Locke stared at the collapsed body in front of him, feeling his stomach clench in remorse. He tried to ignore the feelings; Jack was standing alongside him and Locke wouldn't be surprised if feeling apologetic about murdering a supposed enemy would be enough to make Jack declare him a traitor and hound him out of camp.
Jack crouched down, checking for a non-existent pulse before getting up, "what the hell do you think you were doing John?" The anger wasn't even hidden in Jack's voice and Locke wondered if he had crossed some invisible line by treating Sawyer. A line that would increase Jack's hatred of him to even greater proportions.
"She must have been one of them," Locke started slightly at Kate's voice. He hadn't realised that she had joined them. "Dressed in rags… no shoes… she can't have come from our camp."
Jack nodded and Locke had to hold back a sigh of relief. The situation was diffused for now. He shot a grateful smile at Kate but she didn't notice. None of them ever seemed to notice him when he was being nice, but when he slipped up they were all paying close attention.
Jack hadn't moved from him position on the ground and he reached over, pulling the knife out in a jerked motion. He stood, hand clutched over the entire handle. He held it out towards Locke. "I believe that this is yours."
Locke could tell what he was doing. By covering the handle he was forcing Locke to retrieve his knife via the blade. He did so, feeling the wet blood slide onto his palm. He tried to keep the overwhelming sickness from showing on his face… but the victim couldn't have been older than twenty-three, had her whole life in front of her. He flipped his hold on the knife, holding it by the handle but he could still feel the blood.
Jack smiled at him, a condescending one that was designed to make Locke feel inadequate. He didn't' react, allowing Jack to believe that he had one. Jack's eyes lit up and he smirked, "I have to get back to Claire."
Jack left and Kate traipsed along after him, leaving Locke behind. He surveryed the beach, some people were still wandering around, panicked, not sure if the Others would return. He began to make his way over to his bag to put his knife back into its rightful place but his eyes focused on Sayid's body beginning to move and he went over to him.
When he reached Sayid he winced. The bump on his head was large and he felt a pang of guilt looking at him, remembering how he had attacked him so he could destroy his equipment. Sayid's eyes fluttered open and he saw Locke crouched above him, chest bare, with a blood-soaked knife still in his hand.
"What happened to you?" Sayid's voice was tired and his eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. Locke considered going to get Jack but he was busy with Claire who seemed to be having trouble breathing. He was sure that Jack would just shout at him more if he tried to be helpful. He had been called useless the last time he had attempted to tend to Sawyer and Sayid and the word stung at him. Despite the fact that all he had found in his beloved hatch was a scared man and a button, Locke was still sure that he had a higher purpose that he was to fulfil; something that would mean he was useful.
"Try to lie still, you got knocked unconscious." He remembered that he was holding a knife and realised that the fact must have looked daunting to Sayid. "I was getting attacked by one of the Others; I fought back and killed her."
"Oh," Sayid didn't sound phased and Locke was confused, before he remembered that Sayid was a trained soldier. He'd have been in life or death situations before and he would know that fatalities were inevitable. Locke considered the future, whether he should ask Sayid for support but he knew that he wouldn't be comfortable doing so. Despite wanting to befriend the castaways he had found himself beginning to accept more and more that he was destined to be alone. Charlie had ignored him after he had kicked his heroin habit and Boone had died… nobody else even talked to him.
"Did anybody else die?"
"No, but they took Aaron." Sayid began to struggle to get up and Locke gingerly put a hand onto his shoulder to push him back down. "You can't get up, you're not well enough."
"I can not lie here whilst a child is missing."
"Jack's organising the rescue attempt," Locke didn't know if Jack was organising the rescue attempt but he assumed that he was; it was the sort of thing that Jack secretly thrived on. He acted as though he hated being the leader but it gave him a purpose, something to focus on so that he did not collapse entirely. Locke envied him, but he knew that he would not have been able to be the leader; he was on a personal journey, not a group one.
The guess seemed to placate Sayid somewhat and he leaned back down, resting his head gently onto the sand. He looked around and his eyes focused onto Sawyer, who was still lying near him. "How is he?"
"He's doing fine…"
"Hey! You don't get to decide what I am," Sawyer's voice was raw and he was obviously in pain.
Locke was unsure whether he should go to see Sawyer or stay with Sayid, but Sawyer was the one who was the one who was talking and he would be able to hurt him more, even if only via words. Trying to avoid Sayid's eyes he went over to Sawyer.
Sawyer's eyes were fluttering open and closed and he looked like he needed to sleep. Locke didn't dare suggest it though; he just knelt next to him, feeling uncomfortable.
"You gonna say anything?"
Locke couldn't do it, he couldn't think of anything to say and he didn't want to be put in the spotlight anymore, even if that spotlight was only visible by one person. He stood up and walked away, back to his bag and his knives. He put the one he was still holding away and stared at them glumly, that was who he was and he wasn't able to change it.