By Sinking815
August 19th, 2006
A/N: Sorry this chapter's kinda short, it was just the way to end it though without cutting you all off in a more worse spot, ( I know, this was vicious enough) but the next chapter is going to be looooonnnggg! So at least you all can look forward to that! As always, please read and review.
Chapter 19: Lying
"Do you want something from me Alex?" she snapped, letting her hand push the rag into the water with enough force to slosh some of it over the sides of the metal bucket in violent waves. The morning had left her feeling irritable and defensive.
"Kate…" she hesistated, as if unsure that her status with the woman before her still left communication open to first-name basis. "I need to tell you something—something important."
She knew she was staring at this girl with a look that must have told her that she was willing to do anything besides listen to whatever regrets, apologies, insincerities she was about to spout off. But Alex took her silence as permission to continue.
"They're going to let one of you go, one of them go…," Again, the pause, deliberating whether or not to reveal a piece of inside information because of uncertainty of relevance or fear of reaction. The second the words came out in a jumbled rush, Kate knew her incerititude was from the latter.
"But it's going to be your choice."
And suddenly she was suspicious, on guard again and willing to crawl back inside her shell to protect herself again. Slowly, after a short tense silence, Kate asked, "Why?"
"I'm not sure," Alex blurted out, the truth escaping her lips faster than her mind could comprehend how ridiculous and doubtful that statement must have sounded. She recovered quickly, her words tumbling of themselves in the race to be heard.
"But I overheard Bea and Tom talking and that's what they were saying," she finished lamely.
Kate wanted to believe her, could see in the girl's pleading blue eyes that she wanted her to believe her too. But Kate also knew, that trust is what people did when they wanted someone to screw over. Even though Alex was showing more and more signs everyday of the rift she had sensed when first brought to their camp, Kate knew to proceed with caution. She was still one of them.
"And why are you telling me this?"
The question was generous, even if it did sound accusing, and Alex knew if she was going to win her way back in Kate's good graces, she'd have to come clean on everything.
"Because I'm being kept out of the loop," Alex said, the very faint traces of the closest this girl would come to anger edging their way into her soft-spoken voice.
As she looked at her now, waiting for Pickett and Tom to return, under the ever present scrutiny of Henry and the indifferent yet watchful eyes of Bea, Kate could see that fury starting to make the blue in Alex's eyes boil. Her jaw was set determinedly and the unblinking stare into her own eyes was evidence enough that she had been telling the truth, with no other reason than to tell it.
Kate knew then, she had found her ally.
Before that realization could develop into the infant stages of an escape attempt, they returned, with two beings in tow that were meant to surprise and confuse her. Kate did her best to adopt Bea's attitude and when acknowledging their presence meant she could feel the slight cracks begin to deepen, she averted her gaze to stare at Henry. She was demanding an explanation she already knew.
"It has become clear to me, to us," Henry started, looking each of his captives in the eyes, "that we overestimated our need for the three of you."
Kate stared, her lips firmly pressed shut, her eyes defiant. Jack stared, his mouth stretched by a now familiar gag, his eyes concerned. Sawyer stared, his teeth sinking angrily into the gag, his eyes confused.
"Unfortunately for you, Kate…" he continued, pulling his eyes to hers and tilting his head at that odd angle that made it look as if his head were about to roll off. "You're the one we didn't overestimate."
She narrowed her eyes, the scrunching across her nose competing with her freckles for attention.
"So we're giving you the choice," he said, accenting the "you" as if to suggest that they were in fact doing her a great favor. "We're letting you decide which one of these two men you'd like to keep here, with you, for the duration of this process."
Only then did her attention turned to the two gagged and bound before her, the edges of panic starting to tease their way back into her stomach because now that the words had been said, her situation had taken on the brilliant pain of reality. They were both staring at her, and she knew somewhere inside her, that was the best way they knew to plead their cases. And she knew, she had always known, that when the decision inevitably had to be made, that one of them was going to get hurt. Because to be a part of Kate Austen's life and not have some part of their own lives ruined was as ignorant a belief as playing with fire and trusting its deadly flickering flame.
She hadn't realized how long she had been returning their stares, her green eyes flicking back and forth between hazel and blue, until he prompted her for an answer.
"Who's going to stay Kate?"
It wasn't that she hadn't made a decision; it was the fact that she couldn't bring herself to cement that decision in stone. She wasn't ready to see the relief flood his features only to see his fall in rejection. She wasn't ready to rebuild a life she had been in the process of destroying.
"We need a decision tonight Kate."
She inhaled, and knew that the name she wanted to say, the name of the man that she wanted to stay, was also the one who couldn't stay. She knew that the pressure she was feeling against her front teeth as she struggled to voice her choice to the air should have started in her molars. She knew that it should have been pronounced with a crisp definition, as if she had taken scissors and sharply cut off the connection to the one she found herself saying now.
But Kate also knew that the name she was saying now, was the person she could do the least damage to, so she said it painfully clear as if to deter the need to ask for a repeat, looking down at her feet the instant it was across her lips.
"Sawyer."