As Kate and Sawyer trudged along the forest path, the only sound to intrude on their amicable silence was the scrunch of their feet, more or less in unison – that and the occasional muffled curse from Sawyer when he tripped on tree-roots or skidded on slimy things, which he did often enough to make Kate smile, and too often to properly maintain his tough capable image. At least Kate hoped their silence was amicable; Sawyer was so hard to read sometimes, he might just as easily be in a mood. Kate tried to keep the flashlight beam steady on the path in front of her; Sawyer's night-vision, whilst it had got him to the point where he'd been jumped, was not up to Kate's standard. Besides the tree cover was getting thicker. Sawyer had become more alarmed than he cared to admit when about 15 minutes ago Kate had suddenly announced,

"ok, here's where we leave the track", and plunged ahead into the virgin jungle.

Sawyer had seen nothing whatsoever that could plausibly have been a landmark, but at the sight of Kate's slim form retreating rapidly into the gloom, bearing the beacon of light away with her, Sawyer didn't think he'd get anywhere arguing. She still seemed to know exactly where she was, and Sawyer had to admit they hadn't fallen into any bogs or walked into any polar bears yet. But still; she was either very good at tracking or she was making it up as she went.

"Hey Freckles, how much further's this paddlin' pool of yours anyway?" He complained, as much to strike up conversation as anything.

She threw him a look over her shoulder, without breaking her stride, and even though her face was in shade he could see from the shape of her cheeks that she was smiling.

"Almost there, if your little legs can hold out a bit longer", she teased.

He admired the way her curls whipped round her as she swung her head back round. He wished he was the one with the flashlight so he could admire the view of her a bit better. Whilst he would never have put down stumbling through deep jungle in the middle of the night as a favourite leisure pass-time, he had to admit he was enjoying the peace and quiet; and Kate's company. Whilst the silence of the night air seemed to discourage too much talking – it seemed somehow disrespectful, like talking in an art gallery – at least it meant they were enjoying each other's company without arguing. As they hiked, Sawyer grumbling threateningly in response to Kate's mocking, something that had been nudging at the edge of his mind for some time popped back into his thoughts.

"Hey Freckles? Where'd you come by that knife you tried to stick me with anyhow?" then, frowning slightly, Sawyer continued, "Way I remember it, your choice of travelling partner didn't look much like the type to approve of sharp toys like that. An I thought airlines weren't none too hot on em' neither?"

Sawyer's tone had started out light and enquiring, but as the last two points occurred to him, his voice had taken on a questioning, almost accusing tone underneath the lightheartedness. He saw Kate's shoulders tense, her pace slow. Kate felt an unexplained hollowness in her stomach as she heard the accusation creep into his voice; he obviously thought she'd gotten it illegally; stolen it, or had it hidden to attack the Marshal or something. It hurt to realise that he clearly didn't trust her, that he was expecting to discover another of her dirty secrets that he could use to gain power over her, like the suitcase and its fateful contents. She didn't reply immediately, and then her voice was even, controlled, but the very fact she was having to control her voice told Sawyer she was hurt.

"Not that it's any of your business Sawyer, but I got the knife off John Locke. He has a whole stash from that outback thing he was gonna do".

Sawyer couldn't stop the sneering comment that escaped his lips,

"Oh is that right? And just what exactly did you give him in return for that, then Freckles?"

That last insinuation was too much for Kate, her frayed temper snapped. Stopping dead in her tracks this time, she whipped round to face Sawyer, fisted hands on hips, flashlight forgotten and pointed behind her.

"I gave him my belt ok Sawyer? My goddammed belt. He said he wanted the leather for one of those weird trap things he makes. Are you happy? If you want to accuse me of stealing or..or..whatever, then why don't you just come out and say it?"

By this time Kate was shouting, and with the last few words her voice cracked, and as she spun round away from him, Sawyer thought he heard a stifled sob. Sawyer cursed, mentally kicking himself. He'd totally ruined the atmosphere between them; why did he always have to push her just a bit too far? So what if Kate had stolen the knife anyway; of all his hoarded possessions back on the beach, the ones that weren't out and out stolen, like Boone's book, were scavenged off of dead passengers; hardly Boy Scout behaviour. He believed her about Locke; the man did seem to have an endless supply of dangerous weapons hanging round, and him giving them out wasn't unknown; just such a gift to that kid, Walt, had caused Michael to almost throttle Locke. But on the other hand, she was so damn unpredictable. He already knew she was more than capable of handling a gun; hence the pissed-off cop in a shallow grave. And when she'd jumped him with the knife earlier she hadn't looked exactly inexperienced with that either. She had told him (though not in so many words) that she had been on the run for years, and that she had done plenty of stuff she seemed pretty cut up about. Sawyer was torn as he tried to reconcile the two versions of Kate in his head; on the one hand the woman who had killed a man, showed up tied onto a cop, lied repeatedly, stolen, and seemed to be collecting various guns, weapons and IDs on the island. But on the other hand a woman so clearly haunted by that same past, so that at the mention of certain things (like toy aeroplanes) or more mysteriously like when he had tried to call her Katie, made her shut down and practically fall apart at the same time. Half the time she looked so capable and strong, shimmying up trees like a monkey or diving off alone into the jungle; even dangerous like when she pinned him with the knife. But sometimes she looked so vulnerable, just like a lost kid, that Sawyer felt an almost entirely alien urge to protect her. Like now. Sawyer felt a pang of remorse as he saw her hunched shoulders, arms wrapped across her body as she walked. He wasn't sure if Kate was actually crying or not, but she was sure as hell upset. He was firmly convinced that he shouldn't care; but that didn't do anything about the fact that he DID. Damn. He wanted to make it up to her, but cringed at the thought; he didn't do, never had done apologies, let alone soppy kiss-and-make-up stuff. But then, as he stumbled along in her wake, now relying on his luck to stay upright as Kate was no longer bothering to shine the torch ahead, he reconsidered. He'd always shied away from apologies, admitting blame, or even sticking around long enough for blame to be even an issue with other women, because he was scared of their neediness. As soon as you started saying sorry to women like Sawyer was usually tied up with, they stamped all over you with their Prada stilettos; that or stuck themselves to you like glue. Not good. But, as he watched Kate striding along, shoulders hunched in both defiance and defence, Sawyer began to realise that Kate probably wasn't like that. She wasn't needy; in fact the extreme opposite, so that she'd rather fall off a cliff than ask for a hand back up. She wasn't looking for an opportunity to attach herself to him. Besides she was the only person on the island he could stand for more than five seconds straight. On a more practical note, at the rate she was moving if he didn't act soon he'd be lost in the jungle before long. Before he had a chance to think about it too much, Sawyer called out to her,

"Freckles! Hey Freckles wait up!". Sawyer thought she paused for a second, but carried on moving with no response. C'mon, don't be a pussy, Sawyer urged himself.

"Freckles! Will you please wait for one goddamn minute?" no response. Ok last chance..

"KATE!"

At this she stopped, turning slowly to face Sawyer, who stood a few paces behind, panting a little. She said nothing but looked at him, her face in darkness. Oh shit, though Sawyer, now what'm I supposed to do.. What the hell, it was dark, he could pretend he was talking to himself or some shit.

"Look, Freckles, I don't care whatcha did or didn't steal, aint none of my business. You wanna knife, you go right ahead and get yourself a knife".

Rather proud of this open admission of error, Sawyer waited for the effects. Silence from Kate. Shit.

"Look, Freckles, you say you got the damn thing from Locke I believe you, 'kay? No big deal". Nothing.

"Look, I… when I said bout Locke an' that shit…I didn't…I know you wouldn…"

Sawyer heard his own voice become low and gruff with embarrassment, almost a growl; why in hell was this so hard? Just one little S word? Clenching his fists, not realising Kate could see the physical effort this was costing him, Sawyer grated out the words,

"Kate, m SORRY okay?"

Then stood silent, glaring at her almost defiantly. His heart beat a little faster as he awaited her response; he was out of ideas now. Kate seemed to know this was about as much as she would get out of him of his own accord. She moved, her shoulders slumping, head hanging to the ground. Now she sounded tired, defeated, not angry.

"It's ok Sawyer. You're right, there's no reason why you should believe me, I don't deserve it. I just…after you gave me that gun to go hunt Ethan, I…" her voice dropped so as to be just barely audible; Sawyer moved closer to her to catch what she said.

"I thought you trusted me".

Again he felt that jab inside of him; remorse? Guilt? Pity? No, whatever else he was pretty sure he didn't pity Kate. But call it whatever, he seemed to be growing some sort of Kate-specific unhappiness radar, so that he couldn't feel good if she was upset. He was not impressed. He was unbelievably bad at making himself happy, how in hell was he supposed to accomplish it with someone else? He took a further step closer, moving right up close to her. He reached out his arm hesitantly, not sure what to do; was he supposed to hug her now, or what?

"Look Freckles, all that shit I said, I….I dunno why I said it. I didn't wanna make you all upset an shit".

He touched her arm awkwardly, a sort of little rub like you might give a dog, them brushed his fingers down her arm, letting his hand fall back. Kate was touched despite herself, and smiled a little at his awkwardness. He continued haltingly,

"I didn't mean…Look can we just forget I said all that crap?"

He looked at her, a mixture of exasperation and pleading showing in his features. Kate sighed a little. This was obviously the equivalent of full-blown Catholic confession for him.

"It's ok Sawyer. It's not really important. Anyway you must trust me a bit, you gave me that gun, right?"

Her tone was light, but there was questioning in her voice as she waited his response.

"That I did, Freckles", he answered noncommitaly, his expression unreadable.

Kate looked into his eyes for a moment, apparently searching for something there; but she seemed not to find it, as she looked down with a sigh.

"Anyway, I shouldn't of over-reacted like that", she continued. "I guess it's this damn heat; makes me want to hit something", she complained, tugging fretfully at the fabric of her vest.

Sawyer backed away in mock fear, hands raised as if in defence,

"Hey, whoa, just leave me outta this, okay?"

That earned a laugh from her. Then he raised his eyebrow suggestively,

"Hey Tiger-gal, if you're hot, you could lose a few a those sweaty ole clothes, I promise I wont complain". She just laughed at this.

Sawyer was relieved she seemed to be okay again, at least for now. At her suggestion, they started moving once more, Kate seeming impatient to get to her beach. But as they walked, Sawyer couldn't help feeling some remnants of guilt. He had wanted to tell her that he DID trust her; but he wasn't totally sure if that was true.