Agh, damn lack of motivation! But, here is my chapter (finally!). I hope to have this fic wrapped up by at least Monday, so stay tuned!

Charlie sat there beside Sawyer for a few more seconds before coming up with an answer, his mind fumbling for a person. It couldn't be Sayid, Kate, or Jack… couldn't be Locke, because he was already gettin' it. He closed his eyes, and suddenly pictured the person he would set up as the decoy.

"I got it," he said, a mental light bulb shining in his head. He turned to Sawyer, a grim look on his face.

"So who is it Chuckie," Sawyer asked, going back to sit on his thrown. He sat down on the slightly torn cushion of the plane seat, crossing one leg over the other.

"I'm not tellin' Sawyer," he said, determined not to even verbalize that person's name. If he said that person's name out loud, he knew that he would somehow talk himself out of it. Better to just do it than talk of it.

"And why's that? Afraid I'm gonna tattle tell," the southerner asked back, his head cocked to the side in it's usual fashion. But, Sawyer didn't wait for Charlie to answer, figuring that the other had his reasons for not saying.

"Suit yourself Checkers." Sawyer leaned his head back against the top of the chair, as if he was going to drift off into sleep. He closed his eyes, but looked back at Charlie one final time.

"Since this is your deal, it's your call when we're gonna do it... but if I were you, I'd do it tomorrow," Sawyer suggested, secretly wanting to plant his own revenge on Locke and Jack as soon as possible. He probably wouldn't have ever even bothered to try to acquire the guns if it weren't for Charlie, but now he had a reason. Well, that and he just wanted to have the guns in his own safekeeping.

"Tomorrow? That's so soon..." Charlie glanced back up at Sawyer, climbing up the sandy hill to perch himself higher up on it. From there, he could see the top of the person's tent that he would soon hurt, and it almost burned to look. The said person must have been asleep, because he didn't see em, but it still hurt to even look. So he didn't, refocusing his attention on the top of a short tree at the edge of the jungle. The jungle's sort of cheerful greenery seemed to fade to the background now that the sun wasn't out, transforming into a more dark, dreary place. He just stared at that one spot, wondering if he should go on with the plan so quickly.

Sawyer nodded an eager look on his face now at the mention of "soon."

"Yep, sooner I get them guns, the sooner ol' Locke will be sorry," he stated, knowing that would trigger Charlie into wanting, it too. Hey, he had to persuade the other somehow, and if that meant having to tap into Charlie's emotions to do so, he sure as hell would.

"...Alright. I'll do it tomorrow morning... and then you can do your thing," Charlie replied back, guessing it would be better to get it over with than brood about it. Besides, like Sawyer had mentioned, the sooner he had this out of the way, the sooner Locke would feel like the biggest moron on this planet.

"Right-o Checkers. Now if you'll excuse me, I got a hot date with my pillow," Sawyer said, winking at Charlie as he made his way back to his tent.

"Wait," Charlie shouted, standing up now. "How will I know when you have the guns," he asked, wanting to know for sure when it would all be over with.

"Oh, you'll know," Sawyer said vaguely, turning back around to face Charlie. He gave Charlie one of his mischievous dimple grins before exiting for good, playfully saluting the other before heading off.

As soon as Charlie saw that Sawyer was no longer in earshot, he let out a big sigh, sliding back down his hill to sit at the bottom again. Raising his head to the sky, he noticed the stars coming out already, twinkling and shining dimly. They slowly began to dot every speck of the horizon, covering even the most open spaces of sky with their beauty. But, the site of the wonderful lights in the sky seemed to darken his mood even further, reminding him of what crime he would have to commit for revenge.

That was it, wasn't it? He would have to commit a crime for a crime that had been done against him. Musing, he remembered back to the days when his dear old mum made Liam and him attend Sunday School. Being a little boy, he really hadn't paid that much attention to the Sunday School teacher, but he definitely recalled the old "eye for an eye" adage. It did indeed apply to this situation, so it must mean something that he even thought of that.

Combing his fingers through his greasy hair, he sat up, his attention caught by the glimmering of a very bright star. It stood out far more than any other star in the sky, outshining the others by a long shot. Next to that one star, the other stars looked almost ugly. He let that one star hold his attention for quite a long time, zoning in and out of his thoughts. The star mesmerized him, and even gave him a bit of a tingle of something. Strangely enough, that tingle wasn't anything positive either. It was a tingle of pain, pain from realizing the horror in what he was about to do. The pain that came when one saw something so beautiful, that one was taken aback by how very hideous one really was.

Looking away from the star now, he had to blink rapidly, tears from staring so long and hard, wetting his eyes. He wiped them away though, still awestruck by the star, and stood up. If he was going to be trying to come up with his crime, he needed to be moving.

Walking away from his sand dune, he found a spot where no one in at least a thirty-foot radius was, and sat back down. He wanted to think of a good enough plan to actually work, but what? He certainly didn't want to hurt this person too badly, but… how would he do that? And how would he know what too badly was? Shaking his head, he picked up a seashell, like he was looking to it for advice. But of course the seashell didn't do anything to help, and Charlie became frustrated with it and chunked it into the ocean. He heard it splash, sending thousands of tiny ripples in that one spot, and was suddenly reminded of something.

That was it!

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Meanwhile, Sawyer, back in his tent now, wondered if ol' Checkers picked the same person as he did in his head. He laid back against one of those cheap airplane pillows, grumbling to himself at how damn flat they were. Sitting up briefly to try and fluff it up, he hit it against a suitcase for a few seconds, hoping to get it fluffy enough. Finally, he set it back down, satisfied at the pillow- well, enough to sleep on it.

Setting his head back on it, he started to close his eyes, but remembered he couldn't get to guns tomorrow morning without the combination.

Sonuvabitch. Knowing that he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon, he sat back up, looking around his tent. His eyes came across the box of cigarettes he had opened earlier that day, and he smirked to himself. If that was one thing he could rely on, it was that those damn cigarettes would be in the same place he put them. Not that they would walk off anywhere by themselves, but he figured if anyone or any boar was going to steal something, it certainly wouldn't be that.

Picking up the cigarette, he found a lighter and lit it, taking a long drag. He exhaled, watching the smoke leave his lips, and sat there thinking. Going down to the hatch and sneaking in would be a piece of cake for him, but getting the combination- now that was another story. Inhaling again, he figured that Jack or Locke would need something eventually from the locked room, but when was the question. He could easily secure a hiding place however, and if need be he would stake out there for the night.

Crushing the end of the cigarette into the sand, he began to pack a couple of books into his backpack. Yeah, he sure as hell wasn't going to be bored while he was done there. Done with the packing, he stood up, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. He peeked out of his tent, looking round to make sure none were up, and sighed in a satisfied manner as he found that none were.

The beach was absolutely silent as he headed into the jungle to the hatch, giving him the opportunity to take his sweet time walking. No one would be awake for at least six to seven hours, so he might as well take it easy. He strolled along, humming a song under his voice. Coming to the path which lead him to the hatch, he started to mentally commend himself for being so clever with coming up with the idea of getting the guns, when he saw a figure come into his path.

"What are you doing," the person said, obviously not amused with seeing Sawyer there.