A/N- Sorry again that this took so long, I had exams for the past month, and I haven't had time for anything. Thanks for the reviews, they make my day.
Even though she's collapsed onto the ground, her body at awkward angles, crushing healing wounds, her mind still runs. She rushes into the freezing wind but it flees past her, refusing to cool her burning skin. It doesn't matter what she's running from, it never really did. There was always going to be a reason, too many lies and too much pain were spread behind her for to be able to stay anywhere. She couldn't remember why she was running this time, her thoughts were a tumbling muddle that shifted before she could begin to make sense of them. But whatever it was, it wasn't important, what was important was running, getting as far away as she could. Even injured and unconscious , she couldn't stop running.
It had become dark again, he'd half-heartedly started a fire, doing such a poor job that it had gone out quickly. He hadn't bothered to start it again, he didn't know why he'd lit it in the first place. A need for survival flowed through his veins even if his mind wanted nothing more than to destroy itself.
He'd done something he'd sworn he would never do. He'd rested his vision of the future on a woman. He'd become dependant on someone else's actions, something he'd spent the majority of his life carefully avoiding. And Kate had acted exactly how he'd always feared, she'd ripped him apart. His carefully constructed illusions of possession were fine whilst she was unconscious, but as soon as she woke up she'd shattered his sanity, taking everything he had with such ease. He knew women were untrustworthy, he'd spent most of his adult life manipulating that fact, but somehow he'd fallen into the trap of all those men he'd conned.
He should have let them done whatever they liked with her, raped her and killed her. He could have been on a boat back to civilisation with hundred's of celebrity hungry women to sleep his way through, and it would be no more than she deserved. But even now, the thought of that repulsed him. She was him in so many ways, and if he damned her to such a fate, what awaited him? He'd much rather be here, with her his salvation and his damnation, than on the boat back to a reality he despised. It was fitting, really, that he couldn't have her, that she wouldn't ever be his. Eternal torment. He didn't believe in purgatory, but if he did this place would undoubtedly be it.
He wondered if she was dead, if he'd find her face down in the jungle, forever out of reach of his corrupting touch. Probably, but he could still hear her breaths echoing into the darkness, and he couldn't help but think that it would be worse if she was alive, always there but forever out of reach.
She awoke to the feeling of a needle being forced into her arm. A scream left her mouth before her brain was even able to take the situation in, instinct taking over. Struggling to get away from the needle, she found herself to be restrained. She tested her strength against them for a moment, keeping up the act of being hysterical as she forced her mind to assess the situation. The lights in the room were bright, almost to the point of being blinding. She hadn't seen electric lighting since the plane crash, did this mean they'd been saved? That would explain the restraints, but not the needle, and her mind was still sluggish, struggling to remember what had happened. When it did come back, it did so suddenly. Letting Jack go, Locke's betrayal, being reunited with Edward Mars's partner. She'd been having a good week. But most of all she remembered Sawyer. Abandoning him at a whim, rushing into the jungle when she was barely able to walk. She felt guilty, which was worrying. This was what she did, use people, disappear in an instant, leave them to pick up the pieces. She couldn't carry any more guilt than she already did, but doing that to Sawyer hurt far more than it should have. And it had got her into this situation, the restraints on her wrists evidence enough for her to damn the people caging her.
The man with the needle finished extracting blood from her arm and called out, "She's conscious," to no one Kate could see.
"I gathered that," a rather gruff voice sounded from behind her. "Any trace of it?"
Kate saw the man shake his head and turn away from the voice behind her. He fiddled with a drawer for a moment, before turning back. Looking above her head, he asked rather anxiously, "What are we going to do with her?"
There was a laugh which made Kate's skin crawl. "What do you think?" The man came around to the front of the bed which Kate was restrained to, regarding her for a moment. He was overweight and dirty, a grey beard masking his mouth. "It's a pity really," he continued, letting his fingers reach down to her face and brush her hair behind her ear, "We could have had some fun with her." With a sigh he nodded to the man who was fiddling with the drawer again and left, his footsteps ringing softly in Kate's head.
The other man turned to face Kate, an almost apologetic look on his face. She saw what he had been fiddling with in the drawer, another needle. She tried to fight, but the restraints kept her from moving. The sedative in the needle took effect almost immediately, and she felt her muscles relax involuntarily. Her efforts to keep her eyelids open failed and as soon as they closed she was asleep.