adds nothing. My cue to tell her why I'm really here.

"That was very sneaky of you, taking that letter, Sweet Cheeks."

She looks down.

"Sorry."

I'm that good. I'm the one being a jerk and she's the one who apologises. I have a gift, I'm telling you.

"No need to be, Puddin'. I showed it to you first, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did…" she says in a low voice.

Probably not her best memory of me.

"As you probably guessed, it's not my favourite thing to talk about. So just don't do it again and I'll forgive you, okay?"

She chuckles, seeing right through me. But she nods nonetheless.

"Okay."

She then stares at the fire for a moment. I can see there is something she wants to say. My turn to wait.

"James…" she suddenly begins, but immediately she recognises her mistake.

I feel like I've just been shot.

"Don't ever call me that!" I say, my voice low and dangerous, sending her a threatening look that would have caused anybody else to just get up and leave.

But not her. She just stares at me sadly for a moment and I'm the one who looks away. What she wants to say must be real important to her, because she tries again:

"Sawyer, if you ever want to talk... I… I did some awful things too. I don't judge you, you know."

Even though I'm kind of touched by her offer and certainly intrigued as to what she could have done, I say curtly:

"You don't know the half of it, Freckles. And believe me, if you did, you'd never ever lay your eyes on my again."

"I doubt it," she whispers dejectedly.

"I killed a man," I say before I can't stop myself. Now that's it, she's going to get up and go cuddle with Jack.

But, to my surprise, she looks down again and sighs. Then her eyes find mine.

"Me too."

She pauses a few seconds and then adds:

"I was the one being escorted by the marshal on the plane."

We stare at each other for a few seconds before both reporting our attention on the fire. What we just admitted to one another was huge, so difficult that we can't add another word about it.

I finally just lie down on my back, and, desperate to change the subject, I point at the stars.

"Look. We can see Orion."

"See what? I'm not very familiar with constellations."

I motion to her to lie down, too, and I get closer to her. For long minutes I just tell her about the sky above us, not even thinking about making some kind of move like I usually would in these conditions.

We're actually having a civilized conversation and I certainly don't want to ruin it. At some point I ask her a question, but she doesn't answer.

She's asleep.

I smile and let sleep take me, too.

Sawyer's POV

When I wake up, she's gone. I can't help but being disappointed, although I know it's for the best. It would probably have been awkward and I would have said something totally stupid. I sit down, wondering if Kate really told me she had killed someone or if it had been a dream.

'No dream,' I confirm to myself, patting my shirt to find a much needed cigarette. The questions this little piece of information raises, the implications it has, just makes my head spin. And I don't feel like thinking things through right now.

Growing irritated by the fact that I don't have any of those precious cigarettes with me, I get up and head back to my dear beach house. I'm almost there when I see Saint Jack coming towards me.

"Hey, Sawyer, did you give the gun back to Kate yet?"

"What?" I reply coldly.

"She told me she would ask you to give it back to me."

He seems to misinterpret my surprise for incomprehension, so he explains:

"The gun you took from the marshal and killed a polar bear with. It would be best if you gave it back to me. I'll get it locked up inside the Halliburton case with the others."

No way in hell I'm giving anything to that guy, and certainly not after what he just told me. Through gritted teeth, I answer:

"Forget it, Doc."

And, forgetting my urge to smoke, I walk away to find Kate.

Kate's POV

I left while he was still sleeping, uneasy about waking up near to him after our talk last night, and headed to the jungle to pick up some fruits. But as I fill my bag, sitting on a tree's branch, I can't think about anything other than him.

Ever since we've crashed here, I've thought Jack would be the one that I would talk to about my crime. He already knows I was the prisoner on the fateful flight 815, but he doesn't know I'm a killer.

Unexpectedly, it turned out that Sawyer was the one I confessed to. I reached out to him by telling him what I did. I never imagined he would admit being a killer himself. I stare at an orange I'm holding, wandering how I feel about this. Even without knowing the details of what he did, the fact is that I can't blame him for his actions. I'm getting to know him pretty well, and I've decided he was a good man after all. A good man who's done awful things. I cringe. How can I forgive him so easily, when I can't even forgive myself? And what does Sawyer think of me now? My admission didn't seem to be a bother him last night, but who knows what he'll say about it this morning?

I suddenly hear noise in the bushes, pulling me out of my reverie. I hold my breath. You never know what's going to pop up on this island. To my relief, it's only Sawyer.

I smile to him, but I quickly realise he's not in a good mood.

"So that's why you acted like all was good between us, huh?" he begins angrily, leaving me totally bewildered.

"What?"

He replies with a question.

"Aren't you tired of being the doc's little errand girl?"

Ah, so that's what it's about. A few days ago I told Jack I'd ask Sawyer to give back the gun he had found, knowing all too well he would say no if Jack was the one who'd ask. But with everything that happened lately, I just forgot.

"Jack asked you about the gun?" I wonder as I make my way down the tree.

"You're damn right he did. Must have thought your little manipulation of me wasn't going fast enough."

"I'm not manipulating you, Sawyer," I protest.

"Oh, yes, you are. Because that's what you do, cupcake. You're a professional at it."

I freeze and he goes on:

"You know what, pumpkin? I think your doctor boyfriend has known for a long time about what you've supposedly confessed to me last night."

"No, he hasn't," I state firmly.

But he won't hear it.

"Of course you told this a-"

"Why do you hate Jack so much?" I interrupt him.

He stares at me with fierce eyes.

"Because you think he's so better than we are."

"Isn't he?"

"Our actions don't define who we are, sweetheart. Your Jack, if he had been through what we've been through, would have done the same thing we did. The difference between us ain't that big."

"That's a strange thing to hear from you, the man who's taken the name of the man he despises most to punish himself for what he's done," I can't resist saying.

I think Sawyer is either going to explode or hit me, so I immediately go on:

"Why do you care what I think of him?"

He briefly looks down before holding my gaze again.

"I don't."

I easily can tell he's lying.

"Yes, you do."

"Alright, maybe I do!" he shouts impatiently.

"Liking him doesn't mean I can't like you, too," I say in a softer voice.

He shakes his head in disbelief and a hurt smile appears on his face.

"Like him? You're in love with him, Freckles!"

I don't know what comes over me, but I say:

"Jack is not the one I'm falling for, Sawyer."

He's taken aback and just stares at me, unable to say anything. I go on:

"I used to think that being with someone like Jack, finding someone like him to forgive me, would allow me to believe I'm not such a bad person after all. I've been trying to convince myself I had feelings for him. But I'm not so sure anymore this is the way to go."

He looks at me intensely and again, at this moment, he's putting up no façade. We both know what I just admitted. He takes a step toward me, hesitantly, but I take one back. I'm not ready for this.

"But if I let myself fall for you, Sawyer, it would mean I can love someone despite what they did before. That would mean I could forgive myself, too."

He nods slowly. In a low voice, he states:

"And if I fell for you that would mean I could be… James."

We gaze at each other for a long second before looking down, knowing we have our demons to fight before we could be together. I'm not even sure we're ready to fight them.

I walk past him, heading back to camp, and he doesn't do anything to stop me.