Quick Note: Hello? Reviews? Please? If there's anything you like/dislike, please tell me, and if necessary, I'll rectify it! Desperate writer here...

Chapter Four

"Are we going to stop?" Kate asked wearily, as the sun slipped out of sight. They had been saying random things that could almost qualify as conversation for the last two hours or so. Sawyer let the silence stretch out, and then he looked around.

"Why stop?" he asked in reply. Talking about nothing was better than thinking about something. The something wouldn't leave their thoughts, and Kate was finally able to see what effort it was taking Sawyer to act so unconcerned and prevent them both from falling into a pit of self blame and horror.

"I'm tired," Kate admitted. She knew they weren't going to stop. They were both the sort of people to have nightmares, flashbacks of horror from their lives, and there was no way they were going to sleep tonight. Not with the attack still fresh in their minds.

"So am I, Freckles. So am I."

"So why not stop?"

"They're probably on our tails. Hell, could be listening to us right now," Sawyer said. They both knew it was a lie. They were both able to detect the stillness of the jungle around them. No-one was following, at least not closely. But Kate didn't want to stop, to sleep, to scream, any more than he did. She dropped that particular line of questioning.

"Why did you come back?" she asked instead, a question she must have asked at least ten times that day.

"I needed to," he replied. Each time, his answer was slightly different. Each time, it gave her a little more insight into his actions.

"Why'd you leave in the first place?"

"I had to."

"What's the difference between needing to, and having to?"

"Needing is for yourself. You have to do things for others."

"Oh."

They couldn't light torches – neither having a lighter or matches. Besides, there wasn't all that much to see. Jungle. More jungle. A gap in the trees to their left, and beyond that, more jungle.

"I'm thirsty," Kate said a little while after darkness had come completely. They hadn't passed any rivers or streams lately, and of course, they hadn't anything with them.

"Keep an eye out for water," Sawyer replied. He was thirsty, too, but if he had pulled himself out of his tired daze he might have realised Kate was perilously close to dehydration. Her voice was dry and cracked, her lips chapped, and she was stumbling frequently – though that might have been because of the all encompassing darkness.

"You shouldn't have come back," she murmured. Her eyes were mostly closed. She couldn't see with them open, and she was so tired. She stumbled, and he automatically put out an arm to steady it. It wasn't a conscious gesture. Neither was the impatient feeling in his chest, as he waited for her to ask why he had come back. And then she would ask why he had left.

But she didn't.

Dawn came, and the first few birdcalls were enough to rouse Sawyer. Kate was sleeping in his arms. They were inside a cocoon of branches that kept out some of the night chill. They hadn't been able to walk all night. Upon seeing this meagre shelter, Sawyer had folded, his knees hitting the earth, barely having the strength to catch Kate as she fell down beside him.

All at once, he was alert. His eyes gazed around them, looking for anything out of place. Was anyone near? Had anyone come past in the night? They'd fallen into such a deep sleep, they hadn't dreamed, and he was thankful for that. For a few short, blissful hours, he had stopped thinking about what had happened on the beach.

Kate stirred, pushing herself away from the warmth of his body. She blinked, confused, and he watched unhappily as realisation came to her. For a moment, it seemed as if she would shatter – her expression was so open and vulnerable he couldn't bare it. Then she saw him watching, and her face closed.

"Get up," she said harshly.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, stretching. She glared at him. "What's got your mango in a twist, then?"

"We need to go back," she said. He stared at her.

"I believe you said this yesterday," he reminded her. "And I didn't agree then and I ain't agreeing now." Sawyer was all too aware that danger lay behind them – perhaps the invaders would have taken their spoils (whatever they were) and left. Of perhaps not. And there was no way he was going to lead them back into danger.

"You stay here then. Or keep walking. Whatever."

"Oh, no, Freckles," he said, pulling himself to his feet beside her. "I ain't letting you out of my sight. And there is no chance of getting me to go back to that damn beach."

"Just because you think you do better alone in the jungle, doesn't mean you can push me around," she told him, turning away so she couldn't see his expression. He was glad she wasn't looking at him.

"What you meant to say there, was, I shouldn't push you around'. But out here, Freckles, there ain't a damn thing you can do to stop me," he replied harshly.

"What can you do?" she asked, still facing away from him. His eyes narrowed.

"I'm not letting you go back, for a start."

"You have no right," she snarled, spinning around and taking a step towards him. He noticed her hands were clenched – to stop herself from hitting him, or to stop him from seeing how much they were shaking? Probably both, he realised.

"After everything that's happened between us, Sweetheart, I have every right to stop you from going on a kamikaze mission."

"You would never let me stop you," she muttered. For the first time, he noticed how dry her lips were, and he made a mental note to find a river, as soon as they stopped arguing.

"Well, good thing we're talking about you and not me," Sawyer said, flashing a sardonic smile. She growled something under her breath, and began to walk away.

"Where you going?" he asked. She glanced back at him.

"Away from you."

"We should find some water. And food," he said, following her. She made no protest.

"How do you suggest we do that?" she asked.

"You're the tracker, you tell me," he replied.

"Head downhill," she decided after a short pause. "And then we head back."

Sawyer didn't argue. No point in telling her it wasn't going to happen.