A/N: Postin' in a hurry so if I skipped a typo or something, yeah. Again, thanks for sticking with the story! This chapter's kind of dull, granted it's a load of walking through the jungle. But... Bear with me! I do have an eventual point ;)
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Sawyer grumpily pushed aside a particularly low branch as he reminded himself for the dozenth time that morning how bad an idea this was. The weather had gone from being slightly cold to uncomfortably humid in a manner of hours, which had forced Sawyer into walking even slower than he was at first. The thick air not only made it harder to breathe but it also seemed to bother his shoulder wound. It hadn't needed bandaging for a day now but the raw skin was annoyingly itchy and Sawyer had to keep fighting to urge to scratch it down to the bone. Jack had informed him that the discomfort was a sign of healing, but Sawyer almost preferred the old fashioned pain.
He'd probably been walking for close to three hours now, but it hadn't gotten him too far. He tired easily and had to rest every few minutes. And it didn't help that the search party had picked the toughest trail to follow, straight through the thickest and wildest section of the jungle.
Sawyer found himself wondering once more exactly why he was doing this. He refused to admit that even a small part of him was remotely worried about Michael and wanted to pitch in with finding him and his boy. Instead, he blamed his fueled will on the simple act of revenge; he wanted the satisfaction of getting his hands on the assholes who'd shot him and he planned on enjoying every moment of bashing their faces in (though, granted, it would probably cause him more pain than pleasure in his given situation, but that was besides the point.)
His thoughts turned to Kate, which was not surprising given the fact that she invaded his mind a lot lately.
He wondered if someone had let her out of the storage yet. More so, he hoped someone had. On the off-chance that she was still locked in there, Sawyer found himself suddenly wondering if it was possible to suffocate in that room? He quickly reasoned himself out of that idea, though it was hard to keep it from lingering in the back of his mind. To ease his worry (not that he was worried, of course), he reminded himself that there was food left in the boxes they kept there, should Kate have gotten hungry.
But what about water? Damn it, he should have left her some. People could live longer without food than water, right?
Quit bein' stupid, again Sawyer found himself screaming at himself within his head. Kate was probably safely out and about by now. Someone was bound to have been down to the hatch to push the damned button, and Kate likely hadn't taken to her imprisonment quietly so her presence there would have been made known instantly. There was no way she was still stuck in there.
Which brought him to another nagging question; what was she up to now? Probably pacing the camp thinking up of painful ways to kick his ass when (if, his mind corrected) he returned. Sawyer smirked at the thought.
Another small and almost wishful part of him wondered if she was possibly coming after him? Sawyer mentally kicked himself the moment the thought arose. Even if the notion was awfully flattered, he didn't really want her out here, did he? He wasn't exactly going for a picnic.
And, come on. No way was she coming after him.
Yet, he lingered on the thought that Kate might actually be worried about him. She seemed to express concern during their brief meeting before he'd left her in the storage. Before he'd kissed her (to which, Sawyer noted, she hadn't objected.)
The past few days seemed unreal as he looked back on them now. The normalcy of spending hours together, talking and joking like old-time friend and sharing odd tidbits with each other; things that neither had probably ever bothered discussing with others, off or on the island. At first, Sawyer had figured she was sticking by him because of a sense of guilt or duty, and he'd taken advantage of the situation nevertheless. After all, he wouldn't be himself if he didn't admit to enjoying the attention.
But as time passed, he had begun doubting Kate's motives. He was usually good at reading her- at knowing when she was being honest or not. And something about her, when she was around him, seemed natural. Only that didn't make the least bit of sense.
They hadn't spoken about the way they'd parted; his public announcement of Kate's fugitive status or the good-bye they never truly shared. Both of them dared not approach the topic in fear of ruining whatever kinship they had started.
Of course, Sawyer being Sawyer, was the one to break the unspoken truce when he'd gotten whiff of the whole Michael situation. He cringed now as he remembered how brutal he was towards her for a while after he'd picked up the news. And the oddest thing to come out of it was the fact that she'd stayed around him even after that. Not like the time, many weeks ago, when she'd uncovered the secret behind his letter. He'd chased her away easily then.
So what had changed?
"And every time I look at Sawyer... Every time I feel something for him..."
The words replayed, crisp and clear in his head. A smile tugged on his lips as he remembered her speaking them definitively. He had mulled them over at least once every hour since he'd woken that day, yet they still seemed foreign. Their meaning still seemed impossible to comprehend.
And he still wanted to know who the hell Wayne was.
But he figured he'd never get the answers. And despite his curiosity, he didn't dare admit he was afraid of the truth. Afraid of what it would mean.
Having been so caught up in his thoughts, Sawyer had totally forgotten to watch where he was walking. Something caught his foot and he stumbled. Propping his hand against a nearby tree to keep from falling, he was repaid with a sharp bolt of pain racing through his shoulder.
"Son of a..." The trademark phrase was left unfinished as Sawyer righted himself, tossing his head back to clear the hair from his eyes. He'd bitched about the length when Kate had cut his hair a few days ago, but she'd refused to go any shorter, stating that he'd look too nice for his own good. He chuckled to himself now, remember her lighthearted attitude throughout that whole scene; the full, honest laughter she used in response to his complaints and always-witty remarks. Sawyer didn't like to flatter himself, but he swore she only used that laugh with him. And something inside him was insanely proud of the fact that only he could make her smile so that reached her eyes. It always stole his breath away.
Spotting a large boulder, half-covered in moss and almost comically placed amidst the otherwise woody background, Sawyer figured it was a good a time as any for another break. He made his way through the tangly low-growing plants and to the rock, using his good arm to slide his backpack off his shoulder. He let out a sigh as he dropped his bag on the boulder and ran a hand across his forehead, where sweat was starting to perspire.
Fishing a bottle of water out of his stuff, Sawyer gulped down a few mouthfuls, allowing the cool liquid to quench not only his thirst but replenish his strength. He regarded the sky carefully, noting that the sun had yet to reach its midday mark. He would rest for 10-15 minutes, tops, then continue on.
What Sawyer hadn't noticed, however, was that the tracks of the search party he'd been following had long disappeared.
---
Kate was stomping. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she should be more careful with the manner in which she walked, but she couldn't help it. Instead of worrying about discretion, she busied herself by thinking up of varied ways she'd make Sawyer pay for putting her through this.
A thorny bush caught onto her pant leg and sliced a messy gash down its side as she stormed past it. Kate peered down at the hole, humorously thinking that these were her favorite pants as she cursed the bush, pinning the blame on it for being in the way.
A minute later, when a loose rock gave under her weight, causing her to trip, she cursed it too. How dare it not only disturb her path but also have the nerve not to hold its footing?
A while later, when nature started behaving, her thoughts drifted to Sawyer. She cursed him for being an idiot, though she secretly expected nothing else.
Not to fall behind, she cursed herself for caring enough about Sawyer's idiocy to send her dashing through the jungle of so called mystery.
And, finally- just for good measure- she cursed Jack and the fact that they didn't measure up to each other's standards, because surely he would have been an easier man to love.
Love? Kate came to a complete halt as she realized what she had been thinking. She did not love Sawyer, the rational section of her mind quickly countered. She obviously cared for his well-being, yes, but that was only due to the fact he'd just been knocking on door's death and there was a very real danger that he could relapse while wandering the jungle. And she could admit to the notion that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like him just a tiny bit, but only as a fellow human being and perhaps down the road, a friend. And all of that sure as hell wasn't accounting to "love."
At least not any time soon, the other half of her mind piped in, much to Kate's dismay.
Having satisfying convinced herself out of the momentary lapse of insanity, Kate resumed walking. She'd gotten all of two feet ahead when she noticed what seemed like the trail splitting. She stopped and stared at the ground, which most clearly forked into two. One side was beaten down by the weight of at least half a dozen people, while the other was a patch of tall weeds which were parted lightly, most likely by one person alone.
Kate's jaw clenched as she regarded the two paths. It was obvious which way Jack's party had went, but did the other trail belong to Sawyer? Or had someone from the original group taken a different route? That didn't make sense, but neither did Sawyer starting off in a completely different direction.
On second though, who was she kidding. The latter choice made painfully perfect sense.
Kate fought an annoyed smile and took a step towards the grassier area, hesitantly looking down the other path for a moment before continuing walking. Apparently, "idiot" didn't begin to describe what Sawyer was.
---
His fifteen minutes were up, but he didn't rush to move. Something about this section of the jungle was oddly captivating. Perhaps because it was so isolated, so wild. Unmarred by humans and possibly unknown to anyone but him.
And, subconsciously, Sawyer knew something was wrong, but he couldn't quite place it.
Not until he heard it; a soft, chilling echo of whispers, barely audible though somehow clear as day. It was almost like the wind carried them, which would have been logical if there was any wind to begin with. Yet the forest remained unnervingly quiet, no twigs snapping or leaves rustling. Sawyer listened, attempting to distinguish the voices. Perhaps it was Jack and his team? Could they have been coming back so soon?
No, this didn't sound human. Yet it was. Or at least, it had to be.
Sawyer's mind flashed back to the only other time he'd heard something like this. That day the blasted boar had attacked him.
"It'll come back around."
He heard the phrase clearly, though it was just a memory within his head. This time, the voices merged together almost melodically. No word stood out alone. What they were saying didn't make sense.
A patch of bushes shook to the left, and Sawyer's head snapped in their direction. Before he could start towards the sound, something shifted else from a few feet off in the opposite side.
Sawyer froze, straining to hear. He realized suddenly that the whispering had seized, replaced now by an engulfing silence.
A hollow crack traveled through the air, now coming from straight ahead. Sawyer squinted his eyes and scanned the trees, but green and brown blended without disturbance against occasional patches of blue sky.
Then he caught it. Unmistakable footsteps. A lone pair. Hasty and sloppy. Coming closer.
Snatching his backpack off the boulder, Sawyer ducked behind one of the wider trees and pressed his back against it.
He waited.
---
Her previous strut had been reduced to a sluggish walk now that she had to struggle through the wilder grounds. Her anger at Sawyer was upped a notch (if that was even possible), but before she could reset her mind to plotting her own revenge against him, she registered a noise that stood out from the regular sounds of the jungle.
Fighting off an eerie sense of deja-vu, Kate stopped and listened. When a few seconds passed without any commotion, she continued forward. Then she heard it again.
"Sawyer?" She called out softly, despite seriously doubting it was really him. Something gave off an irritated snort.
She spun around, trying to locate whatever was causing the disturbance. It didn't take long for her to see it. Standing between a ripe berry bush and an old, fallen tree was a chubby, brownish-black boar.
Kate stared at it in disbelief. She hadn't seen a boar since...
It can't be. The size looked about right, but surely there were dozens of boars that looked just like this one, even if they hadn't ventured to these parts of the island in weeks. Plus, the last time she'd seen a boar- the time when she'd gone on the other mad dash through the forest with Sawyer- she'd been standing too far to get a good look at it.
This couldn't be the same one. Coincidence was obviously to blame for the encounter, though Kate still couldn't shake the funny feeling that this was some sort of sign.
The boar had been cautiously observing her, which in and of itself seemed slightly odd. Again, the only other time Kate had seen a boar being docile instead of openly charging was the time with Sawyer. But she wasn't a boar expert, as Sawyer had been quick to point out, so who was she to say what was "out of character" for the creature?
She shook her head, attempting to get her mind out of the twilight zone. The boar snorted again, perhaps startled by the movement, and Kate suddenly realized the danger she was in should the beast change its mind and attack. She carefully stepped back, keeping her eyes set on the animal. It returned the look, equally careful and mellow, then turned its head and took a casual mouthful of the berry bush that was growing beside it. Kate took another step back, watching the boar as it chewed slowly. Once she figured she was far enough to make a run for it if the need arose, she turned and kept walking without sparing a glance back.
Fighting her way through the undergrowth, Kate tried to keep her pace up while keeping taps on exactly which way she was heading. As she pushed the weird encounter she'd just undergone out of her head, she went back to thinking about the task at hand. She wasn't sure how much further Sawyer had gotten, but it would be very easy to get completely lost out here, especially given Sawyer's "tracking skills."
As she stumbled over a fallen branch, its sharp crack shot through the air. Kate slowed her jog and came to a stop yet again. She noted then that something wasn't right. It was too quiet.
A sudden, irrational fear jabbed at her gut and Kate's fugitive instincts took over automatically. She spun around once, taking in her environment and making sure nothing was following her. Then she continued, her breathing coming out in shorts pants and her steps thudding clumsily through the woods.
She'd gotten about 10 yards before another chill raced through her body, stopping her in her tracks. She felt like she was being watch. A bee buzzed somewhere in the distance, the sound frightfully loud in the otherwise dead silence.
A swelling pain in her chest reminded Kate that she was holding her breath, though the action hadn't been intentional. Letting it out slowly, her eyes darted around from tree to tree. Stop being silly, her mind attempted to rationalize, yet her blood continued to pump coldly through her veins.
Something clicked behind her and Kate turned around sharply.
It took her a second to realize she was staring at the barrel of a gun.
