A/N: Okay, here it is, another chapter! Thank you to my wonderful beta reader Hannah, your comments and suggestions for this chapter improved it so much. Thanks also to all of those who reviewed chapter one, it really means a lot to me to know that you enjoyed it. So, without any more ado, onto chapter two...

Sawyer's POV

I lie awake, breathing gently, not wanting to let her know I'm not asleep. It's not often I get a chance to simply watch her. She is so strong. After all that they've done to us, she is still so, so strong. I can't believe she hasn't broken yet. She doesn't know it, but I've seen her closing her eyes, willing herself not to give in. The way she can still look them in the eyes after everything they have done to her. She should lower her gaze, but she doesn't. She is so defiant and for that I respect her.

Her past still haunts her. I can see it in her eyes when she looks to me, begs me for help, rescue, safety. And I can't give them to her. I am not worthy of her. Not after everything I have done. No-one is safe around me; I will only hurt them. And she has already suffered so much pain. I want to give her so much. Show her that she is worthy of attention, affection.

I shift slightly, and slit my eyes so I can make out her slender form in the half-light of the cell. She is hunched over her diary, the one part of her I can't reach. She has so many secrets, but I can read her like a book when she catches my eye. I can read her thoughts, her feelings through those beautiful windows. But I can't read her past.

She slips a hand into her pocket and lets out a sigh that's almost a gasp. I wonder what she's doing. I let her write; it seems to be a comfort to her, writing.

She takes out a small bottle, and I let out a breath as I realise what it is she is doing. It's almost dawn. Not that dawn brings any hope. There is no hope in this place. We have not seen true daylight since the day we were brought here, weeks, maybe months ago. The room smells stale, dust gathers in the corners. Even the insects are scared to fly in here, and there are no birds whistling in the mornings. Despite the fact that two people are living in this cell, with a bed and chairs, it is empty. The grey walls disperse any thoughts of happiness, and the claustrophobia is overwhelming. I know how she hates enclosed spaces; she is always restless, pacing back and forth until I sit her down, where she will stay motionless until I suggest she lies down to sleep. The light is filtering through the small window in the corner, casting a pale glow on her tired face. I grimace inwardly at the look of resignation on her face; she used to be so energetic, so opinionated. Now I am lucky if I receive so much as a nod or shake of the head when I ask a question. I want to do nothing more than go to her, hold her.

She swallows, uncorks the vial, and whispers to herself as she writes,

'I never…I never…I never…I never…told you that I love you.'

She puts the bottle to her lips and pours down the clear liquid before I know what she's done. My heart stops as she chokes for a moment on the solution, and I hope, pray that it's not what my head is telling me it must be. She drops her precious diary to the floor, where it lands open on a blank page. Her eyes drift shut, and I have to remind myself to breathe as her legs crumple beneath her. It suddenly hits me how there is no way I can survive without her beside me.I'm off the chairs in a second, catching her before she hits the ground.

'Kate, Kate…' I whisper, wishing her to open her eyes, see me, hear me.

'Sawyer…' her voice is no more than a suffocated gasp, 'Sawyer…'

'Sweetheart, what are you doing?' I hate how my voice is choked with tears; hate how Kate, my Kate, is lying helpless in my arms.

She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. I hear an animalistic cry fill the room, before I realise that it is me. I shake her, all rational thought gone from my head.'

'Say something, damn it, say something.'

I let her go as her breath catches, smashing a chair against the door.

'You've done this to her, you bastards!' I shout, brushing away the tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

I breathe heavily, trying to control my anger. Trashing the room and wearing myself out won't save her.

I glance at the door, knowing that given half a chance I could probably pick the lock. I never tried before, because that would risk endangering her, but now she is already in jeopardy. This is my only option. I know she had a hair slide somewhere, and I run my fingers through her hair, hoping she's wearing it. I ignore the way she feels in my arms, the way it feels so right. I don't know how I am meant to survive if she leaves me. My fingers catch on something sharp, and I gently prise the slide free from her curls.

Lifting her, I move Kate to the bed, laying her down. Unbending the hairpin, I slide it into the lock, years of practice paying off as I hear the satisfying click of the bolt releasing.

Quickly bundling together our precious few possessions, a stolen gun amongst them, I picked up Kate and put her carefully over my shoulder. Slipping out of the room, I pull the door shut behind us, and start off down the long, white corridor.

It reminds me of hospitals. I never liked hospitals. The last time I was in one, I was being told how sorry the doctors were that they couldn't save her. That was when I vowed revenge on him. The man who ruined my life. I push the memories to the back of my mind; there are more important things to be thinking of. Like the way Kate's breathing has slowed right down. I can barely hear her breath, but I know she's still hanging in there.

I reach behind me, pulling the gun from my back pocket, and releasing the safety catch. My instincts kick in as I hear footsteps approaching us. From where I am, there only seems to be one person, so I decide to take my chances. I manage to one-handedly hold the gun steady, surprising considering how inside my nerves are tormenting my gut. A man dressed in the camouflage clothing characteristic of the Others turns the corner, and reaches immediately for what I can only assume is a walkie-talkie of sorts. Before he has time to lift it to his mouth, gun shots echo through the hallway, and the Other hits the floor, coughing up blood. I want to go over to him, and finish him off for good, and I would have done, were it not for Kate's almost lifeless body over my shoulder. Glancing around, I notice a door with a small square window in the top. I know the door is locked before I even touch the handle, and deciding to risk being caught, I shoot the lock. The door swings open to reveal a wilderness of trees and bushes, not dissimilar to the ones on our side of the island. I think to close the door behind us, hoping that They won't examine the door too closely; from a distance it shouldn't look damaged.

I continue running, thinking it ironic that this is exactly what Kate had done all her life. Running. It also crosses my mind that running is how that guy in the Hatch wound up there. But then again, everyone is running from something. Everyone has demons. I guess some are just stronger than others. I shudder, reminding myself that I closed those doors long ago, locked them, and threw away the keys.

There is a distant roll of thunder, and I manage to find some rocks that provide ample shelter for the time being, just in time, because the rain falls hard and fast. For this I am grateful, because it washes away our tracks; even this small advantage is precious.

Lowering Kate to the ground, I push her hair back from her face. Her eyelids flutter, and I smile; she's alive. For now.