Chapter 126
Jack and Ana dressed quickly after their tryst, grinning at each other like fools as they pulled on their clothes; satisfied for the time being they kept pushing through the jungle, headed for the other mountain hatch.

He had a bare recollection of where it was, he had pored over the map with Locke but trying to find a tiny hatch in the side of a mountain wasn't going to be easy. He seemed to remember it being somewhere near the pass Rousseau had pointed out to Kate and Sawyer on their way to the pit and he angled them that way, hoping the Island was giving him the right directions.

Locke figured that this hatch was like The Eagle, a surveillance system, but Jack thought differently; why would they need two of those? This hatch had been erased from the map, a hole torn in the paper, and maybe that meant something; maybe this hatch was something more. The desire for power was beginning to get to Jack, and part of it was the whispered warnings about Locke; he was a little worried, not so much for himself, but for Ana, because Locke would make sure she was dead too and he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, even if he was dead himself. His only option was to take Locke out first, the more he thought about it, he would make himself invaluable by ridding Hanso of a contentious thorn in his side who was more concerned with offing his percieved competition than working together to further their goal., and at the same time he would increase his and Ana's safety.

He could feel her beside him; he didn't have to look. The drug was coursing, now, and he was feeling stronger, and he was...transparent as he moved, his feet not making a sound even on the carpet of dried and cracking sticks. Muscles and tendons contracted and released effortlessly as he slid silently through the jungle, listening to the whispers; one of them was familiar and he stopped dead, Ana almost running into him.

"What?" she said, not feeling the sexual charge from him as she ususally did; she had been bumping into him and brushing against him on purpose, thrilling in the lusty, electric feel of him, the chills it sent through her; now there was nothing, he was like a dead battery and it frightened her. "What's wrong?"

"I heard...someone." He cocked his head, as if it would help him hear voices in his head, and he tried to concentrate on it, to filter it out from the others. "I heard my father." His stomach was like a stone; his father's words had not been good ones.

"What did he say?" Ana slid her hand in his, and squeezed it as she smiled down at her, but she could see it wasn't a real smile, it didn't reach his eyes.

"I couldn't understand him. I just heard his voice." It was a lie; he had heard perfectly fine, he didn't want to hear the words because they were wrong, his father had always been wrong when it came to him. He did have what it took, he was good enough, and he shook his head, pushing his father away, blocking out his voice as he smiled at Ana's hand in his and he raised his eyebrows at her.

She pulled it away and backed off as lusty energy exploded through him again and she shook her head; as much as she wanted him she needed a break unless they were going to stop walking. For a while. "No, Jack, let's keep going." He looked disappointed, petulant, and she laughed, cocking her eyebrows back. "There may be a shower there."

The hurt look vanished and he grinned at her. "Yeah. Shower." He ran his eyes up and down her body, sweaty in the noonday sun and still a little flushed from their earlier lovemaking; she was beautiful, and that faint, reddish aura was still around her, making her skin glow with a coppery shine but it wasn't that, it was the look she had, a lusty, longing, loving look and in that instant if she had asked him for anything, anything at all he would have given it to her without a second thought.

The moment passed and he looked away, though with an effort, and they started walking again; they were nearing the edge of the jungle and he could see the tops of the mountains through the trees and he smiled as they emerged from the shady humidity of the jungle into the blazing sun because the pass was right in front of them. He noticed the landmark Rousseau had mentioned and he knew this had to be it; it was a gigantic boulder and as they drew closer he could see the carvings of all of the ships and planes, and two of them looked fresh. He took a closer look, and swallowed hard as he recognized Cassidy's fishing boat, broken into pieces, and a small plane with an Oceanic logo on it. Sara's plane.

Ana was gazing in horror at a different plane; it was theirs, split in three, and she remembered the video, from the hatch, of the bodies and baggage falling from the broken aircraft, she turned to Jack and buried her face in his chest, all lust and desire gone for the moment as she tried to shove away the feelings of horror and sadness. His arms encircled her and held her close and she relaxed, just a bit, as he kissed the top of her head and took her hand, gently disengaging from her. "You alright?" She nodded, keeping her eyes averted from the stone. "Okay. Let's go. I think it's just up the pass."

Ana's heart was still thudding sickeningly against her stomach; it wasn't the crash itself that bothered her, it was all of the others, all of the ones who had died. She felt a little guilty for living when they weren't, even though she didn't know any of them; what made her so special? What made any of them so specail? If there was ever a person on the Earth that didn't deserve to survive something like that it was her; she was a murderer, no matter how she tried to spin it, no matter how she treid to justify it to herself, she was a murderer. She should have died in that crash, she deserved to die in the crash, and the knowledge of what they were going to do didn't help with her opinion of herself, or of Jack.

Her faith in the Island flickered. What if what they were doing was wrong? She loved Jack, and God knows she wanted him more than anything else in the world, but was he really worth her soul? Was he worth her falling?

He felt her falter and stopped, turning to her with a smile. "What's wrong, Ana?" he said, softly, advancing on her.

She smiled and tried to wave it off, how had he known? Could he feel her? Read her? "Nothing. I was just thinking."

His smile was...cool, as he approached her slowly, like a hunter stalking his prey. She wasn't scared, but she was concerned, he was looking a little crazed suddenly. "Having a little crisis of faith?" He was still speaking softly but his voice was chilly as he took her hand, sending a wave of desire through her.

"N-no." He knew the effect his touch was having and he pulled her close, pressing his hot, sweaty, hard body against hers; she could feel him through his damp shirt and she could smell him, his musky, dark smell and it tickled her senses, making her craving for him grow.

"That's good," he whispered into her ear, sending chills down her back; her breathing became ragged as his hands slid beneath her shirt. "If you left me, Ana, do you know what I would have to do?"

His tongue flicked her ear and his breath was hot on her neck and she groaned as his hands slid higher. "Yes." His insistent lips cut off her groan and he slid his hands around to her back, digging his fingers into her skin, hard.

"I'd have to kill you, Ana, and then myself." Trembling spasms shook her as his lips traveled down her neck, resting on her throat as he said, "I've gone too far to go back, and I won't let you go without me." It was fierce but desperate, too, and Ana grasped his face, pulling his eyes to hers.

"I will never leave you, Jack." She kissed him, softly, and she knew it was true; she could never leave him willingly, no matter what her doubts and fears. He owned her, body and...well, not soul. Someone else owned that already. "Never."

"Okay." He stared at her for a second, feeling the familiar tug of lust and he pulled away from her, inclining his head at the path. "Shall we to the shower?"

She returned his stare for a minute, letting the desire ebb before trusting herself to talk. "Yes, Jack. To the shower."

-----

Sara wandered off and Sawyer stayed in the recliner, watching Kate until he dozed off too; the sun was warm through the glassed in ceiling but pleasantly so and it was quiet and peaceful, just himself and the beautifully sleeping Kate.

Sometime while he was napping Kate stole into his lap, dragging the cheap blanket with her; when he opened his eyes she was curled in his lap, her head resting on his chest, sleeping sweetly with the blanket wrapped around them. He didn't move, he didn't want to wake her, and only partly because she needed to keep sleeping; he didn't want her warm weight to move from his lap, the comforting burden of her body holding him to Earth to leave. She was his tether to reality; without her he would simply float away into oblivion, disappear into the atmosphere, become nothing in the vast space of nothingness and so he kept still, basking in the soild tangibility of her body resting against his.

He pushed away all of their worries and concerns and just concentrated on thoughts of her, of them, of what they could be; he tried to see them together, in the future but he could never picture them away from the Island, it seemed unnatural for them to be anywhere else. The little house with a white picket fence? Wrong. An apartment, all glass and metal and cheap carpet? It didn't fit. An old, rambling farmhouse? Close, so close, but still not right; the only way he could picture her was in the woods, in the lush green jungle, sweaty and dirty and free, and he realized why none of those other places worked; they were cramped, confining and claustrophobic, and he knew Kate would never be happy living like that, so trapped, so restrained. So what would they do? Go live in the woods somewhere, build a grass hut and live like hermits? And what made him think that they would be able to settle anywhere, anyway? Kate was a fugitive and he didn't think they'd take a lot of pity on her for being pregnant or for what she'd been through; the eyes of justice only saw black and white, and Kate was about as gray as she could get.

His head was spinning and he wondered for the zillionth time why they didn't just stay here, just be together here, where the dangers were considerable, yes, but less so than the real world, where the dangers were multiplied and just as lethal. He had a sudden vision of Kate, in prison, seeing their son through bulletproof prison glass while he held him; she would die in there, literally and figuratively; she'd never get out, but she would be dead long before then anyway, broken from being penned, caged; her heart would die long before her body. He shivered, pushing away the vision. It was just another temptation, just another trick of the Island to get into his head, like Cassidy and Frank; he would never let those bastards get their hands on Kate anyway.

So what would they do? What Kate was best at, they would run. He could work cons anywhere, the world was full of suckers with a lot of money and no sense, though he supposed he would have to change his methods somewhat; he didn't imagine Kate would like him screwing a bunch of rich women even if it was for her. In a twisted kind of way. It didn't matter though; after Kate how could he even think about touching another woman? The thought made his skin crawl. He doubted if he could even act like he wanted them, and for a man there was a pretty tell-tale sign that he wasn't really interested.

What really bothered him, though, about the plan was that it put them right back where they started. All of the progress, all of the changes they'd experienced would be for nothing if they just fell back into their old ways, back into old, self-destructive patterns. There would be one difference, though, one huge difference; they would have each other. Sure, they would fall back, fall down, but Kate would be there for him, and he for her. They wouldn't be alone and that made all of the difference in the world.

He glanced down and found Kate's eyes open, watching him as he stared off into space; he smiled at her bleary-eyed grin. "Hey, Freckles. Sleep good?"

Her grin turned a little impish as she stretched, being sure to move against him as much as possible and she sighed as she snuggled back into him. "Yeah. I was kinda tired." Her look almost dared him to say something.

He couldn't resist a dare. "I was thinking suicidal, Kate." He shook his head at her glare and squeezed her. "You don't have to push so hard," he said, softly, as his lips brushed against hers, "Let me take care of you. Of everything." It flashed in front of him again, the vision of her in prison, caged and dead, and he shuddered, kissing her with more intensity as his hand slid beneath the blanket, cupping her belly. "Please, Kate, please take it easy. You scared me to death back on the path, when you fainted." He rubbed his warm, rough hand along the smooth, taut skin of her stomach, making her shiver with pleasure and desire. "Promise me."

She shifted so that she was straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips, and she kissed him, tenderly, sighing as his hands circled her waist, pushing up under her tank as he caressed her. She met his eyes and froze; fear and worry shone from them, and love, and she smiled as she melted. "I promise, James. I...I want you to take care of me."

That floored him more than anything else possibly could have; she was giving over to him, letting him take the reins and it was startling, for her to put her trust and faith in him so completely was a shock and his first instinct was to back away, to back off, but that was Sawyer, and he wasn't Sawyer anymore. He was James, and James kissed Kate gently, then took her face in his hands. "I'm going to, baby." He kissed her again and she could feel the change in him, the newfound responsibility and she could tell he was scared, still so scared but he was doing it anyway and she returned his kiss with suddenly intense passion, tightening her knees on his thighs as his hands crept further up under her shirt. James took a step back as their kiss moved into Sawyer territory, and he said, "You feelin' dirty, sweetheart?"

She laughed, breathlesssly, and nodded; he stood, holding her to him, her legs wrapping around his waist as she buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, feeling his hands exploring gently as he supported her weight and started moving towards the shower. "I love you, James," she whispered, and he nearly tripped up the stairs as his knees went weak at his name; even after all of this time it got to him when she called him James in her breathy, sexy murmur and he suddenly couldn't wait to get her in the shower; turning on the stairs he leaned her back against the wall, using it to hold her in place as his hands started moving all over, caressing her, touching her, making her moan softly with anticipation as his mouth found hers, flicking her tongue and lips before crushing into her.

He panted against her, trying to find the will to tear himself away long enough to get her the rest of the way upstairs but she took the upper-hand, dropping her legs from around his middle and backing up the stairs, their mouths still locked together. She backed into the bunkroom, her hands reaching out to flip the switch and they both jumped as Sara cleared her throat, chuckling as they broke apart, looking a little embarrassed. "Hi."

She was reclined in one of the bunks, reading a book she must have found in the hatch somewhere; as they both reddened just a little she swung her legs out of the bunk, sitting on the edge, the book in her lap, her finger inserted between the pages to hold her place. Sawyer could see the title, Occurance at Owl Creek Bridge. "Good book?"

She shrugged. "It's good. We've actually read this in class. I always enjoyed it so I thought I'd give it a spin again." She chuckled. "There wasn't much else to choose from either. Mostly science textbooks. And some romance novels. I hate those."

Sawyer laughed. "I actually read some of those myself." He cocked an eyebrow at Kate's snicker. "Hey, those things are like a handbook on how to get a woman in bed. Really."

Kate rolled her eyes and turned back to Sara. "You okay? Hungry? I can-" she stopped and closed her eyes as she smiled and amended herself. "James can go get us some fruit." She glanced back at him and he was smiling, nodding his head at her happily.

Sara shook her head. "No, I'm good. I think I'll go down and read in the sunlight for a while. You two..." she smiled, wickedly. "Well, you two just do whatever it was you were going to do anyway." She winked at them and disappeared down the stairs.

Sawyer watched her go, a slight grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. "You know, she's pretty...understanding, for an angel." He nudged her in the ribs. "Seein' as how we're livin' in sin and all."

"What we're doin' ain't a sin, Tex," she drawled, teasing him.

"Yes it is." He wasn't joking anymore; the desire was back, with a vengeance, and he grabbed her hand, dragging her into the bathroom and he turned the water on, letting it run until it started heating up, then he went to get Kate. She was going through the medicine cabinet, looking for something in particular, and she found it; a pair of scissors, and wonder of wonders, a razor. "What are you doing?"

She almost laughed at the somewhat panicky look on his face. "You look like Chewbacaca. It's time for some grooming." She opened the cabinet under the sink and crowed with delight. "Look, I even found shaving cream."

"I don't think so, Freckles."

She sighed, set the things down on the counter of the sink and said, "Alright." Her hands snaked up over his chest and she kissed him drawing him closer...then she snagged the front of his shirt and pulled away, dragging him to the closed toilet seat, and pushing him down on it. "Don't you ever learn, James?"

He grinned, giving in, letting her take care of him in the way she wanted; he really didn't mind, it was just so much more fun if they resisited a little. "You might want to turn off the shower, if you want any hot water later."

She eyed him with frank distrust and he laughed, kissing her belly as it hovered in front of his face. "You better not run." She disappeared into the shower then reappeared a second later as it shut off, obviously very relieved to find him still there. She picked up the shaving cream and the razor and hesitated, as if not really sure where to begin.

"You ever shave someone before?" He could see the uncertainty on her face and he softened; she so obviously wanted to do this, to do something for him, he couldn't take it away from her, so when she shook her head he didn't respond with a smartass remark or a joke, he said, "Wet it first, just a little." She dampened a washcloth she had found and sponged his face with it, gently; she was bent, leaning over his knees and he opened them, drawing her in between and closing them again, holding her in place. "Now, lather up your hands with the cream and spread it out."

She squirted a little of the shaving cream into her hands, lathering it up; his legs were clamped around hers and she was glad because the feel of him, even through jeans, was making her knees watery. His beard was rough beneath her hands and she lathered him up, maybe a little more than was necessary, but she loved the feel of it, the bristly wet hair beneath her palm and he finally said, dryly, "I think that's good. It don't have to be a bubble bath." The truth was he was impatient for it; there was something incredibly erotic about it, about her uncertainty, his instructions to her; he wanted to feel her hands on his bare skin, he had never felt her fingers on him like that.

She picked up the razor, and hesitated again; she was feeling the same erotic, sexy desire as Sawyer; this was so intimate, so domestic, and it was exciting at the same time as it was frightening, at how close they had become, how much a part of one another, and she cocked her eyes at Sawyer, waiting for instructions. "Now what?"

He smiled and took her hand, and he guided it to the side of his face. "Slowly, Freckles. Start here," He motioned to his cheek and said, "Draw the razor with the direction of the hair," holding her hand he placed it on the edge of his stubble and drew her hand down, slowly, his heart beating with excitement as Kate's breath grew ragged and he pulled her hand away, letting it go. "Rinse it off." She ran it under the sink. "Now do the same thing." His voice was low and husky and his knees tightened around her legs, closer, and his hands went around her waist, spanning it with his fingers.

She continued, moving with slow, languid movements, drawing it out; she knew it was affecting him as much as her and she moved seductively, leaning against him as much as she could, shivering as his hands slid up beneath her tank, caressing her and teasing her; time stopped for them as they forgot the world; only they existed, only they mattered.

She finally finished, and without a single nick or cut; she wiped the rest of the shaving cream from his face with the damp washcloth and froze. He was like a stranger, and it was disconcerting to see him that way, stubble-less. He hadn't been like that since they crashed and it was weird.

Sawyer noticed her expression. "What's the matter, Kate? You don't like it?"

"I love it," she whispered, breathlessly, and her hand caressed his now-smooth cheek, eyes a little wide. "It's just so different."

He couldn't wait any longer; the feel of her hand against his skin was too much; the passion and barely suppressed desire burst and he grabbed her, pulling her into the shower and turning it back on. She squealed as the water blasted onto them , clothes and all, and as the water re-heated quickly he kissed her, drawing her beneath the shower and pulling her tank up and over her head, dropping it to the shower floor; she started to protest but what did it matter, really?

The rest of their clothes came off rapidly, joining the shirt on the shower floor; he pressed her back and she gasped as her back touched the cold tile. Sawyer pulled her up, a little, and slid his hand behind her, keeping her from touching the cold ceramic as he kissed her again, with more ardor, and the simple act, the tiny little gesture of protection drove her wild and she kissed him back with a sudden passion that surprised him with its fierceness and desire.

The water turned colder and they didn't care; they had long since moved to the bedroom and the water muffled their cries of passion as they shuddered and groaned together; as Kate lay, sated and content on his chest, her hands still caresing his cheeks with wonder she said, "Don't think that's getting you out of a haircut, Tex."

Wickedly he grinned at her, his hands caressing her hair as it spread around him and he said, "Let the water heat back up again, Freckles, then you can do anything you want."

Her own smiled was impishly mischievious as she said, nodding., "I'll remember you said that, James."