Never Enough
Author's note: I originally posted these as a series of oneshots, but then decided to repost them as one story.
As has become his custom, Sawyer stared down at Kate as she slept. He'd envisioned this for so long, her sleeping peacefully in his tent, being constantly together. It had begun haunting him almost immediately after they'd crashed, around the time he'd made suggestive comments toward her to cover up his true feelings.
Because he did have true feelings, as much as some people–namely Jack–doubted they existed. True feelings such as love. Love for the woman that he slept with regularly, who was still so far out of his reach.
In her sleep, Kate sighed and rolled away from him. He didn't understand. Even she didn't understand. She didn't seem to realize that a part of her was still pining for Jack. As much as he'd hurt her, as much as he now ignored her, as much time as he spent alone in the jungle with Ana-Lucia, she couldn't forget him. The entire island had seen the instant connection they'd felt, the instant flirtation. Verbally copulating, as Charlie had once so eloquently put it.
Kate and Sawyer had never verbally copulated. In the beginning, it had been entirely one-sided. The entire island had seen how he'd harassed her, slowly seduced her. All of them had watched in disgust. As a leader, Jack was naturally beloved. They wanted him happy.
No one cared if Sawyer was happy.
But Sawyer had never been happy. He didn't even crave happiness any more. He didn't crave peace. He just craved her. And to her, he was merely convenience. Or a way to get back at Jack.
He tried not to think about that.
Sawyer thought back to their first kiss, in the jungle. He thought of what he would have done to her, had he not been tied up, had she not been hating him. He wondered if it would have been enough to stop Jack and Kate's relationship in its tracks. She said she'd never kissed Jack.
He didn't believe her.
Somewhere to his right, Kate mumbled in her sleep. Something short. Something indistinct. Something ending in "ack".
Jack had won, Sawyer realized. Won the game they'd been playing since the beautiful dark haired girl had entranced them both. Now, she was his. Sawyer should have flaunted his victory, treasured his goddess. But Jack was biding his time. He wasn't stupid.
Sawyer immediately pretended to be asleep as Kate half rose from the bed and looked sideways at him. She cautiously lifted the blanket off of her and stood up. As she walked out of his tent-their tent-she was clad only in her underwear and a cotton camisole.
She walked along the beach. Sawyer watched until he disappeared from view. She did this every night. Every night he watched her half naked body, her dark hair blowing in the wind (he loved that hair), her feet sinking into the sand as she walked. He was too afraid to investigate. He knew it would bring up something he didn't want to know.
He wasn't the only one on the island to feel alone, though he was among the few who wasn't. Sayid had lost Shannon, Charlie had lost Claire. The rest seemed doomed to be alone, unable or unwilling to make a relationship function in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Even after Kate came back to the tent, she went back to sleep on the far side. They didn't spoon. They'd never had any false pretences of tenderness. Their relationship was concrete, almost businesslike: hot, angry sex, constant bickering, constant oppression of true feelings.
She didn't know he loved her.
She'd never know.
