Chapter 36
Kate and Sawyer returned to the glade to find Locke, Eko and Michael standing restlessly ; Locke kept staring into the jungle. Noting the absence of Jack and Ana, Kate felt a little uneasy; she tried to hide it from Sawyer by inspecting the plane, though that didn't help with the case of nerves she had. She kept expecting a Marshal to pop out and grab her; it was silly, she knew, but four years of running had honed her flight instinct, and even though it had declined a little since coming to the island she was still jumpy and agitated.

She didn't dare ask about Jack in front of Sawyer; he was already moody enough, though at the moment it was a good mood. It was fragile, though, so she kept her curiosity to herself, figuring she probably didn't want to know anyway; she jumped at every rattle in the bushes, expecting to see the two of them coming out together. Damn it, she thought, what the hell do I care? I don't care.

She was standing in between the two halves of the plane, looking into the fuselage, deliberately ignoring the rotted body next to her feet. "Did you find anything in here, Locke?"

Locke stood and joined her, pulling aside a few lingering vines. "Nah, just a couple of empty crates."

She turned around and looked at the cockpit, and started pulling down some of the foliage that choked the entrance. "I guess you guys didn't look in here, huh?" There was a small hole in the center of the wreckage and she peered into it, trying to see into the gloom. "I think it opens up through here, Locke," she said and she slipped off her pack.

"Kate, what are you doing?" Locke asked, shaking his head. "You can't get through that." He eyed the opening with dismay. "It's too dangerous, there's probably nothing in there. Don't-" He sighed as she ignored him and slid her head and shoulders into the jagged hole, wriggling a little to avoid the sharp, rusted edges of the wreckage. There was definitely a space ahead; she wriggled a little farther, trying to get leverage without cutting herself or shifting the pile of debris she was in.

Playing with Vincent, Sawyer didn't see her at first; he glanced up to look for her and saw her feet disappearing into the smashed in cockpit. He shook his head in exasperation; she always had to be into something, she was like a damn kid. He contemplated briefly the possibilities of giving her a spanking, grinning to himself; he sighed and went up to the plane, poking his head in after her receding feet he called out, "Honey, there are easier ways to get into first class." Her reply was muffled; he couldn't make out what she said. "What?" Suddenly she disappeared; his heart skipped a beat as she popped back up, crouching and looking back through the hole at him.

"I said, 'Not if I've got you with me'." She smiled at him, and he shot her a look of disgust. "There's a space here, big enough for me to crawl around. I'm gonna take a look."

He tilted his head at her, apprehensively. "Be careful. I'll be right here."

She smiled at him again, sweetly. "Okay." Her head disappeared again, and Sawyer felt that same helplessness he'd felt at the cliffs; he couldn't see her and he stared so hard at the space where she had been his eyes began to hurt.

The space wasn't large; about the size of a jail cell, Kate thought ironically. She'd been in enough of them to know. It was littered with debris, pieces of the plane, paper, something that looked suspiciously like a hand that was possibly still attatched to a body; she didn't check that out. Sighing, disappointed, she ruffled idly through some papers that were scattered across the floor; one caught her eye and she picked it up carefully, it was old and brittle and threatened to disintegrate. Scanning it quickly, she realized it was some sort of manifest, a list of all of the prisoners that were being transported. She scanned some of the names and at number sixteen she closed her eyes, feeling slightly sick; folding the paper carefully she stuck it in her pocket and took a deep breath to push away the feeling of nausea.

Her head finally popped back up in the hole and Sawyer felt his legs go weak with relief. "About time, Freckles. I was gettin' ready to come in after you."

She didn't look at him or answer, she just hoisted herself back into the opening and began to wriggle her way out. She was distracted by her find so she wasn't being so careful this time, and she raised her shoulder up a little too high, catching the back of it on a jagged piece of plastic that was sticking out. She grunted a little and Sawyer glanced at her sharply; as she moved forward he could see blood dripping from the plastic shard. "Shit. Kate, are you okay?" She was about a foot away from him, and he could see her grimace in pain as she inched forward.

She grunted again. "Yeah." He reached in and took her hand, helping her edge her way out; he grabbed her under her arms and pulled her the rest of the way, setting her down gently his eyes immediately went to her back and he closed his eyes. It was a gash about two inches long and deep; Sawyer could see bone between the gaping edges. He turned his head aside; it sickened him to see her hurt that badly.

Scanning the glade desperately he noticed that Jack and Ana still weren't back yet; damn Doc, couldn't you find a better time to take a ride in her cop car? "Is it bad?" Kate's voice was tiny; she sounded scared.

Sawyer smiled, swallowing his own fear. "Nah. It's fine. Some cleanin' and a band-aid and you'll be fine."

She smiled at him through the pain; she couldn't move her arm at all. "You're lying, Sawyer. I can always tell."

"Well, I ain't lyin' this time." His eyes caught Jack coming out of the jungle, smiling; Sawyer rolled his eyes to himself as Ana came out behind him, grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat. He called out, "Jack! Kate's hurt!"

Jack's smile vanished as he hurried over; Sawyer noticed that Ana's smile disappeared too. "What happened?" He moved behind Kate, eyeing the wound with dread; it was deep, into the muscle. He spoke to Kate. "Can you move your arm?"

She shook her head, allowing fear to inch its way in a little more; seeing her scared eyes Sawyer moved closer to her and took her hand, gently rubbing her fingers. "I was climbing in the cockpit and I raised up too high." She looked miserably into Sawyer's eyes.

"Well, you're going to need stitches. It's down to the bone. I'm going to have to put some stitches in the muscle too." Jack moved around to face her. "It's not going to be nice, Kate. But I have to do it. So are you ready?"

No! she wanted to scream, but she just nodded, gazing at Sawyer and taking a deep breath. "Yes."

Jack slipped off his pack and pawed through it until he found the alcohol and the sewing kit. "Okay, Kate, you need to sit here," he pointed to a stump a few feet away from the plane as he poured some alcohol on his hands. Sawyer helped her to it; her arm hung limply at her side and he could tell she was terrified. He held her waist as she sat, easing her down; Jack nodded at her. "Sawyer, you need to lift her shirt up over the cut." He eyed Jack with a warning look, then grasping the bottom of her tank, pulled it gently up and over her shoulders. "That's good." Sawyer came back to face Kate; he knelt in front of her, holding her hand as Jack opened the alcohol and poured it into the gash.

Kate's eyes flew open wide and she gritted her teeth as her shoulder went up in flames; eyes watering, she clutched Sawyer's hand, hard; he smiled encouragingly at her, trying to ignore the large curved needle that Jack was threading behind her.

The burning was terrible; it throbbed down to her bones. She took a deep breath, holding it for a minute, then she let it out, staring at Sawyer. She could imagine what Jack was doing and she closed her eyes, afraid she was going to throw up.

The needle flashed and Sawyer cast about desperately for some way to distract her; he squeezed her hand and she looked at him as Jack's fingers pulled the wound open gently to get to the muscle; Kate gasped a little but didn't flinch, though tears welled up in her eyes and trickled steadily down her cheeks. Her breath had become ragged and as Jack began stitching Sawyer said the first thing that came to mind. "You ever been to Tennessee?" Kate focused on him and shook her head; he smiled at her, and put his other hand gently on her knee, rubbing it softly. The needle flashed again and she grunted, as Sawyer continued. "Well, lemme tell you, Freckles, there ain't a lot to do there. A kid can get into a lot of trouble that way." He flashed her a grin and she smiled back a little. The needle flashed again. He scooted closer to her, sliding his hand from her knee to her thigh, still caressing it gently; he whispered to her, "You wanna hear about how my life of crime began?" He was still grinning and she nodded, gasping as Jack stuck the needle into her again. Sawyer squeezed her thigh, gently. "I was fourteen and I hung out with these kids who were a little older than me. They were pranksters, you know, always doin' stuff like TP'ing houses and smashing mailboxes, and of course, the favorite of every country boy, tipping cows." Kate laughed at that, having grown up in Iowa, she grasped that joke better than most would. "You know, silly kid stuff. Well, there was this farmer, and one night a few of us were in this guy's car, Freddie Weeks, that was his name," Sawyer smiled softly to himself. "Anyway we were in Freddie's car bustin' boxes and this farmer comes out in his flannel PJ's with his rifle and shoots at us, for God's sake." He laughed a little, remembering how they had all just about sht themselves when the farmer blasted a shot into Freddie's car. "It hit the trunk, and none of was hurt, but we were pissed off. I remember Freddie had a helluva time explainin' how he got a round of buckshot blasted into the trunk of his daddy's Buick." He laughed a little. "Well, of course we didn't want to tell nobody, 'cause we were bustin' up mailboxes, and with our stupid kid logic we figured we'd rather get back in our own way, so we got a bunch of guys from our auto shop class to meet us one night with all of their tools. Well, this farmer had a pretty big spread, and a lot of farm equipment. We worked through the night, and by morning we had taken apart two tractors and a pickup truck." He grinned at her. "We put them back together, of course. On the roof of his barn." Kate actually laughed, the pain forgotten as she gazed at Sawyer; he was smiling at her, caressing her thigh. She wondered briefly about James, the boy before he became Sawyer. Picturing him as a kid, with his shock of shaggy hair and dimples, she would just bet that the girls had been all over him. She swallowed an irrational stab of jealousy. "It was the talk of the town for a few days, even made the front page of the paper, two tractors and a pickup truck sittin' on some guy's roof; being dumbass kids we bragged about it all over school and someone ratted on us. The cops come bustin' into the school and arrested all of us- all sixteen of us." At the mention of sixteen, Kate remembered the paper she still had in her pocket, but she pushed it aside; she would deal with that later. "If they wanted to turn us away from a life of crime they sure went about it the wrong way, 'cause we were heroes after that. We were worshipped. Especially me, since I actually spent the whole night in jail."

Kate looked sadly into his eyes. "Why?" She shuddered at the thought of a fourteen year old boy staying overnight in a jail cell.

Jack stood, sighing. "All done."

Kate looked surprised; she hadn't even felt him back there, she was so engrossed in Sawyer's story. "Already?" She looked into Saywer's eyes and smiled. "I thought you said that would be bad." Jack pulled her top back down gently; Kate hissed a little as it touched the bandage Jack had just applied.

Sawyer squeezed her hand and leaned in, kissing her softly. "You okay?" He asked, and she nodded. "Want me to finish my story?"

She smiled at him. "Yes." She raised her good hand to his cheek and pulled him to her, kissing him gently. He broke it off and wrapping both arms around her waist he pressed his head to her stomach, hugging her as she stroked his hair.

The bushes rustled and everyone spun in their direction, guns pulled. Sawyer reached behind Kate's back and pulled hers out; she shot him a disgusted look.

Danielle entered the clearing, her rifle held angled out from her hip, ready to swivel it into position. "Locke."

John was studying the map; he folded it quickly and glanced at Michael, who was shooting daggers at her, and Jack, who looked like he wanted to grab her and shake answers out of her. "Hello, Danielle."

"I know what you are looking for, and you cannot go there. Not yet." She was gazing at him, crazily, and he shook his head.

"We can't go where yet?"

She stared at him for a second, then said slowly, "The Shark Station."

Locke glared at her sharply. "How do you know about that?"

She smiled tightly, insane lights dancing in her eyes. "Because I've been there."